#I was just barely treading water that whole year and I had no idea how bad it was | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sashaisready · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter Twelve

Lee Bodecker (The Devil All The Time) x Femme Reader

A year after the sudden death of your husband you find yourself at a loose end, unsure what to do next. You're also learning about your sexuality - your hidden desires and fantasies creeping out now you're no longer playing the role of the good wife. A certain Sheriff in town could be the one to awaken something in you.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 13

Warnings: smut, references to sexual assault/murder, rough sexual activity, drinking

Back at home that evening, Lee was exhausted as you fixed him a plate for dinner. He’d confirmed it was Davey as suspected, another deputy had identified the body as they didn’t want his wife to see him like this. It was a grisly sight, apparently. It had been a few weeks and he'd been in the water the whole time. But she had insisted.

Of course it had been horrible, a doctor had to give her a sedative to calm down and she was being kept in hospital overnight so they could check up on her. The press were sniffing around, the town were baying for blood now that there was a cop killer on the streets, and everyone was looking to Lee to find the answers.

He took another gulp of whiskey and you stared him down from across the table. He'd had nearly half the bottle already.

“What?” he asked. “I earned this today” he said, slamming the bottle onto the table. You could see he was slightly intoxicated.

Your eyes hardened.

“Did you do it, Lee?” you asked him calmly.

Lee met your gaze, sneering as he took a mouthful of food. “What?”

“You know what” you fired back.

You stared at each other for what seemed like hours. Lee sat back in his chair, crossing his arms.

“What exactly are you accusing me of?” he asked sternly. “I’d tread careful if I were you”.

“Just funny timing isn’t it?”

“What is?” he replied, not giving anything away.

“I tell you what Davey did, and that very night is the last time anyone sees him alive. He’s shot in the head in the middle of nowhere, no reason to be out there. Didn’t even fire his gun or try defend himself”.

Lee wouldn’t drop his gaze. You’re not even sure he was blinking anymore. His mouth curled into a snarl and he took another sip of whiskey.

“Yeah. That is funny” he countered, his tone defiant.

“See I’ve been thinking about it” you said casually, getting up from your chair and pulling it forward so it was right by him, then sitting down again. “Davey must’ve been meeting someone out there at that time of night. Wherever he was, exactly. He isn’t gonna be wandering around the creek or river for no reason is he?”

“I guess not” said Lee, deadpan.

“Exactly. But then, if he was meeting a pimp, or some bad guy he was caught up in a nefarious deal with, he’d have his gun drawn and ready wouldn’t he? Just in case, I mean. The police are trained to be ready, right?"

“Sure, but you can always be caught off guard” shrugged Lee.

“Of course. Or maybe…here’s an idea. He was meeting someone he knew, someone he trusted. That’s why he didn’t have his gun ready, because he never thought he needed it”.

You leaned up close to Lee’s face, inches from him now, adrenaline coursing through you.

“Maybe someone who had just found out he’d done something terrible. Someone who lured him out to the creek and shot him. Even if that someone had never been asked to do that”.

Lee’s nostrils flared as he clenched his jaw. He smiled at you. The smile chilled your bones.

“Maybe”, he said, the rage barely concealed. “…Maybe that someone was helpin’ someone else out. Maybe that someone else should be grateful it was fixed for her, so that she never had to worry about Davey again”.

You slapped hard Lee across the face, enraged. Before the realisation of what you’d done sunk in, you went to hit him again. He caught your arm this time, his fingers pressing tightly into your flesh. You shook him off.

“I would think very carefully about your next move” he warned, his eyes dark.

“How dare you!” you shouted, pointing a finger in his face. “I never asked for this!! I never wanted this! You’re a murderer!” Your words were laced with venom, practically spitting at him.

“You should be thankin’ me” Lee snapped, squaring up to you. “I got rid of him for you. You didn’t want to face him in town, did you? Seein’ his face every day? You didn’t wanna go to trial and have them drag you through the mud goin’ through every detail, did ya? I’ve seen those trials. I’ve been in those trials. The girls rarely win, sweetheart. Life ain't fair that way. This way, my way, justice was served”.

You were breathing heavily now, trembling.

“You KILLED him, Lee. You’re a cop!! The SHERIFF for god’s sakes! What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking about YOU” he yelled. “About what he did to you. How he hurt you. How he turned you into a nervous wreck. How he turned sex, which you love, into this awful fuckin’ trauma for you!” he looked deeply into your face. “You know what? I’d do it again”.

Tears stung in your eyes. “You’re a murderer” you whispered.

“I killed a rapist” he barked. “Even if he hadn’t done it before you, and I’m sure he probably had 'cos he was cocky, he would’ve done it again. And he would walk free every single time”.

The worst part was, you knew he was right. But you were horrified. Disgusted by his actions. Devastated that he would use your agony as a weapon and an excuse for violence. This version of Lee was so at odds with the soft, gentle man who washed your hair for you that first week because your arms and shoulders were so bruised and painful that you could barely lift them.

“What about Julie?” you asked through gritted teeth.

He softened slightly. “That is my only regret. But she’s still young. She’ll meet someone else and be okay. And the police pension and life insurance policy is decent, so she’ll be alright”.

“I never wanted this” you exclaimed.

“I know” he sighed. “And you were never meant to know. But you turned out to be a pretty good lil’ detective. Once again, I underestimated you” he chuckled.

“How can you make jokes at a time like this?” you scolded.

He shrugged. “Like I said. He was a rapist. And he hurt my girl” he was deadpan, no emotion in his voice.

“And how are you so confident I’m not gonna tell everyone about this? O-or tell the police in the nearby towns? Or the feds?” you ask, your slightly wobbly voice betraying your nerves.

Lee sighed, a small smile breaking out on his face. “Because” he told you calmly, leaning closer to you. “Despite how angry you are right now. And I get it, it’s reasonable” he leant over to your ear, “I know you love me. And I know you, and deep down, you are delighted that I did this for you”.

You gasped. You feel real hatred, pure contempt for him in this moment. Every bad feeling you had about him, every gut instinct you had from those early days after the Event, you were right. He was bad.

And yet.

Deep down, in a tiny recess of your brain. There was something. Something unexplainable. Something primal and desperate. Where you believed he had fixed it for you. He had removed the problem. He had saved you from a trial, and an inevitable legal loss, and eventual reputation as a liar trying to smear a good man. He had saved you from a potential lifetime of seeing your rapist on the streets, in church, smiling at you and mocking you. You were glad he was dead.

And Lee was right. You did love him. You hadn’t told him, but you did. And he knew it.

You’d never felt as confused as you had in that moment. You hated him so desperately, you were horrified by what he’d done. But you were also grateful. You felt protected, avenged. He did it for his girl.

You glared at him. And then you watched his chest heaving, the tension across his face, the fire in his eyes. The thick tension between the both of you. You were transported back to the cruiser with him on that fateful day, handcuffed and furious.

It was as if something snapped within you.

Suddenly you were on top of him on the kitchen table. Your tongue was in his mouth and you were clawing at his shirt, ripping off a few buttons as it came undone. He kissed you back and tried to wrestle his hands around your face but you pried them off. You began tearing at his belt and threw his trousers and underwear down to his ankles. You scrambled desperately to move your panties aside and clumsily sat down on his hard length, your hand fumbling to guide him into your entrance. It was sloppy, ungainly. You moaned as you felt him bottom out inside of you and you heard him groan too. It had been a few weeks since you’d had sex and it stung, but in a satisfying way. You began to wildly thrust on top of him, throwing your head back and riding him roughly.

You were amazed the table was supporting your combined weight but it somehow did. The legs crashed loudly against the kitchen tiles with each thrust and at one point you heard Lee’s whiskey bottle fall off and smash below but neither of you were bothered. You were too far gone, feral, animalistic. You knew the angle and sheer force would mean the table was agony on his back but you didn’t care. Neither did he, by the sound of his pathetic whines.

“How fucking dare you” you sneered as you bucked ruthlessly. “How fucking dare you do that in my name” you told him between heavy breaths.

He tried to respond but you covered his mouth with your hand. “No. Shut up. I don’t want to hear it”.

His eyes widened, framed by your fingers as they peeked over your hand. You could see he was in ecstasy. You both hated him and loved him at that second in time, but mainly you were furious.

“You just wanted to show him who I belong to, didn’t you?” you scolded. “I bet you got off on it. Showing him who’s boss. Telling him that I only fuck you and nobody else. That only you get my pussy”.

Lee’s eyes were hooded and low now and you knew he was close. You knew his body and cues well enough by now.

“Oh no you don’t” you mocked.

You removed your hand and pulled yourself off of him. He moaned pathetically at the loss as his cock slapped harshly back against his belly. You shimmied along his torso, the slick from your folds leaving a trail from his tummy to his chest. Before he had a chance to react you planted yourself onto his face with your full weight, your pussy hard against his mouth and your thighs tight over his ears. You began to gyrate as he lapped you up greedily.

“You’re not getting up until I’ve come all over your face. So get to work” you demanded.

He obliged, his tongue unleashed. You were seeing stars already. You’d never sat on a man’s face like this and the angle and control meant the feeling was otherworldly. You were also aroused by the sheer decadence of it, being in total control, you had complete power over him – and how uncomfortable he must be. You thought about him roughly taking your mouth that first day in the woods, tickled by the symmetry of then and now, but with the roles reversed.

He was grabbing at your buttocks, his hands frenzied.

“You did it for me, didn’t you?” you gasped between whimpers. Somewhere beneath your legs you could hear Lee’s muffled moans.

“He didn’t stand a chance, did he?” you mewled as you ground down against him. He gripped your thighs tighter and tighter, his nails digging into you.

“My Sheriff is the law, and he got justice for me”.

You didn’t even know what you were saying at this point, but Lee must’ve liked it as he was squirming beneath you, desperately reaching for his cock but you batted his hands away. He didn’t deserve it.

You had never taken control quite like this with him before. Of course you’d been on top, you’d been forceful, but never like this. You hated Lee and wanted to punish him. Hurt him. Wanted to prove to him that you weren’t a meek princess in a tower he needed to play knight for. But you also wanted him. You hadn’t had sex in weeks, not since all that happened, and you needed release. You were using Lee like a sex aid rather than a partner. A glorified masturbation session.

You needed to reframe sex in your mind as pleasurable and something you wanted, that you controlled.

And you certainly did.

Your climax finally boomed from inside you and you very nearly passed out. It hit you like a ton of bricks, every nerve ending jolting and surging as you writhed on top of Lee. Your moan was deep, guttural, it didn’t even sound like it came from you. Your hips stuttered as you neared the end and the aftershocks faded.

You slid off Lee, although you were surprised you even had the strength to. Your legs quivered as you inelegantly moved off the table, pulling your dress back down and sitting back down in a kitchen chair, panting.

You looked back at Lee who was a mess on the table. His face was drenched in your moisture and his chest was rising and falling rapidly as he caught his breath. You noticed he’d finished too, his spend messily dripping over his tummy and thighs. Through your haze you were impressed that you’d manage to make him come when you hadn’t even touched him.

Lee was a wreck, his back completely demolished by the unforgiving wood of the table. But God, what a rush. He had always thought he liked to be in control but you had proved him wrong. He had been so aroused by your forceful actions and dirty talk that he’d blown his load without either of you even laying a finger on his cock.

He sat up slowly, his hand cradling his aching back.

“That was…”

But you cut him off, launching a wet dishrag at his chest.

“Clean yourself up, Lee. We’re done” you told him.

#lee bodecker x reader #sheriff lee bodecker #lee bodecker #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker x female reader #Awakened fic

15 notes · View notes

idkthisisjustforfanfic · 4 years ago

Text

that makes four.

story page | talk to me + join the tag list

PART 1

Your feet dangled down from the stool, elbows on the granite counter when Jeff turned around. “Alright,” he said, lips in a thin smile when he revealed the plate of reheated lasagna that someone dropped off in the last few days. “Smells good.”

You looked up at him with an unimpressed stare. “It looks a little disgusting.”

“It’s vegan, I think.”

“Jesus,” you rolled your eyes. “You start one all natural skincare line and people think you only eat plant-based shit.”

He let out a small laugh, set the plate down and watched as you picked up the fork. One bite--mediocre. Not exactly hot enough, but after all Jeff had done for you the last few days, you didn’t have the heart to demand he put it in for another minute.

“So--do you think it went well?”

You laughed around the food in your mouth, picked up a paper napkin and let your head tilt to the side. “As good as a funeral could be.”

The lights in your kitchen were dim and the sun had already faded behind the trees, the house quiet after people finally filed out. Friends, extended family, strangers you’d never met had flocked to Los Angeles for the funeral of your famous father.

It’d been coming from a mile away. His health declined, an obvious result of the cocaine and the cigarettes and whatever else he’d ingested regularly in the 70s. A heart attack a year ago put him on a fast track to the afterlife, but he always joked that he’d probably end up in hell.

Being in the music industry ruined him, in a way--it ruined your parents’ marriage and it ruined a lot of the relationships your father had. Blow outs and big fights that left him exiled from a lot of social circles, sometimes never speaking to people again after one bad phone call. But it was never like that with Irv.

“Well, I’ve never seen my dad cry so hard,” Jeff smiled. “He really loved him.”

Another bite of the soggy noodles and fake cheese. “I know.”

A comfortable silence, the doors off the kitchen were open, a breeze from the backyard let the southern California warmth blow through the sheer curtains when you sipped at your left over wine.

Jeff was the closest thing you had to a sibling, his family was all you had left at this point. You were tossed in the bathtub with him and his siblings as a baby, shoved into family photos and tagged along for vacations.

Being closest in age to Jeff meant people always hoped it would be the two of you that would end up together. Happily ever after or having babies of your own. But when you saw Jeff wolf down a whole pizza at his bar mitzvah, any hope of a spark between the two of you had been permanently extinguished.

His older sister was the one who told you what it meant to have sex, and after your mom died, his mom helped you pick out a dress for your Sweet Sixteen.

She was the one who talked you off the ledge when you found out you were pregnant only a few years later, she was the one who threw you both baby showers and she was the one who helped you through your divorce only six months earlier.

So now that your dad was gone, too, you wondered where you fit into their family and what your definition of family even was.

Before the thought could cross your mind, the front door was pushed open and the sound of high pitched giggles floated in from the foyer.

CeCe’s tiny voice echoed down the hall. “Uncle Jeff?”

“Is that my CeCe?” He took a few steps forward and she ran straight into his legs, he hoisted her up onto his hip when Maeve rounded the corner with Tristan in tow.

“Hi honey,” you opened an arm so your ten-year-old could fit into the side of you. She leaned her head on her shoulder. “How was ice cream?”

The easiest ploy to get them out of the house while you hosted some kind of awkward afterparty.

“Fine,” she sighed. “But Tristan said that funerals are a selfish attempt by the living to hold on to someone after they’re dead.”

You blinked a few times and looked down at her, shocked by the words and apparently, her ability to understand them. You looked over at Tristan, arched eyebrows to communicate how displeased you were.

His eyes went wide when Jeff choked down a laugh. “I didn’t--I don’t know what you’re talking about Maeve.”

You kissed Maeve on the head. “Well, Tristan is wrong about a lot of things, trust me. But you two should go get ready for bed, it’s been a long day.”

You looked over at him again--younger by two years and easily one of the most important people in your life. You met him only a year after you started your business, he had a knack for brand management and eye for design that you couldn’t pass up. He was way too sarcastic and cynical to be your regular babysitter, but Jeff and his family were basically in the receiving line beside you.

Jeff let CeCe climb down and Maeve took her by the hand as they headed for the kitchen stairs to the second floor, leaving you alone at the island with two of your closest friends.

He waited until he heard the water turn on from their bathroom sink, then whispered in Tristan’s direction. “Great idea to say that to a ten-year-old and a six-year-old after their grandpa dies.”

Tristan rolled his eyes theatrically, “she asked why so many people came and why she’d never met any of them if they loved her grandpa so much.”

“Well, you can expect a bill for their therapy in a few years,” you laughed, forking more lasagna into your mouth.

Tristan made his way over to the fridge and pulled out the glass dish, helping himself to a piece when Jeff took a seat beside you. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine,” you glanced at him sideways, suspicious about any ulterior motive he might have.

“Okay, Y/N,” Jeff laughed, Tristan eyed you from over his shoulder like he didn’t believe you. “Let me try again. How are you feeling emotionally?”

You cleared your throat and swallowed the most recent bite of dinner. “Oh, you mean cause my husband left me six months ago and my dad just died and now I’m a single mom with two fiesty daughters who just inherited a giant house aaaaaand,” you drew out the word for dramatic effect. “I’m a business owner who barely gets any sleep?”

“That’s what I was getting at, yes,” Jeff nodded and fought a smirk.

“I’m alright,” you sighed. “Tired. Kind of freaked out about what the fuck is going on in my life, but, I’ll survive. I always survive."

You knew you would--in fact, you’d been waiting for this moment for the last few weeks. When Jeff’s mom called to tell you your dad needed to be put in hospice, you prepared. You talked to Maeve and CeCe and explained it all in a way they’d understand. His life on earth is over, but we can still talk to him and visit a pretty garden to remember him.

It was a lot to deal with only a few months after your high school sweetheart turned husband admitted he’d been having an affair and moved out, you saw on Facebook that he’d since bought a motorcycle and was spending most of his time at bars along the coast. That whole fiasco was harder to explain to your children.

And now suddenly everyone wanted to make sure you were okay. Frozen dinners, offers to drive your kids to and from their extracurriculars, a lot of attention was suddenly thrust onto you and your family, as if you hadn’t always hated that growing up.

But you knew the time would come when life would settle back down. Cousins and aunts and uncles would fly home, people would stop asking how you were doing post divorce. Dust would settle and the sun would set on this chapter and frankly, it couldn’t happen soon enough.

So here you were, the funeral was over, the dinner in his honor at Jeff’s parents, the media coverage was starting to die down and life could return to normal. Or, at least, a new normal.

Your dad had been a fixture in your life--weekly dinner dates with grandpa gave you a minute to yourself after working long days and answering endless phone calls. A glass of wine on the couch or even dinner with Tristan and Zoey was a nice escape from breaking up fights or figuring out how to reattach the head of a Barbie doll after someone shoved someone into a closet and tears and screaming ensued.

“You will definitely survive,” Jeff nodded.

Tristan came and sat, forked into the lasagna and made a face when he realized how bad it was. “Is this fake cheese?”

“Unfortunately,” you nodded.

Tristan made a face and then cleared his throat. “I, for one, think this is the start of a new chapter for you. New opportunities, new love,” he smirked.

A quick retort: “Yeah, that’s obviously the first priority right now.”

“He’s right, though,” Jeff said. “You have a fresh start, a totally new chapter.”

You nodded--they were right, but easing into a new chapter felt a lot better than trying to dive right in.

“Speaking of a fresh start, you know, changing things up,” Jeff forced a grin in your direction. “Can we actually talk for a second?”

You eyed him suspiciously, put your fork down to bow out from eating the world’s worst lasagna. “Yeah?”

“I have kind of a weird favor to ask. And--I know it’s kind of bad timing, with everything going on, but--just hear me out, okay?”

Instead of replying, you watched him, lifted your brows to encourage him to continue and tread carefully.

“So I have a client who isn’t from here, he bought a house but it’s in the middle of getting renovated. There’s kind of been a lot going on, it’s a long story.”

“Okay,” you nodded, unsure where he was going with it.

“He needs a place to stay, and I was wondering if maybe he could stay here for a little.”

“Here, like, here here?” You pointed to the floor of your kitchen, an elegant upgrade from the more modest house in Woodland Hills you’d occupied before the divorce.

Along with the death of your father came the inheritance of his Bel Air estate and all of the bedrooms, the four car garage, the manicured lawn and the pool out back. Some people thought you should sell it, use the cash to make trusts for the girls or save for college.

Selling it didn’t feel right, though. It was the house he worked so hard for, the house you called home for the later half of your teen years and the place you always came back to when things got hard. So instead of putting it on the market and closing that chapter, once again, you returned to the safe haven in the hills when you didn’t know where else to turn.

“Yeah, I know it sounds crazy, but you have the room and it might be fun to have someone else around and--”

“I have two daughters, Jeff, I can’t just let a stranger live with us.”

“He’s not a stranger, Y/N, he’s my friend. We’re really close.”

“Who is he?” Tristan asked, waving his fork in the air to remind us that he was still present.

“Harry Styles.”

Tristan’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “The kid from the boyband?”

“No way,” you shook your head, dismissing it before you could even let his name register. “I’m not having a pop star boy band kid stay in my house.”

“Okay,” Jeff held up a hand to get Tristan to relax, then moved to point at you. “He’s 24, number one. He’s not a kid, he’s, like, only a few years younger than us.”

“Yes,” you nodded, “exactly. I don’t need a 24-year-old living with my daughters.”

“He’s not like that, though. He’s responsible and he’s a family friendly dude, and--”

“Then why can’t he live with you? Or with your parents?”

“I don’t have the room,” he said. “And my dad hates house guests.”

You rolled your eyes, it was obnoxious, but it was true. Irv hated having people stay over almost as much as he hated it when your dad beat him in golf.

Jeff took your silence as an opportunity to continue selling you on the idea. “He just finished his tour, he’s working on his second album. He’s probably going to be in the studio a lot, Y/N. Do you really think I would let some crazy party animal live with my nieces?”

Another eye roll from both you and Tristan.

“Is this like, just a few nights?” You asked.

“Like, two weeks. Tops.”

“Two weeks?!” You shook your head. “No--I can’t put them through that after all the shit that’s been going on this year. Why can’t he just stay in a hotel?”

“Cause that’s lonely and he’s a people person and--I don’t know, it might be good for you to have someone around.”

You rolled your eyes that, was it a jab at your new status as a single mom or new status as a fatherless daughter? Unsure.

Jeff stood from the counter and grabbed for his phone on the far end of the island. “Just think about it, okay? I’ve gotta run. A few weeks, built in babysitting, maybe--he’s great with kids.”

“I’ve already thought about it,” you told him, resting your chin in your hand and offering a sugary sweet smile. “No fucking way.”

“Mommy!” CeCe’s voice called from upstairs, you hoisted yourself up, ready to tuck them in and forget that Jeff had ever asked such a ludicrous question.

“I would owe you big time--it might be fun! You’ve got the room, he could be a positive male influence on the girls.” He wiggled his eyebrows at the end of his sentence--like that would really sway you.

“And I’m not that?” Tristan pulled his head back, offended.

“You’re the one who told them funerals are stupid,” Jeff said with a sarcastic smirk.

“And you’re the crazy one trying to let a stranger move in here like it’s an AirBnB,” you shot back at Jeff. “So maybe they do need a better male influence than both of you.”

“Mommy!” CeCe called again, more impatient this time.

“I’m coming!” You shouted. “You, let yourself out when you’re finished eating this terrible meal,” you pointed at Tristan and the lasagna. “And you,” you pointed at Jeff with a smirk. “Please never speak to me again.”

He was already heading for the door, keys in hand when he blew you a kiss. “Love you, see you soon!”

“Love you,” you called back, bounding up the stairs, mom mode activated.

A text message the next day when you were at work:

Jeff Azoff (1:43pm): 🙏😇🙏😇

You blew air from your lips, Zoey sat across from you at a conference table when you took a late lunch. She was the first friend you made when you started high school, your long time confidant aside from Tristan and Jeff and a sure bet to tell it like it is.

Now she regularly popped into the Luna offices and she loved nothing more than acting like she was a higher up at your business. She’d rather be doing that than admit she was a new mom with no clue what the next chapter of her life would look like. You had that in common.

Her two-month-old son, Benny, sat in a carrier on the ground, his eyelashes fluttered when Zoey put her feet up on the chair beside her.

“What’s the sigh for?”

“Jeff is being annoying.”

“What’d he do now?”

You looked over at her, nose deep in her phone when you took another bite of the burrito bowl she’d picked up for you. You didn’t know if it was worth it to explain it all. Zoey was excitable, never one to turn down an adventure and her aptly timed identity crisis that came with becoming a mom was sure to make her encourage bad decisions even more.

She looked up at you, suddenly aware of the wheels spinning in your mind.

“Spill it,” she instructed. She put her phone down and let out a breath, clasped her hands and waited for you to fill her in.

“He asked me to let a friend of his stay with us in my dad’s house.”

“Your house,” she corrected. “Deed’s in your name now.”

“My house,” you nodded. “And I feel weird about it.”

“Who’s the friend?”

“Some client of his,” you tried to wave it off as if the name didn’t matter.

It didn’t, really. You’d long been exposed to the rich and famous just because of the nature of your father’s work. He was one of the biggest managers in the music industry in partnership with Jeff’s dad, so you were no stranger to beautiful people with beautiful cars and beautiful homes. When Jeff took on the family business, you only grew more accustomed to it.

“So a celebrity?” she shimmied her shoulders in excitement. “Which one?”

“Harry Styles,” you said the name slowly, quietly, even though it was just the two of you in the second floor conference room and even though this was your office that you bought and you owned and you ran.

“He’s hot,” she nodded casually, less impressed than you’d expected.

“He’s also like twenty-something, so it's disgusting for you to say that.”

“Oh relax,” she dismissed your concern. “He could be your pool boy.”

Zoey--who also grew up in Southern California and spent plenty of time at your house as a kid--hadn’t yet grown so accustomed to the coming and going of celebrities. Her parents owned a florist shop in Santa Monica and in high school you had to tell her she could only come to a Britney Spears concert if she didn’t cry when you inevitably met her in the green room thanks to your dad.

“I have children,” you reminded her. “A ten-year-old who might as well be fifteen and a six-year-old who would think I literally bought her a human playmate.”

“But if he’s friends with Jeff I highly doubt he’s a serial killer,” she reasoned.

“Wow, you are completely missing the point.”

“What’s the point, then?”

“It’s weird--I can’t have a stranger move in with my kids.”

“Why not?”

“Because first their dad left us and now their grandpa died.”

“Sounds like they need a new man in their life.”

You ignored the similarity of her words with Jeff’s from the other night. “I just think it’s crazy.”

“Okay,” she sat up straight and suddenly looked like this was morphing into a business conversation. “How long?”

“Two weeks.”

“Oh my god,” she turned her palms towards the sky. “Just do it.”

“What? No!”

“It’s two weeks--it’ll take your mind off of all the shit that’s been going on, it’ll be a fun distraction for the girls. You have so much space in that house you will never even know he’s there. And you’re helping a friend.”

She wasn’t wrong: Harry could likely stay in the bedroom all the way on the other end of the hall from where the girls slept. Maeve was thrilled to get her own room in the move and CeCe would occasionally run into your room after a nightmare, so the space was a plus.

He’d have his own room, his own bathroom. Hell, he could even park in the extra garage and enter from the back of the house. Maybe you wouldn’t even notice he existed.

You sighed, tugged at your necklace when you met her gaze. “I just feel really protective over them right now. I feel like Luke ruined their sense of family and now with my dad gone--”

She stuck her tongue out in disgust at the sound of your ex’s name. “I get that--but they have you. They have Jeff and his family and they have me and Shawn and now Benny.”

You offered a small smile at her reassurance. She was right in a lot of ways. The Azoffs were as much a family to your daughters as they had been to you. Shelli and Irv were like grandparents, they offered to babysit plenty of times and they always managed to get the girls the most amazing birthday presents.

But something in you knew it wasn’t the same. You’d dreamed of giving your daughters the sense of family you never had: a mom and a dad who loved each other. One house, not two that had two different beds and sets of books or toys.

Luckily and unluckily, your ex hadn’t made a huge deal about custody. Visits here and there were outlined in your divorce papers, but at this point in time he didn’t seem the most interested in maintaining a relationship with his daughters, even though he promised way back when that he’d never leave.

Getting pregnant with him during college wasn’t planned, but he swore you’d make it work and you tied the knot only a few months before Maeve was born. Things were good at first, you always knew you’d have more than one--if only to combat your own only-child loneliness--and then CeCe came five years later when you felt a little more prepared.

“I don’t think it’s going to traumatize them, Y/N. I mean, the least you could do is meet the guy.”

You watched her for a minute, blew air from your nose in a huff before you picked up your phone.

Y/N L/N (1:56pm): Fine. I’ll meet him.

Three days later you pulled up to a cafe in Brentwood and took a deep breath in the parking lot. If he was creepy, you wouldn’t go for it. If you got even the slightest weird vibe from him, you’d ex-communicate Jeff and only go over to visit his parents with the girls when he wasn’t around.

You’d already been leaning towards just doing it, especially once Tristan got a glass of wine in you and reminded you what your dad would have said: he who helps is one who prospers.

A few sleepless nights left you staring at the ceiling and wondering if you were crazy. You just now had the chance to let life settle down and here you were, mourning the loss of your biggest supporter, trying to piece yourself back together post divorce, and considering letting a stranger move in? Grief really did do strange things to people.

But when you walked in and found them sitting at a table in the back, something clicked.

Your dad was already fond of your possible houseguest, which you only knew from overhearing previous conversations between him and Irv about how proud they were of Jeff for picking up the family business, and now it all made sense.

A small part of you--probably the stupidest part of you--wondered if there was something cosmic about it. Your dad was always one to let his artists stay in the house, if they weren’t creepy, of course. You grew up with bands rehearsing in the backyard and going to shows at the Troubadour before you were old enough to drive, and you turned out fine.

“Hi,” Harry stood, offered a hand and introduced himself after Jeff gave you a kiss on the cheek. “Harry, pleasure to meet you.” Polite, maybe a bit of a kiss ass. Your dad must have loved him.

“Y/N,” you nodded, sat down when Jeff tugged out a chair for you. “Thanks for--uh--meeting with me, I guess.”

“Thanks for maybe letting me stay at your house,” he offered a sheepish smile, held your gaze for a second when Jeff adjusted the sunglasses clipped to his shirt.

“I’m actually surprised you guys haven’t met before,” he said.

“I’ve been a little busy this year,” you reminded him with a nod. “But--nice to finally meet you.”

Harry nodded, a dimple in his left cheek ignited a tiny spark in your chest, but you pushed Zoey’s words out of your mind. Two weeks, it wasn’t a big deal. He’d be in and out and this would be a blip on the radar.

“We can order coffee or something, but Y/N, I’m assuming you have like, a whole interrogation mapped out?”

You pretended to laugh at Jeff’s joke, turned to Harry and offered a no-nonsense smile. “I have two children, I got divorced earlier this year and my dad just died. So I don’t need any drama or anything. This is temporary and I’m doing this to help out a friend. Jeff, that is, not you.”

He laughed at your clarification and nodded. “Right. This is just me living in your house. No drama. Short-term.”

“And obviously my children will be there, so no guests.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Okay I’m not that much older than you,” you said it quickly, offered a small smile when he looked a little scared.

“Sorry--no, I didn’t mean that in a rude way.”

“No ma’am,” you added a rule, pulling a laugh from both of them when you lifted another finger in the air to count them off. “No drugs or alcohol, unless it’s like a glass of wine at dinner or something,” you shrugged.

“Look,” Jeff leaned forward. “Y/N’s kids are great, she’s got a great skincare company and she’s a kickass human. And you need a place to stay, so don’t fuck this up.”

“You both have my word. No drugs, no alcohol, no guests, no ma’am,” he smirked in your direction. “I’ve lived alone for a while, so, it’ll be nice to have some roommates.”

You nodded slowly and watched him for a second. A hoodie with the name of the management firm your dad and Irv had started, a backwards baseball hat and simple Ray-Bans. You ignored the fluttering in your veins from just looking at him, your own words echoed against the walls of your skull: he’s also like twenty-something, so that’s disgusting.

This was his brand, you were sure. Something Jeff had worked hard on--the looks, the smile, the exact formula that management firms drooled over was playing out in front of you. You sipped your drink once the waiter delivered three cappuccinos. Two weeks, tops.

Los Angeles afternoons were meant for playing outside, which is what your daughters did best if they weren’t busy pulling each other’s hair. You had dinner on the stove--enough for five--and a knot of nerves in your stomach when the wheels of his fancy car crunched atop the gravel.

The girls ran to greet him and Jeff showed him around the house. Now, Harry sat across from you at the table, Maeve to his left with an unimpressed look on her face when you cleared your throat. “Okay, gratitude time.”

Jeff set his fork back down, a guilty look on his face to admit he’d forgotten about your pre-dinner ritual.

CeCe squirmed in her seat, let out a sigh when Maeve protested with a flutter of her eyelashes. “I don’t have anything to be thankful for,” she informed you.

“That feels a little hard to believe,” you nodded, losing patience for her attitude over the last few days. “CeCe, do you want to go?”

Your younger daughter looked up at you, scrunched her mouth and thought about it. “I don’t have anything either.”

You tried not to groan aloud. After the week you’d had and the sudden changes in your life, disciplining your daughters felt like the last thing you wanted to do, if only they’d just behave.

“I can go,” Harry lifted his hand sheepishly as if he was sitting in a classroom and not in your dining room, a dimple on his cheek when he smiled sheepishly.

“Take it away,” you motioned towards him.

“M’thankful for being here, having a place to stay--and what looks like it will be a delicious meal.” By now he had a bit of smug look on his face, maybe proud of the fact that he’d broken the ice and stepped up to the pre-dinner prompt.

“Mom’s cooking is a solid six out of ten on a good day,” Maeve looked over at him, her fork now in her hand as if she was ready to dig in.

“Okay,” you leaned in and caught her gaze. “Drop the attitude or go to your room.”

“I’m thankful for Emma,” she named her friend, her quick submission after she rolled her eyes told you she just wanted to eat and get this over with. “She warned me today that Hayley was wearing a shirt I wore last week so I think she’s copying me.”

“Okay,” you nodded, you’d accept anything at this point. “CeCe? Last chance.”

“I’m grateful for pudding.”

Harry let out a quiet laugh, you nodded and said: “Great. I’m thankful for you two,” you smiled at them, hopeful that this nightly tradition would hold some type of meaning, more than just eye rolls and pre-pubescent angst from Maeve.

Jeff looked over at the girls, “I’m thankful for my friend Harry getting to meet my other friends, CeCe and Maeve.”

“Aww,” Harry smiled, a hand clutched to his heart when he looked between them.

“Alright,” you were annoyed by how good your daughters were at turning on their charm for anyone but you. Jeff was often the fun uncle, just like your ex had been the fun dad, which left you forcing them to play this gratitude game every night after they finished their homework.

CeCe wasted no time digging into the spaghetti on her plate, leaving Jeff to ask Maeve: “so what are you going to do about Hayley?”

“I don’t know,” Maeve sighed. “She’ll die when she finds out that you’re sleeping over,” she pointed her fork at Harry.

“He’s not sleeping over,” you corrected. “He’s staying in one of the guest rooms, remember?” You’d already explained it a few times to them. A few weeks, he’s working on more music, he’ll be busy, he’s not here to play with you.

“Whatever,” Maeve said. “Maybe I’ll hold it over her.”

“Maeve,” you looked over, unsure what had gotten into her. “I thought we talked about this stuff with Hayley?”

“I know--but she just keeps annoying me,” Maeve explained.

“Dump pasta on her head,” CeCe suggested with a giggle.

“Don’t do that,” you looked at CeCe and poked her in the stomach.

“I personally am a big fan of that idea,” Jeff smiled over at CeCe. “But it’d probably be better to just forget about it. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

“Or the sincerest form of annoying,” she retorted.

Harry let out a laugh at that, caught your gaze when you wondered how soon it’d take him to get annoyed with your kids.

They were great--smart, funny, clever, definitely witty and sometimes dramatic. But they were good kids.

You remembered how tough it was to adapt to motherhood, even though they were your own. Something told you that Harry, no matter how short his stay would be, was not in the chapter of his life that entailed finding joy in playdates and pillow fights.

But he made it through dinner, quiet but friendly and as soon as Maeve was finished, she begged him to play squishball outside before sunset.

“Squishball?” his eyebrows dipped together. “Never heard of it.”

“It’s basically just baseball but with a softer bat and a foam ball cause mom doesn’t want us to break our skulls,” Maeve informed.

“I never said break your skulls,” you argued.

“But it’s what you meant,” she shrugged.

“I would love to play,” Harry laughed, unbelievably entertained by the back and forth he’d already witnessed. They yanked him outside and set up their tiny diamond, CeCe pulled on a tutu just for flair and you and Jeff were left to handle the aftermath of a family dinner.

Jeff put the final plate into the dishwasher after a little bit and offered a hesitant smile when he turned around. “So?”

“So what? It’s been like an hour and a half of him being here.”

Their laughter from outside was audible, CeCe shrieked when Maeve made contact with the bat and sent the ball soaring into the air. “The girls clearly love him.”

“Of course they do--they love anyone for the first two hours.”

“I think he’ll be good for you guys.”

You rolled your eyes, wiped the counter with the sponge when he continued.

“And you guys will be good for him.”

This got your attention. “How so?”

“He’s a people-person, never likes being on his own too much. Some structure and responsibility is good for him.”

“So I’m babysitting him?”

“Oh my god,” he laughed. “Relax, will you? This could be a mutually beneficial thing if you let it, that’s all I’m saying.”

You didn’t read too much into it, you figured Jeff was peppering you with reassurance only to calm your nerves or quell your concerns. When he was finished helping you clean, he hugged the girls goodbye and waved over his shoulder, leaving Harry alone in your house with you and your daughters and nothing but good intentions.

You left him downstairs at first, helped CeCe brush her hair and sat on the floor when Maeve picked out her clothes for the next day: hopefully Hayley doesn’t own this dress.

When you headed back downstairs an hour later, the girls were tucked in, the lights were off, and your usual plan would have been to check your work emails if it weren’t for the dimpled guy in your living room.

He stood at the bookcase, hands clasped behind his back when you found him.

“Hi, sorry--bedtime is always a--” you paused, not even knowing the right label. “A shit show. But thanks for playing with them earlier.”

He laughed, turned around and offered a smile. “No worries--they seem like great kids.”

“They are,” you assured. “Maeve’s been a bit snarky lately but I think that’s just the whole beginning of puberty thing.” You cringed a little when the words left your mouth, wondering if it was too much information for someone who likely had cooler things to do than talk about ten-year-olds and training bras.

But he smiled, shoved his hands in his pockets when you said: let me show you around.

He’d arrived at the worst time. Homework, dinner prep, CeCe crying because Maeve finished her homework first. You didn’t have the chance to give him a tour and you figured it would be better coming from you than from Jeff, that way you could remind him of all the rules.

You showed him the ground floor first. The library, the family room, the two offices and the three different remotes that all worked different TVs or speakers or lamps. He marveled at the pictures on the wall in your dad’s old office space, he was a legend, he told you.

He climbed the stairs behind you and whispered in response when you pointed out what was behind each door. Bathroom, Maeve’s room, CeCe’s room, guest room, another bathroom, master suite, guest room, his room.

You pushed the door open and stepped aside to let him in. Gray walls, a wooden four-post king-sized bed. Throw pillows you’d picked out when you moved in a few weeks ago, a dresser to the left. He looked around and nodded. “S’perfect.”

“Good,” you said, walking over to a small linen closet in his attached bath. “Towels are in here, should be soap and stuff in the shower--had our housekeeper stock it.”

“Thanks,” he nodded again.

“I don’t know where you parked, but there’s a garage in the back that my dad used to keep some of his sports cars in--there’s definitely room and that way you don’t have to leave yours out if it rains.”

Were you talking too much? You just wanted him to feel at home or at least welcomed.

“Amazing,” he said. “Thank you.”

A repetitive answer but it didn't stop you from rambling.

“Keurig’s on the counter--creamer in the fridge. Should be plenty of food but obviously feel free to stock what you like. Except like, weed.”

“Weed doesn’t go in the fridge...” he eyed you suspiciously, the same dimple appeared on his cheek and you rolled your eyes.

“I know--I know weed doesn’t go in the fridge.”

“Just the no drug policy,” he nodded.

“Right. Am I forgetting anything?”

He shifted his weight on his feet and shrugged his shoulders, a subtle shake of his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Okay,” you nodded, one final look around the room to make sure he had what he needed. His duffle bag was already in the corner, you’d told Jeff to put it upstairs and out of the way so CeCe and Maeve didn’t get nosy.

“I just have a question actually, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah?”

“When did you move in here?”

“Uh, beginning of August, so like, almost a month ago.”

He nodded, his eyes curious despite the fact that he didn’t ask more.

“We had to put my dad in hospice, I was looking for a place anyway after,” a quick motion over your shoulder to gesture to the girls. “My divorce, so--a lot of change, but it’s been nice to be home.”

He nodded thoughtfully, the quiet of the bedroom suddenly felt heavy. “S’a beautiful house.”

“Thank you,” you looked around the room again, if only to put your eyes somewhere other than his face. “I felt shitty about redecorating it at first, but--it was a little too much of a 70s bachelor pad.”

“Leave it to Walt,” he joked.

That piqued your interest. “Did you know my dad? Like, did you spend any time with him?”

He pushed his lips out in thought but shook his head when he sat down on the bed. “Not really--met him a few times at events with Jeff, but I never spent any quality time with him.”

You nodded--he was a busy guy, popular and well respected in his industry. “He was a good person, good grandfather, too.”

Harry smiled at that. “Always heard that Irv was the balls but your dad was the heart.”

You laughed, scrunched your nose at the saying you’d heard a hundred times. The two of them were partners in crime, two peas in a pod, yet they couldn’t be more different. He spoke again before you could reply, voice soft in the sleepy house.

“I mean, if you're his daughter he obviously did something right.”

He held your gaze just long enough for you to feel something, something you pushed out of your mind so quickly that your hand was on the door knob before he could even say goodnight.

Two weeks, tops.

story page | talk to me + join the tag list

tag list: @sunflowerryvol6 @trulymadlykiki @kaybee87 @thurhomish @tpwkhoney @70s-harry @la-cey @sing-me-a-song-harry @morethanamelodyy @theresnooneheretosave @ihearthemcallingforyou @sunfloweratheart @g0bl1nqueen @millennial-teenybopper @rainbowparadiseharry @justsaying20 @andwhenshesays @harryinsweatersandbandanas @harrys-cherriesss @harrys-cherrry @cronias13 @burberryharold @15christyxoxo @dayxoxodreamer @stepping-into-the-light @mvaldez7821 @barnestann @styles217 @fineelineee @ursamajor603 @tayrenea @hayyyayy @mellamolayla @lovelylemonadeaddict @harrystyle-ish @harryspirate @apples2019 @goldeng1rl8 @rainbowbutterflyboy

528 notes · View notes

ncssian · 4 years ago

Text

A Favor: Bonus Scene Two (Gwynriel)

Masterlist

a/n: this picks up right after nesta leaves gwyn’s apartment in Part 24. warning for discussions of sex, obviously.

***

As soon as the apartment door shuts after Nesta, Gwyn releases a breath and turns to Azriel with a wide gaze. “Do I really have to teach you guitar?” she says.

“Of course not.” He rolls his eyes. It was a throwaway line meant to get Nesta off his back, and even she didn’t entirely believe it. He moves toward the kitchen to get a glass of water, still shaken from Nesta storming into Gwyn’s bedroom like that. Not that she interrupted much. Gwyn still has a long way to go before she can handle anyone touching her between her legs, Azriel thinks.

He never asked Gwyn what a twenty-seven year old woman was so afraid of sex for when she first suggested her proposal to him. She looked so scared that he would question her that he couldn’t bring himself to poke even a little bit. Not that he needs to poke. He’s not a fucking idiot, and Gwyn’s thighs had been trembling in involuntary fear under his hands earlier. She’s been hurt.

For her sake, he pretends to remain ignorant and incurious, but right now his grip on the glass in his hand is so tight it might shatter. His face remains cool as he pours himself water.

“Why didn’t you tell her the truth?” Gwyn hops up onto the kitchen counter and swings her freakishly long legs. “About what you get out of our deal?”

“I don’t expect you to teach me sex for free, obviously,” Gwyn blabbered the day after they got back from the ski lodge. “You can ask for something from me, too. Even money, if that’s your thing.”

Prostitution was not Azriel’s thing, though he wouldn’t knock it. The truth was that his brain had started turning as soon as Gwyn told him about her idea, and now it couldn’t stop. Oddly enough, this opportunity was perfect.

“Tell Nesta that I’m using you as a rebound?” Azriel nearly snorts on his water. “Did you miss the part where she almost cut my dick off and choked me with it?”

Gwyn hums noncommittally. “Being a distraction from your ex is better for me than it is for you. It’s insurance that you won’t get any funny ideas.” She narrows her teal eyes at him. “If you find yourself moving on from Nesta’s hot sister, you better tell me right away. I’ll end this whole thing quickly and cleanly.”

“Why?” He thought moving on from Elain was the goal, one he was unlikely to achieve.

“You know.” She crosses her arms in an X over her chest like she’s warding him off. “You might catch—feelings for me.”

This time Azriel really does snort on his water, hard. His laughter turns into coughing when it slips down the wrong pipe, and liquid dribbles onto his shirt. Gwyn just sits there and stares at him in vague disgust.

When he’s done choking, he wipes his mouth with the hem of his tee and gasps, “Even without Elain, you wouldn’t need to worry about that. Trust me.”

Gwyn wrinkles her freckled nose in distaste. “I would be offended if I wasn’t so relieved.”

He’s still chuckling when Gwyn says cautiously, “By the way…” She chews on the inside of her cheek. “Did you really ghost Elain?”

Azriel is no longer amused.

“When you said you broke up with her, I thought you actually broke up with her,” Gwyn continues. “I didn’t know you were one of those guys.”

Shame tinged with embarrassment floods Azriel, and he doesn’t have the slightest idea why. Why does it matter what Gwyn of all people thinks of him, especially when she doesn’t have all the details?

He thought he was making things easier for Elain by leaving without a word. He thought she would let him slip out of her mind after a couple of weeks just like he slipped out of her life, and that it would be better than having to hear him dump his insecurities on her.

He knows now that he was only making things easier for himself. Knows that if he had stayed and talked things out with Elain, she would have convinced him to stay. If he had called her at all in the past two months, he would have gone running back to Velaris like a sailor answering a siren’s song.

She’s always been a siren—which is why he can’t regret doing what would have happened eventually anyway. Even without that Vanserra bastard or some other man, Elain could never have been a permanent fixture in Azriel’s life. Little details sprinkled throughout their time together confirm that for him now.

That doesn’t mean Elain deserved it, or deserves it now. Azriel knows that.

But all he can think of to say to Gwyn is, “Yeah, maybe I am one of those guys.” He puts his glass in the sink. “You still want me as your teacher?”

Gwyn shrugs, looking away. “It’s not like I’ve got any other choice.”

Azriel would disagree. He says what he’s been thinking since they got back from Cassian’s birthday trip. “Wouldn’t you rather do this with someone you love and trust?”

“God no,” Gwyn snorts, providing no further explanation.

Azriel can understand being hesitant to admit sexual inexperience to a crush, but it doesn’t stop him from judging Gwyn’s new man. If this coworker of hers is so great, wouldn’t she be able to trust him unabashedly with her insecurities? Wouldn’t he readily accept her for all that she is?

Ugh, he’s been dipping into Nesta’s reading collection too much lately. “Alright, then.” He leans against the counter opposite Gwyn. “Let’s talk about learning. You clammed up in bed back there after ignoring my suggestions and shoving my head between your legs.”

“I clammed up because of my best friend barging into my room and catching us together,” Gwyn defends.

“Your pussy was dry as bread before that,” he retorts. Ooh, now he wants toast.

Gwyn turns a furious shade of red while Azriel starts looking around for bread. He finds it sitting by the toaster. “Can you not say that?” she hisses at him.

“What?” He looks up from dropping bread into the toaster.

“You know…” She glances around cautiously as if someone might overhear. “Pussy.”

“Pussy,” he says again, just to be annoying. Gwyn’s shoulders turn inward in embarrassment, and he has to hold back a grin. Yeah, she’s definitely not ready for oral.

He finds a butter knife and some peanut butter. “I told you to start easy and you ignored me. You tried jumping into the deep end without learning how to tread water.”

Gwyn scoffs. “And what does ‘treading water’ entail again?”

Azriel shrugs, plucking up his finished toast. “Making out, heavy petting, freshman-year-of-high-school kind of stuff.”

“I’ve done that before,” she mutters indignantly. “Maybe not in my freshman year, but I’ve done it.”

He wonders how long ago that was, or if it was before she was—hurt.

“Besides,” Gwyn goes on before he can push the matter further, “I’m not budging on kissing. I want to save that for the man I actually like.”

“You don’t like me?” Azriel raises a brow, slathering peanut butter over his toast. “You definitely don’t act the same with me as you do with other men.” Or at least that’s what he assumes. Up until a short while ago, he never would’ve been able to imagine timid Gwyn having the guts to ask anyone for sex ed. That’s got to make him special, right?

But then Gwyn waves him off and says, “That’s ‘cause you’re not a real man. I knew you before puberty.”

Azriel nearly drops his toast. “Wow, the nerve of this woman,” he mutters with wide eyes. If she keeps this up, he’s going to start regretting ever going to the same school as her. “That’s not what you said when you were going on about how attracted you are to me.”

“I said you were attractive, not that I was attracted.” Gwyn’s blush is more from irritation than shyness now. “You do the job, but you’re no Max.” She giggles at saying his name. Actually giggles. “I’ll only kiss Max.”

“What kind of stupid ass name is Max?” Azriel grumbles through a mouthful of peanut butter.

“It’s short for Maximillian.”

He chokes. “Jesus, that’s even worse.” He’s doing all this work for some guy named Maximillian. Maybe he should just go home and let Nesta give him the beating he deserves.

Except thinking about Nesta only reminds Azriel of what a coward he is, because he fears facing her again almost as much as he fears facing Elain. “By the way, could I…” he starts hesitantly.

Gwyn gives him a judgmental sneer. “You don’t want to go back to the cabin, do you?”

He shakes his head.

“You can’t stay here,” she responds, crushing his hopes. “I have plans tonight, but even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t let you be such a wimp.” She hops off the counter and comes over to him, surprising him by grabbing both of his shoulders. “Azriel,” she says somberly.

He swallows his toast roughly.

“You have to grow some balls,” she continues. “Not just for your sake, but for the sake of every poor woman in your life. Also, all this drama is personally a turn-off for me, which is detrimental to my sex education.” She wrinkles her nose. “Do better and all that, you know?”

Damn, okay.

Instead of standing there like an idiot, Azriel manages to say, “Fine, I’ll go.” He shoves the rest of his toast into his mouth and dusts off his hands, heading for the living room.

“Wait, you don’t have to leave right now—” Gwyn follows after him. Azriel is already on the couch, pulling a stray notepad and pen on the coffee table closer to himself.

He clicks the pen. “When’s that library guy planning to take you out?” he asks, starting to write.

Gwyn hovers near him, watching the notepad over his shoulder in confusion. “Um, this Saturday. Just a casual coffee shop thing.”

“Then I’ll see you on Friday.” He scribbles down some bullet points and labels the page LESSON PLAN. “Until then, think about a way to enjoy foreplay without kissing. Here are some suggestions so you can practice.” He tears the lined paper out of the notepad and hands it to Gwyn.

Her eyes skim over the page, brows rising with each point she reads. “Is all this really necessary?”

Azriel remembers how he barely brushed his lips against Gwyn’s core before having to pull away and kiss her quivering thigh instead. He can’t have sex with an unaroused woman, and he definitely can’t do it with a terrified woman. “Foreplay is absolutely necessary,” he says, getting up from the couch and stretching to his full height. Where Elain used to only reach his chest, Gwyn’s head almost reaches his nose. It amuses him for some reason.

“Do you like movies?” he adds. “I’ll take you to the movies on Friday.” Preferably something boring and played out, so the theater will be empty and she won’t be paying attention.

Gwyn’s eyes widen. “Is going on dates also part of foreplay?”

“It can be,” Azriel shrugs. It will be when he does it. He drops a hand onto Gwyn’s head and ruffles her hair. “I’d love to stay and help you study, but I have to go and grow some balls.” He mock-frowns at her as he heads for his shoes and keys. “See you later, Gwyneth.”

***

a/n: wait why do i wanna write the movie theater scene now… pls help me im just trying to finish this damn fic im getting too old for this

tagging: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook a favor: @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara @lanyjoy-13 @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad @dontgetsalmonella @champanheandluxxury @togreblog @arinbelle @ladygabrielli1997 @meridainthedisneyland @moodymelanist @pixieelea @teagoddess99

#ncssianwrites #gwynriel #a favor #bonus scene

196 notes · View notes

brooklynislandgirl · 1 year ago

Text

Beth doesn't sleep. Not regularly, not for just about eighteen years. She remembers that first night in Brooklyn. Exhausted from jet-lag ~which is a banal way of describing one's body arriving before the soul has a chance to catch up with it~ and from the cascade of fear, anxiety, a wariness of change that she could not explain now any more than she could explain then. None of which could be tempered by her acceptance into Columbia for Pre-Med. If she were ever to be asked, she would be forced to admit that Stephen ~then a luminary young graduate already shattering the boundaries of known science~ had been a large part of making the choice that she had. There were dozens of universities courting her but none she felt she could challenge herself with, not when she already knew him to be her benchmark. Then there was the fact that her brother never failed to gush about New York. Full of enthusiasm in a way she rarely heard him talk about… well, anything. Little could she have predicted then all the ways her life would change. All the things she would lose, what few things she would gain, and ultimately the stasis of treading water from day to day. Tonight she has a vague notion of what keeps her awake. It isn't the fear of what happens when she closes her eyes and finds herself swallowed by inescapable darkness. How it would hold her still when every instinct in her body is to move. How it steals her breath even before the figure appears. Always at the foot of her bed. Tall and made of living shadow. Radiating an aura of palpable menace, the being creeping closer and closer. Beth knows beyond a shadow of doubt that if it ever reaches the head of the bed, that will be her last living moment. Her therapist doesn't take her seriously. Tells her it's all a delusion, part of the chemical imbalance in her brain. But Beth isn't crazy.

~*~

Thankfully, he's never thought she was. And he wouldn't laugh if she said she could feel the ache that shrieks through his limbs. If she were to try and describe it, she would tell him the sensation is akin to frozen ice-picks being randomly stabbed into his hands. His fingers being crushed beneath boulders. Fire licking up his arms. All at random intervals, for protean lengths of time. On the fitful cusp of semi-lucid drowning, she's jolted to full awareness by the incessant scream long her nerves. Covers flow backward, bare feet touch the rug on the side of her bed. She sits on the edge of her bed while the too-cool bite of air surrounds her. After a moment she pushes herself up by her knuckles and slips on a matching robe to the satin peignoir that drapes around her, down to her ankles. Even in bed she hides her leg away. Stephen isn't in his room, and when she discovers that she realises that thinking he might be was not a well conceived idea. How often did she hang about the scene of her own crimes? Neither is he in the library, or any of the dozens of rooms and galleries that do not match the outside architecture. She sometimes grins to herself when she likens the Sanctum to the Tardis, she imagines both Doctors would do the same. Deep down, she knows that it is likely a simple correspondence and matter effect woven into the stone and wood when the Sanctum was created, but largely Beth doesn't really think about it much at all. Neither of the two spheres were things she could perceive much less manipulate. Her impromptu game of Where's Waldo ~Stephen Strange edition~ ends in the kitchen. It's a tea or coffee kind of night, then, as the Keurig is easier than making a whole pot, and the kettle even more so. But there isn't a lot of heating water and ersatz grounds that she doesn't believe have ever been near the Pacific- never mind the slopes of Hualalai. She creeps up silent as the whisker-twitch of mice but some how he notices her before she can do anything more than stop a few feet away. Snared by his sardonic tone. One corner of her mouth rises even as she bows her head. "I would suggest aksin' your pharmacist for da kind of caps dat are given t' patients wi' severe osteo- or rheumatoid art'ritis f' ya wanna go dat route." She closes the distance between them. She reaches to the end of her natural arm length and gently rests her hands on his shoulders. Her chin lifts to the vicinity of his seventh thoracic vertebrae. Her breath is warm, it is still preternaturally sweet as he'd caught it with sharpened senses. Her hands slip just slightly, too little to be accidental, to the upper portion of his arms. "Or you have…oddah options."

Because she is at his back, she knows good and well he cannot see her face. Maybe the outline of her in periphery but that is enough. Her eyes gleam with a certain spark, a little brighter than usual as she glances beyond the physical, searching for and beholding his personal pattern in the Tapestry. His threads are incredibly vivid to her. They seem to shimmer with their own inner light and she doesn't pretend it has anything to do with the vast sea of untethered feelings she has for him. No that is a pattern of a man Awakened, one whose power spans in directions even she can't follow, the kind of man who has a heavy noose of Destiny-with-a-capital-D around his neck. And she can see, too, where those gossamer threads are frayed and knotted. How little she would have to tug on them to mend them properly. But in the man, which she is concerned for, the one she has loved for nearly a decade and some odd years between, she knows he would fight her. Maybe not grip her wrists and turn her away ~she doesn't think he can make his fists that tight, not right now anyway~ but the clash of their wills would register on a Richter scale. She isn't willing to risk that. Not yet. Not while he still has all of his faculties. I will reverence my master who taught me the art. I will allow him things necessary for his support. She reaches his elbow and her caress becomes as ephemeral as prayer but at the same time as heavy as a wish. She only twists the Thread the tiniest bit, doesn't mend it. If she had any sense, she'd let him go but she doesn't. "Dere, a respite. You wan coffee…tea…or we breakin' into dat t'irty year age whiskey I know you got up dere, too?"

Pins and Needles

@brooklynislandgirl

A dark, cloudless night. Stars twinkling overhead. Route 97. A few miles north of Port Jervis, New York. A steel-gray Lamborghini Huracán Coupé -- a car possessed of far more power and style than sense… driven by a man for whom the same could be said.

A conversation via Bluetooth-connected cell. Witty repartée is the order of the evening, as the driver and the conversant from the other end exchange notes and quips with speed to rival that of the car, itself hurtling around corners near the Delaware River. A venue in Pennsylvania is the destination.

And when the driver's eyes fall away from the road?

That is The Moment.

~~~

Stephen's brow is knitted tight and beaded with sweat, but he does not jerk upright to throw himself back into the realm of consciousness. For once, it isn't necessary. The event which summons him back to the waking world is not the nightmare he has perpetrated upon himself.

He cannot remember the crash. The forces involved in it had tossed his car down a cliff face, through a fence, and left it to rest half-submerged in the water below; he had passed out from the shock of his horrendous injuries. It had never properly registered in his short-term memory, and therefore could never be transferred to long-term. Most would consider such an experience a blessing to forget.

But not Stephen Strange… not after learning of a means to visit The Moment.

The Eye of Agamotto -- a powerful relic, once home to an even more powerful shard of primordial force. A vessel containing the essence of the flow of Time itself. And when the responsibility of bearing the stone had passed to him, Stephen could not let the opportunity go to waste. To seek out the moment of the car crash that changed his life, to bear witness in achingly slow measure to the awful trauma that befell his body -- and most specifically, his hands.

And therein lies the nightmare. He does not dare risk a fracture in the flow of Time by projecting his astral form into his younger body… but he's watched himself do it. Over and over again. Bending the hourglass to his will like pressing the Rewind button on a VCR, hoping against hope that he will see some manner of influence directing the young, stupid Stephen to behave so irrationally. Perhaps an eldritch entity that knew his fate was to become Sorcerer Supreme, wishing to cut him off before he could achieve his destiny.

But no. It was just him.

Just him and his arrogance.

It is a horror unlike any demon or abomination he has confronted since. Because the horror is of his own making, and his alone. In that single moment of inattentiveness, Stephen had turned himself into a statistic. A +1 on a ledger dedicated to reckless behavior. +1 on another ledger detailing lost causes.

And as his eyes open to reality around him, he takes note of the event that woke him -- a direct consequence of that crash, and of the heroic and tireless work invested into saving the catastrophic damage wrought upon his hands.

Paresthesia. Pins and needles, wracking his digits and inspiring them to curl and spasm, seemingly of their own volition. In the dream, he had been bodiless while watching the young and foolish Stephen Strange driving around that corner -- yet he'd become aware of a burst of pins and needles and shooting aches in his wrists and fingers. Could feel the spasming, the clenching of his muscles despite all effort he could dedicate to relax them.

It is persistent. There are times it is mere discomfort, other times where it is excruciating. Tonight, it is painful, and that it managed to wake him means it registers as at least a 7.

He sighs and presses his fists into the bed to push himself up. He struggles to don his tunic, then finds his way to the kitchen. Therein is a cabinet which contains Corningware dishes; a simple flourish brings forth a small hidden space that contains a discreet stash of medications he has been known to use to take the edge off his constant discomfort. Most days he ignores it. A 5 or less doesn't merit his capitulation. The pain can be a useful tool. But once it creeps above 6, he begins to consider the store-bought remedies.

It is still nighttime in New York, though of course Kamar-Taj enjoys a bright sun half a world away. He has a mind to open a portal to it and bear witness to the array of students under Wong's tutelage there. On the other hand (no pun intended), he sees no particular purpose to letting them witness the tremors making his fingers flutter uncontrollably against his palms. The spasming will fade soon, he's certain of it, but even gripping items properly seems a challenge, and opening the pill bottle nearly causes him to shake its contents all over the countertop.

He slumps his shoulders and sighs again, his eyebrows flaring up his forehead. "This used to be easier…" But as he draws breath from that bit of rhetoric, he catches a scent of cinnamon at the edge of his awareness. He hesitates, and a small, wry smile beneath his well-trimmed moustache springs to life.

Without turning around, he stands a little straighter and lets his hands settle on the counter. "You know something about 'child-proof' lids? They tend to be adult-proof, too. We should figure something out for that."

#tangleweave #Sorcerer Supreme|Stephen Strange #Sphere Music|Stephen and Beth #Practical Magick|Doctor Strange au #Brooklyn Stories|New York

2 notes · View notes

punemy-spotted · 4 years ago

Text

In Which Love is a Leap of Faith

Chapter 1: Merman

Summary: You thought a man was drowning in the lake. He wasn't.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x You

Warnings: Eventual Smut, Alcohol Mentions, PLEASE DON'T JUST DIVE INTO LAKES IN YOUR BRA AND PANTIES THAT'S WHAT EMERGENCY SERVICES ARE FOR YOU DO NOT WANT TO DROWN, Don't Try This At Home, 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI

Notes: Pacing meant I couldn't shoehorn being absolutely railed by Steve Rogers into Chapter 1 but Chapter 2 is starting with a bang. Will this be an ongoing series? Probably. Inspired by This Reddit Post

Did you know? Did you know the Avengers sometimes came out to your little mountain hideaway? Well. Not exactly yours, but you’ve lived here your whole life and you know it best. This is your sanctuary, the space you feel safest and yet you had no idea. Of course you didn’t, because if you did? You wouldn’t have just stripped down to your bra and panties and taken a running leap of faith off a cliff right into the mountain-spring lake below.

So how did you get here, making that perfect arc with your body, arms outstretched before you the way you remembered from swim practice all those years ago?

Easy.

You were jogging, like you always do in the mornings before work — your parents’ bar, where you wait tables and balance the books and keep the family business alive — when you saw him. Floating, almost limp in the water, just bobbing along in the emptiness. The lake had a reputation — there was always some barely corroborated story about a friend-of-a-friend who nearly drowned or a tourist who quite possibly did — and you, having occasionally been the person putting MISSING posters up, didn’t want the loved ones of the man in the water coming to town wondering.

If you could save one person from the torment of the unknown, wouldn’t it have been worth it?

So you yelled, Hey! Hang on just a little longer, I’m coming! and threw your clothes off and to the side before throwing yourself off and into the water. You’d swam here plenty of times, knew the exact angle to hit the cold surface, knew just where the shore was from here, knew the right path to take to get to your clothes, thrown haphazardly over a rock somewhere. This was your sanctuary, and you weren’t going to let it turn into someone else’s grave.

Except then you actually reach the man in the water and the blue-eyed surprise spread all over his face Are you okay?

Yes? Are you?

See that? That’s a regulator hanging from the side of his mask.

Now isn’t that convenient?

What the Hell are you doing out here?

What are you doing out here?

I thought you were drowning! Who the fu—CHRIST!

You’re not alone with the blond man in the water — you know his face now, of course you do, as you tread water and try not to glare at Captain fucking America, Steve Rogers, the Man With A Plan, cuz you sure as hell ain’t the gal with one, not anymore — and the clearing throat about three feet away from you sends you into a kicking frenzy, screaming in surprise and face-to-face with a very bemused (and also very concerned) Sam Wilson.

There really is no justice left in the world for you, because they’re both laughing so hard you think Captain America might actually keel over right here and now.

And there’s more.

There’s always freaking more, isn’t there? Yeah, that’s the rest of the fucking Avengers, popping up out of the water and looking like you’re the best comedy act they’ve seen all week.

You’re treading water so fast you think your legs and arms might give out here and now and oh fuck you don’t want to end up the friend-of-a-friend in those cautionary ta— Steve Rogers to the rescue once again. He’s so gentle when he puts his hands on your waist and holds you still Hey, hey, I’ve got you. You okay? You’ll float, just relax, just relax.

You have the good sense not to glare at him for patronizing you. He has the good sense not to tease you for swearing up down and sideways.

You good?

Yeah.

Good.

You’re so red you might in fact have turned into the sun from the force of your embarrassment and the smirks on everyone’s faces don’t exactly help but here you are. I thought you were drowning so I— you can’t even finish your explanation it sounds so ridiculous surrounded by the Avengers in dive suits and regulators.

The smirk on Steve Rogers's face? Absolutely illegal, you should kiss it off do something about it.

You’re still thinking about the what you should do when he speaks up again, steady and warm and it’s honestly hard to be mad when he’s holding you up and keeping you steady, You wanna escort me back to shore?

It’s nice of him to be the one to glare at Sam when the Falcon bursts into laughter at the ridiculousness of the offer, but you know what? Still rude.

Yeah, I can. Hard to flounce when you’re still treading water, even harder to flounce when you’re wearing nothing but a bra and panties and Steve Rogers is pressed against you.

You’re a good swimmer and he’s a good complimenter, handing you a towel and trying not to look at you in soaking wet skivvies. You briefly consider how you might have preferred him being unconscious — least he wouldn’t see the heat rising to your cheeks or the way you’re avoiding looking at him in the dive suit does it have to look so good?

Yeah, thanks. Learned to swim in the lake while you towel off and glance up the path where the rest of your clothes are waiting. You’re going to have to explain this to your family and they’re absolutely going to be weird about it, aren’t they?

Hey he startles you again, why does he keep doing that and you’ve got eyes on him, big and round you did the right thing back there. Thanks.

What?

Jumping into the water. Trying to help. It was the right thing to do.

You… didn’t need any help though.

Yeah, but you didn’t know that.

Okay we— he does that thing, the glare you’ve heard he’s famous for you watch the news and you just. Shut up, faster than you expected. Oh. So that’s how it feels.

Look. We shouldn’t have laughed — and I’m sorry about that. I’ll talk with the rest of them later. There’s not enough people who go diving into lakes and try to do the right thing, and even if I didn’t need it, you did it because you wanted to do the right thing, and that’s what matters.

If you weren’t red before, you’re redder now, about to open your mouth to say thanks and then—

But that was also incredibly dangerous, what if you’d gotten hurt in the dive? How good are emergency services out here — you can always call them before you start stripping down — water’s too cold for that anyway.

You know what, being scolded by Captain America sucks.

Better focus on the praise.

You invited him to the bar.

Well. Technically you invited all of them to the bar — something about overpriced beer and endless pool, you can’t remember you were too busy rambling in your underwear. Bottom line, you invited the Avengers — who, if you recall, apparently come out to your little mountain hideaway for dive training — to your family’s bar and your mother (bless her) didn’t kill you for not giving her advance warning so she could clean the place up.

They’re not gonna show, c’mon, it’s the Avengers. They’ve got better things to do than humor the dumb bitch who jumped into a lake wearing nothing but a sports bra and some briefs.

You’re too busy dealing with the dinner crowd to be disappointed, and trying not to think about how everyone in town is asking you about your encounter with Captain America and The Avengers was he nice what was Thor like were they polite did you really meet them in your underwear what are you, Ariel?

Did your mother have to be the town gossip?

You’re busy and frazzled and the dinner crowd gives way to the lakeside drinkers and still no one shows, proving you right as you clean glasses and try to steer gossip to something less exciting.

You don’t actually notice when the room goes quiet.

Not until you hear Hi, we’re looking for…

You could almost say you didn’t recognize him in clothes, but Captain America? Looks really good in a leather jacket and a button-down, determinedly trying not to jam his hands into his pockets like some sort of dork, hair dry and combed and even a little sheepish as he scans the room until he sees you.

Hey. That offer for drinks still open?

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #captain america x reader #captain america x you #meet cute #fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers headcanon #avengers fanfiction

147 notes · View notes

jarofstyles · 5 years ago

Text

SK8ER BOI - Kickflip

A/N: Here is the first installment our take on bad boy harry! It gets into things pretty quick but there is lots of content to come. Skater boy Harry is essentially what you wish every boy with a nicotine addiction was like featuring Timothée Chalamet as the uninterested boyfriend 🤭 We had a lot of fun writing this story so we hope you enjoy! - n+d

send feedback and requests here

If you like this, check out our Patreon!

masterlist

pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

warnings: smut, cheating

word count: 8.5k

Y/N was just an average girl.

Though some could say she tread on the nerdier side of things, she was neither here nor there as far as social groups at school. No one really bullied her, she sort of just kept to herself and did her work and that was all she needed to get by. Her parents were middle class, working average jobs, and Y/N would likely follow suit. She really wasn’t sure what she wanted to do just yet. Everything was fine in her life, except for the fact that her boyfriend of three years refused to touch her. It was a shame really. She had grown a really strong attachment to him and they used to hang out all the time, but as they got older it seemed like he wanted less and less to do with her. His status as student body president definitely helped her out and well... Everyone had a crush on Timothée. She really wanted to explore with him, wanted to pleasure him and vice versa, bond in a way so many others described. But she just boiled it down to her not being sexy enough for him. She saw the browser history on his computer when he left it out in his bed while showering. He didn’t even try to hide it. Y/N, couldn’t say she didn’t have fantasies about one particular bad boy. Harry.

Harry was in fact, that skater boy. That one guy that rode his board out of school— until he had gotten his car. He still rode it around the school campus, not at all hiding it. Even at the age of 17, he had gotten tattoos. His parents were wicked cool. They didn’t mind him doing whatever as long as he did well in school, and attended functions like family parties and whatever. They were close, anyways. His father was a well known quantum physicist and his mum, a romance novel author. His group of friends called his home their main hang out area. He had a good head on his shoulder despite what his look may say. He knew people would definitely be judging him and truth be told, he didn’t much care. He was more into what he was working towards versus what high school champs had to say.

Harry was intrigued when Mr. Beck partnered him with Y/N for a science project, though. She was a very good girl. Known for good grades and dating that class president dude, Timothée. He was pretty sure the dude was 100% gay or at least bi based on the subtle flirting he had initiated with Harry until a few years back when he decided to date Y/N. In his opinion, it was a waste because whenever he saw them, there was no passion. Y/N was hot as fuck— you’d have to be blind to not see it. But he didn’t know what went on behind the scenes. He wasn’t close with her but she seemed chill enough, so he didn’t mind when she was partnered with him.

“Hey. Come in.” He said politely as he answered the door for Y/N, holding it open and taking her bag. He could hear the little jingle of bells on collars and realized he hadn’t warned her. “Uh— we have a bunch of cats. Is that cool? Or do we need to leave? Sorry, I didn’t think to ask if you were allergic or something.”

“Hi.” Y/N squeaked out, taking a step inside and thanking him for taking her bag. His house was massive! You’d never be able to tell he had a house like this just by looking at him, but the address clearly stated it was his so she didn’t bother leaving and looking for another. The first thing she noticed besides the beautiful interior of the house was the sound of little bells. Y/N turned her head to see about four cats coming towards her and her heart melted. “Oh my goodness! I didn’t know you had kitties!” She quickly dropped down to her knees to greet them, “hi little angels!” She cooed, sticking her hand out for each of them to have a sniff and see if they liked her or not before she went to pet them. She looked up at Harry with a bright smile, “Sorry, my parents never let me have pets after my bunny died in 4th grade because they didn’t want me to go through that emotional trauma again.” She knew it was a bit of an overshare, but that’s just the kind of person she was. Harry looked extremely attractive from this angle, ideas swirling around in her mind about all the things she could do with him. Y/N stood up again, fixing her little overalls before pulling off her shoes and leaving them by the door. She didn’t want to get a nice house like this all messy. She walked up to Harry again, expecting him to lead her towards his room or wherever they wanted to work.

Harry was impressed. All the cats seemed to like her, including Grumpy. He was named that for a reason. His smush face and grumpy look were warnings for how he really didn’t like anyone but Harry and his parents. But he was rubbing against Y/N’s hand and then her leg with a purr.

“Oh. I’m sorry about your rabbit. It always sucks when they die.” Harry said softly. He wasn’t sure why she told him, but it did make him sad to hear it. He lost a cat a few months back and it did hurt. There was definite emotional trauma in it. “They like you. That’s cool. They’ll probably follow us up. Are you cool with going to my room? That’s where my computer is.” He hadn’t brought it down but his room was his preferred study space. He also didn’t want her to think he was some creep so gave her the option, which she nodded to. “It’s at the top, the attic space so prepare for some steps.” He said sheepishly, picking up her bag again so he could carry it up. “Oof. Are there bricks in ‘ere?” He was teasing.

“I don’t mind.” Y/N felt good about the fact that his cats liked her, she was rather fond of them already so she didn’t mind them coming upstairs with them. She felt herself get all nervous because well... she would be going to Harry’s room. He probably had no idea about the filthy thoughts she had about him, even just watching him walk up the stairs was hot. “No! Just my laptop and notebook... maybe a pencil case... and a water bottle.” Y/N defended, feeling her face get all blushy because she did realize there was quite a lot of stuff in her bag. However, walking up the stairs wasn’t all too difficult. They were perfectly spaced out which was nice, all of the decor in the house was beautiful but still very cozy. The house was definitely lived in.

His room though? Goodness.

“Wow...” Y/N mumbled as she stepped up inside. It was amazing. The walls were white but he had a theme of wood and navy, some vintage looking items here and there. Overall she noticed his little reading nook and what seemed to be an astronomy section with bean bags and a telescope. He even had a mini fridge in there and a cupboard... even a microwave! It was a whole little man cave.

“Yeah, s’nice. It’s my own little place.” He smiled at her reaction, putting her bag down on his bed as he grabbed his laptop and unplugged it from the charger. “Want a water?” He didn’t listen for an answer, rather grabbed her one and handed it to her. His mum had raised him to always give company a drink. “We can work on my bed. The cats will probably come in here and pretend they aren’t looking for attention when they are.” He smirked, going over to his bed and sitting against the headboard like area. She looked shy so he tilted his head, patting the blanket. “C’mon then. Don’t be shy. This isn’t your first time in a boys room, is it?” He couldn’t imagine that Timothée was dating a hot bitch like Y/N and not be tapping it. If she didn’t have a boyfriend he would be trying to get her to know better because she really was gorgeous. But they’d been dating too long and Y/N probably wouldn’t go for that.

Y/N knew that her blush gave away her answer as she went to sit on his bed, not quite next to him though. She was a bit too nervous for that. In her mind she was already sitting on Harry’s lap with his hands gripping at her ass, his perfectly plump lips slotted between her own. Y/N shook her own thoughts out of her head but felt like she needed to answer his question.

“Maybe it is...” She mumbled, pulling her laptop out of her bag and turning it on. It suddenly got very hot in his room and not just because they were in the attic. Y/N was burning up, his eyes were very obviously on her and she knew he’d ask and she’d definitely confess to him. She’d do anything Harry wanted her to do really, fuck. She just wanted to be touched. Seeing the look of shock and confusion prompted her to explain further despite how anxiety provoking it might have been. “Timmy and I don’t—” Y/N started, looking away feeling all embarrassed. “He won’t...” She couldn’t even say it, she was just that shy and embarrassed.

Oh. Wow. He didn’t.... he didn’t fuck her? Harry thought.

“You’re kidding?” He raised a brow. He understood what she meant. It went from zero to a hundred real quickly but he couldn’t say he was angry about it. He just didn’t understand why.

Y/N’s face grew incredibly hot, looking up at Harry with a serious but semi spooked expression when he asked if she was kidding. She absolutely wasn’t kidding. If she was kidding she wouldn’t be so damn horny and ravenous. She felt like she could burst all the time, touch starved beyond belief. Sure, he’d kiss her, but never anything too passionate. It would always make him uncomfortable the second they got too hot.

“How come you’re tellin’ me this? I mean... it’s fine you do, I won’t say shit but, we barely know each other.” He questioned, putting an arm behind his head as he looked expectantly at her for an answer. She was hot. Sexy as fuck, had that innocent good girl appeal and he loved that shit, personally. Timmy. God, the least sexy name to moan in bed. Really. He could only think about the fairy godparents cartoon. Ick. He was surprised though. “You’ve been dating for years, haven’t you?” It definitely wasn’t a Y/N problem. She was blurting things out so if she wanted to, she would have told him.

Y/N’s mouth went dry because well, she had an answer for him, she just wasn’t sure how he’d react. “cause... I know you enough to know you make me really nervous, especially right now.” Y/N was really bad at being sexy, her delivery and flirting was horrible but she hoped he picked up what she was putting down. “Yeah... we’ve been together for three years.” Y/N explained, letting out a deep breath. “It wasn’t so bad at first, but I just—” She was horny. She was so fucking horny it was ridiculous. She’d probably moan if they held hands at this point. “I’ve tried, but he’s not into it I guess.”

Harry could tell she was horny. He could feel it. He just knew. Looking at her, she was a bit antsy. Not able to sit still but most importantly, squeezing her thighs together. No way. She was horny and maybe partly because of him?

“Not into it? That’s some bullshit.” Harry scoffed. “Not to be weird, but you’re hot as fuck. If he’s not into it he might be gay or is just blind.” He didn’t want to offend her but he had a feeling it was the first. Either way, there had to be a reason for him not wanting to eat the girl alive. Harry had definitely noticed Y/N before. She was cute, kind, had his favorite type of body, and had pretty, full lips. Also, a very cute laugh. She was innocent and he liked that type of vibe. Maybe it was a bit fucked to be aroused by that but hey, he was a teenage boy as well. “Don’t have to be nervous, babe. I don’t bite. Unless asked.” He gave her another smirk. Her blush was cute and her flush reminded him again at how easy it was to work her up. They’d begun working but Harry still had a question of two, and he could feel her hormones— he swore he could. The poor thing.

Well. There it goes.

The guy Y/N had been having sexual fantasies about for years calling her hot? Of course she wouldn’t be able to calm down now. Her face hadn’t cooled off, he didn’t really give her a chance to either. She just pulled her hair up into a bun but it didn’t help. Poor girl, you could see it on her neck too. She was just nervous and embarrassed and horny. So so horny. Timmy being gay though? It could be a solid explanation for why he didn’t want to touch her. It’s not like he looked at other girls, he always called her pretty and complimented her looks. Was always okay with cuddling and other platonic stuff.. maybe the kissing was just him trying to make it seem believable. Harry was always around though, sometimes she’d just imagine it was his hair she was carding through, that it was his jaw she was cupping instead of Timmy’s. She loved Timmy, she did, but she wasn’t sexually attracted to him. She tried to be, wanted to be, if he reciprocated maybe she would be? But even having Harry next to her was turning her on. Even hearing him say he didn’t bite unless asked? She could have died, swore she let out a whimper when she shifted.

“Has he touched you at all?” Harry questioned.

“No, just kissed but like.. nothing crazy.”

“Seriously? He’s holdin’ out on you like that? That’s not fair.” Harry muttered. Fucking crazy. The fact that the guy got one of the hottest girls in school and refused to do anything with her when it was blatantly obvious that she needed a good dicking, more than anything? Negligent, at best. “You said you tried and he’s not into it... what did you try? Was it something weird or just asking?” He was trying to figure this out. “You don’t have to tell me and it’s none of my business but, m’just curious.” He was curious if she was hinting towards Harry taking care of it. Which he would happily do. The poor thing looked like she needed an orgasm more than anything else. He wouldn’t be opposed to a good make out session and finger fuck.

Y/N was surprised by how genuinely shocked he was that nothing was happening between her and Timmy. It made those butterflies spring up in her stomach and go haywire, his tone was suggesting he was curious which was good of course. If he thought she was attractive then... surely she wasn’t the problem.

“I um...” Y/N was so nervous talking about this stuff, it really wasn’t like her at all. Hearing her say these things out loud made her physically cringe but he did ask. He couldn’t read her mind, could he? “Anytime I’d try to like... grind on him when we kiss and stuff, he’d just stop it.” She explained, feeling her cheeks get all boiling hot again. She regretted wearing a sweater. “I haven’t brought it up to him or anything cause I don’t want him to feel bad.” Y/N was still a sweetheart, she didn’t want to hurt his feelings or make him feel inadequate. She’d been with him for three years, that was quite the long time.

“Jesus. That is either some good control or he can’t get hard. If he can’t, he's definitely not straight, babe.” Harry could be positive about that. Any straight man would be like an eager puppy to get between her legs. Harry included, if that was offered up. “M’sorry. That sucks. So you’ve been sexually frustrated for 3 years then?” He shook his head. “Not to be a dick, but how come you haven’t broken up with him yet? He isn’t meeting your needs. Any good man takes care of their girl. It’s just... how it should be.” Harry couldn’t believe this. “Trust me, you’re hot as fuck. Again, sorry if this is crude but— you’ve got the perfect thighs and probably a gorgeous pussy. Can’t imagine a man not wanting to get his mouth or hands on it. Or your tits. M’sure you’re told that often.” Maybe his vulgar speech would deter her but he had a feeling she would love it.

If someone told Y/N she’d be sitting on a bed with her crush while he told her that she had great thighs, tits, and assumed she had a gorgeous pussy, she would have laughed in their face. Harry looked completely serious too, his own eyes had grown dark and Y/N just felt stuck in shock.

“Yeah..” She squeaked, swallowing thickly as she tried to focus back on the project but she was just staring at the screen. “He’s my best friend.. I care about him and he’s been there for me through a lot I— I couldn’t just do that.” She didn’t have the heart to break up with him. She needed a proper reason, just so she could feel guilt free. Y/N couldn’t just ask him to help her out could she? He had expressed to her how he felt like any good man took care of their girl's needs and well... she wasn’t his girl but oh did she want to be. As far as Y/N knew, he had slept around quite a lot. He thought she was attractive but he probably thought many girls were attractive. Maybe he’d just fuck anything?

But she’d been thinking about him for so long.

Harry knew that she was avoiding looking at him because she was aroused by his words. She liked what he had to say and how he said it. It was obvious by her reaction. Which did make him smile a bit. She was flushed and biting her lower lip and he wanted to see just how flustered he could get her.

“I get that. But how great is he if he’s not taking care of a need you obviously are being deprived of.” Harry muttered. Little French shit. He could fight him for that alone. “Are you horny, Y/N?” He asked. His body shifted so he was properly facing her, closer than before.

She really thought she’d be able to hold it together, but when he asked her flat out if she was horny she knew she couldn’t lie anymore. Y/N has fully shown up to do work and now it was looking like she was going to get an orgasm too? That seemed fake, there’s no way. But he had shifted a bit closer to her, completely forgetting about his laptop. Her eyes snapped to look up at him, swallowing thickly before looking back at her laptop.

“Maybe.” She offered up shyly. She kept glancing up at him and looking away. She was just that nervous. Y/N couldn’t even pretend she felt bad for liking it either. It wasn’t like she hadn’t given Timmy an option, she was positive he probably would be upset... maybe he would be, but— she couldn’t pass this up, she’d been thinking about it for so long.

“Do you want me to take care of you?” Harry couldn’t pass this opportunity up either. Especially because it was a dream. Y/N was exactly his type and he liked her energy. She wasn’t being treated properly by her boyfriend and that wasn’t okay in his book. He knew she would say yes but the whimper made his stomach clench. She was desperate for it. The look on her eyes showed it. His hand came up to feel her face, immediately feeling her cheek lean into his touch.

“Poor girl. Have been left to fend for yourself for a while. S’not fair to you. Not at all.” He sighed, truly in awe of how any man could let a wet cunt and a woman eager to use it up. “What would you like me to do?” He wanted to coax something out of her. “How worked up are you?”

Y/N’s heart dropped so far it probably fell out of her ass. Hearing him offer to take care of her sent her into a fit of emotions. Her eyes got all floaty, her cunt creating a second heartbeat, her body was naturally leaning towards his and she could have sworn she was dreaming at this point because it was all too good. Of course she agreed, closing her laptop and casting it aside so she could focus on the task at hand. She was far too focused on how good it felt to have his hand on her cheek that she hadn’t registered that he was asking her about what she wanted him to do. Y/N felt her face warm up all over again because she didn’t want to say it outright. It would sound so dirty, she felt like she couldn’t say. She scanned his eyes, waiting for him to say something but he wasn’t letting up.

“I—I’m really sticky..” She whispered, already feeling shy and embarrassed about all of this. Y/N knew she wasn’t exactly sexy or anything.

Harry knew that she may be embarrassed of how she said things but to him, it was hot. The fact no one else had touched her before and she was going to let him... it was sexy as fuck. Especially because she has a boyfriend who wasn’t up to par with what she wanted.

“S’okay, love. That’s good. Very normal.” He felt himself harden a bit at the visual. “C’mere. Come on my lap.” He motioned for her to straddle him, which she did eagerly. Fuck, this was going to be fun. He was going to teach her some shit. “Why don’t you show me how you like to kiss, sweetheart? Let me see how you want things. Don’t be embarrassed about it either. I promise I’ll find it hot.” He pulled her face down to his and felt his body warm up, her eyes blow and obviously her face warm and eager to get herself touched. “Just kissing for a bit. Then I’ll touch.”’

She wasn’t sure how she was meant to keep her breathing steady when he had so casually just asked her to straddle his lap. Y/N didn’t really think before she moved, surprising even herself with how easily and comfortably she moved into his lap. She felt like everything had gone into slow motion, nodding when he asked her to show him how she liked to kiss. That she could do.

Y/N was positive he could feel her clench, cunt throbbing at the idea of finally getting to kiss him. She’d been waiting for so long, she felt like she wouldn’t be able to stop once she started. With her face mere centimeters away from his face, she paused for a moment before letting her eyes flutter shut as she leaned in.

Fuck.

The pathetic sounding whimpered she released at the feeling had her blushing even harder. Y/N hadn’t made many sounds or answered many of his questions, but that was mostly because she was used to being quiet. This kiss however? God was it perfect. Y/N felt hungry, kissing him with such a desperate need. There was still passion behind it, but she just really wanted him.

Harry could tell this girl was hungry for it. Literally starved for orgasms and he couldn’t help but think about what a damn shame it was that no one had been giving it to her. When her mouth tasted this good and she was so eager and hot in her kisses, he would give her whatever the fuck she wanted. He kissed deep right back, hand wrapping around her hip and pulling her down on to him. She was pleased at that, Harry showing her it was okay to grind. Which, to be honest, may have been a mistake considering how good she was at it. He groaned into her mouth as she rocked and worked her hips, her lips open as she whimpered.

“S’it good? Think you’re rubbin’ your clit right against my cock like that.” He murmured into her mouth, wanting to talk dirty and see what she would do. What she would respond with.

She couldn’t have imagined it being this good, him kissing her back as if he too had wanted her for all this time. It didn’t feel like this when she kissed Timmy, as awful as it was to say, she was starting to think that maybe Harry was right about him. She was quickly snapped out of those thoughts when his hand pushed her hips down against him.

“Mmmm” A long whine fell into his mouth, her hips moving at a pretty eager pace. Y/N really wanted to cum. She wanted it so bad she genuinely thought she’d lose it. Of course, she’s made herself cum before, but it felt so different when someone else was involved. Especially that someone being Harry. Y/N felt her cunt throb at the dirty talk. Another pathetic sounding moan fell from her lips and her eyes nearly rolled back in pleasure. “Feels so good.” She whimpered against his lips, desperate for him to touch her. Y/N wasn’t sure what he would do, but having his hands on her? In any way? She would surely lose her mind. She wasn’t sure what to do with her hands, sticking to his shoulder cause it just seemed right to steady herself. Y/N needs something more.

“Good. You can touch me.” Harry gave her the go ahead. “Wherever you want.” She obviously didn’t know how to do it and he wasn’t going to shame her or want to make her feel uncomfortable. Rather, he slid a hand up her skirt, gently lifting it up and getting his hands into her panties. It was arousing to say the least. His hands held her ass, grabbing at it and helping her move her hips. Holding the bare skin, he squeezed and licked into her mouth, feeling her work her cunt harder and hump a little faster against him. Obviously it felt good to her. “Such a perfect ass, baby.” He whispered, giving her a sweet pet name. “So eager for me. So sweet.” He chuckled, moving to kiss at her neck. She was going to lose it and he liked that he was the one doing it.

Funny how things unfolded exactly how Y/N pictured it in her mind. The second she sat down on the bed she was thinking about straddling him and having his hands on her ass and now that’s exactly what they were doing. It felt so fucking good too. Y/N was trying to hold back her whimpers, but Harry didn’t let up. He just kept licking into her mouth, rubbing and squeezing at her ass as if she wasn’t completely losing it in his lap. Her hands hand hesitantly traveled up to his hair, the way she’d do it to Timmy except... he seemed to respond in a much more appropriate way. Harry seemed to like it, liked it a lot based on the hard squeeze he gave her ass. Y/N let out shaky moans when his lips attached to her neck, she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Please— I need more.” She pleaded, “feels good, but I need more.. please.” Y/N was begging him to touch her. She wouldn’t tell him explicitly, but if he wanted to lay her down and work his fingers against her she’d like that or even if he wanted to put his mouth to work. Anything, she just needed to cum.

“There we go. Love to hear you ask me.” Harry had been waiting for that begging, and he had gotten it. There was a quick switchover, Harry laying her down and gently moving so he was between her thighs. He would start simple. His finger ran over the soaked through cotton of her pink panties, groaning at the sight. “They’re completely soaked.” He hissed, gently pulling them to the side. He couldn’t stop the deep breath that came when he saw her arousal stringing to the panties when he moved it over. “Fuck me. S’sticky all over your panties. I love that.” He has that effect on her, didn’t he? That was the best part. He had done that. He was going to make her feel the best she ever had. Fingers spread her open, a hum of appreciation coming from his mouth. “Just like I knew it. You’ve got the prettiest pussy... so wet... look how swollen your clit is.” He murmured, thumbing over it. It was visible and his mouth was watering. That pressure on her clit alone had the girl jilting under his touch, making him feel satisfied. His thumb rubbed harder in the sensitive part, watching her face scrunch up in pleasure. “So pretty. Fuck. Can’t believe he’s never touched it. Left it for me to play with.”

Thank goodness she was laying down because Y/N was sure she wouldn’t have been able to keep herself up. He had simply lifted her skirt and revealed her panties, he didn’t even think twice. It seemed everything he did just turned her on. She liked that he just took what he wanted but also made sure she was feeling good. Y/N didn’t realize just how wet she was until he started to run his fingers over her and they felt completely slick. Her eyes rolled back, one of her hands gripping at his bed sheets while the other stayed on the nape of his neck tangled into his perfect locks. Her breath hitched, her other hand moving to cover her mouth because she knew she was about to be so fucking loud. Her body practically twitched whenever he rubbed over her swollen clit, his fingers were working magic in her and honestly, she wasn’t even sure if she could do it better herself.

“Ah!” Y/N whined, her hips bucking up against his touch when she felt herself getting closer. She was so worked up she knew she could cum right then and there if he would let her. Her body was giving it away.

It made Harry all too aware of how stupid Timothée was. He wasn’t touching this cunt? Wasn’t getting these reactions? He had to be gay. There was no other way.

“You’re so sensitive... fuck.” Harry couldn’t believe she was trusting him. If all people do this to her. It wasn’t like they’d ever been close. They went to each other’s birthday parties in elementary school like all the kids in classes did. But that was about it. Thank god for anatomy.

“Just relax, love.” He muttered, spreading her legs further as he got comfortable. “This is gonna feel really good. Just do what feels right. Can pull on my hair... be as loud as you want, please. Love to hear I’m going a good job.” He smirked, holding her thighs open as he licked one thick stripe up her cunt.

“Oh— oh my god!” Y/N gasped loudly when she felt his wet tongue on her cunt. Her legs twitched from the pleasure that was spiking now that he was focused in her clit. Her hand traveled down to tug at his hair as suggested, her whole body reacting to his actions. She’d never felt anything like this before, felt like she was dreaming. At first she was a bit shy with the noises she was making, but he clearly didn’t like that, immediately increasing the pressure and speed and sticking to it so that she was a moaning mess for him. Y/N knew that if anyone was home they’d think someone was being tortured but god— it was nothing but sweet sweet pleasure. When Y/N played with herself on her own she never pushed her limits like Harry was doing. She was so sensitive and she knew that, but he was purposely working over her most sensitive spots so she was writhing and twitching beneath him. “Ah— mmmm—“ Y/N whined out, “Harry!” She gasped, feeling herself falling over the edge quite rapidly. Her orgasm hit her like a ton of bricks, it was so incredibly fast she wasn’t ready for that at all. Her moans were high pitched and whiny, her breathing heavy as she tried to get air in her lungs. She held herself back too, felt like she was going to pee on him if he kept going.

Harry kept going.

If this was her first orgasm by someone else, her first proper orgasm? She was going to get the best one. He knew she was sensitive— could feel it in her shaking thighs, but he was a man of conviction. He went full on, suckling on her clit. The way she was reacting was beautiful, a soundless scream followed by his name and shudders. However— he wasn’t expecting her to squirt. It was the hottest damn thing he had ever experienced in his life. Her first orgasm and she was cumming that hard, Harry pulling back and rubbing her clit hard as she continued to leak.

“Fuuuuuck, yes. Give it to me, sweetheart.” He groaned. Holy fuck. He hadn’t expected it to turn out like this at all but he wasn’t going to complain.

The sound that escaped her even shocked Y/N. A loud, borderline pained, scream left from her throat and her eyes squeezed shut. Her breathing was shaky, her hands having moved to cover her face because holy fuck was she overwhelmed. It was a lot. Y/N didn’t think it was humanly possible to cum that hard, and he just kept going. She was so sensitive it hurt, especially when he started rubbing on her clit after she seemingly peed on him but, he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she thought he liked it. Y/N was in an endless stream of whimpers and throaty moans, he didn’t seem like he was giving up any time soon and she wasn’t sure if she could handle another.

“It hurts—” She whimpered out, moving her hands from her face to grip at the pillow behind her. “But it feels so good.” Y/N was completely fucked. So gone for, the hormones and endorphins overcoming her. He seemed to know what he was doing, so she let him continue. She didn’t want him to stop if she was going to keep feeling like this.

“God, you’re so good. Letting me do whatever I want... we’re so deprived before, weren’t you?” Harry was shocked. The fact she was letting him continue, shaking but loving every bit? He was happy. Damn. Finally, a girl who could keep up with him and she had to be taken. “You okay?” He asked, rubbing his thumb over her clit lazily. His mouth had kissed at her thighs, biting down gently on one. “Hm.. can I mark here?” It wasn’t like her boyfriend was gonna see it. “And you don’t mind if I get myself off, do you?” He wanted to cum on her thighs or her stomach. His cock ached in his pants and he had no problem just getting her off, but he needed to cum. Of course he wouldn’t ask her to do anything, though. Despite it all, he respected her. She was a good girl. He was tainting her a bit but, she was happy to be tainted.

Y/N nodded her head to let him know she was okay, but he didn’t seem happy with her nodding, he wanted an answer. “Yes.” She whimpered out an answer to all of the things that he asked, still breathing shakily and twitching whenever the tension built up enough. The slow rubbing on her clit was still bringing her lots of pleasure, it made her want to cum again and that freaked her out. Could she really take that much? She’d never seen a cock in person before. Only even in porn but she didn’t watch that either because it made her feel yucky. Y/N swallowed thickly, seeing just how big he was. Holy shit. That was meant to fit inside someone? She already had trouble sticking her fingers in, but that? However, she was interested in watching him. Y/N watched him with loopy eyes, knowing for a fact she’d worship him after this. If he let her come back for more she happily would. Hell, she’d follow him around like a puppy if he kept making her feel like this.

It was probably the hottest hook up Harry’s ever had. Truth be told. He was in shock that Y/N was so needy for it and the fact she had let him be the one to play with her, to get her off, it was astonishing. There was nothing hotter than watching her legs open and pussy pulsing a bit from the intensity of her orgasms.

“Mmm... you’re fucking hot.” Harry hissed, stroking himself as he bit down on her thigh. She let out a yelp that turned into a whine as he sucked a mark on to the softness of it, smirking when she rutted into his finger. After that though, he decided to take things up. “M’not gonna go in. Just... relax.” He rested himself against her cunt and rubbed the tip against her clit as he stroked himself heavily, hissing when her slickness covered him. It made it easy to stroke. “Jesus, you’re good. Feels good, hm? Better than your own fingers?” He knew it was. She looked fucked out, hips bucking into his own as he approached his own orgasm. Would it be too far to cum on her cunt? “Can I... fuck, can I cum on your cunt?” He had originally wanted her tummy or her thighs but seeing his cock against her now... he felt a bit primal.

Y/N had never expected this. This was the farthest she’d gone with anyone and the fact that it was with the guy that she’d been fantasizing about for years? It felt so unreal, definitely added to the intensity of her orgasms. Having him mark her? In a place where she’d be the only one to find it? That made her cunt throb. He started rubbing himself on her and she felt like that was a whole other level of horny. He felt so good against her, Y/N didn’t think she was that hot but Harry seemed to think so and that was enough to get her to feel confident enough to answer him with her full voice when he asked to cum on her cunt.

“Yeah... you can cum on me..” Y/N didn’t have it in her to say cunt yet, but baby steps nonetheless. Harry was so hot, he looked so good above her. They weren’t even naked, just their lower halves, which in a way made it hotter because they were just that needy. His face was still slick with her, and that was something she couldn’t get over.

It was apparent that Y/N didn’t know just how hot she was and that was a goddamn shame in Harry’s opinion. Because she was. She was so hot and he was sure that this wasn’t going to be the only time they had fun.

“Fuck.. fuck.” He hissed as he began to cum on her. There was nothing like watching his cum stripe over her, soiling it with the white cream. It only made his orgasm better, a groan leaving him as he ran his cock through the slit and pressed against her clit again. “Fuck me, that’s so hot.” He whispered, mouth open at just how good it looked. When he saw her gawking at it, her tits moving under the fabric of her top, he smirked. “Want to taste it?” He ran two fingers through the mess.

Watching Harry cum was definitely the hottest thing Y/N had ever seen, the sounds he released and his scrunched up face was enough to make her shudder. On top of that, the feeling of hot cum ribboning over her cunt was something that she again couldn’t explain. It felt good, satisfying, especially because he seemed to be dying over it.

“Yes.”

It was a quiet squeak of an answer but it was an answer. Y/N was curious, she wanted to know what he tasted like and had a feeling that he too wanted her to try. If she didn’t like it she’d pretend to like it, but holy fuck she did actually like it. It was salty, a strange texture, but definitely not the worst thing she’d ever had in her mouth. It had its own taste, but she enjoyed that. Her mouth was wrapped around his fingers, gently licking and sucking the cum off his fingers while watching his eyes. He seemed to like this a lot too. Y/N was learning quite a bit, mostly that Timmy was definitely gay. But she didn’t just want to confront him like that that wouldn’t be fair. As soon as she was done, Harry kissed her again. This time it was more gentle than before. A kiss of appreciation. That was some good shit. Harry hadn’t been with someone who was a virgin and didn’t realize how horny they got— maybe it was just Y/N, though. He could have been having this and he didn’t.

It was a good thing for Harry though. He got to have what he wanted and while he knew that was a lot, he didn’t really care that he could potentially hurt his feelings. He had made Y/N feel inadequate anyways.

“Let me clean you up.” He murmured, smiling when she pouted when he pulled away. He was gentle with it, wiping her clean with tissues next to his bed. When she jumped, he chuckled.

“Sensitive, I know.” He was smug about it though. Yes. He had done that. Though it was a shame she was too sensitive to clean it with his tongue. He would have been down.

The kiss was definitely something that Y/N needed. It was a nice little reminder that Harry was a gentleman and that she hadn’t just gone and done stuff with someone who was a complete asshole. Y/N always knew that Harry was a good guy, sure she’d heard rumors about him and knew he had gotten around and did drugs, but never had she heard about him being mean. Even when cleaning her up he was gentle, but of course she felt all shy again because she was laying fully exposed in front of the guy she had a crush on who had just made her cum three times within the span of 20 minutes. It was a lot. She’d completely forgotten about the fact that she was here to do an anatomy project. Y/N stayed quiet for the most part, letting him clean her up. Once she was finished she slipped on her panties again, though it felt quite dirty because they were still soaking wet. She’d need to take a shower when she got home. “Thank you.” She told him, feeling herself blush all over again.

“You’re welcome. Do you want a pair of boxers or something to wear instead of your panties?” Harry didn’t want her to be uncomfortable. At the relieved look on her face, he chuckled and went to his drawer, grabbing his smaller pair. “Here. May be big on you but, better than being uncomfortable.” He threw them to her and grabbed his water bottle, taking a sip before sitting down. “Want to do this project then?” Now that the sexual tension was at least fixed for a bit, he was happy to get to work. He wanted to see her get a good grade too. It didn’t have to be weird.

“Oh, thanks.” Y/N smiled bashfully and stood up to change into them. There was no need for her to be all shy about it anymore. Y/N put her dirty panties to the side, taking a sip of her water bottle as well because lord knows she needed up. She was definitely a lot looser after their little activities, much more relaxed and open to talking and working.

It really did feel better after they'd fucked around. Harry noticed that Y/N was more loose and seemed to feel more at ease now that he’s had his mouth on her pussy. They’d done a bit today and he was sure he would be on her mind for a long time after she left, which made him smug.

----

They were finishing up when he asked for her number. “Put yours in. Dunno if you want to do this again but... I wouldn’t mind.” Harry would love it.

Y/N was already thinking about doing this again. Now that all her initial nerves were out of the way, she felt like I’d be easier for her to do things with him. She’d probably never initiate it again like this until she was this desperate, but whenever he wanted her again, if he did, she’d happily come over. She typed in her number and texted herself.

“The project or?” Y/N was a bit stupid sometimes, she didn’t want to assume he wanted to but based on the look on his face she figured he meant the other thing. “Oh, yeah— I um... I’d like that very much.” She said and finished putting her stuff away. “Thanks again... I’ll see you.” Y/N spoke when he walked her down the stairs and out the door.

She’d left her panties in his room.

He had come upstairs to find the lovely gift that was left. Sure, it wasn’t on purpose but it was his now. He’d let her know that. They smelled like her and damn, it was good. Stuffed in his side drawer, he sat and absorbed the whole thing. Maybe he should feel guilt for having her cheat. But she needed it. The poor girl was nearly frothing at the mouth with need for sexual release and something about him tickled her. He couldn’t say no to that. Especially when she was so excited to do it and so responsive.

Later that night he texted her.

‘Hey, it’s Harry’

‘Did you want to come over again on Friday and work?’ He snickered at that. They’d work but... he knew by Friday she would be wanting more.

‘Also, appreciate the gift you left. They’re lovely. Xx’ He sent a picture of the waistband of the panties in his hand.

On the bike ride home Y/N felt herself whimper every time she went over a bump. Harry had definitely done a number on her and she couldn’t have been more thankful. She texted Timmy when she got home, asking him about how he was and how his day was as usual though, she was surprised she didn’t feel really guilty. By the time she had showered and freshened up, she saw that she’d received texts back from both of them, but of course she wanted to answer Harry’s first.

‘Hii! yeah, I can do that!’

‘oh my god 🤭’

She left them at his house? Fuck. She should have just put them in her bag but... she did have his boxers, so it didn’t really matter did it? Timmy had texted her back responding with how his day went saying he was super busy getting ready for his re-election campaign. It was his way of saying they wouldn’t really be able to hang out. She told him that she was sad but that she’d see him at school. Realistically she knew she needed to talk to him, but she wanted him to be able to tell her I’m his own time. She’d stop trying to have sex with him, only if he tried though.

‘I’ll be having fun with them. They’re in great hands. Don’t worry.’

He was smug about it for sure. But still, he couldn’t help but feel beyond happy about it because perhaps he had found a new person to fuck around with. Sure, he liked hook ups at parties but he had wanted a designated person to be around and fuck with. And Y/N was a cool chick. He hadn’t paid too much attention to her before, only to notice she was hot and also questioning why she was dating that kid. But the closer he got, the hotter she was. And fun to be around after she chilled out. She hadn’t mentioned being surprised by his room and the kind of nerdy star stuff in it. So he liked her a bit more for that.

‘Good. Come over on Friday and we can work late. My dad’s away and my mom is on her book tour shit, so we’ll be alone, if that’s cool w you?’

Was he? He was flirting a bit wasn’t he? Y/N wasn’t exactly sure but him suggesting that his parents would be away and that they would be alone in his house again made butterflies erupt in her stomach. She was really excited to see his cats again and hang out, they’d likely finish another part of their project and likely fuck around a bit and that made her nervous all over again.

‘Okaaay sounds good :) ’

She set her phone on her stomach and just looked up at the ceiling. Holy shit. Y/N couldn’t wait for Friday now, excited to see what else he’d have in store for her. She was simply excited to get to know him a bit more, he was hiding a lot of stuff from people from school. Of course she noticed all the astronomy shit in his room, saw the tons of books that he had with sticky notes showing they were clearly annotated. There was a lot more to him than met the eye.

---------------------------------------

[part 2]

A/N: Without giving too much away, yes, skater boy harry is bi and is whore for astronomy but we’ll get into that later ;) - n+d

let us know what you think!

masterlist

#writing #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #skaterboy!harry #badboy!harry

2K notes · View notes

wizkiddx · 4 years ago

Text

...surprise part 3

{part1} {part 2}

I got there in the end!!!! sorry I felt like this dragged quite a lot but just quite happy to get it done ahah. Any feedback / advice would be greatly appreciated :)

TW: this is pretty heavy angst, miscarriages / thoughts of self harm / death pls don't read if this could strike a cord x

Summary: Y/n has absolutely not a clue how to tell Tom and that only strains the both incredibly.

||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

The drive home was deathly silent. Tom’s Audi seamlessly drove down the near-empty roads on a sleepy Sunday evening. The whole time Y/n sat with one leg curled up by her chest as she absently stared out of the passenger window. Honestly, though, she was not taking anything of the view in, all processing power in her brain was in overdrive. Souly focused on how the fuck she was going to tell Tom what she had done. She knew Tom kept glancing over at her, with the panicked hint to his eyes- no matter how comforting he was trying to appear. His grip on the steering wheel was every tightening, he felt as though right now that was the only control he had. Still with no idea what was going on - but this time his mum knew too. And his mum when she came to get him from the living was not calm either.

Something he always admired about his mum was how cool she was in a crisis. Even if Paddy likened her to the ’rage monster’ at times when she was pissed because he’d left the freezer door open, or something equally as stupid, when it came down to it, when there was a really serious issue… she was composed. Calm and collected. So when she came in and called Tom, taking him away from his brothers, he could tell something was wrong by the look in her eye. She was upset, that was clear to him, but there was something more. It wasn’t straight up panic (not like if Y/n had passed out or something) but it was… it was a quiet urgency.

It meant it was bad.

Without the need to ever consider it, Tom knew this wasn’t anything to do with Y/n being unfaithful. It hadn’t even crossed his mind. And that meant, something must've happened personally to Y/n - which maybe scared him even more. If it was a betrayal of him, that would principally hurt Tom himself - which would kill him, but he would deal with it. It was the fear of the unknown and the complete powerlessness in this situation that had Tom wishing the drive away so he’d finally understand.

The drive felt painstakingly long for Tom… yet far too short for Y/n to come up with a plan.

When the pair finally pulled into the driveway, they both didn’t even exchange glances before heading out the car and slamming the doors shut. The crunch of their shoes on the gravel path to the front door was deafeningly loud as Tom fished the keys out of his pocket - this time with a sense of dread that contrasted so strongly the excitement he’d felt less than 24 hours ago doing the exact same thing.

Tom held the door open for her, as she fiddled with the cuff of her sleeve; eyes still glued to the floor. He flicked on the light to illuminate the hall as she slipped off her shoes. He mirrored her action and then for the first time since his parents' house looked her in the eye. Just that action had him near spilling his guts about how worried he was about her, before Y/n beat him to it.

“I’m…I’m gonna take a shower.”

And it had him floored. How could she just ignore the bloody massive and luminous elephant in the room? He couldn’t even respond, his brain was so confused as to what the fuck was going on. So she just nodded smally and headed straight upstairs. Leaving him in a stupor by the doorway.

Meanwhile, Y/n was just about holding it together until she got behind the locked door of their ensuite. Then it broke. She broke.

She pulled the clothes that drowned her off frantically, scratching and grabbing until the garments ripped off her body and were thrown across the room in haste. In the mirror, the reflection of the person that stood there somewhat had her transfixed. Tilting her head to the side, Y/n took careful steps up toward it - her eyes transfixed on her exposed abdomen. She was hollow. So very empty and it had her hypnotised. How barely weeks ago she was growing a real human inside there - creating something that should’ve gone onto laugh and smile and grow and learn. And love.

Now she was empty.

The poor thing though had been so deprived by their own mother; so unwanted and hated. They had been starved of all love by the person who was supposed to love them the most. The person who was supposed to be half their world for the first few years at least.

It was her fault.

Y/n hated herself, heck she wanted to punish herself for what she’d done. And yet, there was something so pure about her stomach, about where that angel had been. She wanted to punch herself, to kick and hurt, to make her feel pain. Except for this little life force, or the remnants of them - had her respecting it. Instead, she gently rubbed her stomach, which was flat rather than full like it should’ve been, and yet it felt like a relief. At a snail's pace, she trailed the tips of her finger across her belly just drawing (what she thought were) random patterns - however to anyone else they would have noticed the silhouette of a small human.

She took her time int the shower, having the water close to blisteringly hot but not quite there - using it as an attempt to purge her body of the thoughts, of the guilt. Eventually, though she couldn’t drag out the bathroom routine any longer, she had to go and face him. In reality, Y/n was well aware of how unfair this was on Tom - he had been terrified on the way back here, she knew that. But the thought of admitting to him this truly abhorrent thing she’d done, selfishly she didn’t want to tell him tonight. Just one more night sharing a bed with him, one morning of seeing his puffy eyes and bed hair, one last time hearing his gruff morning voice. Before he found out the real her and before he left.

Thankfully, when she finally drew the courage to unlock the door and leave her sanctuary, their bedroom was empty and she took that opportunity. As fast as she possibly could, Y/n changed into an old nightshirt before huddling under the covers. Tom had been so careful with her feelings today, he might just leave her be. Delay the conversation till tomorrow. It was the dream.

And dreams don’t come true.

Tom walked in, she could hear the soft pad of his feet on the cream carpet as she tried to act fast asleep - regulating her breathing and relaxing every muscle she could. When in fact that the whole process was the opposite of relaxing, she was on such high alert, waiting for a sign of him leaving her alone for the evening. Quite expectedly though, it didn’t quite go down that way. She heard him sigh, felt him sit on his side of the bed as her body rippled with the dip on the bed, felt his eyes piercing her.

“Y/n…” the tone of his voice had her wincing internally, he was hurting. “Y/n please… just talk to me?” She was too scared to move. “ I know your awake Y/n we both know who’s the actor here” Y/n knew Tom was trying to lighten the mood, trying to make her feel a bit more comfortable but then he switched back to an underlying hint of desperation. “Please talk to me.” She didn’t have a choice, he wasn't going to let up - Y/n could tell. So she rolled over and opened her eyes facing him.

“I’m tired, Tom. Can we do this tomorrow?” His face completely morphed and she knew she fucked up. He wasn’t upset or worried or scared any more.

“I’m sorry but that is not fair.”

“Please just-“

“NO. ah” He sighed, as if disciplining himself for the instinctive angry tone. “Look- I-I’ve been going at your pace. I’ve been treading on eggshells all day. I didn’t want to push you but I’m bloody terrified! I mean you told my mum! And she’s worried so that means I’m even more stressed and-…. Just please Y/n. You know I’d never judge you I’m just worried because I care.”

And just like that, she didn’t have a choice. She was really hurting the man she loved.

As a result, Y/n pushed herself up into a sitting position, still hugging the duvet around her in a protective blanket as she looked into his glassy eyes. It tore her heart out.

“I’m really sorry” she pursed her lips blowing out an exhale, trying to collect all her thoughts, feelings and emotions together. “I’ve been trying to all day but-.. it’s just I’m finding this really hard to express in words.”

“I don’t mind if it takes all night, just I-I want to understand.” He was just too kind and she didn’t deserve it. So picking at the duvet while pulling her legs closer in protection she nodded.

“Okay, so-so I just take you through it chronologically? And-and then I can go to Y/f/n’s place so.”

“Why would you got to hers?” He asked, his eyebrows drawn tightly together in confusion. He knew you hadn’t been unfaithful - his mum most definitely wouldn’t have reacted in the way she did had Y/n betrayed Tom.

“Just… just listen first.” She didn’t want to answer that question, to speak it into existence. Him kicking her out, in a rage of fury and anger at how evil she could be. She thought he’d just reply and accept it, not feel the need to calm her.

“I could never ever hate you Y/n please, it’s a bit insulting to me that you think I would.”

His words had her a little shocked - she had definitely not expected that reaction. His offence.

“Umm okay just… just don’t promise till you hear.” He gave her a stern look, not enough to make her back down or change her mind from what she thought was inevitable. “So. So it was when you were away. You’d just gone to Atlanta I think and-and I woke up one morning and was sick and it was weird I don’t know… um so I took the day off but I was okay until the next morning and-and I was sick again. It was weird so I took the next day off because you know Elliot I work with? He’s-he's got some broken immune system or something so we really can’t go in if we are ill. But I was fine until the next morning again and-and then it kind of hit me. I hadn’t had a period in ages and-and yeah.”

“Your pregnant?” Tom asked, trying to wrap his head around the current situation and what she was saying.

“Was…” Her voice wavered and she paused a second “ I-I was. I was shocked you know? We…we weren’t ready.” Y/n shifted uncomfortably, pushing herself closer to the headboard. “You said you didn’t want kids now and I mean … we- we are barely adults ourself right? It-it was so stupid but I couldn’t tell you could I?… Phone you up and say by the way I’m pregnant with a kid you don’t want!...” She dared to look at him, only for a second, seeing the way he just stared at her as though transfixed. She couldn’t keep looking at him.

“So I was waiting till you would get back … er next week, well when you were supposed to be back anyway.” She scoffed lightly at that, how the whole entire situation had been completely flipped on its head. “I would have had the scan then. And-and I went and it so stupid because they were a blob but-shit. They were so beautiful.” She hadn’t even noticed, suddenly absorbed in what she was saying but Tom leant over to grab one of her hands because it was trembling so vigorously. It wasn’t that he wanted to comfort her, he needed to. Because really? When it mattered, he hadn’t and that was already eating away at him.

“And I stupidly…. So fucking stupidly… I thought what if? I got excited and in my head… I don’t fucking know I just thought that I-it, it might work. I really - really thought it could work.” She couldn’t feel it but Tom wormed his arm around her shoulder, squeezing her into his side. “But by that point, I’d already filled them with so much hate. I wanted them out for so long and…and then I just- well I got what I thought I wanted.”

For the first time since she started her speech, Y/n wasn’t absorbed in retelling the story. Noticing her position with Toms arms protectively wrapped around her, she dared to look up into his eyes. And they weren’t right. It was wrong. Because here he was still looking at her with these incredibly soft warm brown eyes, his thumb rubbing up and down on the back of her shoulder blade.

“Love, I’m so so sorry.”

She was bemused. What the hell was he doing? Was this just a double bluff, acting all soft before he was about to rip her heart out - even if it was what she deserved, that was exceptionally cruel?

“No Tom your not listening. I-I couldn’t keep your baby alive! I-I wished them away… I wanted them gone!” Now she was plainly hysterical, shouting and yelling at Tom as her hands shook.

It broke Tom’s heart. He knew this was his fault - at least a little. Clearly, she should never have been in a position to have to deal with this herself, that was obvious. And it made him guilty… but what hit harder? She had very clearly implied she was worried about his reaction, he should never have let her worry. Because Tom knew he loved Y/n unconditionally, at this point that should be a given - for all he cared there was nothing, within the limits of reason, she could do that would make him seriously reconsider his opinion of her. Even then, if his opinion were ever forced to change so dramatically... he still knew he wouldn’t be able to stop loving her. Loving isn't an option, it is not a choice. You helplessly surrender yourself to it. And yet she was apparently less sure of this fact.

“I’m so sorry you had to deal with this by yourself.” And he meant it. He truly meant it. However, Y/n was not having it at all - in her state, in her frame of mind, this was him just torturing her; acting it out only to break her heart. His words and her position wrapped protectively in his arms dawned on her. It had her leaping up from the bed, tears streaming down her face as she gestured wildly.

“Tom that’s not fair! Don’t you get it? I KILLED YOUR BABY! They were alive and then I wasn’t enough for them! IT’S MY FAULT!” To put it simply, she looked insane. Screaming, with tears streaming down her face, arms flailing about as she yelled at Tom, who was still sitting on the bed.

He’d never seen her like this- with so much anger. What was even more disturbing was the fact that it was targeted so inwardly at herself.

“This isn’t your-“

“BE ANGRY TOM. For fuck sake… I-“ She choked out a sob “I murdered your kid! RAGE AT ME SHOUT AT ME it’s-it’s what I deserve.” It was insane but the look in her eye was one that seemed to Tom as though she needed him to hate her. As if in some fucked up narrative that was how the story should end.

He was not having one bit of it, tearing his eyes away from her maniacally shaking frail frame and instead to the corner of the ceiling. There was no precedent, no guidebook on how to deal with this, no past experiences to rely on. Unlike if Y/n had had a shit day, Tom knew then to subtly keep her within reach, to silently be there so she could literally and figuratively lean on him when she was ready; unlike when she was angry at ignorant politicians, he knew not to argue but prompt her to explain more, give a more reasoned argument so anger became thought through intellect; unlike when her grandma had died, when she just needed his contact, she needed his thumb rubbing against her hip, needed to sleep listening to the rhythmical thumping of his heart. None of these were applicable - his touch seemed to make her worse; his words seemed to anger her more; his mere presence didn’t seem to be doing an awful lot of good.

And yet, he couldn’t leave her even if it seemed to be the most logical option. Because she was wild, not herself and not logical and he, for the first time, was terrified of the danger she could be to herself.

Y/n stared at him, wide-eyed, waiting for him to react. She saw his Adam's apple bob up and down - readying his voice to scream at her. She saw his brown eyes collect a sheen of tears of rage - ready to bore holes into her skull as he degraded her to what she was worth. Which was very little. Then, as if in slow motion, his sharp jawline tilted back level and his eyes met her. He was frozen as if a statue, ready to rage at her.

“I love you both. So much and equally.”

Tom was pretty sure he could imagine Y/n’s runaway train in her head slam on the breaks. Her eyebrow twitched a little, as she stood completely still trying to analyse his words. Because to her, it didn’t make sense. So he took this moment of (at least surface level) calm to smoothly and slowly stand up, actions much like mirroring how someone approaches a spooked cat on the streets. Movements slow and preplanned, trying not to set off the fight or flight response on the women in front of him.

“That little baby you made… I didn’t know he ever existed till minutes ago but…but I know for a fact I love them.” He was trying to both figure out and decode his own emotions while explaining them in a way Y/n would accept and understand.

“I love them because… they are made by the love of my life. And that’s incredible and indescribable and just… just part of you, an extension of everything you and me together are… They would never have been perfect right?” Tom softly asked, though realistically knowing he wouldn’t get a response from a still motionless Y/n - besides a single tear, which appeared to have a mind of its own, escaping over her bottom lash lid. Tom watched it roll down her cheek as he composed his next words. “No they wouldn’t, no ones perfect… neither me nor you. But they would’ve been safe and have been loved. They were loved, you-you loved them right, even if you didn’t think you did or when you were terrified?” This time Y/n nodded minutely and Tom mirrored this, taking a small step a little closer to her. “And I did love them while they were in your stomach because they were part of you and I always always love you…. So they were so full of love okay? There's no rhyme or reason to why what happened happened but it’s… it’s definitely not because they were starved of love okay?” Y/n still didn’t have appeared to have released a single breath since Tom stood up, so he made a calculated and risked assessed movement to reach his hand out to touch her upper arm. In reaction, she sucked in a sharp shaky breath and then expelled it just as quickly - just like Tom knew she would. He physically felt a pull in his chest seeing the torment in her glassy eyes, now barely a rulers length from her.

“This, it’s an awful… awful situation. It’s sad and heartbreaking but I really need you to know that it changes nothing about how I feel about you. I need you to really understand how much I love-and always will-love you, and how I love them too.” Another tear escaped the same eye and Tom reached up with his other hand so his thumb could brush it away before the glassy orb met her pronounced jawline. To be honest he was quite grateful for the moment as he felt his voice getting a bit sticky in the back of his throat. She still wasn’t ready to speak yet and he was okay with that.

“We’ll never forget them and we will always love them, but I want to do that with you, as we get older together. They tie us closer and I refuse to disrespect them and force ourselves apart….a-assuming you don’t want to either?” Still cupping her cheek with his left hand Tom felt as well as saw her nod, this time more emphatically, her eyes darting between focusing on his left and then right eye - as though she was just checking they were saying the same things as his mouth.

“I’m sorry I-“ Finally feeling the connection between her brain and voice box, Y/n stated to jiltedly speak but was interrupted as Tom tentatively feathered his lips on hers. “You can be sorry for scaring the crap out of me today, you can be sorry for shouting and you can be sorry for not telling me at all… I don’t think you should, but if you’re staying sorry that’s all you can be sorry for.” He was barely speaking, more like just moving his lips against hers, yet they knew and understood each other completely Y/n got everything. So she sighed and repeated.

“I am sorry.”

“I’m sorry too. I’m sorry for you not having the faith to know I’d be happy, that was my fault. I’m sorry for not being here and not noticing when you were struggling on the phone. I’m sorry I crept up on you last night. But I don’t think there’s anything else for either of us to apologise for.”

“Okay” Y/n then pressed her lips firmly and almost desperately against his, feeling his warmth wrap around her, as he literally wrapped his arm around her waist, from where it had been on her upper arm. And really she was very incredibly desperate since it was very very incredibly clear now with him pressed against her that he might’ve been all she needed this whole time. Tom went with it for a couple of moments, but then broke them both apart - it sounds odd but he sort of felt like he was taking advantage of her.

“Darling you’re grieving. We can tackle this together …. But your grieving so we need to look after you first. And, and we’ll remember them and face this. But we gotta look out for each other too and…”

“I’m ill aren’t I?” He was oh-so relieved that she could see it too.

“I’m not a doctor but I think so… think we need to get you eating properly.”Y/n nodded and Tom kissed her forehead, pulling her completely against his chest - only exacerbating and exaggerating his awareness of how boney she felt. It hadn’t gone unnoticed how she’d spent the whole of Sam’s dinner pushing the meat round on her fork - rearranging it numerous times- whilst picking at a few carrots. “We can do whatever you feel will help you this evening but you need to tell me what you want to eat.”

You agreed but you still felt incredibly nauseous, so managed to put off the whole snacking thing in lieu of cuddling up on the sofa with Tom. You were still incredibly confused, feeling slightly detached from reality if you were completely honest. And you knew Tom was a good actor, his career kind of speaks for himself yet, all the same, the sheer truth in his eyes, voice, heart. It had you feeling safe. He no longer felt a flight risk and although you still couldn’t understand why he was forgiving you so easily, you believed he was. In the softest voice, he kept just saying ‘your grieving’ when you tried to challenge his logic- admittedly proving difficult in your scattered and hazy mind.

So you found yourself lying almost completely on top of his right side, your head tucked underneath his chin, a fluffy blanket weighing down on your back to keep you nice and toasty. Silently Tom had trailed his fingertips tentatively, under the hem of your t-shirt, round over the top of your hip to his stomach. Initially, it had felt like the worst and most alien feeling in the world- but he told you to relax and you listened; he told you to take deep breaths and you listened; he told you he loved you and you listened.

It must’ve been incredibly boring for him, I mean the TV wasn’t on neither was the radio and you knew his phone was in a pocket you were currently lying on. He didn’t complain though, he just let you lie there. Just sort of being with him.

At some point Tom realised she’d drifted off, after a long time fighting exhaustion, as though she were worried about what Tom would do once she finally gave in to sleep. It wasn’t surprising though, considering her energy intake from food for today was limited to a couple of roasted carrot slices, Tom knew her falling asleep on his chest was inevitable. The time it took had also given him enough time to fully digest and process the whole day as well as for deciding what he needed to do. So once she appeared fully out of Tom dared to worm his hand between their bodies and, with a few muted grunts of effort, phish his phone out his back pocket.

‘Hi, I know this asking a lot but would you mind getting Sam to make that pasta bake Y/n likes and dropping it round? Just she’s asleep but I don’t want to leave her alone but could do with getting something in her?’

‘Sams already on it and it doesn’t take long. I’ll be at yours in about an hour, shall I just let myself in?’

Tom was so grateful for his family, and for how they’d taken Y/n in to. Although she’d never admit it, her tougher than average upbringing always had her feeling a bit isolated- she never had ‘her’ people. The people who completely accepted her for who she was and never judged her. But as soon as he’d introduced her to them, it was as if she'd always been there. He endlessly appreciated the talks Nikki and you had, the way his Dad would come over when she was home alone to help with the simple stuff like knowing what lightbulb to buy for the lamp that had blinked out.

She had a place in his family.

Quite impressively, Sam had managed to bake the dish and then Nikki had managed to drive round before barely three-quarters of an hour had passed. Y/n was still completely out, so when he heard his mum unlock the door with her spare key, he felt able to wiggle out from under her without disturbing at all. He met Nikki in the kitchen, leaning against the door frame as he watched his mother fly about the kitchen - preheating the oven on a low temp to keep it warm while pulling plates and cutlery out the drawers so it was easier for Y/n and Tom when you woke up.

“Thanks for all this” Tom announced his presence with a soft sigh as he padded further into the kitchen. Nikki instinctively threw her arms round her eldest’s shoulders, squeezing him tightly.

“You guys okay?” Tom replied with a rather uncertain hum, before recounting the evening to his mum in a low voice - as though Y/n could be disturbed from the other side of the house. Nikki was in two frame of minds at this point, clearly heartbroken for the pair; but also incredibly proud of her son because it appeared he’d reacted and said exactly the right things.

“And you?… it must’ve been a shock?” To be quite honest, Tom hadn't thought about his own emotions yet, he’d put himself on the back foot for the time being.

“I mean it’s just a bit surreal… I don’t know I didn’t really have anything to do with it but - I just know that it's made me so certain that one day we will... you know?” Nikki hugged her son again with a little nod.

“Well I won’t outstay my welcome but I do want you to give this to Y/n too.”’ With those words, she fished a square box out of her handbag - it was about the size of two matchboxes and Tom raised his brows in curiosity. “She’ll understand when she sees it.”

And with a brisk parting gesture, Nikki left, Tom tucking the box into his side pocket before getting the pasta ready.

////////

Waking you with a gentle rub on your upper arm, you mewled a groan and pushed your head hard into the sofa below you in an attempt to alleviate the tension that instantly rippled through your skull. With hazy eyes, you blinked heavily, slowly focusing on the pale yet soft skin of the boy crouched opposite you.

“Hey darling, nice nap?” Nodding gradually, you still tried to completely recollect and piece together everything that had happened today “… you need some grub before we head upstairs yeh?” Again you nodded in compliance because at this point, even having been asleep for the last however long, you really didn’t have the energy for any conflict or disagreement. With a little prompt and poke from Tom, you reluctantly sat up, grasping the plate he offered to you while still rubbing one of your eyes. Busying himself with running back to the kitchen and grabbing his own plate and drink, you had time to look at the food and notice what was served to you. Tom plopped himself next to you and turned his head with a small smile, meeting a bemused and slightly suspicious look from you.

“You didn’t cook this…?” Really it wasn’t a question. You knew for a fact Tom was not and would never be a good chef. No judgement though, since neither were you, meaning the pair of you heavily relied on the ingenious invention of uber eats most evenings. Tom chuckled at your perceptiveness and admitted defeat without even trying to feign it.

“Nah mum dropped it round. Though I think Sam cooked it so a joint effort.”

“-didnt have to-“ You hated feeling like a burden. You hated people worrying because you just felt bad. Not worth the attention and effort. And Tom hated you feeling like that - naturally then, he had the need to shut you down instantly.

“No, you’re right. But they did.”

The air was filled with the quiet clinks of ceramic against the silver or the cutlery as you forced mouthful after mouthful down your throat. He was trying to be subtle, and yet you could feel Tom’s concerned glance checking you were eating. Truthully, you really didn’t feel like eating at all (even if it was Sam’s gorgeous tomato and sausage pasta bake - an odd combination but it worked). However, what more crucial in that moment was not disappointing your incredibly sweet boyfriend.

After having consumed as much as you physically could - which Tom deemed suitable with a small nod- he took your plates away and came back to sit beside you. More and more silence.

“Are-are we okay?” Whispering quietly you felt Tom’s body seize up into a rigid state, his face whipping round to look at you. He chose to reply with actions first reaching up so that his hands cupped your cheeks, he turned your head and then slowly leaned into to press his lips softly against yours. Once retracted, he pressed his forehead onto yours.

“Of course. I bloody love you and we’re going to get through this together.” His eyes were almost intimidating, with the seriousness he placed in his gaze - just to make sure you knew he meant it.

What you had done to deserve this boy you’d never know. But you were so incredibly grateful for him.

It gave you the confidence to take the first move this time, pressing your lips against his, holding for a moment before arching away - a small yet real smile on your face.

“Oh… nearly forgot” He muttered, leaning forward and grabbing a black leather box that you’d failed to notice had been placed on the coffee table. For the second time this evening, you were caught off guard and bemused as to how he’d sourced this item within the time frame. “It’s from mum… she wouldn’t tell me what it is but said you’d understand.”

His words had you biting your lip, in a weird way eager to see, purely because you knew Nikki understood you. And understood what you were going through. With one last look to Tom, you reached out and grabbed the box, thumb running over the sleek leather exterior. Once your thumb reached the bottom you flicked the lid up, unveiling a simple silver chained bracelet. It had five dainty silver charms hanging off it, they looked a bit like leaves but were kind of too small to tell. Moreover, it looked a little worn and preloved but it didn’t stop your eyes from watering when you saw at the bottom another charm, not yet attached that looked newer and pristine.

5 charms already attached and 1 new one.

“Oh” Tom muttered, also clearly very much intrigued, hovering off you left shoulder to see properly. ”That’s mums bracelet. She never really takes it off… that’s nice I guess?” He was obviously confused and it had you chuckling wetly, at how oblivious he could be. You did love your dear idiot.

5 charms for her 5 pregnancies… and now one for yours. One to wear forever, to love, to keep close to your heart.

They were tears of happiness, you were certain of, however, Tom was not at all sure why your flood gates opened again and was worried.

“You-you don’t have to take- I mean if you don’t like it don’t worry-“

“I love it” You breathed, looking up at him with glassy eyes before hastily picking up the extra charm and with shaky fingers clasping it onto the chain next to it. Tom perked up, if still bemused, wrapping his arm around your shoulder with a gentle squeeze.

“I don’t know how you convinced her to take it off, I’ve been trying to buy her a new bracelet for years but she’s always stuck with this old thing.”

“Because it’s beautiful!” You yelped in argument, making him laugh at how suddenly you’d switched into a happy and overexcited mood. Though don’t get me wrong, he was loving it.

“You Holland women I will never understand.” He whispered into your ear whilst you looked back at the chain, fixing it round your wrist. His comment made you freeze up, as you felt his grip tightening on your waist as he realised exactly what he might have just let slip out. “No I er- I don’t mean… but-but one day maybe if-if you wanted.”

“I love you” You sighed, kissing him once again to save him the embarrassment of watching his cheeks flush and ears pink up.

“I’m serious though… one day because… because you’re my family and when it happens our family will grow too.”

He was right. And you would, one day,

But you would never forget the two little lives remembered on this bracelet.

tagging people that might be interested (sorry if u don't care ahah): @wayfaring----stranger @vanillanestor @333dolans @thevelvetseries @whitewolf51

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #dad!tom #tom holland x reader #Tom Holland x y/n

272 notes · View notes

boldlyvoid · 4 years ago

Text

Amoreena | Chapter ten

chapter ten

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Warnings: immense amounts of fluff, discussion of bad dreams death and past trauma at the end all related to canon

word count: 5.3K

from the beginning <3

Dreaming wasn’t something that came easily to Spencer. When he did dream they never made any sense, dark and twisting basements, endless staircases, treading a deep dark sea for hours as the waves swallowed him whole. Wind chimes that he couldn’t find wouldn’t stop twinkling as he aimlessly ran around a trailer park. It was never peaceful.

Then his mind found the park and couldn’t stop re-creating it, over and over again in his mind every single night when he closed his eyes.

He was in the middle of the most perfect dreamscape, his girls reading under the sun as Y/N’s head rested on his shoulder…

Then his phone started to ring, opening his eyes to the sun barely waking up as well. He answered the phone before Y/N could wake up beside him, “hello?”

“Spence, I’m so sorry to wake you,” JJ’s voice slipped into his mind and woke up right up, she wouldn’t call unless she needed to. “We have a really bad case, we have to leave like right now and the babysitter can’t take the boys and Henry is still too little to make sure Michael eats during the day and he’s still so little—“

“Hey it’s fine,” he cut her off as he sat up, waking Y/N in the process. “I’m only 12 minutes from Quantico, leave them with Anderson and I’ll be right over.”

“Thank you so much, Spence, oh and they need breakfast, I’ll leave some money with Henry, can you make sure they eat?”

“Absolutely, don’t worry, good luck and be safe,” he reminded her, feeling weird that he didn’t have to go as well.

“Thanks again Spence,” he could hear her smile before hanging up, leaving him to stretch and finally get out of the bed.

“Was that JJ?” Y/N asks, getting out of bed and putting on her housecoat to follow him to the bathroom.

“Yeah, the boys need someone to watch them if you don’t mind?”

“They’re family,” she reminded him with a sleepy smile.

“They need lunches for today, I can drive Amoreena to school with them too?” He’s splashing water on his face so he can wake up enough to drive safely to Quantico, wiping the water from his eyes as he hears Y/N laughing softly.

“It’s Saturday silly, and Monday is their last day anyway if they need to stay that long,” Y/N reminds him, “I’ll try and have breakfast ready when you get back.”

“Tomorrows the 14th, shit,” he remembers his calendar. “I have to take my mom to get her yearly scan and cognitive test done tomorrow morning, I won't be able to send her off on her last day.”

“That’s okay, as long as you’re there for the little graduation and the all about me display ceremony it’ll be fine, it starts at 1:30,” she didn’t mind him missing it but everything in him felt like the worst person ever if he did.

He never wanted to miss anything ever again.

“You’re sure that’s fine?”

She nodded again, wrapping her arms around him and looking up into his beautiful, tired eyes. “Family comes first, that means Diana was in the calendar longer so you go with her. Amoreena just wants to come home with you from school, for the next 10 years of school she’ll be coming home to you.”

“Why don’t we wake Amoreena and go get breakfast with the boys? I’d like to get to know my god kids too…” her voice cooing as she soothed his morning anxiety, blessing him with more time with her, he nodded.

“You go get the boys and come back and pick us up, I’m sure she’ll take a few minutes to contemplate feeding chickens or breakfast,” Y/N smiled, leaning in to kiss his cheek softly.

She pulled away but he pulled her right back in, pressing his lips right against hers again and again until they were both laughing, teeth bumping into each other in their early morning delirium. She finally pulled away from his grasp, rushing to the bedroom door so he couldn’t follow her.

“Go get the boys!”

He fake huffed, “fine!”

Slipping into his jeans and a sweater, placing her grandpa’s hat back on his head once more. He made sure he had his wallet and identification, the guards knew him it’s not like he wouldn’t be allowed into the building with a visitors pass.

And then he was out the door and driving down the road. Pulling into Quantico with a strange feeling in his gut, he didn’t realize how much he hated it here until he didn’t need to be there all the time. He was granted a visitors pass, parking in the garage and taking the elevator right up to the BAU.

He walked into the briefing room to find Henry on his phone and Michael sound asleep again on the couch.

“Hey, uncle Spencer!” Henry cheered, not waking Michael in the process somehow.

“Hey buddy,” he said, scooping the now 13-year-old Henry into his arms for a quick hug. He was still cuddly and sensitive and quiet, much like Spencer at that same age.

It was almost like JJ picked him as the godfather knowing he would need him. Choosing to text or call Spencer about cute girls and chess games and new star wars movies, instead of going to his dad for chats about football and beer… or whatever Will was into. Spencer really didn’t give him a chance to get to know him over the last 15 years, harbouring a hatred for him that he didn’t really understand until he met Y/N.

Now will was the jealous one in a sense, wondering what he could do to get his own son to come to him for advice and support. But he understood it, Henry was exactly like Spencer and he needed to see that being awkward and quiet doesn’t last forever.

“So, I’m not sure if your mom and dad told you, but I got married and my wife has a daughter and we’re going to take you boys out to breakfast, okay?”

“She said you’re Nini’s dad, like for real?” Once again someone from the LaMontagne called Amoreena Nini and he had no idea why.

“I donated sperm when your mom got pregnant with you, I didn’t think I’d get to have a family,” he was honest with him. He was old enough to know how it worked and mature enough to hear the word sperm without freaking out.

“Cool, Nini and Mike are normally friends.”

“Why do you guys call her Nini?”

“Michael couldn’t say Amoreena when he was 4 so he called her Nini, and then Dad would call her that when he teased Mike about his crush on her,” it made complete sense for a kid to not be able to pronounce it.

But his brain got stuck on the crush part, turning to Michael who was still sound asleep with his face pressed into his backpack, drooling slightly. JJ’s kid had a crush on his, a weird fantasy he had coming true where he and JJ can be friends forever as in-laws.

It was too bad Amoreena really didn’t like boys, not even in the 8-year-old ‘ew cooties’ way either. She was raised around women and she was comfortable with them, and she had no problem punching Michael in the face if he ever pissed her off. It was going to be interesting seeing them interact today.

“Okay, well let’s get your things and bring them back to our house and then we’ll go get breakfast with my girls,” Spencer smiled, seeing Henry’s face light up at the day he gets to spend with Spencer. “You’re going to love Y/N.”

And he did… walking into Spencer’s new house to drop off his backpack, dropping his jaw when he saw Y/N instead. He was so much like Spencer it made him laugh, patting Henry on the shoulder, “I know,” he teased him.

Henry turned to him with wide eyes, “I’ve never met Nini’s mom, that’s her mom?” He whispered that same anxious boy Spencer used to be staring right back at him.

He nodded with a smile, “yeah, she’s really nice don’t worry.”

“Henry! It’s so nice to meet you,” she says as she walks into the main room.

Henry turns around to see her when she’s pulling him into a big hug, Spencer can see his eyes are closed as he takes a moment to hug a pretty girl. Spencer couldn’t help but bite his tongue, not wanting to laugh and embarrass the poor boy now that he was noticing pretty girls. Even if that girl happened to be his wife, it was inevitable for Henry to crush on one of Spencer’s girlfriends with how much he copied him.

She pulled back softly, Henry’s arms still around her waist, she brushed his beautiful blond hair behind his ears. “You look so much like your mom, you’re so handsome!”

Henry forgot how to breathe, trying to stutter out a thank you as he backed up out of her space and turned to Spencer, “he’s always looked like JJ, you should have seen how tiny he was originally,” Spencer jumped in to save him. “Where is Amoreena?”

“She’s trying to pick between 2 different dresses, I’ll go make sure she’s in one by now,” she smiled at them before leaving the room, heading up the stairs to Amoreena’s room.

“You good?” Spencer nudged Henry, laughing lightly. “She’s your aunt now, she’s not going to think you’re a dork so you can calm down around her, I promise.”

Henry released a deep shaky breath, “you’re right, sorry.”

“It’s fine, I was like that around your mom before you were born, you should have seen me,” he tried to sympathize with the boy, only making a disgusted face arise on him.

“Ew, that’s completely different she’s my mom!”

Spencer wrapped his arm around him, “and Y/N is my wife!” He whispered as loud as he could so that it wouldn’t be heard by her.

Henry sighed, “and she’s like what 50?”

“35,” Spencer looked at him and laughed as he shook his head, “how old do you think I am?”

“Mentally? 6-years-old,” Henry bullied him right back for all the brotherly teasing, “but physically you look 79.”

“Thanks,” Spencer said, tucking the boy under his arm and messing up his hair, “now you look like a dork.”

He loved Henry more than he could express, unlike Amoreena he knew he wasn’t his kid, it wasn’t fatherly at all. Henry was his best friend's kid, his godson and his little brother, and as he got older he was becoming more of a best friend than he thought he would.

—

After breakfast when everyone was awake and happily full, Y/N took them all into town to visit the farmer’s market. Letting the kids look around and see if there was anything they wanted to all make for dinner, she was the best mom and aunt in the whole wide world and Spencer kept falling more and more in love every second he spent with her.

She was glowing in the sunlight, walking through the booths looking at all the fresh vegetables and fruit, Spencer followed her with Michael’s hand in his and Henry not far behind. Amoreena was off talking to her favourite vendor, an older woman who reminded her of her great-grandma, it was sweet.

Spencer thought about how their future would be much of the same, Y/N and him with a couple of kids while the rest of them did their own thing. He couldn’t wait to see all the little faces they’d create together, to get to know all the personalities and raise them into being just as wonderful as their sister and cousins.

“Ugh,” Y/N stopped dead in her tracks then, they were heading towards the butcher’s booth when she turned around, almost green as she reacted to the smell. “Nope, not going down there.”

Spencer couldn’t stop smiling at her as she tried to not throw up in the middle of the market, people watching her dry heave as she walked away. Spencer knew JJ was pregnant with Michael before she even told Will because she was the exact same way very early on. Living on ginger ale and baby cookies to stay sane, Y/N was going to need that hack.

He didn’t say anything, just profiling her in his mind as he followed her again.

Henry and Michael used the money JJ left them to buy some homemade candies from the market, Y/N picked up some donuts to bring home to her parents, and Amoreena only wanted fresh strawberries. Spencer however snuck away from the group really quickly to get something they passed earlier, something he wanted to get for Amoreena.

There was a vendor with homemade shirts and dresses, knitted hats and all sorts of collectables. If he was going to miss her last morning before kindergarten, he wanted to get her something to wear that morning so he’d be there in spirit.

There was a beautiful handmade purple dress hanging on the wall behind the vendor, the same kind old woman that reminded Amoreena of her GG. “Hello, how can I help you today?”

“We haven’t met, but I’m Amoreena’s father,” he introduced himself with a smile, and the old woman face beamed.

“Yes you are,” she smiled. “She has your nose, it’s lovely to finally meet you!”

“you too, um, I was interested in that purple dress,” he points behind her, “it looks like the one from tangled, I’m sure she’d love it.”

“that’s exactly how she described it when she saw it today,” the woman explains as she takes it down from the wall for him. “It’s $35, but I’ll do $20 for my favourite little friend.”

“That’s very kind, but I don’t mind,” he says, taking $35 dollars out of his wallet and laying it beside the cash box. “Thank you for always making my girl smile.”

“Thank you,” she smiled again, folding the dress nicely and placing it in a white bag, “would you like some tissue paper so she can’t see what it is?”

“That would be great, thank you,” Spencer smiled too, incredibly happy that this was his life now.

She handed him the bag then, stuffed to the brim with purple and pink paper, Amoreena was going to love it. He said his goodbyes and met the rest of his family at the car, hiding the present between his legs in the passenger seat as they drove home.

—

Henry and Michael did end up having to stay the night, switching into their PJs after dinner and joining them all in the living room for a movie night. They let the kids stay up later to watch the whole movie, watching Michael fall asleep once again on the carpet, he had been so well behaved all day it was like he was afraid of Amoreena now.

Michael was perfectly happy sleeping on the couch all night, Henry, on the other hand, slept in Y/N’s old room to have some privacy and so he could sleep in on Sunday.

By the time JJ and Will got home on Sunday night, Y/N and Spencer were just putting some burgers on the grill, they had enough for the whole team and so sure enough, the crew made a short trip from Quantico to Heaven.

Matt called his wife, she drove their handful of children over, Luke of course let Penelope know, the two of them still happily seeing each other now that she wasn’t on the team, it was cute to see them together. Then Penelope, of course, invited Derek and Hank. Emily, Rossi and Tara coming along just to witness Spencer being happy.

It was the best summer party they’ve ever had. Bob and Linda were beyond excited to have so many new faces in their yard, throwing on 2 more packages of burgers, feeding a whole army like normal.

The kids were all running around together in the field, playing with the cats and the goats, rolling down the big hill towards the cows, chasing fireflies as the sunset.

It was all of their last day of school on Monday, a weird day to end on but they were excited nonetheless. Y/N’s father lit up a bonfire in celebration, setting up every lawn chair and log they had to make sure everyone had a seat, they all gathered with marshmallows on sticks and drinks in their hands, smiles on their faces and love in their hearts.

Spencer made a happy life for himself that he was no sharing with them, and they call understood perfectly why he chose this one. It was peaceful, perfect and the most loving environment he’s ever been in. They were beyond proud of him.

“This place is amazing,” Tara leaned towards Spencer, “your family is wonderful.”

“Thank you,” Spencer smiled at her, raising his voice then as he looked at the rest of the team, “I just want to thank all of you actually, you’re all my family and it’s been so surreal introducing you all, I’ve never been happier.”

He was swarmed with hugs then, everyone also using it as their queue to gather their kids and hit the road. They watched everyone get in their cars one by one, Penelope did everything in her power not to leave with at least 3 cats, Matts's kids asked if they could come back, often, with Y/N reminding everyone that the gates are always open.

It was everything he ever wanted.

Amoreena jumped into his arms then, he held her against his side as they both waved at everyone, saying goodbye to all her new aunts and uncles and cousins. Her family kept getting bigger and bigger by the day and she was so incredibly happy about it. She’d take in a million more family members if they let her, her heart didn’t have a capacity level for love.

He carried her up the porch stairs then, bringing her into the kitchen where the white bag with purple tissue paper was waiting for her. Her eyes lit up as she saw it, “is that for me?”

“You bet it is,” he enthused, “I’m not going to be here in the morning, grandma Diana has a doctor's appointment, so I got you something for tomorrow morning.”

He set her down on the floor, handing her the bag and watching her carefully remove all the tissue paper. She laid it on the table softly to keep it for later, saying it was good to make barbie dresses with. When she finally saw the dress her jaw dropped.

Y/N was there too now, watching in awe as he surprised both of them.

“Did you buy this from Candace?” She asks softly as she takes it out of the bag. Holding it to her chest as she twirls around lightly.

“I did, I thought you’d like to have something to remind you of me there, I’m sorry I’m going to miss sending you to the bus on your last day,” he tried not to cry as he crouched down to her level, taking her into his arms and giving her a soft hug.

“That’s okay, you’re always in here,” she took his pointer finger in her hand and poked her own chest with it, “I love you, dad.”

“I love you more, Amoreena,” he smiled through the tears, scrunching his nose so they wouldn’t roll down his cheeks, giving her another hug before Y/N started her bedtime routine.

—

For the past two weeks, his dreams have been filled with lush fields of green draped in the most beautiful golden glow. Both his girls sitting beside him as they read, each of them has a book and it’s silent. It’s serene, the dictionary definition of peace.

However, it took him a while to fall asleep tonight, he was too anxious for Amoreena’s last day of kindergarten in the morning and the fact he wouldn’t be there for the drop-off.

Y/N was sound asleep on the pillow beside him as he stared at her, for what felt like hours, brushing her hair off her face lightly and making sure the blankets were still covering her. His eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room just enough that he could see her face twitch into a smile as she fell deeper into her slumber.

Seeing her happy relaxed him enough to follow her. Blinking into his dream realm and finding a few new faces waiting for him by the tree…

“Dad!” Another little girl he’s never seen before was running towards him, wrapping herself around him as he held her.

Suddenly, 7 other children he doesn’t know are surrounding him in hugs, tacking him to the ground in a fit of giggles and tickles, “we missed you! Why were you gone for so long?”

He’s so confused, he knows he’s dreaming but he chooses to stay, to wander the world and ask the questions his mind was so obviously trying to answer. “I’m sorry,” is all he can reply, taking Amoreena’s hand and following her towards Y/N as she sat on the picnic blanket.

She was older, which meant he should be too, looking in the pond quickly for his reflection to see’s his wrinkled face, the white in his hair and beard. Their kids had all grown up but where was he for it?

“Welcome home,” she smiled as he sat down. “it’s about time you met the girls.”

“Where was I?”

“You don’t remember?”

He shakes his head, “I was supposed to be here.”

“Amoreena got into Yale, did you hear that, cutie? Elly, Junie and Theo are in high school now, look how beautiful they are…”

He watched his children frolic in the field, running around without a care in the world that he missed everything. Why did he miss everything? How could he miss everything?

“It’s too bad you missed Cordelia and the other twins, can you believe we had 3 sets of twins, Spence?” She laughed like it was funny, “how could you leave me alone with 9 babies?” Still smiling, staring into his soul as he died a little inside.

He started to panic then, breathing heavily as he tried to remember where he was to miss everything, “I was supposed to be there for them!?”

Suddenly he’s ripped awake by Y/N shaking him and pulling him against her skin, “hey, shhh, it’s okay.”

He was crying and shaking in his sleep, sweating as he tried to fight off the dream, his anxiety in full swing for absolutely no reason, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for leaving you.”

“You didn’t go anywhere, Spencer, you’ve been there the whole time,” she reminded him, rubbing her hand over his back as he settled into her arms. “You were mumbling and then yelling.”

“I got to the park and you told me I missed all of them growing up,” he whispered the painful words into the open, freeing them from his mind and letting them exist somewhere else.

“Them?” She coo’s, holding his head against her chest as she rests her cheek against it, holding him as close as humanly possible.

“We had like 9 girls, they were all so beautiful as you and Amoreena, they all had my nose and your lips and the curliest blowing hair in the whole world, and I missed everything, again,”

“I won't let that happen, do you have any handcuffs leftover? Because I can keep you here for good?” She teased him in a hushed whisper, playful and happy to prove that he was fine, they were fine.

“I’m sorry for waking you up,” he whispered again shimmying down lower to lay his head on her lower stomach, kissing her stomach softly. “I’m not leaving you all, never.”

“I had a bad dream too, that’s what woke me up first,” she replies softly. “Yesterday was the 11th anniversary of Stephen’s death, and the first time I never visited him.”

Spencer felt the need to sit up then, making eye contact with her to see her true feelings. “I don’t want you to stop loving him because you also love me. He’s special to you, you should go see him soon.”

“Spencer,” she smiles at the concern in his voice, “I will, I only didn’t because I’m pretty sure I’m pregnant, I was bleeding a little yesterday and then it stopped, that probably means the implantation worked and I don’t want to tell him yet. And I tell him everything.”

“Everything?” He asks in a way that she hears; “even about me?” inside his thoughts.

She nods softly, “I went on that first Monday after I dropped you off at your apartment, I needed him to know I was finally ready and I thanked him for sending you to me.”

“What was he like?”

“He was from Boston, accent and everything,” she smiled with sad eyes as she recalled him to her mind. “He was in theatre school, I met him in the summer at a music festival in Chicago, he was playing guitar and we had too many beers and I lost my virginity to him in a tent in some field.”

She recalled it like it was a fond memory, missing him but not enough to be sad about it now. “I ran into him again when I went to college in Boston and we were talking outside before the rain hit, like one of those classic movie scenes, and my apartment was closer, the rest is history.”

“Hey Stephen is the one song you always skip, I never wanted to ask why but I don’t think you’ll mind telling me?” He wonders out loud, still a little delirious from the lack of sleep.

“He looked like an angel when I first saw him, he was standing under a street light reading his music sheets and the light was glowing perfectly, it was amazing I wish I had a picture of it. But then the Fearless album came out for the first time and it was my favourite song because it was like she wrote it for us. He was my perfect angel, my superstar, he was going to be on Broadway one day and we were going to move to a cottage in England, we had lots of plans and that song just makes me think of the life me and him must be living in the universe where it all worked out.”

It’s long-winded and she doesn’t seem to be over-emotional by the end, in a shocking turn of event’s it seems like she feels freer after getting it off her chest.

“I haven’t always been this happy and cheerful Spencer,” she adds, “I had a really dark spot after he died, it was horrible for me. I was so angry, I was reckless and mean and hurtful, and in that time I wasted precious moments I could have spent being happy with my grandma, and so my dream tonight was just the fight I had with Evan and my grandma dying and the cops saying Stephen was dead and placing that stupid fucking flower on his coffin thinking it made up for the fact I couldn’t even look at him in there.”

“How you respond to trauma isn’t really up to you, that’s why it’s trauma. Your brain can’t really cope and so it does typically the stuff you’ll regret the most in that time of grief, it’s not your fault and I’m sure everyone understood. You had every right to be mad, hell, I’m mad you lost him because I know how much you hurt in silence for so long,” Spencer can’t help but wish he could have been there for her.

“What happened to you after Maeve died?”

It was only fair that he shared too, “I locked myself in my apartment and didn’t take care of myself, I didn’t talk to anyone, I just sat in my living room and almost died reading every book I had because I didn’t feel like I was worthy of being taken care of so if I starved to death, so be it.”

“You still haven’t told me what happened with her and the kidnapping,” she reminds him of their little chat a few weeks ago at the school. “I get it if you’re not ready, I’m sure it’s a lot.”

“I was getting headaches, really bad ones, and so I reached out to a geneticist to see if she could help me. I sent her my brain scans and some blood tests and she helped me find supplements and natural ways to help my body rest from the stress of my work,” he explained it easily like the feelings didn’t hurt anymore.

“We talked on the phone a lot and I finally asked her why she was so afraid to meet me or have me know anything about her. She had me call her from a payphone, always a different one each time, I was to call and let it ring once, then hang up then she’d call me back. She thought she had a stalker, she was getting weird messages and threats and she felt genuinely unsafe, and she had every right to,”

“10 months went by and we thought she was safe, but her ex-fiancé got a private investigator to find her and in return found me instead. It turns out that Maeve had a student who felt wronged by her and wanted to outdo her, so she dated her fiancé and scared her underground but then she wanted me.”

Y/N’s face is full of concern like she’s listening to a true-crime thriller where she knows the ending won't be good.

“I tried to talk her stalker down, I almost had her and then she kissed me and I keep looking at Maeve, she saw right through me. She threatened to kill Maeve, she had a gun to her head but at the last minute she killed herself, but Maeve’s head was too close to hers,” the words hurt on the way out.

“And someone also had you sent to prison?” She asks, wanting all the trauma in one night to save him the trouble.

“Yeah, she was an assassin, I tricked her into thinking I found her dad and I was so smart she thought I was her soulmate, it was all an elaborate plan to bring me down to her level.”

“Did you kill someone?”

“I’ve killed too many people,” he answers with complete honesty once again. “I’ve killed mostly murderers and rapists, I typically don’t have to. I really try not to, but I’ve also killed people to keep myself safe. And I’d probably kill someone to keep you or Amoreena safe too.”

“Get in line,” she laughs, able to make every single conversation easy even when they shouldn’t be.

“I uh,” he wants to tell her more but he doesn’t know-how. “I was also sexually assaulted in prison, and I was kidnapped and drugged in 2007, I OD’d and died but then I was resuscitated, I wasn’t kidding when I said it was a lot.”

“I am so sorry Spencer,” she rests her hands on his cheeks, looking into his eyes as best as she could in the dark, still seeing the goodness in there. “You’re safe here with me, forever and always, I can promise you that.”

“Thank you,” he’s never going to stop thanking her.

Settling down on the bed once more, he cuddles back into her side. She brushes his hair behind his ear softly, humming a soft melody as she soothes him back to sleep. He snuggled right against her, holding her gently as he fell back to sleep on her, dreamless as she was everything he needed.

love you all for all the support thank you x100 <3

tag list: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #amoreena

122 notes · View notes

zotlel · 4 years ago

Text

Fall Into You (M) - 02

pairing: jaebeom x you

genre: romance, angst, series, eventual smut

synopsis: Your love life has been filled with nothing but bad experiences. Determined to give up on the idea of finding the one you meet a man who is desperate to change your mind and have you see him as more.

word count: 5.0k

Your skull feels as if it weighs over a hundred pounds, while your body was floating down a murky river of despair. You couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes. All you know in this moment is that you need water. Now.

Mustering up as much strength as humanly possible you swing your leg from your bed and hurry over to your bathroom. Hangovers are when you are at your lowest as a human. Craning your neck under your sink faucet you try to capture as much water as possible and allow it to slide down your throat. Once satisfied you shut off the water and try to steady yourself. Peeling one eye open at a time you notice that you were still in last night’s attire and also neglected to remove one of your boots.

Last night? What happened last night?

Your brain begins to reel back in time to remember just how exactly you became as blackout drunk as you did. Last night, you can remember that Sofie and you were going to one of Dominic’s new restaurants, Jake couldn’t come.

Okay, yes, this is good, now what else?

You neglected to eat dinner since you were worried about feeling bloated in your tight pants you were wearing. Opening your eyes again you look down at your jean-clad legs to confirm this much was true, and that also explained why you became so drunk so quickly. Dominic kept sending over tequila shots, his way of trying to harass you for the night the two of you hooked up while drunk off tequila, but you could never reject free drinks.

And then something else, something important happened.

A man!

Yes, that was it, a man came and sat in the booth with you when Sofie said she wanted to leave. You remember talking a lot to him and thinking he was incredibly handsome, but God you just could not remember his face or name for that matter.

His lips pressed deeply against yours as he cradled your cheek, heat spread over your body as desire licked at your loins.

The flashback of kissing a total stranger last night has you smacking your forehead in embarrassment. How can you not even remember who you kissed last night? Did it stop there? Or did you also sleep with this man?

Jesus, you really were a train-wreck.

You groan to yourself when suddenly you hear something coming from your bedroom. Dread fills your body as you slowly turn to find the cause of the noise. This really could not be happening to you right now. Slowly you make your way to your bedroom to see a stray man with dark hair stretching his limbs in the morning light. Well, that confirmed your precious worries of whether or not you had sex last night. You never stayed the night with men, let alone in your bedroom, you must have been drunk out of your mind.

You stay still in the doorway as you watch the man slowly turn to meet your eyes. Not only was there a strange man in your bed, but it just had to be him. Jaebeom smiled lightly at you while rubbing the remnants of sleep out of one eye. You felt as if you were going to be sick.

“Hey, did you sleep okay?” Jaebeom asks you in his gruff morning voice.

You suddenly felt so exposed, so vulnerable, even while still in your clothes you felt as if you were naked to a crowd of a thousand eyes. His eyes were light, and slowly your memories of last night began to stitch together. Sofie wanted to leave when Jaebeom noticed you two, he had approached you wanting to apologize for New Year’s, but you were more interested in him than hearing any sort of apology. You talked for what felt like hours while he just listened and looked at you, with those same twinkling eyes. You may have also cried, hard to say for sure.

“U-Uh yes, fine,” you cough awkwardly. How can you be standing in the same room with someone you cried in front of and then proceed to fuck? The discomfort was sweeping through your body like a tidal wave, “I’m really sorry for last night.”

“Trust me there’s nothing to be sorry for,” Jaebeom says as he starts to fix your bedding.

How could you let this happen? Was your self-discipline really so low that you would go back on your word about no hookups in a mere week? Albeit that Jaebeom happened to be one of the most gorgeous men you have seen, it was no excuse. This was your time for healing and being alone, just like Sofie said. How can you ever be trusted?

“Everything okay? You look like you’re about to be sick,” Jaebeom must have noticed the worsening expression on your face as you scolded yourself internally. You bring a hand to your forehead attempting to get a grip of reality. The world felt as if it was spinning and flipping all around you like you were in some sort of tortuous drying machine.

“I’m just feeling really shitty. I think it’s best if you leave,” you tell him.

To your surprise, Jaebeom nods his head in understanding and begins to make his way past you towards your bedroom door without any sort of complaint. You figure it would probably be best to walk him through the hall to your front door just in the case of your roommate being scared to death by a stranger in the apartment. Silently you tread behind Jaebeom, his shoulders were wide as they sloped past your narrow hallway, you couldn’t help but admire.

As the two of you begin to reach the door Jaebeom suddenly stops and turns to you. He says nothing as he only just stares into your eyes. You began to feel so small in his presence, the way his eyes looked so desperately at your own, searching for something you knew you didn’t have. With shame filling your body you instead turn your eyes to the floor, Jaebeom realizes your discomfort and reaches his hand to the doorknob.

Still, with his back to you, he says something just loud enough for your ears, “If you ever need anything, call me. I saved my number in your phone.”

“S-Sure, thanks I will,” your body feels hot at his words, he nods once before leaving your apartment, shutting the door softly behind him.

You stand there unable to move from your spot as you process everything that just happened. Your hookup with Jaebeom, your lack of memory, his genuine concerning tone, and most of all how kind he was. Your brain felt like mush as you struggled to get a grip on this strange man. In your whole history of one-night stands, this one was by far the most confusing for you.

Once you are able to clear these headache-inducing thoughts from your head you look up and see you have just about twenty minutes until you have to be at work. As if an alarm went off in your brain you begin to hurry down the hall and speedily rid yourself of the remnants from the night before. As much as you did enjoy the occasional, oh who were you kidding, the frequent cocktail, you prided yourself in always being professional and punctual when it came to your career. Let’s face it, you were a competent woman playing in a man’s world and those people would do anything to see you knocked down a peg.

You make quick work of straightening out your business attire and smoothing your hair into a low bun, you could worry about makeup while on the subway. You leave the door in a huff and begin to make your way to the station. All the while you could not help but try to rack your brain about the events that happened the previous night.

You moaned softly into his ear as he began to slip his fingers inside your panties, dripping with desire he slowly drew a finger around your arousal.

Your hand that had been applying mascara stops at the memory. You sit dazed while the subway softly rocks you back and forth as it trugs along the underground tracks. This was bad. Not only did you sleep with Jaebeom, but you also very much enjoyed it according to your memories. The moments the two of you shared were incredibly vivid in your mind. But oh, did you long for his touch. It hadn’t even been twelve hours since the encounter but your body was already yearning for the way his body felt on yours.

Fuck, this was bad, you thought.

You could deal with all kinds of men and the memories they left you with. The memories of disgust, anger, heartbreak, even resentment. But you had absolutely no idea what to do with this feeling of longing. Longing for a man you barely knew was not something you were going to allow yourself. Was your resolve really this weak?

The subway announces the arrival of your stop breaking your internal melodrama and effectively allowing you to shift your gears into work-mode. If you can just get through this workday you will probably never even have to see that man again. And if you did then you were going to tell him exactly how you felt.

No not felt, what you knew.

You know that for both of your sanities you could not even begin to humor the idea of having any sort of relationship with him. You were not looking for any sort of man in your life. Whether that be a boyfriend or a friend with benefits type. You needed time alone, and for him to enter your life at this time is just wrong on every level.

You settle into work easily enough once you reach your office. The familiarity of your workspace helped kick any lingering thoughts out the door. The sounds of quick fingers against keyboards, a smell of old coffee and ink cartridges fluffing through the air, and of course the heavy stares of your male colleagues as they picked apart your every step. You pay them no mind as you settle into your office and log into your desktop.

“Would you care for some coffee Ms. L/N?” Stacy, the new intern had just popped her head into your office the moment you sat. Stacy was smart and diligent, she stayed late to do the higher-up’s paperwork and always made sure to hold her tongue. Good girl. It just upset you dearly that a person of her capabilities was stuck with no pay and fetching coffee.

“Yes Stacy, thank you for asking,” you replied back.

She smiled sweetly at you before exiting your office. Waiting not a second longer you begin to check your work email as usual responding to your clients. Your fingers ran fast across your keyboard as you simultaneously would respond and keep one eye on the market to see if you had lost any money for any of your investors. The green arrows that flowed steadily at your bottom screen gave you a sense of relief as you began to allow yourself to sink into your work and forget about everything else.

To some, the work you do may seem dull. You understood why exactly they would think that, but it was so far from the truth. You found such a thrill in the way the stock market worked. The uncertainty of it all kept you hungry to know more. Because let’s face it, nobody, not even stock managers like yourself, knew if you were about to lose all of your assets or turn someone into a millionaire. It was quite a thrill for you, and if you were being quite honest, you had a damn good intuition about these types the things. Which is how you became the youngest stock manager in your division with a million-dollar reputation at your back, but you weren’t much for bragging.

You would question yourself as you looked around the room at your coworkers. Most of whom lived in penthouses and rolled up to work in their glittering Mercedes. How was it that you carried most of the company’s reputation on your back alone, yet you were still living in a two-bedroom flat in the meat-packing district? You looked up from your computer as you remembered, no woman as competent as yourself has come as far as you have in this company. Therefore you had to tread a new road for younger women who would surely come after you.

Stacy walks into your office quietly as she leaves a fresh coffee on a coaster near your workstation. You forced a tight smile as a thank you. You had to pave the road for people like her. Because here was a brilliant mind fresh from Harvard business and yet her biggest responsibility was remembering how everyone took their coffee.

You try to ignore these disgruntled feelings as suddenly your phone begins to ring. Snapped from your thoughts you reach for the device to answer the call.

Before you speak a gruff voice is heard through the speaker, “Y/N can I see you in my office?”

Your boss’s voice is low as it rumbles out the request. Right away, you tell him as you set the phone back down and begin to make your way towards his office abandoning your fresh coffee. You make your way towards the end of the younger manager’s offices until you are perched directly in front of massive double doors. You knock twice before entering, seeing your boss up from his desk gazing out of his floor-to-ceiling window.

Mr. Hobbes was considered a young man for his CEO position at your company. You were never sure of his exact age due to his overwhelming need to keep his life as private as possible. His hair was just on the brink of becoming an ashy tone but still had flicks of golden locks throughout. Hobbes was always nicely shaven and had a distinct green smell that just screamed “wealth.” He was one of the only men in the office who never tried to hit on or belittle you. Therefore, he was tolerable.

“Come join me,” Hobbes calls out to you, never looking away from his window.

With a deep sigh, you make your way over to stand near him and overlook his office view alongside him. The two of you stood silently next to each other and just watched. The people, cars, birds, and just about everything that made movement outside. It was odd. Standing as close as you were to one of the most powerful men in the country you would think it would shake you. Yet you felt absolutely nothing.

“You have a brilliant mind,” he begins next to you, “Did you know that?

“Haven’t thought too much about it, I just try my best just like everyone else,” you respond back honestly.

At this Hobbes laughs, “You haven’t thought too much about it.”

He then turns to you. His deep turquoise eyes staring you down, blue eyes were your least favorite color. They felt cold and distant, madness could be hidden behind them. Hobbes’s eyes were different, instead of the cold, you could feel a warm breeze on an ocean. He was a comfortable person to be around.

“Well, would it be terribly rude of me to start asking you to think about it? To think about your future,” he asks you.

“Not rude at all, I would just like to know your reasoning behind these questions.”

Your boss walks away from the window to take a seat at his large mahogany desk. Wordlessly he requests you to sit across from him in one of the smaller chairs. You make your way over to sit politely hoping to God he couldn’t tell that you got dressed in less than five minutes this morning.

“I want to make you the head of recruiting,” Hobbes says to you.

You can’t help but let your eyes widen at his words. Head of an entire department. Sure you were good at what you did but you had only been working at this company for three years. This was surely too soon for such a big promotion.

“Head?” You ask him again to which he nods. “Sir, with all due respect, am I not under qualified for that sort of position?”

“I don’t give a damn about qualifications or years of experience. I care about numbers, and yours are good, no, they’re the best.” He begins to say, “I need more brilliant minds like yours so I figure why not take the best manager we’ve got and have her show the newbies how it’s done.”

To say you were complimented would be an understatement. You were shocked that Hobbes felt this way about you. While working at the company he mostly had kept to himself, rarely would you see him out on company dinners or even speaking during meetings. He was withholding so much power that you never dared to get on his bad side.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything yet,” Hobbes says. “Take time to think about it and come back to me with an answer by the end of the quarter.”

You nod your head at this, thanking him first you begin to stand and make your way towards his door. Before you are able to leave, your boss calls your name, you turn to see he had been following close behind.

“Don’t let yourself think you are incapable,” he tells you. “I know talent when I see it and you’ve got it, Kid.”

You smile bashfully trying to avoid his eye contact. He laughs lightly at you before patting your shoulder gently in an encouraging way. You then turn to walk away once more and return to your office.

“That’s a good girl,” Jaebeom whispers in your ear as you feel his cock penetrate your dripping core from behind.

You turn back around shocked and look at your boss. Hobbes was staring curiously at your expression waiting for you to speak.

“I’m sorry did you say something?” You ask, afraid for the answer.

“I said you’re a smart girl Y/N,” he smiles lightly before turning his back to you and returning to his desk.

Your cheeks are hot from the misunderstanding as you quickly make your way to leave his suffocating office. Quick feet down the hallways as you desperately try to reach your office without having anyone notice your frazzled state. Slamming your office door your back meets the cool surface as you try and regain your normal heart-rate from the erotic memory.

You put your head in your hands to attempt to grab a hold of your subconscious. This situation was worse than you thought. How can one night of sex with Jaebeom be haunting you this much? Was it really that incredible? You sit back as you laugh at your own question. It was more than incredible. It was the best you have ever had.

You decided it would probably be best for you to drown yourself in work for the rest of the day. You needed so desperately for something to help distract you from your wandering mind, thank God statistics and economics had absolutely no sex appeal.

Time ticked on throughout your office. Your eyes stayed glued to your desktop screen but you could tell that the lights had begun to dim settling into the night around you. Fellow workers could be seen stretching their sore limbs high in the air before they gathered their things to leave. Quiet goodbyes were exchanged amongst the masses as everyone decided their life outside of this office would be a much greater place to be.

You on the other hand could not let yourself be spared a single moment to yourself. It was the moment when the sensory lights had triggered to turn off in your office that you finally took in your surroundings. Once again you were the only person left in the office. With a big sigh you lean far back in your chair, elongating your spine against the back of the chair you begin to finally feel the exhaustion in your body.

Deciding it was probably best for you to leave, you quickly gather your things and make your way out of the building. The bitter January air had you holding your coat closer to your body to try and conserve as much heat as possible. The other people passing you along the street seemed unaffected by the weather, it was after all a Friday night. Your workplace happened to be in the dead-center of the hippest club scene in your city. It was fun for you to watch people as you made your way to the underground subway station. With your headphones in, a soft calming melody played to assist in healing your slight headache as you watch young men and women laugh and hang off one another. You smile lightly admiring the way they all looked so alive and happy.

The ride through the subway was nothing out of the ordinary. You would occasionally catch yourself dozing off only for the loud blaring station announcements to wake you from your short-lived slumber. On your cold walk home from the subway station to your apartment, you couldn’t help but think about how nice a hot shower sounded.

Lost in your own world you hardly notice there was a certain new constant man in your life sitting on the front steps of your apartment. Quickly you remove your earphones from your ears, just then he notices your presence. Jaebeom looks up to you, smiling slightly, he rises to his feet until he is standing right in front of you. He smells like spring rain.

“Jaebeom, what are you doing here?” Suddenly feeling incredibly insecure about your appearance under his hot stare you make quick work to smooth down your frizzy hair.

“I just needed to talk with you,” he says, the heat of his words causing a cloud to release with it in the chill of the city night.

“About what?”

He laughs slightly at your accusatory tone. Jaebeom takes in the scenery around him, the dimly lit neighborhood streets illuminated where the two of you stood. Softly rubbing the back of his neck Jaebeom tried to calm his own nerves.

“Well, we had a really good time last night, right?” Jaebeom asks you now, looking you directly in the eyes. You blush at this, remembering all the flashbacks you had been getting during your busy workday. It was now your turn to get shy as you look to your feet, too flustered to meet his stare. A slight wind worked its way between your bodies as if to wrap the two of you in one cold embrace.

“I just wanted to come here and ask you properly,” he says, causing you to look up at him curiously. “I wanted to ask you on a proper date.”

Jaebeom speaks while searching your eyes nervously, afraid himself that he may have misread the connection the two of you had. You yourself could not deny the chemistry you felt with Jaebeom. Sleeping together was one thing, but you were nowhere in the right headspace to be dating right now. If only you had met him later when you were fixed.

“Jaebeom I’m flattered really,” you begin to say, already cringing at your lame line. “Us hooking up last night was a mistake on my part. I am not in the right place to be with anyone.”

You continue your rant as Jaebeom looks perplexed.

“Sleeping together, dating… I can’t do any of it right now. So I’m sorry but I just don’t think this,” your hand waves between your two bodies for emphasis. “Is going to happen.”

You realize what you said was harsh. Hell, if you were on the other end of this rhetoric with a guy you really liked you would be crushed. Unfortunately, you had to be this upfront with men. You’ve tried subtly in the past, and somehow these guys just never understood that you were not interested. After much trial and error, you have discovered being upfront, albeit harsh, was the best solution.

“I-” Jaebeom begins to speak but then suddenly laughs. You stare at him with confusion. You expected a certain reaction from him, but laughter definitely caught you off-guard. Jaebeom can hardly contain himself as he turns to try and calm himself. Meanwhile, you stood just waiting to hear his explanation for his strange reaction.

“That explains this morning then I guess…” Jaebeom says to himself causing your patience to dwindle.

“I totally understand you not being ready,” he finally calms himself down enough to speak with you. “But Y/N, we did not hook up last night.”

Your head recoils back in shock and confusion, you stare into Jaebeom’s eyes trying to see if he was somehow using this as some sort of power-play against you. When looking at his eyes though, all you could find was sincerity.

How can this be true? You distinctly remember separate occasions of him from last night while sleeping with him. Come to think of it though, you were fully dressed when you woke up, and so was Jaebeom. Can you even remember coming home with him? Your mind was completely blank.

“After the restaurant, I walked you home,” Jaebeom can sense your confusion from your facial features and decides to fill in the empty space. “Once I got you home you asked me to come inside to make sure you got to bed. You started to get really upset once we got to your room so I lied with you in bed for a bit until you calmed down, and then I must have fallen asleep after then.”

Your cheeks are burning bright red, as you do in fact remember everything Jaebeom just said to be true. You remember sobbing once you got to your bed, you remember asking him to hold you. If you could die from embarrassment, you would already be standing in your grave.

“But I remember things from last night, I remember us kissing and you-” you try and salvage your shameful memories, but have a hard time getting yourself to say that you remember him fucking you.

“And I?”

“You, touching me…” You look up at him and see a tinge of amusement on his face at your shy confession.

“Well I have to say, I am truly flattered you had a very vivid dream about me,” his smirk on his face is accompanied by a red tinge in his cheeks thinking of the two of you becoming intimate.

“But I can assure you we just slept next to each other, I would definitely remember if more happened.”

He laughed lightly clearly finding this whole situation to be just one big misunderstanding. This was so angering for you to hear though. Jaebeom was now openly mocking you in your eyes for the thoughts that attacked you all day.

“I’m so glad you find this amusing, now if you don’t mind I would like to go inside and forget last night ever happened,” your words hold little meaning as the anger controls your tongue.

Jaebeom looks surprised at your reaction as you attempt to move past him. He can now clearly see you did not find this situation funny in the least bit.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset you,” Jaebeom is frantic as you pass by him trying to reach your door. Softly he grasps your wrist causing you to look back and see his pained expression as he worries if he has hurt you.

“I understand you’ve gone through a lot,” he begins to say. “I just know what that feels like and it’s nearly impossible to go through those feelings alone.”

“You know absolutely nothing about me Jaebeom. Don’t feel special just because I used you as an emotional dumpster when I was too drunk to realize what I was doing.”

You can feel the peak beginning to approach in your anger and it almost scares you. The last time you blacked out from your anger, it took more than apologies to recover the damage.

“You need to back the fuck off,” you spit venom at him.

He seems completely thrown back from your harsh words. His eyes are pleading with you, worrying that he might have upset you beyond repair. Behind all this banter Jaebeom cared for you as a person and he wanted more than anything for you to see him as more than just another man. He would never even think of trying to control or suppress you. He wanted so much more from you, he needed to know so much more.

You were not ready like him. Not ready to leap forth into another unknowing relationship with a man. He was the right person, but now was definitely not the right time.

Silently he lets your wrist go as you hurry inside your apartment. Slamming the door you rest your back against it trying to control your breathing. The look on Jaebeom’s face was hurt. You had hurt him. Regret crawled its way up your chest making you feel absolutely nauseous for the way you handled speaking with him. The man had confessed to you for fucks sake. And you have the audacity to get upset with this complete stranger and hurt him just because you were embarrassed?

This was a new low of yours.

#got7 fanfic #got7 jb #got7 smut #got7 scenarios #jaebeom fanfic #jb fanfic #fanfic #Smut #jaebeom smut #jb smut

109 notes · View notes

reinerispretty · 5 years ago

Text

rotations. (zuko x f!reader) pt6

hello!! i wanted to say thank you so much for all of your wonderful likes, comments, reblogs, asks, and everything in between!! it really means a ton to me knowing that you guys actually like this story and my writing :) remember that if you have any suggestions don’t hesitate to send me an ask or a message, and pls share if you can!! much love to you all

pt 1

pt 5

pt 7

“Perfect,” he breathed out as his eyes saw the boat. “You hop down first.”

“What? No way! I’m the one that can actually firebend here. You go first so you don’t get hurt.”

“Do you always have to argue with me?”

“Only when your plans are stupid!”

A whisper came through the cell bars. She blinked her eyes open and sat up quickly. “Here to tell me I’m a traitor again?” She called out into the dark.

“I’m actually here to rescue you but I can call you a traitor if you want.”

(Y/N) never thought she’d be so happy to hear that voice. “Sokka!” She exclaimed. “What are you doing here? Where are Aang and Katara?”

“It was too dangerous for either of them to come. I snuck on the ship to come break you out.” He jingled a set of keys in his hand. “Got these from the guard I managed to knock out. Impressive, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah, my hero. Now open the door!” Sokka unlocked her cell. She turned around and he quickly made work of her ties. Once she was free, she stretched her hands and fingers, happy to feel the warm sensation of fire underneath her fingertips. “How’d you get onto the boat?”

“I took a small rowboat and tied it to the mast. If the waves stay calm, it should still be there.”

“And if they don’t?”

“I guess we’re in for a swim,” Sokka shrugged. She smiled at him nervously before grabbing his hand and making a run for it. She wasn’t quite sure where she was going, but she let her feet lead her anyway. Her goal was to get to the top deck without running into any Fire Nation soldiers. Of course, luck wasn’t always on her side.

They encountered soldiers at nearly every corner they turned. Luckily, they were so shocked to see the prisoner out of her cell and a Water Tribe boy that they had very little time to react before she and Sokka were knocking them out.

The pair reached the top deck and doubled over on their knees, breathing heavily. Sokka helped her to her feet and led her to the side of the ship where his boat was. They looked down to make sure it was still there.

“Perfect,” he breathed out as his eyes saw the boat. “You hop down first.”

“What? No way! I’m the one that can actually firebend here. You go first so you don’t get hurt.”

“Do you always have to argue with me?”

“Only when your plans are stupid!”

A column of flame shot past the two of them, missing their bodies by only inches. They looked at each other in surprise before (Y/N) quickly hid Sokka behind her own body. She shot fire balls from her hands back at the attacker. The smoke from their attacks dissipated quickly, revealing Zuko. He launched himself in the air, kicking flames at her face. She sent fire wheel after fire wheel at him until he was completely surrounded. She turned to Sokka.

“You have to go.”

“No, I’m not leaving you again.” As her back was turned, Zuko rushed towards her. Sokka reacted quicker than she could and used the force of his body to knock Zuko to the ground. She flinched as she heard the breath get knocked out of Zuko’s body.

Before she could turn back to look at him, Sokka was grabbing her hand and pulling her over the edge of the ship. She yelled as they fell, but Sokka pulled her body into his to shield her from the impact of the water.

She emerged from the dark waters with a gasp of air and scramble around frantically to find her friend. “I’m right here,” he said. He led her to the boat and lifted her up inside it. She collapsed on the floor of the boat, coughing water out of her lungs. Sokka climbed in after her and immediately began rowing them back to shore, where Katara and Aang were waiting.

She breathed heavily as Sokka rowed before slowly sitting up. “Thank you,” she said. “I don’t like the idea of anyone rescuing me but...I’m glad it was you.” She coughed again and rubbed her neck, her face becoming hot. “I mean, I’m glad you did it.”

“Even if you do annoy me, you’re still part of our family now. Plus, it’s kinda cool to actually see you use your firebending.” She smiled. “Especially against Zuko, man, it really seemed like he had something personal against you.”

She laughed bitterly. “I guess you could say that.” It hurt, knowing that Zuko viewed her as a traitor, but it hurt worse knowing what the Fire Nation had turned him into. He was irrational and angry and almost nothing like the Zuko she used to know.

(Y/N) hated crying, but ever since she had left the Fire Nation, she had been doing a lot of it. She didn’t even realize she was crying until she noticed Sokka looking at her. He stopped rowing to scoot closer to her. “Are you okay?” She wiped furiously at her eyes and cheeks before shaking her head.

“Zuko and I used to be best friends.” Sokka inhaled a sharp breath. “And we kinda, sorta, were almost engaged.” This time, Sokka let out a whole gasp. “He didn’t always used to be like this, I promise! He was nice and we used to do everything together. I hadn’t seen him in over two years and then when we finally saw each other again...” She gestured loosely around them. “It hurts a lot, barely recognizing someone you cared about so much.”

Sokka remained silent for a few moments as he stared at her. Then, taking her hand in his own, he tilted her head up to look at him. “I know how much it hurts, losing someone you love. But it gets better. I promise.”

She smiled sadly. “Thank you, Sokka.” She pulled away from his touch but touched her own face where his hand once was. It felt tingly.

“Besides,” Sokka said as he started rowing again. “You’re way too awesome to date someone with a horrible ponytail.”

(Y/N) couldn’t contain her laughter.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The adventures (Y/N) shared with her friends happened at almost every turn. They narrowly evaded escape from Admiral Zhao, had visited the Northern Air Temple and flown on gliders for the first time, and had travelled to the Northern Water Tribe so that Katara and Aang could master waterbending. Their trip to the north had resulted in disastrous circumstances. Once again, (Y/N) had to fight against not only her nation, but one of her old friends. It saddened her deeply to fight against people she had once loved, even if she knew she was doing it for the right reasons.

The battle in the North had strengthened the group’s friendship exponentially. No longer did (Y/N) feel like she was an outsider, or that she needed to tread carefully in what she said to her friends. She was able to laugh around the campfire with them and also make them laugh, like the time she had told them she had accidentally caught Zuko’s pants on fire when they were children. She felt comfortable and, most importantly, she felt safe.

She developed a different kind of relationship with each member of their small family. Aang, although older than her but somehow younger at the same time, had become averse to firebending ever since he had accidentally burned Katara. He made (Y/N) promise not to try to teach him and resolved that he would take down the Fire Lord without firebending. She knew it was impossible, but he seemed so upset about it that she agreed. Instead, they spent their time together exchanging history. Aang told her what it was like growing up one hundred years ago, and (Y/N) filled him in on everything he had missed since then. Even the small stuff, like the invention of bubblebaths.

Katara had more than warmed up to her since (Y/N) first joined their group. (Y/N) had really tried to make an effort with Katara, since some part of her felt responsible for her mother’s death. They cooked together, did the laundry together, and even walked into town together when the boys weren’t paying attention. They eventually became so comfortable around each other that she had poured out her life’s story to Katara on one rainy afternoon. After she was done talking, she realized that when speaking with Katara, she didn’t fear disappointment or apathy. Instead, her Water Tribe friend provided her with the best advice she could give, and a hug warmer than any she’d had in the Fire Nation.

It was Sokka and (Y/N)’s relationship that took the most drastic turn. After their experience in the Northern Water Tribe and his loss of Yue, Sokka quit his small digs at her. He knew that she understood what it was like, to lose someone that you loved. Their time together was no longer filled with snide comments about the other’s upbringing; instead, Sokka had been teaching her how to fight! She knew some martial arts, since it was the basis of firebending, but she had never fought with a weapon before. On relaxed days, they trained together. She taught him hand-to-hand combat and he taught her how to fight with a sword.

“You’re a fast learner,” Sokka said after one of their lessons. They sat together at the edge of the lake they had camped beside. He used a stick and a piece of string with a hook on the end to create a make-shift fishing pole.

She smiled at the compliment. “Wish I could say the same about you.” He shoved her and she laughed. “You’re not too bad yourself. You know I can’t give you a regular compliment. It’d go to that big head of yours.” Despite himself, Sokka let out a smile.

“You’re so mean to me,” he said. “Are you this mean to all of your friends?”

“Only to the ones I especially like.” She thought back to her time in the Fire Nation. She could do that now, without getting very sad about it. “Back home, I always had to watch what I said. I was around the royal family a lot, so it was rare when I could really say what was on my mind.” She turned to Sokka, squinting her eyes from the sun. “Teasing is just the way I show that I care. I don’t mean to be well, mean.”

“I don’t really think you’re mean.”

“Good,” she grinned, tucking her legs into herself. “Because you haven’t seen nothin’ yet.”

“Have you guys caught anything yet?” Katara called out. “I’m starving!”

She stood quickly, shot her flames at the water, and took the fish that floated to the top in her hands. “Coming!” She shouted before running back toward camp. Sokka gathered his things to run after her.

“You let me fish for an hour when you could do that this whole time?”

---

i know what this chapter looks like. and yes. but all in due time.

Tag List!

@mdgrdians , @soft4kei , @bubblebars , @pleasantfankingdom , @vintageroses1014516 , @celamoon , @fangirlanotherjust , @gliderbudgie , @haylaansmi , @jada-cleo , @boxofteenageideas , @disgruntled-gay , @lie-ana , @jasmine-the-amazing , @svsoftie , @buckysfeet , @anime-simp , @imcravingyou , @rosetheshapeshifter , @alrightberries , @izzieserra , @hstott , @random-stupid-stuffs , @jackbamexpress , @jainaixo , @thefoxskinwalker

#avatar #atla #sokka x reader #zuko x reader #aang x reader #katara #toph #aang #sokka #zuko #azula #iroh #fanfiction #writing #the last airbender

972 notes · View notes

gunterfan1992 · 4 years ago

Text

Episode Review: ‘Obsidian’ (Distant Lands, Ep. 2)

Airdate: November 19, 2020

Story by: Jack Pendarvis, and Kate Tsang, Adam Muto, & Hanna K. Nyström

Storyboarded by: Hanna K Nyström, Anna Syvertsson, Iggy Craig, Mickey Quinn, Maya Petersen, James Campbell, & Ashlyn Anstee

Directed by: Miki Brewster (supervising), Sandra Lee (art)

Of all the many colorful characters in Adventure Time perhaps none has a more elaborate backstory than Marceline the Vampire Queen. In many ways, Marceline really was the writers’ gold goose, engendering complex story after complex story. By the time the series ended, the vampire’s life had in more ways than one been woven into the very fabric of the show’s mythology.

But because I am a Marceline fanboy—whose zeal for her majesty is rivaled perhaps only by Glassboy himself—I always felt like the show could have done even more with her backstory; I mean, when the series finale aired, there were still plenty of questions that had yet to be answered (What happened to her mom? What is Simon going to do now that he’s “cured”? How did Marcy and Bubblegum meet? Were they romantically involved before the events of the main series? How did it all go south?). Nevertheless, when "Island Song” played for the last time at the end of “Come Along with Me,” I forced myself to push aside this minor, fannish grievance and applaud the show for writing such an excellent character. I didn’t need for every last detail of her life to be explicitly shown on screen. I was happy.

But then, about a year ago, news dropped that one of the Distant Lands specials would really delve into the history of Marceline and Bubblegum’s relationship. In an instant, I tossed my stoic “I-am-satisified-with-what-I-received” mentality right out the window. We were going to get another Marceline episode, and it was going to dive back into her elaborate backstory!?! I could barely contain my excitement as I waited for the episode to drop.

Well, was my excitement worth it? Or was “Obsidian” a big ol’ let down—a tragic victim to grandiose expectations that were never meant to be fulfilled?

I’m quite happy to say that not only was “Obsidian” a remarkable special in its own right, but it is arguably one of the strongest episodes of Adventure Time, period.

The plot of this episode is fairly standard, as far as Adventure Time episodes go: Glassboy (a new character voiced by Michaela Dietz, the voice of Amethyst from Steven Universe) accidentally sets a giant fire monster named Molto Larvo loose on the Glass Kingdom, and Marceline and Bubblegum—who we learn have been living their best cottagecore life together in Marcy’s cavehouse—are forced to save the day. But the series’ writers take this otherwise quotidian adventure idea—a story which, at least on paper, could have easily fit in during any of the show’s many seasons—and employ it as something of a Trojan Horse, using it as a pretense to delve into both Marcy’s traumatic childhood and her and Bubblegum’s romantic history. And, boy, is it a ride!

With regard to the former story thread, the audience learns that sometime after the Mushroom Bomb detonated, Marceline and her mother, Elise (voiced this time not by Rebecca Sugar, but by actress Erica Luttrell, who played Sapphire in Steven Universe), roamed the wastelands in search of shelter; after Marceline’s mother came down with some sort of sickness, she sent Marceline to be on her own. Elise was hoping that this would spare Marcy the trauma of seeing her mother die before her very eyes, but due to some communication issues, Marceline never learned what became of her mother. As such, Marceline began blaming herself for “leaving” her mom to die in the wreckage of the world. This plot thread is perhaps one of the bleakest that Adventure Time has ever explored, and the show does it masterfully, balancing the darkness (e.g., Marceline’s mother coughing up blood) with bright spots of comedy (e.g., the "wazzup” dog) that never feel distasteful.

Likewise, when it comes to the story thread about Marcy and Bubblegum’s romantic history, the special does not hold back. We get to see “Bubbline” at its best and its worst. I have a feeling that the word “fan service” is going to be used by a lot of folks when talking about this episode. As the AV Club writer William Hughes notes, this word is usually hurled around like a pejorative, but it aptly describes the appeal of “Obsidian”. After all, this episode really is “fan service at its finest”—not only does it give the ravenous shippers the story tidbits that they have so long to see (e.g., the moment Marcy gave Bubblegum her rock shirt, Bubbline’s epic break-up), but—and this is very important—it does so in a way that is fundamentally meaningful. “Obsidian” does not feel self-indulgent, unnecessary, or pandering. On the contrary, it is overflowing with deep emotion that allows us to better understand how Bubblegum and Marceline really feel about one another. Sure, over the centuries that the two gals have bummed around Ooo, they have bickered and fought, but deep down, their love is passionate. In many ways, it is like the titular obsidian, which means that nothing short of an enchanted diamond pickax is strong enough to break Bubbline apart for good.

(It’s also quite nice that after seasons and seasons of tip-toeing around the question of Marceline and Bubblegum’s sexuality, “Obsidian” can explicitly focus on their life together, showing the two characters cuddling, kissing, and dancing. In terms of LGBTQ+ representation, it’s a huge leap forward, and I’m so happy that Adventure Time has had a part to play in normalizing queer relationships!)

Marceline episodes almost always featured a catchy diddy, but "Obsidian” really cranks things up to 11 by featuring a whole bevy of catchy songs, several of which are perhaps among the show’s strongest. The first right banger, “It’s Funny,” is the song that plays over the special’s credits. With a grunge-meets-riot grrrl feels, this track really sets the tone for the episode, signaling to the audience that we’re in for, as Lumpy Space Princess once put it, some “drama bombs.” The next standout is “Woke Up,” a brutally honest diss track that Marceline used both to contain Molto Larvo and break up with Princess Bubblegum centuries prior to the start of this episode. This song was written by pop rocker Zuzu, and it—as the kids say—slaps. Layers of fuzzed-out guitar and digitally processed vocals are used expertly to sell Marceline’s emotions and convey how, on the surface, she’s delighted to no longer be under Bubblegum’s romantic spell... even if her heart may not be so sure.

But arguably, the musical jewel of the entire special is “Monster,” a somber ballad that Marceline sings to Bubblegum when they find themselves trapped in the collapsing furnace and are facing what they believe is certain death. Written by indie pop artist Half Shy, this song is, in many ways, something of the inverse of “Woke Up”: soft, happy, and filled to the brim with a sort of love that few are lucky to receive and even fewer can honestly express. Not only does “Monster” finally cement Marceline’s real, visceral love for Bubblegum in song form (remember: almost every prior Bubbline song was either indirect or delivered by an angsty, heartbroken Marceline), but it also “tames” Molto Larvo, allowing him to metamorphose into a strange but harmless cat-butterfly critter. Just like “Come Along with Me,” “Obsidian” proves that the power of love and music will save us in the end—if not physically, then at least emotionally.

Regarding the production-side of things, there’s a lot of praise to doll out. First off, the look and style of “Obsidian” is gorgeous. While “BMO” opted to experiment somewhat with the classic Adventure Time art style, trading cel shading for an almost watercolor feel, “Obsidian” echoes the aesthetic of the original series. That said, there’s an undeniable animation bump—likely courtesy of that sweet, sweet HBO money—that lets Ooo and its denizens shine in all their glory. You can tell that Adam Muto, art director Sandra Lee, supervising director Miki Brewster, and all the members of the production staff really went above and beyond the call of duty. The episode's soundtrack, composed by Amanda Jones, as deserves a shout-out. Jones did an excellent job mixing the chiptune style of the original series with a bass-heavy rock sound that highlights Marceline’s starring role. Bravo!

As another production aside, I should point out that CN/HBO’s decision to make these specials each 44 minutes was the right call. The 11 minute format of the original series often left something to be desired when it came to plot development, as many an important episode was forced to end somewhat prematurely due to time constraints; conversely, the 8-episode miniseries format that the show experimented with during its latter days sometimes felt like too much time (Stakes, Islands, and Elements all had whole episodes that felt like nothing more than the show treading water). The length of “Obsidian”, however, was just right, giving us plenty of time to take in what was happening without ever feeling like it was dragging.

A final aspect of this episode that is worth mention is its many call-backs to previous episodes and characters. “BMO” was mostly a self-contained story that, due to its nature as a prequel in space, really couldn’t reference the Land of Ooo without feeling forced. “Obsidian,” however, throws in everything and the kitchen sink (Adventure Time superfan and all-around cool person Jagm has collected most of them here for those of you who want to see everything laid out nicely). Stand-outs for me include Choose Goose (someone who we really haven’t seen since season five) smuggling sketchy products into the Candy Kingdom, post-Ice King Simon trying his hand at open mic nights, Bronwyn as an adventurous hero, and Finn the (Adult!) Human complete with beard and scars! Of note, Jake does not appear in this episode, except as a tattoo on Finn’s chest. Many in the fandom are now speculating that the events of “Obsidian” take place after our beloved shapeshifting dog’s death. Oh say it ain’t so! Perhaps we’ll learn more in “Together Again.”

Mushroom War Evidence: Unlike “BMO,” which directly referenced the Mushroom War and its fallout (both literally and figuratively), this episode returned to the show’s roots by featuring gobs of explicit hints in throw-away lines or elaborate background pieces. Honestly, there is far too many to list here in a pithy paragraph, but some major references include: the reveal that the Glass Kingdom, like the Fire Kingdom, was created by ‘magic’ blaze from the heavens (almost certainly a nuke); the fact that Marceline and her mother wandered for a time in the debris-filled wastelands following the apocalypse; and the reveal that Marceline spent at least part of her childhood holed up in a bomb shelter surrounded by the bones of myriad dead humans. Honestly, while references to the Mushroom War have always been sad footnotes to an otherwise cheery show; in this episode, however, the references are very graphic, illustrating the sorrow and horror of mutagenic war.

Final Grade: As I said earlier, I’m a Marcy fanboy, so I’m horrible biased, but I don’t care. This episode rocked. Q.E.D.

#adventure time #atimers #adventure time distant lands #distant lands #atdl #obsidian #marceline the vampire queen #marceline #bubblegum #princess bubblegum #bubbline #adam muto #hanna k #hanna k. nyström #jack pendarvis

76 notes · View notes

fruitquake · 5 years ago

Text

The Black Lake

honestly this kinda sucks but i’m just happy to actually have written something. school and writers block have been making it hard to be productive lately. so uh.. enjoy? and pls be kind even if it’s not the best thing i’ve written.

“This seems like a bad idea.”

Remus waited for Sirius to answer, but all he got was a light chuckle. “Maybe,” Sirius said, turning towards him. In the darkness, Remus couldn’t see Sirius’ expression very well, but he could easily picture the his mischievous smile. “But when has anything fun not come out of a bad idea?”

“What about that time you and Prongs tried to fly on your broomsticks standing up?” Remus offered. “You both ended up in the hospital wing with several broken bones.”

Sirius laughed. “Are you kidding? That was still fun! Before we fell, of course,” he added.

Remus rolled his eyes. A gust of wind blew between them, and Remus wished he’d brought more than one sweater. “Besides,” he said. “It’s way too cold to swim right now. We’re gonna freeze to death.”

“It’s summer!” Sirius argued.

“Well, yeah, but it’s also the middle of the fucking night.” Remus glared at Sirius, annoyed that he couldn’t see it.

They had reached the lake, and Sirius turned towards Remus again. This time, his eyes a bit more used to the dark, he could almost make out Sirius’ face.

“You don’t have to come with me,” Sirius said, taking a step towards Remus, so their faces were close; so close he could almost feel Sirius’ breath. “If you’re too scared, just go back.”

“Ha!” Remus bent forwards until there faces were only an inch or so apart. Sirius’ breath smelled nice, like mint and something else, but he tried not to think about that. “Scared?” he said. “I’m not scared.”

Sirius’ eyes had widened in surprise at how close Remus had gotten, but his expression was once again softening into a mischievous smirk. There was a moment of silence between them, like they were both waiting to see who would move first, then suddenly, Sirius took a step back, breaking the tension that had formed between them.

“Well, in that case,” he said. “Last man in the lake is a rotten potato!”

Before Remus could react, Sirius had already taken off his shirt, and was working on unbuttoning his pants.

“Oi, not fair!” Remus yelled. “I’m wearing more clothes than you!”

“Not my problem!” Sirius grinned.

Remus hurried to take off his sweater, then spent a long time fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. Meanwhile, Sirius was nearly undressed already. “Fuck,” Remus muttered, trying his best to speed up the process, but when he finally took of his shirt and threw it on the ground, Sirius was already undressed, ready to jump in the lake.

He tried not to look at Sirius, his almost naked body illuminated by the little light offered by the moon. Sure, he’d seen Sirius like this before, it was impossible to avoid when you shared a dorm with him, but somehow it felt different when it was just the two of them…

Sirius jumped in the dark water with a loud splash. It took a moment for him to resurface, but when he did, he was grinning up at Remus while treading water. “Ha!” he said. “Looks like you’re the rotten potato, Lupin.”

For some reason, the way Sirius said his name made blood rush to Remus’ cheeks, and he thanked the darkness for hiding it. “I let you win on purpose,” he said, raising his voice to be sure Sirius could hear him. “I know how fragile your ego is. Wouldn’t want to hurt it.”

Sirius laughed. “How thoughtful.”

Finally, Remus had undressed, and was standing in nothing but his underwear. Before, he had been too occupied by the race against Sirius to be self conscious, but now, he wanted, more than anything else, to cover himself somehow. His body, an awkward kind of tall, too skinny, and covered in ragged scars, was not exactly something worth showing off. James and Sirius might’ve been comfortable walking around half-naked in their dorm, but Remus had always been sure to change in the bathroom, or behind his bed where they wouldn’t see him. Swimming around the Black Lake in nothing but his underwear was a kind of exposure he didn’t feel ready for, especially in front of Sirius.

“Oi, are you coming?” Sirius yelled, drawing Remus out of his sticky web of thoughts.

Remus took a deep breath, bracing himself for the cold water. His bed, warm and safe, was calling for him, but he shook that thought away. Even if he didn’t want to do this, he couldn’t just leave Sirius alone in the water.

“Yeah, I’m coming!”

While Sirius’ jump had been clumsy, splashing water everywhere, Remus was a trained swimmer and, rather graciously, he dived head-first into the water.

The cold sent a shock through his body, which he ignored, letting himself sink deeper into the pitch-black water for a moment, before resurfacing.

He could see Sirius’ silhouette a few meters away from him, but it was impossible to make out his expression.

“Nice dive,” Sirius said, swimming closer. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

Remus was a bit out of breath from the dive, and from treading water, but he explained anyway: “My parents used to take me to the beach each year,” he said, a smile gracing his flushed face. “For years, i liked to just splash around in the shallow end, but when I was about 8 or so, my dad insisted I learned to swim properly.”

He’d been in his own world for a minute, relishing in the memory of afternoons spent at the beach, and was startled when he looked up to find Sirius’ face mere inches from his own.

“What are you doing?” he whispered, probably not loud enough for Sirius to hear over the sound of the waves.

“Merlin, you’re beautiful.”

Remus wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. It could’ve been the waves warping Sirius’ words. Still, he found himself blushing.

“What?”

“I think I’m about to do something stupid,” Sirius said, looking into his eyes.

This time, Remus heard him clearly and for a moment, the water and air around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, eyes locked, faces flushed.

“Not if I do it first,” he answered, pushing himself forward in the water until their lips met.

Kissing and staying afloat were hard to do at the same time, and after trying for a moment, they both gave up and swam to a nearby rock. Before Remus could push himself up, Sirius had him pinned against it, the smooth, slippery surface feeling strange against his bare back.

“This is okay, right?” Sirius asked.

Remus nodded eagerly, wrapping his hands around Sirius, drawing him closer. His skin was hot, a strange contrast to the icy water. Remus knew they would have to get up soon, if they didn’t want to freeze to death, but for the moment, Sirius’ lips felt warm and soft against his own.

They carried on like that for awhile, sometimes slipping underwater for a moment before resurfacing, and continuing like nothing had happened.

But despite Sirius’ warm body pressed against his own, Remus couldn’t stop the cold from seeping into his bones.

“I t-think we should get back to s-shore now,” he said, his teeth chattering.

Sirius looked disappointed, but swam backwards a bit. The small bit of warmth that had been between them left with him, leaving Remus feeling even colder.

As they swam back to shore together, everything that had just happened finally started registering in Remus’s mind. He had kissed Sirius. And then Sirius had kissed him back. He could still taste Sirius’ minty breath, or maybe that was something he imagined.

Sirius pulled himself up, then helped Remus. They fell back on the damp grass, breathless, exhausted, but both laughing. Remus felt Sirius’ hand graze his own, and his heart skipped a beat. He fumbled blindly in the dark until he found Sirius’ hand, then held onto it.

Sirius sat up. “Bloody hell, you’re cold.” he said, concern in his voice.

Remus sat up as well. He felt cold. Now that Sirius had mentioned it, he could feel his whole body shaking.

Quickly, Sirius leapt to his feet, snatching Remus’ sweater and his own jacket, before walking back to Remus. “Here,” he said, handing him the sweater.

Remus smiled gratefully as he put it on. Sirius bent down next to him, wrapping the jacket around him.

“Aren’t you cold?” Remus asked quietly, looking up at Sirius, who shook his head.

“Nah,” he said, sitting down next to Remus again.

Remus thought he was going to say something more, but he was quiet, looking out over the lake, until:

“We should talk about what happened, shouldn’t we?”

Remus’s shoulders tensed. He was quiet for a moment too long, and Sirius looked at him. He could almost make out the anxious look on his face.

“Yeah, uh, we probably should,” Remus muttered, looking out over the lake. The water was pitch black, except for where the moon was reflected.

Sirius gently touched his hand, no doubt to grab his attention.

“I want to do it again,” he said.

“What, kiss me?” Remus didn’t dare hope that was what he meant.

Sirius nodded, and Remus felt his heartbeat quicken, almost like it did when they were kissing.

“Then do it,” he whispered.

He waited for a moment, but Sirius didn’t move. “I don’t just mean now,” he said. “I… I want to… When tonight ends, I don’t want us to go back to just being friends.”

A knot formed in Remus’ stomach. “Sirius,” he mumbled. “We can’t…”

Sirius nodded, looking away. “I know,” he said. “It’s different for us. Different than it would be if we were a girl and a boy. But-” He looked back at Remus, eyes wide. “No one needs to know, Remus.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “And you’d be okay hiding something that big from James and Peter?” he asked.

Sirius exhaled sharply. Clearly, he hadn’t thought about that. “I don’t know, Re,” he said. “All I know is, I really liked kissing you, and I think… I think after knowing the feeling of your lips against mine… I can’t go back to how things were before.”

Remus knew how he felt, he really did. “Just kiss me now,” he said. “We can worry about the future later.”

And oh boy, did Sirius kiss him.

#im so sorry about this mess aaa #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfic #wolfstar fanfiction #marauders era #marauders #marauders fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction

108 notes · View notes

blackberry-gingham · 4 years ago

Note

Hello there! How about John x Reader where Lennon began to notice her shy gestures whenever they got the chance to hangout, and since the reader was usually comfortable with him and suddenly, her manners turned into a delicate one, at the same time, now barely speaks with him. John never asked the reader why and suspects by himself she fancies him. He’s certainly not sure about his thought so, he soon pulled his bandmates to help him find the real reason out.

Oooo interesting! John needs the whole squad to figure out your feelings lmao. So on brand tho ??? I love it 😂

Enjoy!

---

The sun beams proudly overhead, framed by sparse clouds. It's a surprisingly mild summer day and you are relaxing pool side with your best friend, John Lennon. You're at his place and he's reclining in his yard chair completely at ease, eyes closed behind his dark sunglasses.

You sneak yet another glance over at him, trying hard to play it cool. With a quiet but deep breath in, you turn your attention back to the clouds.

What's wrong with me? You think to yourself.

You see, you and John have been friends for ages now. Before Hamburg, before the Quarrymen, before the Beatles... There was just you and him.

All this time, you've both been comfortable in your friendship together. After all, it's hard to find someone who gets you quite like you get each other. And yet... you feel different somehow.

You glance John's way one more time. He's begun to stir a bit and after so many years of knowing him, you sense he'll want to find some fun soon. But for now, you continue resting.

For all this time that you've known him, it may surprise some to know that deep down, the tough and witty John Lennon everyone knows is actually something of a romantic. John's had his flings here and there on his search for lasting love, but nothing seemed to stick for him. Of course, things have worked about the same for you.

Normally it gives you both just another thing to commiserate about, but you've got to thinking lately...

It's probably stupid. After all, if it were possible, surely he would've realised it by now, or at least said something... right?

You sigh and play with your hair, a bad habit of yours, you know. The thing is, you can't help but wonder if there would ever be a chance for maybe... You and John to be together. Of course there's no guarantee things would work out, but you'd never know unless you try...

"Alright, enough of that", John sits up abruptly and takes off his sunglasses. He ruffles his hair and turns to you. "Want to cool off with me?", He nods to the water, "Then we can clean off inside. I know you have to be getting on soon"

You smile, a bit proud to have your hunch proven right. With a big stretch, you sit up as well and turn your sunny gaze to him, "Sounds like fun"

John smiles a cheeky grin and leaps up from his chair. Before you can inquire what all the rush is about, he tears off towards the water and over his shoulder he yells, "Last one in is a rotten egg!"

You gasp in playful disbelief, but you aren't about to let him win. In less then a second you're up and right after him. John slows down a touch just before the waters edge, and for a moment, you think he might let you win.

He comes to a stop right at the lip while you yourself slow down from your head of steam to join him. But, before you can stop completely...

"Ladies first!", John gives you a playful push and sends you on your way into the water. This end of the pool is shallow enough for you to stand with your head comfortably above water, so you shoot back up just in time to get splashed as John cannonballs in beside you.

You splutter and wipe the chlorine water out of your eyes quick as you can. Once you think you're safe, John reemerges and shakes his mop top out, sending another sheet of water your way.

"Oh, you-!", You clear your eyes and then, for the briefest of moments, you bring your hands to action.

John is wading there with a grin plastered on his face, as though he wants you to retaliate. Call him a name. Splash him with water. Perhaps give him a little shove... This is his idea of fun and games. Annoying people, that is.

Normally you quite enjoy it actually, but ever since you've been second guessing your feelings for John, you're not sure how to act. After all, you can't risk giving your feelings away! What if he catches on and rejects you, and then doesn't want to be around you anymore?

No, best to not do anything that could even remotely be interpreted as flirtation or teasing or anything of that sort.

You instead use your hands to tread the water and head back to the lip of the pool, "You are such a child!", You laugh.

John's grin falters as he watches you wade away. After being by your side for years, he can safely say that is very strange behavior for you. He's so comfortable and use to you returning his shenanigans that to see you just... Not, bothers him deeply.

In fact, now that he thinks about it, this is far from the first time you've acted this way. It's actually become a bit of a pattern with you over the last week or so, and John can't stand the mystery.

He sighs sadly, disappointed that his plan to get you to act like your old self didn't work, and crawls out after you. The two of you clean up and part ways for the day. John doesn't bring up his concerns to you, and yet he does want to know the truth...

All that evening he can't escape his thoughts.

By all accounts, nothing should be wrong! Nothing's changed between you two, no ill words or actions, so that's out. There's no outside life issues causing problems, or at least nothing that wasn't already there, so it can't be that either!

But then... What's left?

John pulls the blankets up close as he lays down for the night. The clock on the wall says 11:48, and even now he's still worrying over all this. He rolls over with a sigh. The bedside lamp is still on.

He reaches to click it off, but hesitates for a moment. Instead he finds himself digging in the messy table drawer until finally... Yes, here it is.

Out comes a little polaroid photo. It's a bit aged and ragged by now, but it's perfectly clean and one of John's most prized possessions. Within the frame of the picture, your beautiful face stares back at him, smiling sweetly. You gave him this photo as something for him to hold onto while he was away in Hamburg.

He's never told a soul, but even after all these years, he takes it with him on all his tours since.

He smiles back at your picture. He's never been so love sick in his whole life. For a minute, he dares to wonder... What if, you liked him back? It might explain why you've been acting strangely, but...

Well, that's just rediculous. John frowns and, with a little hesitation, begins to return your picture to the secrecy of it's drawer. There's just no way you could fancy him.

After all, he knows you. Just as he knows that, while he's many things, being worthy of you is not one of them.

He closes the drawer with a gentle click and turns out the light. John rolls over and falls asleep, dreaming a dream that you were here with him.

The next day, John is in the studio with the other lads. They're tuning their equipment and gearing up for the day. As such a close friend of John's, you're on friendly terms with the other Beatles as well of course! So when John tells them about the goings on with you, they're quite dumbfounded.

Even they know something is up.

Paul and Ringo suggest a few silly things, all of which John waves off. After some back and forth between those three, George speaks up and suggests something that John has been too afraid to ask.

"Well I think it's obvious... John, she likes you", George's tone is teasing, but the seriousness of the suggestion is quite apparent.

The room falls silent at George's words.

Slowly, Paul begins to nod. "Yeah... Yeah! Have you thought about that John? You two have been mates a long time, makes sense she'd might fancy you after a while"

"Exactly", George adds.

John's heart skips a beat at the idea alone, but he quickly shoots them down. However, the boys are persistent. They ask for more details on your behavior, and with every scenario John describes, they only grow more adamant. Even Ringo agrees!

There's a bit of back and forth to convince John, but... Maybe... Maybe they're right. Even if they weren't, how long was he going to lie to himself? He knows who his heart belongs to, and no one else could take your place.

He has to at least try.

It's a couple days at least before John sees you again. You must admit, you've been purposely trying to keep your distance. To what end, you don't know. But today you have no excuses to fall back on.

You arrive at John's place right on time and when you arrive at the door, he greets you with a bright smile, just as always. But today, John follows it up with a hug, something a bit unusual for him. He takes you by the hands and pulls you inside after you've said your hellos.

"John, wha-?", you laugh.

"Sh, I have something to tell you!"

You laugh some more and follow him briskly to the living room. John takes a seat on the couch and pats a spot beside him for you. First though, you have to take in the view.

There's a soft and low record on in the background and the room smells fragrant and fresh. A far cry from it's usual scent of cigarettes and musk. On the coffee table sits two cups of tea, a fresh vase of roses, and a small flickering candle.

"What's all this...?", you approach the couch slowly as you bask in the environment.

"Oh, well I um... I hope it's not too much, it's just I-I've been meaning to ask, er uh, I wanted to tell you-"

The look on your face is unreadable, and John's words begin to falter. This was a dumb idea, he's ruined everything. But then...

You lean in ever so slightly. A light dances in your eyes, a smile tugging gently at the corners of your lips. This is everything you've ever wanted...

"Yes?", You ask with baited breath

John sits in stunned silence for but a moment. Then, "Well, I-I love you"

Finally.

The tension seems to melt in an instant. You throw your arms around him, "You've no idea how long I've wanted to hear that"

"Really?", John looks utterly surprised.

You laugh and reassure him, and any last traces of his anxiety is gone.

"In that case... You've no idea how long I've been waiting to do this"

He leans in close and there, in the candle light and amongst the flowers, you share your first, tender kiss.

#the beatles #john lennon x reader #john lennon #friends to lovers

49 notes · View notes

uk-news-talking-politics · 4 years ago

Text

Everything you need to know about day one of Brexit

By Ian Dunt

Oh sweet Christ not Brexit again.

Yes, you will never escape. It will never be over. Decades from now, as your wrinkled fingers grasp the remote for your 3D holo-viewer, the main news item will still be about Brexit.

At least we got a break during the coronavirus emergency.

Yep, say what you like about pandemics, but at least they take trade talks off the front pages. Still, it's back now. We leave at the end of the year. And deal or no-deal, things at the border are going to be very different.

OK lay it out for me.

For decades we have had frictionless trade with Europe in the customs union and single market. The customs union got rid of tariffs, which are taxes on goods entering a territory, and the single market harmonised regulations, which means goods are made to the same standards. Once you're outside of them, you need checks at the border to make sure people are paying the right tax and complying with the regulations.

And that's what's about to happen?

Exactly. And this will apply regardless of whether there is a deal or not. I want to issue a word of warning before we go any further: It's a horror show. The level of tediousness here is off the scale. This is like someone came up with a super-powered serum for the concept of bureaucracy and then injected it directly into your bloodstream. But you didn't turn into Chris Evans in Captain America, you turned into Jeff Goldblum in The Fly. The worst things are the acronyms. Everything has an acronym. But you need to get your head around it in order to understand what's going to happen to us next month.

I don't care. I hate this. I want this conversation to stop.

You can't, it's too late. You are trapped here with me and the acronyms. OK so here's the basic problem, the one from which all others follow. Our customs system currently processes around 55 million declarations a year. In 2021, it will process around 270 million. It needs to massively ramp up capacity.

It's just as well the government has such a good track record of implementing complex IT projects at speed then.

Quite. To be fair, the government has put a lot of effort into this, albeit belatedly. More than 35 government departments and public bodies are involved, including HM Revenue & Customs (HMRC), the Department for Environment, Food & Rural Affairs (Defra), the Home Office (HO), the Department for Transport (DfT), the Border and Protocol Delivery Group (BPDG) and the Transition Task Force (TTF).

Sweet Jesus the acronyms.

Actually, most of those are abbreviations, but let's not get caught up on details. We've barely scratched the surface. There are three key areas where the government needs to build capacity: IT systems to process the customs declarations, physical infrastructure at or near ports, and staff in government and the private sector to keep the customs system going.

That's a lot to do.

It is. But the government made things easier in one crucial respect: it delayed its own import declarations system until July next year.

What does that mean?

It means that stuff coming into Britain from Europe basically gets waved through. There are still technically customs requirements, but they've been pushed back six months. This allowed them to make sure goods would still enter the country and let them focus on trying to get the exports right.

It's hardly taking back control, is it?

No it isn't, but they're undertaking a systems-level change at an eye-watering timetable, so it was a necessary sacrifice.

Couldn't they have extended transition to prepare for this?

Yes they could, but chose not to. That's cost them. Covid seriously delayed preparations, dominated attention in business and government, paused ministerial decision-making and put communication with traders into deep-freeze over the summer.

So what are the biggest risks now?

The IT systems. There are 10 critical IT systems which are needed at the GB–EU border. Then there are the European systems which UK exporters will need to use to get access to the continent. We're not going to go into all of them here - we're going to massively simplify.

Thank heavens.

Don't worry, it'll still make your brain dribble out of your ears. We're also going to simplify by taking goods going from Britain to Northern Ireland off the table. That's its own separate hellscape. And we're going to focus on the Dover-Calais crossing. There are many others going from England to France, but this is the main route. It serves 'accompanied goods' - when a driver in a lorry takes the goods onto a ferry and then drives it off on the other side of the Channel. This is called RoRo, for roll-on-roll-off.

Acronym. Drink.

If you keep that up you'll be smashed by the end of the article and won't have any idea what I'm talking about.

I already have no idea what you're talking about.

Fair enough, drink away. The trouble with customs IT systems is this: Everyone needs to be filling in the right thing, in the right place, at the right time. If they don't, things break down. That doesn't just apply to the UK and French governments. It applies to exporters and importers, ports, hauliers and others. Customs is all or nothing. If one section is wrong, it's all wrong. Lorries are often full of lots of different consignments of goods from different exporters. Plenty of them travel with 100 individual separate consignments on them. This is called 'groupage'. So if one input of one customs form in one of those consignments is wrong, the whole lorry is delayed. And if that lorry is delayed, all the lorries behind it are delayed. The potential for breakdown is therefore very significant.

This is already making me anxious. It's like Jenga but it reaches all the way into the sky and is composed entirely of knives.

You also need to make sure that third party software used by places like the ports integrates with the government systems. And that assumes that the government IT systems actually work and have staff with the proper experience and training to operate them. And this too is interrelated. If one of the systems breaks down, it has a knock-on effect on the other systems. You keep seeing this same problem crop up. It's not one of error, exactly. It's about the consequence of the error, the knock-on effects of it.

How robust are those IT systems looking right now?

Not great. Some have been delayed indefinitely, some for a set period, some are in trials and some are online. But even when they're finished, you really want to give all the people using them time to understand them, to get used to them, so that when we leave transition there are as few mistakes as possible. All four industry representative bodies, including the Road Haulage Association (RHA) and the British International Freight Association (Bifa), have raised concerns about the government's level of preparedness, saying that they don't believe the border will be fully functioning by next month.

That's two more acronyms by my count.

I'm glad to see you sticking to the important information here. The trouble is that lack of government preparedness doesn't just affect it - it affects trader preparedness as well. If they're not getting clear communication from the government about what is happening and how it is happening, they don't know what to do. And the government has a bad record here. It has marched traders up the hill on no-deal several times over recent years, only to march them down again. Now many simply ignore it. Government communications have, until recently, centred on the "opportunities" of Brexit, which does nothing to indicate the urgency with which people need to make expensive and time-consuming changes. Even in October, just 45% of high-value traders who trade exclusively with the EU had started to invest in readiness.

Oh dear.

There are some reasons to be more optimistic. The first is that government communication has belatedly started to improve. A new campaign in October was much better, telling traders that "time is running out". There's also one really important thing to remember about all this: it's not a long term problem. Brexit has plenty of those and they are severe, but this is not one of them. This is a short, sharp, embarrassing shock. Eventually, the market will adjust. People will see what happens in January and find ways around it so they can get their goods to market. Some people think that will happen very quickly indeed - no more than a month. Some think it'll take the first quarter of next year or longer. But very few people think it will last the whole year. What we're looking at here is the most dramatic, but also ultimately the most superficial, of Brexit impacts.

Starting to feel a bit tipsy now.

Cool, then it might be a good time to start talking about the IT systems.

No. Stop.

What?

I don't want to hear it. I want to get out.

It's too late. You're trapped here in an imaginary world in which I am talking to myself and explaining customs procedures. And in fact your resistance to this conversation probably points to some kind of deep-seated psychological trauma which I'm working my way through.

Dog carcass in alley this morning. Tyre tread on burst stomach.

Very good, Rorschach. So look, there are really four forms you need to remember. First, the import/export declaration. Second, the safety and security documentation. Third, the sanitary and phytosanitary measures for agricultural goods. And fourth, the system that collects these data sets and connects them to the lorry which is transporting the good.

What's in the import/export declaration?

They basically state what the good is, its value and how much duty you have to pay on it. It's the tax bit. It's all very complex, laborious and crammed full of technical minutiae but that's the executive summary. It needs to be lodged before the good gets to the French border.

How do you lodge it?

You do it through a UK system called the Customs Handling of Import and Export Freight, or Chief.

Drink.

This is a really old system and before Brexit was even a twinkle in Boris Johnson's eye, the UK planned to turn it off and migrate all traders to a new system called the Customs Declarations Service, or CDS.

Drink.

CDS was meant to replace Chief from January 2019 and then switch off altogether by March 2021, but there were repeated delays. So instead they're keeping Chief for trade between Britain and the EU and using CDS for trade between Britain and Northern Ireland, because it has the capacity for dual tariff fields. CDS is then going to be scaled up until it can deal with all the declarations.

No acronyms there.

Actually trade between Britain and Europe is called GB-EU and trade between Britain and Northern Ireland is called GB-NI, but let's not worry about that. The government insists that Chief now has an increased capacity that can handle 400 million annual declarations - way higher than the 265 million which are expected. HMRC has paid Fujitsu £85 million to provide technical support. But others aren't convinced. They're not sure it can handle the load and nervous that there isn't enough support if something goes wrong.

Very reassuring.

Isn't it. Remember that the importer on the EU side also has to be doing all of this - at the right time, in the right place - on the European customs system.

OK so what about the safety and security thing?

It's a document outlining what the good is, so it can be assessed for potential risks. Again, it's a long complex thing with multiple data fields. Like import/export, it has to be done in advance of the goods reaching Calais. It's submitted to the UK government via a new system called S&S GB.

Drink.

It must also be submitted to the EU member state's Import Control System, which is called ICS.

Drink. OK tell me about the sanitary pad things.

Sanitary and phytosanitary measures, or SPS.

Drink.

These are there to protect people, animals and plants from disease or pests. They cover products of an animal origin, like cheese, or meat, or fish, as well as live animal exports, plants and plant products, and even the wooden crates used to transport other types of goods. It's painstaking stuff, but I think, given the pandemic we're all going through, we all understand why it's important.

Yeah, fair enough. You've sold me. I'm totally on board with this stuff.

These kinds of goods have to enter Europe through specific Border Control Posts, or BCPs.

Drink.

And there they undergo some, or all, of a variety of checks. There's a documentary check for the official certification which travels with the good. There are identity checks, which provide a visual confirmation that the consignment corresponds to the documentation. And there's a physical check to verify the goods are compliant with the rules, for instance temperature sampling, or laboratory testing. You know that whole chlorine-washed chicken thing?

Sure.

Well this is where they check whether it has been and stop it getting into Europe if it has. But it's actually the documentary check which is the hardest part in terms of UK preparedness. It includes something called an Export Health Certificate, or EHC.

Drink. Jesus Christ.

These are documents which confirm that the product meets the health requirements of the EU. So they might say that the animal was vaccinated, for instance. Some products, like a cut of lamb, will just have one EHC. But others, like a chicken pizza, will have more than one.

We've talked about this before. People shouldn't put chicken on pizza.

You are wrong, it's a perfectly legitimate pizza topping, and in fact you are so wrong that I have started using chicken pizza as my trade-good shorthand. Chicken pizza is the new widgets.

What even are widgets?

No-one knows, that's why economists love them. A chicken pizza, however, is a composite good for the purposes of SPS. The chicken and the cheese are different animal products, so they would need separate export health certificates. And all these certificates have to be verified by an official veterinarian, or OV.

You're just messing me about now.

No seriously, they use that acronym. This whole area of public life has been radicalised into extreme acronym use. Anyway, the OV goes through the details, queries the documents and signs them off. But there's assistance from a person pulling together all the paperwork. They're called a Certification Support Officer, or…

I can't believe this.

...CSO. These guys are mostly in private practices, usually farming practices. It's not a big part of their workload - maybe 20% of what they do. But if you don't have those vets, you can't send the export. That would be catastrophic for the farming, food and hospitality sectors. And that's where we have an issue. There are restrictions on getting that many OVs up and running. There's a tight labour market for vets and the UK is highly reliant on Europeans coming over to do the job, but the end of free movement makes that much more difficult and expensive, as does the covid pandemic.

So what has the government done?

It pumped £300,000 into providing free training for the role. Many vets took it up. The number of qualified vets has jumped from 600 in February 2019 to 1,200 today. But that still leaves a capacity gap of 200.

Well that doesn't sound so bad.

No it doesn't, but when you start to scratch away at the figures, they fall apart. The 200 figure is the number of 'full time equivalent' qualified vets required. And if vets only spend about 20% of their time doing this, it means we'll actually need an extra 1,000 vets training in the additional qualification.

Oh dear.

Yep. Groups representing the sector are seriously worried about this. And as with customs, the smooth functioning of the border will rely on the importer on the EU side doing all the bits they're required to do too, by creating a record in the Trade Control and Expert System, or Traces NT.

Drink. OK, what's the fourth bit of IT?

Transport. This involves wrapping all the other forms together and attaching them to a vehicle. In the UK, we'll be doing this through something called the Goods Vehicle Movement Service, or GVMS.

Drink.

It links export declaration references together into one single Goods Movement Reference, or GMR.

Drink. Bloody hell man these people are out of control.

The GMR should come out like a barcode, a one-stop shop for all the tied-together information we've been discussing. GVMS will be needed for certain movements in January, particularly for trade with Northern Ireland, but it won't be a requirement of all imports until July. It's currently being tested and there are dark murmurs about its functionality from those who have come into contact with it. Mercifully, exporters into Europe on January 1st will be using the French system, SI Brexit. This was operational a year ago and has been fully tested several times.

Those lazy French with their useless romantic dispositions.

It's almost like they're a nation that cares about shopkeepers.

Speaking of which, how're British businesses going to deal with all this additional paperwork?

Many companies will be OK. Very big corporations are well ahead and in many cases have set up a European entity so that they can sell directly from their UK entity to the EU one. Then they'll probably just reflect the customs costs in a subtly increased retail price. Smaller companies who are used to exporting to the rest of the world outside of Europe also have an advantage. They're used to these kinds of things. The people who are most at risk are the small-to-medium-sized enterprises who have traded exclusively with Europe.

Small-to-medium-sized… Oh no.

Yeah, that's right. SMEs. Which, by the way, comprise the vast majority of companies in the UK. If you send just two or three loads of your product a month to Europe, it probably won't be worth the cost in manpower and money preparing for all this stuff. They'll likely just accept a shrinkage in their business. For many of them, the whole thing is a bafflement. Honestly, you read the guidance on all these systems and it's like it's in an alien code - a garbled assault of acronyms and complex systems. Many small firms, already suffering from covid, just throw up their hands in despair.

Bleak. It's always the little guys that get it.

Yes, although paradoxically, that actually presents one of the few reasons for optimism. Well, not optimism exactly, but a hope for least-badism. Now that so many people feel January will be chaotic, they might just decide not to bother trying to send anything. Goods will get stuck at a warehouse instead of on a truck.

Seriously? That's your good news? Aren't you just displacing disruption from the ports to other parts of the supply network?

Yes precisely. But there really are no good outcomes here.

Because if that doesn't happen, the system seizes up?

Yeah exactly. Lorries head to Dover then get held up because they don't have the correct paperwork. Then lorries behind those lorries get caught up, pushing the queue out, dominating Kent, creating a huge singular blockage. The government's own Reasonable Worst Case Scenario, or RWCS…

Drink.

... estimates that between 40% and 70% of lorries may not be ready for border controls, leading to queues of up to 7,000 trucks.

But that would only be going out right? The stuff we bring in to the country would be unaffected because we're not putting in place controls.

Kind of. It's certainly true that most imports should have a clear run into the UK. You can keep those two lanes separate. But most hauliers are from Romania, Lithuania, Hungary and Poland. They pay a lease on their trucks, which means they have to keep them going if they're to make money. They can't afford to get stuck in a queue at the border. So there's a good chance they'll look at the log-jam in the UK and think: 'I'm not touching that with a barge pole'. This would mean Britain struggled to get its imports, including potentially fresh food and medicines.

Wow.

Yeah, it could be bad. But there are plans for that eventuality. The government has set up some emergency routes, for instance on the Newhaven-Dieppe crossing. There's additional ferry capacity at eight ports, with the Department for Transport acting as the referee on which vehicles get onto their crossing. But it's not a like-for-like replacement. Many of these crossings take much longer than the short gap between Dover and Calais, and they often operate for unaccompanied goods overnight. If the import is urgent, or fresh, or, like some covid vaccines, needs to be kept at a certain temperature, then you may have a problem.

What is the government doing to make sure this doesn't happen? How will they control the blockage?

There's three parts to that really. The first is controlling access to Kent, which the trucks head into to get to Dover. This project has no acronym, but instead adopted one of the least elegant names in the history of British policy-making: The Check an HGV is Ready to Cross the Border Service.

Wait but...

Yeah. HGV: Heavy Goods Vehicle.

I fully accept now that it was a mistake to adopt this drinking idea.

Before the lorry gets to Kent, the driver will fill out an online form with a bunch of information - the registration number, the destination, details of the consignments, confirmations that the import/export documents have been filled in, export health certificates, the whole lot basically. Those that are judged to have all the documentation are given a Kent Access Pass, or KAP.

Drink.

And that allows them to go into Kent. Police can hand out £300 fines to lorries found on the Kent roads without the permit.

But this is all done on trust right? It's a self-assessment form.

Yep. It'll rely on people filling it out right. It's not linked to EU customs systems. So there's no guarantee that documents they claim to have completed will be accepted by EU customs authorities. But on the plus side, the software was launched recently and most people think it'll work OK. It's better than nothing, basically.

Alright so what's next? Traffic management?

Exactly. It's uncanny how naturally your questions lead me onto the next thing I want to discuss.

That's because I am you.

Don't talk about that, it makes it weird. Alright so first up we have the traffic flow plans. The Department for Transport is taking an existing temporary system to create contraflow on the M20 and putting it on a permanent footing, allowing 2,000 lorries to be held on the motorway while traffic still flows in both directions on the London-bound side.

OK, what's next?

Well then there's the issue of actual sites. HMRC has identified seven locations outside the ports. There's prep work being done at a site in Sevington, Ashford, at a cost of £110 million, to act as a clearing house for another 2,000 lorries. Some 600 lorries can be held on the approach to Manston airport, with more at the airport itself. These two sites, along with the M20 contraflow, are for holding traffic. There are also plans for Ebbsfleet International Station, North Weald Airfield and Warrington to be used for bureaucratic checks away from the border. Other sites, potentially in the Thames Gateway and Birmingham areas, are also being considered. They insist that this should give them capacity for 9,700 lorries, which is above the 7,000 in their worst case scenario.

Assuming that scenario is correct.

Right. Covid and other unrelated events, like a fire breaking out for instance, could mean that even the worst case scenario is an underestimate. We just don't know. Plus that relies on all of this being up in time. The government has passed legislation to streamline planning processes, but the timetable is unbelievably tight. The same thing goes for staff.

These are the customs officials who check all the paperwork, right?

That's certainly part of it. They're split into two departments: HMRC and Border Force. HMRC needs 8,600 full-time equivalent staff in place for January 1st. They still need another 1,500 but seem confident they'll have them. Border Force recruited an additional 900 staff ahead of a possible no-deal last year and is trying to bring in 1,000 more. Ministers are confident they'll have enough people in place by January 1st, but trade experts are less convinced.

Recurring theme.

Indeed. It's easy to get fixated on numbers but it really matters how well you've trained people too. You can have someone helping with customs work after a day or two, but for them to have any real sense of what they're doing, you're going to want a year's training. And then there's the question of personality type. Customs is a very specific kind of work, full of extremely complex documentation which must be got right. For some people, that is unimaginably boring. For others, it's very satisfying. But you need the right ones. And that's not what typically happens when people get desperate on a recruitment drive.

What's the other part of the staffing problem?

The private sector. It's a job called 'customs broker'. They're basically people who come in and help companies with their customs forms. Like I said, this stuff is mind-meltingly complex. You really do need someone to come and help you do it. And that's what the government wants too of course, because the more people getting it right, the fewer delays at the border. But as of last September, just 53% of traders said they planned to use a customs broker, with 30% unsure and 18% saying they were going to do the work themselves. Those aren't good numbers.

Are there enough of them to meet demand?

No. This has been a long-running problem. Almost two-thirds of customs brokers do not have enough staff to handle the increased paperwork from leaving the EU. And actually capacity seems to have reduced over the year due to the covid pandemic. The UK needs thousands more.

What's the government doing about it?

It's invested £84 million since 2018 into training, recruitment and IT system development. But many customs brokers are still hesitant about taking on new salary costs to build a capacity that won't be fully required until next July and they're nervous about taking on unprepared customers. Of the £84 million on offer, just £52 million had been taken up in mid-October.

Is that… is that it? Please say that's it. I'm wasted.

It is.

OK so give me the executive summary.

We're about to experience the sudden implementation of complex customs processes in a nation which forgot they existed. This involves the introduction of numerous interrelated IT systems which have been under-tested. It's not clear that either government or traders are fully prepared for what's about to happen. In order to minimise the disruption the government is introducing various traffic management projects and trying to bulk up staff capacity. But there's just too many variables to know how it'll pan out. Maybe the systems will hold out and many traders will anyway sit out January because of concerns about queues. Or maybe the systems will fail, traders won't fill in forms right and the whole thing will blow up in our face. The most likely outcome right now is somewhere between shambles and catastrophe. We have to hope it's a shambles.

Can you do it in acronym-speak?

Amid RHA and Bifa concerns about the lack of progress, HMRC, Defra, the HO, the Dft, the BPDG and the TTF are building up IT systems for post-Brexit GB-EU trade and particularly for RoRo at Dover-Calais which will involve exporters submitting import/export declarations to Chief and the CDS, S&S information to S&S GB and ICS, and collating their SPS documentation - including an EHC filled out by an CSO under the supervision of an OV sent via a BCP - with the importer logging it on Traces NT, while generating a GMR via GVMS and SI Brexit, and then HGVs getting a KAP, all to avoid the RWCS.

D… Drink?

Yes I think so. That seems very sensible.

#Brexit #customs

27 notes · View notes

babybubastis · 4 years ago

Text

Inspired by the prompt “Welcome to fatherhood” sent to me by @prettylittlebirds82. I hope you don’t hate it lol. And I’m sorry it took me so long 🙈

Just some angsty, domestic WinterPrincess.

Warnings: pregnancy, pregnancy complications, hospitals

———————————————————————

He moves as the mattress shifts, rolls over in his sleep to place his hand in the warm indentation left by her body.

Footsteps, rustling, whispering flutter on the edge of his consciousness. He burrows into the covers, groaning when his hand still searches, comes up empty, searches again.

“James.”

The whisper of his name is what does it. Whatever is in her voice sets off an alarm and he’s out of the bed and at her feet, blinking his eyes against the bathroom light.

“What’s wrong, sugar?”

Shuri looks up from her perch on the toilet, hands clutching her round belly, then drops her gaze again.

“I can’t stop,” she rasps. It’s then that he notices the steady trickling sound.

Bucky frowns, tilts her chin up so he can look her in the eyes. “You can’t stop what, angel?”

A sniffle. “I had an accident in bed, so I got up to use the bathroom, but I can’t stop peeing.” She shakes her head, whispers under her breath to herself, “It can’t be, it’s too early, it’s not time.”

The crease in his brow deepens, and his stomach drops even before his brain fully registers what she’s saying.

For maybe five seconds, he doesn’t breathe. His chest feels heavy, his right hand shakes, his vision tunnels.

Then she grabs his arm to try to stand, and a switch flips.

Bucky lifts his wife into his arms and strides over to the counter top. He sets her down like glass, eyes and hands frantically roving over her slightly trembling form.

“Are you having any contractions?”

He’s read enough to know that rupture of membranes doesn’t always mean labor is coming immediately. But it’s a damn good indicator, and he has to fight down the panic flooding his veins.

Panic isn’t something Bucky’s accustomed to, despite his whole life basically being one long shitstorm. From being taking captive as a prisoner of war over eighty years ago, to literally being snapped out of and back into existence, he’s had enough stress for three lifetimes. And somehow none of that has prepared him for the slow but powerful dread gripping his gut as his fingertips slide through the small puddle gathering on the cold marble underneath his very-pregnant-but-not-quite-pregnant-enough wife.

A large tear spills over and down Shuri’s cheek, but she shakes her head. “No, I feel fine, otherwise. This doesn’t make any sense...”

Bucky lifts his hands to cup her face, fingers gently wiping away the moisture before placing his right hand on her belly.

“You’re both gonna be okay, you understand me?”

His Queen nods once, bottom lip trembling before she presses both lips together and closes her eyes. She sucks in a breath and blows it out. When her eyes open, they still shimmer. But there’s resolve there, a determination and strength that makes him straighten up. He presses his lips to her forehead and lingers there, breathing her in before pulling away.

The next few minutes are a blur as he rushes around their suite grabbing clothes, shoes, phones, keys, wallets.

She’s still sitting on the counter when he comes back. Her eyes are closed again, head bowed, lips moving silently as both hands rub her belly. Bucky falters as he notices the towel now tucked between her legs. And there’s the panic again. He swallows it down and walks over to Shuri.

When he places his hands over hers, she sighs.

“Let’s get you dressed, baby, then we’ll head to the hospital.”

Her eyes flutter open and she nods. They’re silent as he helps her dress, a cloud of anxiety gathering around them.

“Wait, Bucky.”

“Hm?”

“How are we getting there?”

Shit.

He’s so out of sorts- exhausted, terrified, and trying to shove it all down enough to think straight, but he forgot to actually secure them a ride. Today was only the second day of their “baby moon”. Shuri had wanted to see New York City at Christmas time, just the two - make that three - of them.

Her water breaking at the end of her second trimester wasn’t part of the plan.

Bucky finishes helping Shuri tie her shoes before he runs into the bedroom again to grab his phone.

An ambulance is their best bet, but it’s 8:07 on a Friday morning in Downtown Manhattan. And according to his phone, it’s snowing. Heavily.

Shit.

“What about Tony?”

He whips around to find Shuri slowly climbing down from the bathroom counter. Rushing over to help her, his heart swells in spite of everything at the adorable grunt she lets out as her feet meet the floor.

“Now what about Tony, doll?”

Shuri huffs. “I thought I told you he and Pepper bought a second place in the city? They had their youngest last year at one of the hospitals here, but I forget which one.”

Bucky’s brow furrows. He doesn’t remember any of that.

His wife rolls her eyes and steps past him, waddling over to the desk near the door to grab her phone. “He invited us over for Christmas when I was on the phone with him last night, so they should be nearby. Maybe he can help.”

Before he can say another word, Shuri is on the phone, nervously chewing her bottom lip as her hand cradles their baby.

“Tony-“

Bucky can hear Stark’s voice on the other end then, way too loud for as early as it is, and he busies himself with double checking the small bag he’s packed to avoid becoming agitated.

He really doesn’t have anything against the other man. Despite their history, Bucky can’t blame Tony for what transpired between them all those years ago. And after Tony nearly died to defeat Thanos, Bucky only has respect for the man.

Tony had flatlined on that battlefield.

It was Shuri who sprang into action, refused to take no for an answer. She shouted orders at Doctor Strange to open a portal to her lab, and within minutes, she had Stark on a table while she ran diagnostics and went to work.

She was behind closed doors for hours, allowing only Pepper and Bruce back, along with Strange.

Bucky has no idea what exactly happened. He had waited outside of her lab until his eyes drooped, and the sound of the doors sliding open jolted him awake. Shuri emerged, hands bloody and shaking, but her expression gave nothing away. When it was all said and done, Tony Stark ultimately had her to thank for giving him his life back.

The friendship that bloomed between them after that made Bucky uneasy for... a while. Even after Bucky managed to work up the courage to confess his feelings to Shuri, and she confessed that she loved him back, he couldn’t shake the streak of possessiveness that flared unreasonably whenever Tony was around.

But he never begrudged his love her friendship, even when she decided to build a second Wakandan Outreach Center in New York, and Tony - who was making every effort in using his resources to help rebuild the world he’d saved - eagerly offered to be of assistance to Shuri in any way he could, in exchange for some “playtime,” as Stark called it, in her lab.

And Tony wasn’t the only one who had become a bit enamored with the then-Princess; the entire Stark household loved her, too. And yet, the retired Iron Man and the former Winter Soldier had barely ever exchanged more than two words and a few terse nods over the last few years.

Shuri calls to him, effectively bringing him back to the present, and Bucky realizes he’s nearly worn a tread into the carpet with his nervous pacing.

“Tony is on his way.” There’s a tinge of relief in her voice, but her left hand hasn’t left her belly, and she taps her phone against her thigh in an uneven rhythm.

Bucky walks over to his wife and grabs her hand. He brings it to his lips and inhales deeply.

“You ready?” It’s an effort to keep his voice steady.

She nods once, attempts a small smile that barely reaches her eyes at all.

Then Bucky interlaces their fingers and leads her toward the door and out of their suite. He slings their duffel bag across his shoulders and scoops her up into his arms, barely breaking stride on the way to the elevator. Shuri gives a surprised little yelp that, under different circumstances, might make him chuckle.

Instead, he holds her a little tighter and fights the urge to tap his foot while they wait for the car to reach their floor. It feels like an eternity waiting in that hallway, Shuri’s shallow breath against his neck, their baby cradled between them. He can hear Shuri’s heartbeat, wishes he could hear their little Bean’s heartbeat, too.

When he steps inside the elevator and reaches toward the button for the lobby, Shuri grabs his hand. He arches a brow in question.

To Tony’s credit, they don’t wait long at all. It can’t be more than ten minutes since Shuri hung up the phone when Bucky hears their ride approaching.

Any other time, he might roll his eyes and accuse Tony of having a flair for the dramatic. But he’s never been happier to see a Stark Industries helicopter in his life.

The chopper barely lands before Tony hops out, waving them forward. Once inside, they get buckled and take off in record time.

“How you feelin’, kid?”

Shuri looks up and gives a small smile. “I’ll be better when I know Bean is alright.” Bucky runs his thumb across the back of her right hand, and Tony reaches across from his seat to briefly squeeze her left.

“Don’t you worry about a thing, alright? Pepper’s OB owes me a gigantic favor, I already called ahead of you at the hospital. All we need to do is get you to OB Triage, and her colleagues will take it from there.”

Bucky exhales slowly and clears his throat. “I don’t know how to thank-“

Tony waves him off before he can finish his thought. “It’s the least I can do.”

Bucky nods. Shuri sags against him, and he turns his head to place a kiss to her temple.

“But if you want to repay me,” Tony interjects after a moment, “Anthony could be a great middle name.”

Shuri snorts. “You’re insufferable, you know that?” But there’s humor in her voice, and a genuine smile on her face this time, and Bucky is grateful to Tony for the second time that day.

By some miracle, triage isn’t busy at all. The on-call doc and a nurse greet them and take Shuri back while Bucky deals with the paperwork and Tony goes in search of caffeine.

It takes everything in Bucky not to chuck the clipboard back across the reception desk and follow after his wife. By the time he’s done filling everything out, every nail on his right hand is bitten down to nothing and his stomach is full of lead. He hands everything over and leans both hands on the desk, fighting the urge to crush the cheap fiberboard.

“So if you could tell me where they took my wife...?”

The middle aged woman behind the desk gives him a sympathetic smile. “Gimme just a sec, hun, I have to make sure they’re ready for ya.”

Before he can object, she stands and disappears through the door behind her desk. Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose and counts down from ten in Xhosa. He has to start over twice before the receptionist comes back.

“Mr. Barnes? They just took your wife down the hall for an ultrasound. She should be back in the room shortly, and then we’ll have someone take you back. Just sit tight, okay?”

But Bucky’s already been away from Shuri and Bean for ten minutes, and ready to crawl out of his own skin for every second. He tries for a smile - something charming yet authoritative, but hopefully not menacing - and sets his fists on the desk, leaning forward.

“Look-“ he starts, but a hand taps him on the elbow before he can finish his thought.

“Hey, let’s take a breather, huh?” Tony nods toward the double doors to the unit.

Tony must see the hesitation in Bucky’s eyes, because he gently nudges him.

“Just a few minutes. You look like you need it,” he says.

Bucky flicks his eyes to the receptionist, then back at Tony and the two large cups of coffee in his hands. He sighs heavily and gestures in front of him. “Lead the way.”

The waiting area is blessedly empty. Bucky walks over to a TV in the corner and searches for the remote. He can hear Tony slowly approaching behind him, but decides to distract himself with finding a decent show. But almost every station he clicks on is on commercial. He swears under his breath and slams the remote back down onto the coffee table.

“You break anything in this room, I’m not payin’ for it.”

Bucky whips his head around to find Tony smirking at him, and lets out a little puff of air.

“I just... I want to do... something.” He rakes both hands through his sweat-dampened hair. Then, almost so quietly, he’s not sure Tony even hears: “I’m goin’ a little outta my mind, here.” His voice cracks at the end, and he squeezes his eyes shut against the burn of unshed tears.

“Welcome to fatherhood.” Tony claps a warm hand to Bucky’s back.

“Yeah,” Bucky chokes out through a watery, humorless chuckle. All of his weight slumps into the chair behind him then, and it teeters backwards on wobbly legs. “Baby’s not even here yet, and they’re already giving me a frickin’ heart attack,” he mutters into his hands.

“Like I said,” Tony replies, “welcome to the club. That kid’s gonna scare you shitless about a hundred more times before they’re even outta diapers, so,” he pauses to take a sip of his coffee before saluting the weary man next to him with his styrofoam cup, “buckle up.”

Bucky groans.

Slumped in this stiff chair under too-bright fluorescents, the adrenaline is beginning to wear off.

His hands are beginning to shake again, and a shiver runs through him.

“How far along is she, again?”

“Hm?” Bucky lifts his head, blinking to clear his vision.

“How far along is Shuri? I forget,” Tony repeats.

Bucky blows out a breath. He doesn’t even need to think twice, he’s been keeping track just as closely as her. “Twenty-four weeks, three days.”

“Hm.”

“Yeah,” Bucky rasps, panic threatening to clog his throat again.

Tony clears his throat after a moment. “She still insisting you guys don’t find out the sex?”

“She told you ‘bout that, huh? She uh, she thought it would be a nice surprise. Now I’m not so sure we should’ve waited to find out...” Bucky rubs his mouth.

Another silence.

His fingers twist the fabric of his pants, knees bouncing and jaw clenched as he resists the urge to go up to the nurse’s station for the twentieth time and ask when he can go back and be with his wife.

Tony gently pats his knee, and almost automatically, Bucky stops fidgeting. A little bit of the tension leaves his body and he inhales slowly to keep it at bay.

“Twenty-four weeks, three days,” Tony muses. “That’s early. But-“ he says as Bucky opens his mouth to respond, “but, it’s not terribly early, and you’d be surprised at the things they can do. This is the best place on the East Coast.”

Bucky drops his head again and nods.

“Shuri told me you guys had Arlo here.”

“Sure did.” A small smile lifts the corner of the other man’s mouth as he presumably thinks about his rambunctious and adorable youngest child.

They sit there for several minutes, Tony sipping his coffee quietly while Bucky ignores his in favor of chewing on his nails again.

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been sitting there, but he has half a mind to just burst through the doors and bypass the receptionist all together to find Shuri. He’s halfway out of his seat when Tony pulls his phone out and glances at the screen.

A twinge of guilt shoots through Bucky, and he sits back down. “You can take off whenever you need to. You really didn’t have to keep me company. I appreciate it.”

Tony finishes typing something on his phone and puts it back in his pocket before looking up.

“Believe it or not, I’m happy to do it. Couldn’t just leave you here.”

Bucky flicks his gaze to Tony’s, searches his eyes for any hint of falsehood or irritation.

The corner of Tony’s mouth lifts slightly. “Really, Barnes. I know you and I have some shit to work through. But a lot of that got put into perspective after... all the other shit.”

Bucky huffs out a laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.” The knot in his stomach unravels just a tiny bit

“And that woman in there,” Tony gestures toward the doors to triage, “I would do just about anything for her. She’s done a hell of a lot for all of us over the years. And she indulges my old ass when I need a virtual lab partner and Bruce is too busy to be bothered. My kids love her, Pepper loves her. I know she saved you, too.”

Bucky’s throat is clogged again. He looks down at his hands, rubs at the upgraded arm Shuri gifted him on their wedding day: black inlaid with gold and purple, a permanent ring of gold Wakandan lettering etched into his left third finger.

“And you feel like it’s your turn to save her.”

Bucky chuckles, in spite of himself, in spite of everything going on right this second. Because Tony is way too on the nose. He sighs, a heavy, weary thing that seems to leave him deflated. He doesn’t look up as he replies.

“How do I save her from this? How do I fix this? This isn’t the way any of this was supposed to go...”

“You don’t fix it,” Tony interrupts. “Just be there. Whatever happens, don’t hide from her, and don’t try to shield her, either. Just be there and take care of them both. I know I don’t really need to tell you that.”

Bucky takes in Tony’s words. He nods, presses his lips together as he looks up to meet Tony’s eyes. A thank you is on his lips when one of the double doors behind them swings open, and his heart stutters for a second.

“Mr. Barnes?” A petite woman in navy blue scrubs looks back and forth between Bucky and Tony.

Bucky shoots up immediately. “That’s me.”

The nurse waves Bucky forward. “Your wife is back in her room, you can come on back.”

He shoots a glance over his shoulder as he heads toward the door. Tony is on his feet now. “Tell the Her Majesty I’ll call her later to check on her. Rub that belly for me. And take care of yourself, too, yeah?”

Bucky tries for a smile, hopes he makes it. His heart rate is climbing again. “Will do.”

Bucky pulls open the curtain and Shuri opens her eyes.

The bed practically swallows her up, she’s so tiny, even with her large belly. The pang in his chest is so acute, it takes him a couple of tries to find his voice.

“Hi, babydoll. How are my two favorite people?”

She gives him a wan smile and shrugs. “We’re okay, I think. Bean has been moving a bit, and the ultrasound looks alright. But,” she pauses and closes her eyes briefly. Bucky walks over and sits on the edge of the bed, reaching out to take both of her soft hands in his.

“It’s okay, angel.”

She clears her throat and looks up at him. “The doctor says my amniotic fluid index is 2 centimeters.”

Bucky frowns. “Is that low?”

“Normal range is 5 to 25 centimeters. Almost all of my fluid is gone. Somehow my cervix is still completely closed, but they want to keep us until the baby is born. The doctor said most people go into labor within 72 hours of their water breaking, so traveling back home is too risky. They’re bringing one of the NICU doctors up soon to discuss things.” Her teeth gnaw at her bottom lip as she pauses, gives him a chance to absorb what she’s saying.

He feels what little breath was in his lungs being knocked out. They’re stuck here. And they’re baby is coming 16 weeks early. The dread in his gut builds. Feels like it’s clawing its way up from his stomach to his chest, and he clamps his mouth shut to keep it from escaping. Something else is bothering his wife. Truth be told, he’s not sure he wants to know what else she hasn’t told him, but he needs to know. He reaches up to pull her bottom lip out from between her teeth. His fingers linger there, caressing her face and memorizing every detail for probably the billionth time.

“What else did they say?”

She sucks in a long breath, then puffs it out. “They said I’m at increased risk for infection now that my water has broken. There’s significantly less protection for Bean and me, the longer I stay pregnant, so they’re putting me on antibiotics, and betamethasone shots to help speed up lung development.”

Bucky swallows thickly. “Do they know how this happened?” She’s been doing everything right - sleeping eight hours a night, taking her vitamins, eating clean, drinking tons of water, exercising appropriately -he can’t wrap his head around this.

Shuri gives a shake of her head and another tired shrug. “I tested negative for any kind of infection. Apparently, most cases of premature rupture have no known cause. Not that that makes me feel any better.” She looks down at her stomach and rubs it slowly, methodically. “According to the scan, Bean is only 1.4 pounds. So tiny, Buck.” Her voice catches on that last part, and then her face crumbles.

Bucky feels like he’s fracturing into a million pieces as he leans forward and draws her into his chest. One hand cradles the back of her head while the other rubs up and down her back. Her belly presses into his, and his control slips.

He’s terrified. For Shuri. For the baby. Heartbroken, because he honestly doesn’t know if their Little Bean is even going to make it. And frustrated, because there isn’t a damn thing he can do about it. Except be here.

Shuri feels the gentle shake of his shoulders. She lifts her head to press her forehead to his, the salt of their tears mingling together as their lips meet. The life inside her belly stirs enough that they both feel the movement, and everything else ceases to matter.

She manages to stay pregnant for six more weeks.

Six weeks of daily ultrasounds and bed rest and no privacy and lab draws and living in the hospital because the risk of traveling back home is too great.

Bucky is sure his back will never recover from sleeping on the hospital cot, but he’d give the health of his back and more to have his sweet baby and their Bean safe. He refuses to leave her. Even when Shuri flies in her mother, her OBGYN, her doula, and a couple of the Dora Milaje and puts them all up in a hotel, Bucky sleeps by his Queen’s side.

And when, six weeks to the day that she was admitted, their sweet baby boy makes his way into the world, Bucky is by her side for that too, holding her hand and supporting her as she pushes with more strength than he ever thought any one person could possess.

Ikemba T’Challa Buchanan Barnes is beautiful. Way bigger than predicted for a thirty-weeker, and so strong, but still tiny in the grand scheme of things, and vulnerable.

Bucky barely sleeps because he can hardly stop marveling at the long fingers, the soft tuft of dark brown hair, the satiny chestnut skin. He stays up nights talking with Shuri until she passes out, then quietly reads to baby boy until the wee hours.

It’s another five weeks before they get discharged- five weeks of Shuri faithfully pumping breast milk around the clock until their baby is strong enough to nurse, five weeks of her barely even leaving his room. They’re both a wreck, The White Wolf and the Queen, trying to hold it together enough to make sure their baby boy makes it out of the NICU and back home with them where he belongs.

They can’t get out of there fast enough the day he’s finally discharged. Shuri dresses him in the tiniest little onesie made of black and gold Vibranium thread. She made it herself, embroidered the insignia of the Golden Tribe on the front, and her hand lingers as she brushes softly across it. Bucky’s chest tightens a bit as he watches her eyes squeeze shut for a moment. He knows she’s thinking of her brother.

Silent tears stream down her face as she hovers over Ikemba in his car seat. Bucky flies the Royal Talon himself, because he’s too on edge to let any of the Dora do it. He trusts them with all their lives, but he’s too fidgety to sit in the back with his family.

Home. Get them home. That’s all he wants, and his shoulders don’t settle back down into a normal position until they step onto the tarmac.

Tony calls just as they’re walking into their quarters. Interestingly enough, he calls Bucky’s phone.

“Stark?”

“Hey, daddy, how’s it goin’? You guys in safely?”

Bucky suppresses an eye roll. “Stop calling me that, it sounds gross coming from you.”

Tony laughs on the other end, and Bucky finds himself chuckling as well.

“Whatever, you like it. And you better get used to it, because once my godson learns ‘daddy’ and ‘mommy’, that’s all he’s going to want to say for a while.”

“I think we’re going with ‘baba’ and ‘mama,’ actually,” Bucky replies as he takes Ikemba out of his car seat and hands him to Shuri. He puts the phone on speaker and busies himself with putting their luggage in the closet.

Tony huffs. “You know what I mean. Anyway, how’s my girl?”

“I’m fine, Tony,” Shuri chimes in, settling in the recliner to nurse.

“I’m giving you a week, and then Pepper and I want a ton of pictures of baby boy.”

Shuri chuckles. “Of course. Give Pepper and the kids our love, okay? Well call you later in the week.”

“Alright, Your Majesty. Try to get some rest. You too, pops.”

Bucky snorts as he walks out of the bedroom and into the sitting room to give his loves some peace and quiet. He pauses briefly at the threshold, watching his wife nourish their son, his tiny little grunts and sighs practically melting him into a puddle of gratitude and adoration, before closing the door. “I’ll try. And Tony?”

“Yeah, Barnes.”

“Thank you.”

Tony hums in response. “Nothin’ to thank me for. You guys are family. Just take care of each other.”

Bucky’s chest warms, and he nods. “Of course.”

“Oh, Barnes.”

“What’s up?”

He can hear the smile in Tony’s voice as he replies, “Welcome to fatherhood.” And then the call ends.

A wide grin blooms across Bucky’s face as he walks over to the window overlooking the city. Bright, bustling, beautiful. Home. He closes his eyes and takes a real breath for the first time in three months.

After several minutes, the sweet lilt of Shuri’s voice singing a Wakandan lullaby reaches his ears and Bucky’s face hurts, he’s beaming so hard. He takes one more look at the landscape in front of him, then heads back into the bedroom to bask in the warmth of his family.

#winterprincess #royalwolf #shuri x bucky #bucky x shuri

29 notes · View notes