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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

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Portrait of a Dangerous Man🎨2

Warnings: (series) non-consent sex and rape; slow creep; cucking; (this chapter) nothing as yet.

This is dark!mob!Clark Kent x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Your dream of having your work hung in an art show comes true but your first buyer is not all he seems to be.

Note: Thank you for your positive response to this one! I hope you enjoy what I have in store.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Your Spotify list of redundant tracks flowed through the apartment as you sat typing at your small desk in the corner of the front room. The boxy space was as oppressive as any office space, another reason for your voluntary work at the gallery. Vanessa let you in the studio to paint. Without the privilege, you wouldn’t have the space for your easel.

You stretched your fingers and rubbed your eyes. You felt dizzy from staring at the screen, even with night mode on. The work was monotonous and made you restless. You wanted a pencil or brush in hand, a canvas before you, not this blaring laptop. You yawned and took a sip of your lukewarm water.

Your phone vibrated from across the room and you checked the time. Your lunch started soon but no one was really keeping track. As long as you got your assignments done, it didn’t matter when you chewed on toast and disassociated.

You got up and grabbed your phone from the corner table and leaned against the arm of the couch. You remembered how Marcus woke up there and grumbled as he lifted his head in pain. You couldn’t really feel bad for him going into work hungover. He embarrassed you and it didn’t quite sink in until after Clark left you to stare down at your drunk boyfriend.

An unknown number showed on your screen and you answered tentatively, ready to hang up at the first sales pitch. Your name came from the speaker and you recognized the deep voice in an instant. It took you back to the night before and the canvas hung on the wall.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” Clark said, “I only just had the paintings hung and I thought… well, I thought you might like to come see them in their new home.”

“Um…” you chewed your thumb, uncertain how to respond.

“Sorry, I know I can be a bit… to the point,” he laughed at himself, “how are you?”

“I’m good, just… taking a break.”

“You working?”

“Yeah, but I work from home,” you said as you touched the side of your neck, “I could… I could come see them but it might be a while before--”

“When are you finished work?” he asked bluntly.

“Four but I… maybe another day.”

“I don’t mean to be pushy but I did have something else to speak with you about,” he said, “a commission, like I mentioned.”

“Oh?”

“I kinda wanna get it started sooner than later, it will probably be pretty time-consuming,” he explained and you heard a clink and a soft sip, “I don’t wanna get into details on the phone but I promise, you will be compensated nicely.”

“You can’t wait until tomorrow?” you wondered.

“I suppose I can but it’d have to be during the day,” he responded, “why don’t you take some time to figure it out and get back to me by two? You can text me through this number.”

“Erm, sure,” you said uneasily, “I’m sorry, it’s just… very sudden, I don’t--”

“You can bring the boyfriend,” he said casually, “if you like.”

“He won’t be… home,” you said carefully, “I’ll let you know. Thank you.”

“I look forward to hearing from you,” he replied, “have a good day.”

“You, too,” you said and the line died.

You put your phone down and took a moment. Good things rarely happened to you. You struggled so long it was hard to think that might change. The skeptic in you told you there was something behind it all. That it couldn’t possibly be your art.

You went back to your computer and sighed as you waved away the screensaver with your mouse. The blinking cursor made you want to believe it was your big break.

🎨

You texted Clark at one and at four, you were in an Uber. Marcus drove his car to work and you stuck to buses and the underground when you could. The address was at least an hour out, the house among those estates on the edge of the city reserved for the upper echelon. You’d only ever seen the sprawling yards on your way to the next town.

When the car finally turned up the drive and you passed beyond a low brick wall, you felt entirely out of your depth. You tipped the Uber but didn’t feel too bad with the check from Vanessa sitting soundly in your account. You clutched the strap of your bag and walked along the curve of the brick work towards the stairs.

“Hey,” you stopped as Clark called to you, your ankle still tender from the night before.

You glanced over as he came out of the large garage and peeled off a pair of leather gloves. He smiled as he tucked them into his jacket pocket. You watched him and played with the clasp on your bag.

“Just got back from a drive,” he said, “I almost got carried away. I’m glad you made it.”

“Yeah, no problem,” you replied.

“Well, come on, let me show you around,” he waved behind you towards the front doors, “we’ll go on a tour and then we can talk details.”

“Wow,” you uttered mindlessly as you climbed the stairs to the door but kept the weight on your uninjured ankle, “this place is huge.”

“My contractor went a little crazy,” he scoffed, “but I can’t complain.”

He led you through the doors and directed you to the left. In the front room, your work was hung along the opposite wall, arranged in a way that drew the eye to them. You stepped closer and peered up at your work with a hint of awe. They looked even better in a place like that.

“I had my interior designer make the final call on where to hang them,” he explained, “I hope you don’t mind, I gave her your details. She said she had clients who might be interested in your work.”

“Really?” you breathed, “that’s… too nice.”

“Oh yeah? One day, you’ll be sick of rich pricks like me,” he grinned, “I’ll show you the pool, that’s usually the main attraction.”

“Sounds good,” you said as you followed but he paused and watched your stunted gait.

“I forgot, we can go slow,” he offered, “how’s the ankle?”

“I’ll make do,” you affirmed as you neared him, “just need to get my steps in.”

🎨

As you finished the tour of the second floor, you slowed along the long hall and admired the work of artists you only ever saw in museums. You couldn’t help but be enamoured by the historic blots of paint. You almost forgot where you were as you leaned in to read the initials beneath the pastel flowers.

“So,” Clark’s voice brought you back, you almost blanked him out entirely in your mind, “I think you might have noticed the empty space above the fireplace in the front room. I was hoping you could fill it.”

“Oh?” you looked at him and smiled nervously, “did you have something in mind? A landscape or--”

“Well, your portraits are great. I like the old world style. I was hoping you might do one of… me,” he suggested, “I know, it’s vain but why not?”

“I mean, yeah, I could do that,” you said.

“I’ll pay hourly plus materials,” he continued, “three hundred an hour.”

You almost choked at the number. You blinked and swallowed through your surprise.

“Even a small portrait would take at least twelve hours,” you warned, “are you sure?”

“I know it’s a lot of time for you, so… I was thinking, if you have to miss work, I’ll factor it into your rate. I would really like to get the project started as soon as we can,” he put his hand on his hip as he looked down at you, “the only thing I need from you is a list of materials. I’ll have them waiting for you here.”

“Here?”

“Well, yeah, I figure it makes most sense,” he turned his palm out.

“Hmm, sure, I prefer my own brushes but… you know I can just buy the stuff myself--”

“Ah, no, I want it to be perfect. You send me a list and I’ll have my assistant go out and get it all ready,” he assured, “How does Sunday sound?”

“Sunday?” you blanched. That was two days away.

“Like I said, Marcus is more than welcome to come with you,” he offered, “I’d hate to keep you from him too long.”

“I guess Sunday works,” you squeaked, “I’ll talk to Marcus.”

“Great,” he said coolly, “well, that’s business. How about a drink to seal the deal?”

“I don’t know, I should probably get back,” you fiddled with your bag against your hip.

“One drink won’t hurt,” he said, “go on, call the boyfriend and let him know you won’t be much longer.”

“I… thanks,” you murmured.

“You’re humble for an artist,” he joked as he sidled by you, “once you grow an ego, you’ll be unstoppable.” He neared the stairs as you turned to watch him, “I’ll be at the bar, waiting. You like gin?”

“Sure,” you answered as you pulled out your phone, “I’ll see you down there.”

🎨

When you told Marcus about your new side gig, he was even more excited than you. You were anxious and slightly hesitant. You hated to jump in feet first and risk losing more than a few tubes of paint. What if the work wasn’t good enough?

Marcus was more than willing to come with you when you told him about the size of the place. He knew by the area that it was extravagant. You sat in the passenger seat with the most expensive bottle of wine you’d ever bought cradled between your legs. You hated to show up empty handed after all of Clark’s generosity.

Marcus got lost and went down the wrong driveway before you righted your course. As you drove up, you were once more overcome from the rich rosebuds and sparkling fountain at the centre of the mosaic. You gripped the neck of the bottle and got out as Marcus whistled in awe.

“You weren’t kidding. This place is fucking nuts,” he swore, “I should’ve worn the tux from my brother’s wedding.”

“Please, Marcus,” you rolled your eyes, “let’s both try not to break anything.”

“You’re the clumsy one,” he chirped, “shit, you’re so lucky. You get to hang out here and paint all day? God, I wish I had an ounce of artistic talent. I’d trade it for code in a minute.”

You climbed the steps and clanged the large knocker on the right door. You waited a moment before an answer came and Clark appeared on the other side and beckoned you inside. He smiled as he shook Marcus’ hand.

“Thanks for joining us,” he said, “I would’ve felt awful stealing your girlfriend on the weekend like this.”

“Are you kidding me? She said you had a pool and I snuck the swim shorts into the backseat,” Marcus chuckled and you nudged him with your elbow.

“See?” Clark arched a brow, “the pool is always the seller.”

“Here,” you said as you held out the bottle of red, “for everything you’ve done and welcoming us into your home.”

“Ohhh,” he took the bottle and looked over the label, “I got a spot for this right behind the bar. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, I brought my brushes,” you patted the canvas bag on your shoulder.

“Mmm, yeah, well, I’ll just put this away and we’ll give Marcus the grand tour. Then I’ll get you situated,” he assured and rushed off.

He returned and pointed Marcus through to the front room, “you’ll see, just over here,” he directed him to your paintings.

“Oh, wow, babe,” Marcus marveled at the hung portraits, “you really did it.”

You smiled bashfully and Clark peeked over at you and winked. You squirmed as your cheeks burned and you turned away as he beckoned Marcus past the mantle.

“It’s a big place,” Clark said, “I’d like to get you started before noon.”

Clark led you along the same path as days before and slowed as you came back to the top of the stairs. He turned back and clapped his hands together.

“Marcus, if you wanna hop in the pool, we’re gonna start just in there,” he pointed to the one door you hadn’t looked through, “that’s the studio.”

“What about you?” Marcus asked.

“Well, I’ll be a part of the process so I’m afraid I will be just as busy but if you need anything, Nina, she has a crooked nose and mean mouth but don’t let her fool you, she’ll get you whatever you need,” he said, “just don’t track in water from the pool or she’ll string you up.”

“Oh, well, that doesn’t sound too bad. Some alone time in the sun and a pool,” Marcus grinned, “I really couldn’t ask for anything else… except you, babe.”

“Sure,” you scoffed, “go, have fun.”

Marcus kissed you quickly and thanked Clark again before he excitedly barreled down the steps. You scratched your neck as you looked back to your host, and you guessed, your new boss.

“I’m sorry about him. He can be such a kid sometimes,” you said.

“Nah, it’s fine,” he waved it off, “so, you ready to see your workspace? I kinda wanted it to be a surprise. Also, a bit last minute so it’s not perfect… yet.”

“Uh, yeah,” you answered, “can’t wait.”

He motioned you over to the tall dusty rose doors and hooked his fingers in the slotted handles. He slid them open and revealed an airy room with a tall ceiling and long windows. An easel stood facing the sun streaked glass, an immense canvas bigger than yourself, bigger than him, propped up on it. There was a ladder nearby and the table was set with a rainbow of paints and a large pallet.

Your lips parted as you neared the easel and stared up at the canvas, “you were right, it’s gonna be a lot of work.”

“I hope it’s not too much,” he said, “but you name your price. We’ll make it work.”

“No, no, I think for what you’re paying, I’ll do just fine,” you put your bag down daintily on the table, “so, uh, a portrait, I guess that means…”

Your voice trailed off as he went to the upholstered chair across the room, at an angle so you could see him from your vantage. Behind it, hung a velvet curtain to add to the scene and a bust on a pedestal. It felt surreal, like a dream.

You turned and pulled out the brushes, “I think you’ll get more tired than me, just sitting there.”

“I’ll make it through,” he assured as he sat, “is there anyway you’d like me to sit? Chin up, or…”

“Hmmm,” you turned to look at him, “I think… if you just put your shoulders back and… did you want a profile or--”

“I was thinking front-facing,” he stared at you steadily, unflinching as his eyes stuck to you, “just like this.”

“Perfect,” you said nervously and looked back to the table.

There was water to rinse your brushes, rags, pencils, blending sticks; everything you needed and more. You took a pencil from the bunch and pulled over the ladder. You climbed up and looked over at Clark as he sat stoic and still. He looked picturesque in real life, you expected paint would only lend to his figure.

His eyes met yours and you turned to start tracing the basic shapes onto the canvas. You had to stop and steady your hand as you did. His gaze made it hard not to tremble.

#clark kent #dark clark kent #dark!clark kent #clark kent x reader #dark fic #fic #dark!fic #series #portrait of a dangerous man #dc #dcu #au #mob au #mob!au #superman

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yee-fxcking-haw · 4 years ago

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•Don't Say His Name•

Summary: This is a part two to Forget That Extra! There will at the very least be a third part, since this one ends unresolved and I have SO MUCH of the story left in my brain.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Reader (both Bakugo and Reader are aged up to 18+)

Warnings: Rough sex, degredation, impact play, ddlg terms, unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, a sprinkling of knife play, fingering, ruined orgasm, Dom Bakugo, Brat/masochist reader, tiny bit of angst.

Word Count: 6,115

Part One • Part Three

A/N: As far as tagging goes, I tagged those that commented on part one, and those that liked the post about this part. If you would like added/removed just let me know!

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You walk down the hallway with all the confidence in the world. "You're my woman now." He had said. Katsuki Bakugo's woman. That's you. Walking through his agency covered in bruises he had left, and only he could see. It makes your insides twist and spark with excitement, the idea of belonging to that explosive hero.

You're on your way to his office now, coffee in hand as you try to make an effort at being an actual partner instead of just his play thing. You made sure to get the right kind of milk and sugar, and extra caramel of course. The past few weeks have been all about learning things like that, the little details about each other that exists outside the bedroom or a stuffy closet.

Just as you make the final turn to Katsuki's office, you see a wild flash of green hair and hear an excited voice say your name. A bright smile spreads across Deku's boyish face, cheeks all pink and freckled. He's all dressed up in his hero costume as he bounces towards you before speaking again.

"Hey! On a coffee run for the boss man?" He jokes, nodding at the hot drinks in your hands.

The boss man, right, he's your boss. He should definitely not have been in your guts less than twelve hours ago, and you definitely shouldn't have his teeth marks on your body.

"Oh yeah, either gotta keep him caffeinated or pick up pieces of exploded furniture, and I much prefer the coffee runs to clean up duty." You laugh with him, both of you knowing Bakugo's temperament far too well.

As you laugh your shoulders move a little too much and the strap of your bag falls off, catching on your elbow and nearly jostling the coffee to the point of falling out of the drink carrier.

Deku's reflexes are like lightning as always, before you can object he's taken the coffee as you slip the strap back onto your shoulder. Your cheeks flush as you mumble a bashful thanks then reach for the coffees.

"No I got it, let me walk with you." He says, "Can't risk dropping the precious cargo."

You both share another chuckle as you anxiously adjust your top, trying to tuck it more securely into your plaid skirt.

"Thanks, Deku, I would've been in for it if I had lost that drink."

You both take off down the hall at a rather lazy pace, sharing some pleasant small talk about your days. You find out that he actually just left Katsuki's office, they were going over some boring publicity stuff for their agencies. As you walk you find yourself laughing a lot, especially at Deku's impression of a very grumpy Katsuki.

You've only met Izuku Midoriya a handful of times, mostly in passing like this. Without fail, he's always kind and charming. He's the kind of person that leaves anyone he meets with warm, vanilla tasting feelings.

"Can I ask you something?" He says with a small voice.

"Of course you can." You say as you come up to the door of Katsuki's office.

"This might be a little out of line, and I completely understand if you wouldn't want to, I just- I was uh- I guess I was w-wondering if you maybe would consider grabbing coffee with me?" He trips and stutters his way through his invitation, and goodness it's so fucking cute.

You're floored honestly, of course you'd love to get coffee with him, it's harmless right? It could be, if you make it clear that you're with Bakugo. That's the problem though, being employed by him means you two can't be public about being together. That shit gets messy fast, so you've been sworn to secrecy.

"You're busy though, so I totally understand if you just can't find the time or if you just don't want to or whatever. I just figure you might like actually having coffee with somebody instead of being sent to get it for them, if that makes any sense… s- sorry… this sounded a lot better in my head." As he talks he fidgets with his hands and shifts his feet a little, emerald eyes searching your face for some form of an answer.

"Deku, I'd love to." You say sweetly before he can open his mouth and fumble through more words.

His shoulders drop and his face relaxes.

"Is six tonight ok? We can just meet here so you don't have to give me your address or go to my place, I know that can be uncomfortable sometimes so I figure meeting at a public place would probably make you feel safer- I guess if we-"

"How about you just text me the address of the coffee place you had in mind?" You say gently, interrupting as politely as you can.

You try to keep your voice down, a creeping feeling snaking up your spine. It feels wrong to be making plans like this right in front of your boyfriend's office, if you can call him that. There hasn't really been a lot of discussion about the exclusivity of the relationship, just that he hated the idea of you belonging to anyone else, and that he hadn't been with anyone else… maybe that talk needs to happen soon.

"Huh? Oh, yeah that's a good idea, I would just need to uh- if I wanted to text you I would need-"

"My number?" You giggle as you pull a sticky note and a pen from your bag.

"Uh, yeah, that would be it." He laughs nervously.

You quickly scribble down your number, your heart climbs to your throat as you offer him the paper.

"I'll trade you." You say, nodding to the coffees before sticking the note on his chest.

An adorable blush spreads across his already rosey cheeks.

"Oh yeah, boss man needs his caffeine." He says as you take them.

Just as you accept the drinks back, the office door opens slowly. The twist of the knob makes your chest tighten.

"Oh, there you are. You were taking so long I thought you'd gotten lost." He says gruffly before taking the drink you hold out for him.

His words bite you a little, but you have to just take it for the sake of appearing uninvolved.

"I thought you were leaving?" He asks Deku with a pointed gaze.

"Oh, Kacchan I was, I just uh-"

"He was helping me, I almost dropped the coffee and he was kind enough to carry them for me." You jump in, trying to defuse the tension building between the men in front of you.

You know bits and pieces of their old rivalry, only those that Bakugo let slip. For the most part they've out grown the school yard beef, but Katsuki is competitive, territorial, possessive. You know that it's grinding his gears knowing Deku was there to help you, which might be a fact you can have some fun with.

"So, six works for you?" You ask Izuku, voice laced with honey.

"Oh! Yeah, yeah six is great, I'll see you then." He says, folding the note with your number before sticking it in his pocket.

"I'll see you then, and thank you for the help." You smile, earning a sweet grin from him as he awkwardly shuffles away.

"Oh of course, it's never a problem! Bye Kacchan, thanks again for the meeting!" He damn near hops off down the hallway before disappearing around the corner.

Slowly, you turn to face your lover, apprehension written all over your face. He just sneers down at you before turning sharply into his office. You stand and watch him stalk to his desk, slightly scared to move.

"Get your ass in here, lock the damn door behind you." He says flatly before taking a sip of coffee.

You do as he says, letting the door close quietly before flipping the lock.

"So, I'm assuming you won't be joining me for dinner?" He says as he relaxes into his large desk chair.

"What? No, we can get dinner, I'm just grabbing coffee with Izuku." You explain, trying to sound nonchalant.

You take a nervous glance around his office, and a fond feeling blooms in your chest. It's organized chaos, as he calls it. The desk is covered in little travel tools and makeshift gadgets. He loves to tinker when he can't focus, he says it gets his mind back to a place where he can. He's talented too, could honestly run a whole side business on his creations alone.

The one time you proposed it he shut it down fast, he said he had enough jobs to do, that he wanted to keep his tinkering from becoming work. It brings the smallest smile to your face, but you're ripped away from your dreamy thoughts by the sound of his rough voice.

"First name basis, I see." He mumbles before taking another sip.

You can't help but roll your eyes. It's difficult to discern if he's genuinely irritated by you meeting Izuku, or if he's just trying to egg you on. Either way, you're going to have some fun with it.

"Well people don't usually call their friends by their hero names, do they?" You question as you walk around his desk so you can lean your backside against the edge.

Katsuki turns his chair to face you, glancing over your body once before finding your eyes. His gaze lingers on the undone buttons at the collar of your black top, revealing what you think is a tasteful amount of decolletage.

You sip your own coffee as he analyzes you, seemingly taking the bait.

"Friends?" He asks quietly, quirking an eyebrow.

"Ya know, someone who gets coffee with you instead of sending you on an errand to get some for them?" That was a bold move that will inevitably come back to bite you, but that's exactly what you want.

All of his fine muscles shift and tighten under his well tailored dress shirt as he leans forward in his chair. He places his elbows on his knees, and folds his hands under his chin as he glances up at you through his eyelashes.

A tense moment is spent between you, your chest lights up with nerves just a little bit. You hate it when he's quiet, he's much easier to read when he's mouthy.

"Sounds fun!" He says with far too much enthusiasm as he shoots up from his chair. Before you can reply, he's put his whole body in front of yours. He sets his hands on the desk behind you, efficiently caging you in.

Just like that, the air is hot and thick between you. He looks down his nose at you, waiting for you to answer. His eyes scream "try me" and it makes you dizzy. When you feel his hands slide over your knees, your head spins even more.

Willingly, you let him spread your legs open so he can settle his hips between them. As he moves in your skirt bunches up, revealing where your socks end to expose the thickest part of your thighs. Like a moth drawn to a flame, his hands are on the skin instantly. For some reason, that part of your leg, specifically when they're spilling over some snug thigh highs, makes Bakugo absolutely feral.

"So you don't care if I get coffee with him?" You ask, bringing your hand to tilt his chin up.

Reluctantly, he rips his eyes away from your legs so he can glare at you.

"I don't give a fuck who you get coffee with." He shrugs before sliding his hands up so he can grab your hips with greed.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't disappointed by how little he cares. Where's the guy that fucked your brains out because you simply talked to another dude? You're practically going on a date and he's just… fine with it?

"-But if you're going to get coffee with that damn nerd-" He ducks down and brazenly licks a hot strip up the side of your neck.

The sudden contact makes your eyes flutter as your chest deflates, a shock of heat already thrumming through your core.

"You're gonna do it covered in marks…" He abruptly scrapes his teeth against your throat, easily biting hard enough to create a bruise, as if you don't already have enough.

"... And filled with my cum." The statement makes you gasp, there he is.

His fingertips dig into your hips as he pulls you forward on the best, bringing your crotch flush against his while he looks down at you with a patient expression. The feeling of his hard-on pressing against your core will never get old, it never fails you send shocks up your spine and make your cheeks hot.

You're feeling spunky today, dangerously bold. A terrible idea creeps into your mind, wrapping it's fingers around your common sense.

You slide your hands up his abs, allowing yourself a moment to admire how sturdy he feels. Your hands secure themselves on the folds of his collar so you can bring his face back towards yours.

To mock him, you bring your mouth to his throat and let your tongue drag up his hot skin.

"That's funny." You say with a low voice before you plant a kiss right under his jaw.

"He said the same thing." You punctuate your lie with a nip to his skin.

"Oh you stupid woman." He huffs before he snatches you by the waist and hauls you off the desk. Your legs don't get the chance to hold you up, he spins you around and kicks the back of your knees with his shin, causing you to fall forward immediately.

Once you're kneeling he grabs the hair on top of your head and drags you along beside him. You yelp and grab at his wrist as you try to shuffle after him on your knees. He plants himself in his desk chair, not releasing his hold on your roots for a second.

He pulls your head back slightly, glaring down at you with furious ruby eyes. He looks so delicious like this, dressed in all black, hair and eyes wild as he plans how he'll break you.

His other hand comes up to grab your jaw a little too gently, eyes flashing down to where your skirt is still riding up.

"Are you trying to get hurt?" He asks calmly, thumb running over your chin.

"I'm trying to get fucked." You state simply, dropping your jaw open so you can take his thumb into your mouth.

He watches you carefully, breathing a little heavier when you swirl your tongue around the pad of his thumb before releasing it.

"-But if all you're gonna do is fuck around like this, I think I know somebody who might be up for the job."

All you can register is his face twisting as he realizes which way you're going, before the hand on your jaw pulls back. You brace for the slap, ready to feel the hot pain shoot across your face. Your thighs even clench a little in anticipation, but it doesn't come.

He just chuckles, laughs right in your face as he reaches for the drawer behind him, the hand in your hair releases too.

"Oh, I'm sure he would be." He pulls out a small black bag from the drawer, then slowly unzips it to reveal a wooden paddle.

You can't help but squirm where you sit as you watch him flip it in his hands before turning back to you.

"But there's no way in hell that prick can get you shaking like I can." He sets the paddle on his desk so he can start to roll his sleeves up.

You watch him carefully, nearly drooling over the way his strong forearms flex as he rolls the material of his shirt up. Your hands pull at the bottom of your skirt anxiously, needing to fidget with something desperately.

"I don't know about that, Suki, the shy, quiet ones are usually the nastiest, isn't that right?" You say coyly, trying to regain some control.

You're referring to yourself and he knows it. Hinting at how depraved you can be in the bedroom. You know he's right, he's the only one that can fuck you up the way you need it. It's fun to watch him twitch a little when you hint at Deku being able to compete with him, though.

"Get up here, bend over." He says shortly, neck and shoulders tense.

You're getting to him.

"I think I like it down here, I don't think I want to bend over just yet." You say with a deceptive sweetness.

Feeling bold, you slide your hands up the insides of his thighs, feeling the taught muscle under his dress pants.

Before you can reach his erection, his hands are latched onto you again. One in the back of your hair, the other crushing your throat.

"I fucking dare you, disobey me one more time. You will end up with a busted ass and a ruined orgasm, that's a fucking promise." He snarls at you, bending down so he can glare right into your soul.

His threats don't do a damn thing to calm your rebellious streak, if anything, it lights a fire under your desire to be the biggest fucking brat.

"The busted ass part doesn't sound too bad." You struggle to get the words out, working against the harsh grip on your throat.

He rolls his eyes before almost throwing you out of his hands. He sends one to the collar on the back of your shirt, and the other slides around the back of your thigh. With the new hold he roughly hoists you into his lap. You can't help but squeak when your stomach hits the tops of his thighs. Your knees barely touch the ground and your hands grab at the desk in front of you, trying to steady yourself.

He flips your skirt up and smooths a hand over the curve of your ass.

"Oh trust me, you'll fucking get it." He sends his hand cracking across your cheek, earning an involuntary moan from you.

Your body responds to the sharp pain immediately, cunt clenching and inevitably soaking your panties even more than they already are. You glance back at him as he rubs over the welt he's just created.

"These are cute." He says with a bored voice as he pulls at the string of your thong with one finger.

They're nothing special, a simple pink fabric thong. You didn't put on anything special since you were definitely not anticipating a situation like this to arise. A little foolish now that you think about it, given how many times he's grabbed you by the wrist and hauled in into some forgotten room for a quickie. Never in his office though, especially not during business hours.

Before you can quip back, he's pulling out his pocket knife. He grabs your skirt and hikes it up to your waist before he runs the point of the knife down your lower back. He uses the dull side of the knife, careful not to cut you, but the point of the blade still offers icy friction against your heated skin. Teasing you with the possibility that he could make you bleed.

You squirm in his lap as goosebumps raise all over your skin, pulling a deep breath in when he dips the blade under the waistband so he can flick it up, expertly slicing through the fabric. He makes quick work of it, cutting the pesky fabric out of the way so you're completely exposed to him.

"Does pissing me off always get you this wet?" He asks before flipping the knife away so he can run a finger slowly down your folds.

"That's from thinking about my date later."

That comment earns you a very sudden, very hard strike with the paddle. You bite your fist to muffle the cry that tears out of your throat, desperate to remain unheard by anyone outside of the office.

"Oh hell fucking no." Katsuki growls before quickly snatching up both of your wrists so he can pin them behind your back with the hand not wielding the paddle.

"You want to be a mouthy slut, so be it."

Another skin splitting hit to the other cheek. The pain is blinding, causing your body to jolt and twitch in his lap. You know your ass is going to be purple and welted for days, but there's not a chance you'll complain, because you absolutely love it.

"Is that all you got, sparky?" All you want is more, more bites, bruises, paddles. Anything Katsuki will give you, you'll take it with greedy, desperate hands.

"You're such a masochistic little bitch." His voice makes your pussy contract around nothing, then you feel the shameful sensation of your slick dripping down your thighs.

His hand comes up to grab at the reddened flesh of your ass, digging his fingertips in with a sneer. You feel his dick twitch against your stomach as you writhe from the sharp new pain he inflicts.

"You want me to touch you here?" He ghosts his fingers over your dripping core.

The tease is almost enough to make you break… almost.

"I'd rather save it for Deku."

There is no composed chuckle, no warning swat, not even a breath before you're shoved off of his lap so you can fall to the floor in a pathetic pile of bunched up clothes and desire.

You try to scramble to your knees, but the bottom of Katsuki's expensive dress shoe meets your sternum and forces you on to your back with a harsh push. He moves like a wolf, planting a knee on either side of your chest, caging your arms under his strong thighs. He leans over and seizes you by your shirt collar.

"You're a fucking idiot, you know that right?" He barks down at you, eyes ablaze with disdain for your bratty antics.

"You're gonna choke on my cock for that one, smart ass."

You shouldn't get a thrill from such a nasty threat, but your mind spins and your body sparks.

He makes quick work of his belt and pants, shoving them down quickly to expose his straining cock. It never ceases to make your mouth water, every inch is perfect. He's thick and heavy looking with a beautiful curve that feels devine inside you.

"Open up, and don't try anything cute." He huffs before grabbing the hair on top of your head to bring you towards his dick.

He slides into your mouth with ease, sliding the underside of his head along your tongue. You have to drop your jaw pretty much all the way in order to fit him, but you always love that part.

"Look at me, watch me the whole time." He orders, fist grabbing a little more firmly at your hair.

He presses himself into the back of your throat, the taste of the precum he's smeared along your tongue finally hits your taste buds. You savor the taste, eyelids fluttering ever so slightly but never closing.

Your eyes meet his just as you remember to relax your throat and let him all the way in. He somehow slides down your throat even further, balls pressing into your chin. You can't stop the drool that spills from the side of your gaped mouth or the tears that prick at your eyes.

He grins down at you, predatory and ravaging. Your legs twitch as your hands slide up to hold his sides, clinging to the fabric of his shirt as he starts to set a slow pace with his hips.

It's not the merciless throat fucking you anticipated, but he did only just get started. Something deep in your chest resents the slow pace, something depraved inside you wants him to use your throat until you're heaving and sobbing.

You moan around his cock and try to convey desperation in your eyes as you watch him move above you.

"Oh you poor slut, I know you want more, but you haven't fucking earned it." He says as he presses all the way in again, but this time he holds it there.

You dig your nails into his sides and close your jaw around him a little more, teeth teasing the skin of his hard on. His lip twitches into a snarl like a dog about to snap. He snatches your nose with his fingers, closing off your airway. You don't panic, not even close. You just glare up at him, having played this game many times.

"Little miss composed, huh? How about now?" He presses impossibly far into the back of your throat.

For the most part, your gag reflex has been trained out of you, but somehow he hits it right away. You open your airway and attempt to gasp, a fruitless attempt since all you can do is choke on his shaft. He doesn't release the hold on your nostrils, just glares down while you struggle under him.

Suddenly, but not soon enough, he releases your nose and rips himself from your throat. You let him pull you along like a ragdoll as he settles back into his chair, pulling you to your knees as you sputter and gasp and cry. He grabs you by the hair at the back of your head with one hand, and by the jaw with the other, a hold he's always been fond of.

"Now, unless you want to keep choking on my cock, I suggest you remind me who's about to fuck the breath out of your lungs." He says, low and vengeful.

You're nowhere near ready to give in, all kinds of lust oozes through your body. It's spreading like molten lava, destroying every ounce of self control you've ever had.

You feel drool start to pool on your chest, becoming suddenly aware of how much you're salivating.

Oh what a terrible idea.

You spit right in his face, body moving before your mind has a chance to tell it to stop. For the first time since this all started, you feel a little bit afraid. You welcome it though, scarf it down and wish there was more. You're like an adrenaline junkie, and your addiction is the menacing way Katsuki is looking at you right now.

He slowly wipes the offense off his cheek bone, giving a small, astounded laugh before he brings the palm of his hand to crack across your face.

You cry out as your thighs clench beneath you, your body giving away just how much you adore being treated like this.

"Do it again, please fucking do it again, make my day, bitch." Katsuki barks in your face, hands starting to shake a little. He's losing his calm facade, which is exactly what you want. He just needs one final push.

You open your mouth, ready to retort, ready to mouth off like the miserable little brat you are. You don't get the chance though, the words are smacked right out of your mouth as he hits you again. The sharp pain sends another shock of desire straight to your weeping cunt. You cry out as your head snaps to the side.

You take account of the drool leaking out of your mouth, the tears dripping out of your eyes, the slick sliding down your thighs. You're burning up and your vision is becoming unreliable. It might be about time to give in a little, indulge poor, pissed off Suki. You've gotten enough of a beating, now it's time to stroke his ego and get what you want.

"P-please, Daddy, I'm s-sorry." You sniffle, glancing up at him with big, pitiful eyes.

You don't expect the third slap, it's white hot and full of venom. You know without a doubt you'll be sporting a shiner from the assault.

"You're a little liar. You're not sorry, you just want me to put my dick in that stupid little cunt." He's almost yelling, trembling a little more as he sneers down at you.

If he wasn't pissed before, he sure as hell is now.

Perfect.

"How else are you going to send me to Deku full of your cum? Or am I going to have to ask him to fill me up?" Do you ever know when to stop?

"On my desk, now." He doesn't give you a chance to move on your own, he hoists you up by your waist and sets you on his desk. The abused skin of your ass stings against the cool wood. He pulls you by the hips so your ass is sat right on the edge.

He presses his face into your neck as your arms fly around his shoulders. His hot, open mouth against your neck makes you feel so incredibly dizzy. The soft feeling of his tongue contrasting so intensely with how harsh he's been.

"You make me want to blast this whole building to pieces." He huffs against your neck, your hands find his hair and you feel just how sweaty he is.

He braces one arm on the desk as the other reaches up to move your skirt out of the way.

"God, you're filthy. I can fucking smell how soaked you are."

His teeth sink into your neck as he unceremoniously slips two fingers into you. No, he doesn't slip them in, he shoves them in.

"Suki- fuck-" You say before a moan sneaks out of you, falling on his greedy ears.

"Huh uh- you can't keep that prick's name out of your mouth, say his name. I don't want to hear your whore mouth say mine." He crooks his fingers perfectly as you gaze at him with disbelief. The pads of his fingers hit that sweet spot inside you, and all you want to do is cry out for him, cry out his name.

"N-no, please, let me say yours- shit- please!" You shiver when he brings the heel of his hand to press into your clit as he continues to play with your insides.

"Then are you sorry? Really fucking sorry?" He asks as he adds a third finger.

You clench down on him, hips rolling forward as you let out a sad little sobbing sound.

You nod up at him, struggling to find the right thing to say. Obviously, that's not enough for him. He rips his hand out of your hole and slaps your cunt with incredible force.

You cry out and try to bring your legs together, but Katsuki anticipates this. Grabbing the insides of your thighs, he forces your legs open, causing you to lose balance and fall so your back is flat on his desk.

"I'm sorry, I didn't fucking hear you." He says as he grabs his cock and starts to pump himself just inches from your burning center.

"I'm sorry, I am, I'm so sorry, Suki." You say urgently, pushing yourself up on your elbows so you can truly meet his eyes.

Your core just aches as you glance down at his hand stroking his erection.

His free hand comes down against your pussy again, making you jump and whimper. The sting is exquisite, but the throbbing in your walls overrides it.

"I don't believe you, give me one good reason I shouldn't blow my load all over your thighs and send you on your way." His hand picks up speed and you start to panic a little, he might go through with it. You've pissed him off enough, it can't end like this though, no way in hell.

As quickly as you can, you rid yourself of your shirt and your bra. You leave your skirt and your socks on, knowing that combination is a favorite of his. He watches you like a hawk as you lean back down onto your elbows, eyeing the fading bruises all over your chest and down your stomach.

"Because baby," You coo as you bring your fingers to your mouth, "you need me as bad as I need you." After wetting your fingertips, you bring them down to slide over your hardened nipple.

His hand falters slightly as he watches you play with yourself. He pulls his bottom lip into his mouth when you tweak the sensitive bud.

"God- fuck- you little tease." He whines before shifting towards you.

In some ways, Katsuki is a simple man. All it takes it some teasing and some tits and he's a goner.

In the blink of an eye, his hands have a hold on the backs of your thighs as he folds you up. You feel the tip of his dick rest against your entrance and you almost scream.

"I'm going to ask you one more time, are you fucking sorry?" He's on his last leg of restraint, the grip on your thighs is absolutely bruising and you can see beads of sweat rolling down his temples.

"I am! I swear I am, I don't give a shit about him- I don't- fucking hell, Suki!" Before you can finish, his thumb is rubbing at your clit as he slides in.

Every nerve in your body responds as he does, you throw your head back and let yourself feel it completely. The drag along your walls is maddening. The second his head presses into your cervix you moan and twitch, and more tears pour from your eyes

"I'm going to make sure you are." He growls.

After he slowly pulls back, he fucks into you like it's the last time he'll ever get to. Every thrust in makes you see stars. You let a sob wrack your body as you claw at the desk.

"How would you feel if I couldn't stop saying some other bitche's name?" He says as he delivers a particularly harsh thrust.

Your stomach twists at the thought, jealousy claws at your insides.

"Makes your skin crawl doesn't it?"

"I didn't m-mean it, I'm s-sorry, sir." Your body rocks on the desk as his hips meet yours, so much rage behind his movements. You feel your body start to tighten, the nerves in your core start to get that wonderful warm feeling.

"Why do you keep doin' that shit then? Huh?" You feel a small twinge of guilt because of how genuine the question sounds, how there's just a hint of genuine confusion in his voice.

"Baby- I- fuck- I didn't mean it, I swear- shit, I'm so close." Your walls start to pulse around his cock, the rest of you starts to squirm.

"You want me to hurt you? Is that it?" He smacks the underside of your thigh after his question, earning a deep moan from you.

"Fuck! Yes, I love it when you hurt me." You admit, voice warbling as your orgasm approaches rapidly.

"Then just fucking ask me for it." Then he stops, stilling completely inside you. It's enough to drive you up a wall, your orgasm runs away from you. All of the building pleasure slips through your fingers.

"No no no! Suki please, I said I was sorry, I meant it, please I was so fucking close!" You beg as your fists hit the desk, almost throwing a tantrum.

"Maybe Deku can help you finish." He says shortly as he pulls out and starts to fuck his fist, with a groan and his head back, he finishes on your thighs as promised. You watch in horror as his release paints your skin white, his soft moans and sighs fall on your ears and it makes your heart sink.

He wastes no time in tucking himself back into his pants, making himself look composed in record time.

"I have a lot I need to get done this afternoon, clean this shit up and be home by eight." He says with a flat tone.

You just lay there dumbfounded as you watch him stalk out of the room without a glance your way.

You did it. You pushed too damn far. Katsuki never leaves you hanging like this. There's always a few gentle kisses, a few mumbled reassurances, it's never like this. Even when it was just quick fucks in a closet, Katsuki would offer you a few moments of comfort afterwards. You hit a nerve, you must have. Something far past you're usually bratty teasing.

The sound of the office door closing makes you flinch. You glare down at the mess he's left on you, eyeing the shredded remains of your panties on the floor. No way in hell you're going to coffee with Deku, not with the horrible feeling settling in your gut. You don't know if Katsuki will even want to talk to you, but you have to try, you have to make this right.

Taglist:

@iloveitblackbhna @midnightartist @oblxvion @imonlymildlyinsane @kasumireads @nobody-says-hello @kibayoukai @michigood9618 @evierena @kimchi123n

#bakugo smut #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugou #katsuki x you #katsuki bakugou #mha bakugou #mha smut #my hero smut #my hero academia smut #my hero fanfic #my hero academia #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugo #bakugou x reader #dynamight #king explosion murder #lord explosion murder

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amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines · 4 years ago

Text

Maeve//i don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you

Request: Could you please do something else with Maeve? Perhaps something where reader works with Maeve on an English project and she's surprised that they have so much in common. She realizes she has feelings for her somehow after that? Sorry that's sort of rubbish, have a swell day/night.

hey! what’s up everybody! i hope everyone is well, and i hope you like this!! title is from ‘the lakes’ by taylor swift!

- English projects are never fun

- I mean, who finds constant stress and a deadline that’s always far too close fun?

- Nobody

- That’s who

- Well apart from Mrs Jones

- Your year 9 English teacher who made every minute of her classes a living hell

- And who mysteriously went missing half way through the year after having a screaming match with a fellow English teacher

- When she was supposed to be teaching you Romeo & Juliet.

- One day she was accusing Miss Newman of being a terrible teacher and purposefully bumping up students grades so she looked better

- And the next day both her and Miss Newman were gone

- And you only got a replacement teacher when you moved into year 10

- Right now though

- Its seems Miss Sands is going through some stuff

- Because not only did she give you an assignment on Friday with a deadline of Monday

- She also chose your partners instead of letting you choose your own

- Which is why you’re stood outside of Maeve’s in the pouring rain

- On a frankly miserable Saturday morning

- It seems the weather knew exactly what sort of weekend you were facing

- And decided to make it even worse.

- By the third knock

- You’re about to give up

- The curtains are still drawn

- And you’ve seen more movement in a graveyard

- Plus

- You kind of already assumed you would be doing the project alone

- Maeve Wiley was known for being very...

- ...independant

- And group projects are no different

- You actually think she may be more independent during group projects

- So as soon as Miss Sands paired you together

- You knew

- You were 99% sure that

- You’d do your thing

- She’d do hers

- And then five minutes before the presentation

- You would figure out a way to connect the two.

- Anywayyyy

- While daydreaming about a time when you won’t have any assignments

- And making awkward, accidental eye contact with Maeve’s neighbours

- The door in front of you opens

- Simultaneously giving you a fright and almost knocking you out

- She yawns and scratches the top of her head

- ‘what are you doing here?’

- She sounds both tired and annoyed and you blink at her a few times before answering

- ‘er - i - the project. for english.’

- It takes her a few seconds to process what you’ve said

- But when she does

- She looks even more miserable than she did five seconds ago

- And you brace yourself for a long weekend

- She sighs and rolls her eyes

- Before slowly opening the door properly and letting you in

- You feel slightly nervous as you walk in

- But you really have no idea why

- It’s not like she’s a complete stranger

- But then again

- She’s not exactly a friend

- ‘don’t worry, i’ve hidden the drugs. i don’t really like to share anyway.’

- ‘what?’ you ask confused and she rolls her eyes again

- She huffs and crosses her arms before nodding to the slightly messy living room

- ‘i get it. we’re a bunch of benefit fraud chavs that do nothing but drink and smoke all day.’

- ‘that’s not what i was thinkin-’

- ‘sure it wasn’t.’ she rolls her eyes and you stare down at the floor. ‘i need to get changed so make yourself at home I suppose.’

- She walks into what you assume is her bedroom and slams the door behind her

- Leaving you to stand awkwardly in the middle of the living room

- It’s small and slightly cramped

- And most people would say that all the stuff makes it look busy

- But to you

- It’s wonderful

- It’s filled with stories and memories

- Some self explanatory

- Some slightly more bizarre

- Like the wonky blue and yellow clay swan living on the coffee table

- You really want to know the story behind it

- But decide it might be a little early in your partnership to start asking about her attachment to a half swan, half moth looking ornament

- So instead you pick up a pile of books on the dining table and move them onto the floor

- You can hear Maeve opening and closing drawers while humming a familiar tune

- And you feel yourself relax slightly as you place your laptop and books where the books were previously sat

- Even if it does feel like you’re using all of your braincells to try and figure out where you’ve heard it before

- ‘wow, do you actually trust me around that?’

- ‘what?’ you stop humming and look up at her

- She looks between you and the laptop, staring at you expectantly

- ‘oh no. i mean of course i do.’ you blush and she shakes her head before sitting opposite you

- ‘so what do we know about women in fiction?’

- ‘historically they are written as either a femme fatalle type or some sort of innocent angelic being.’

- ‘they still are’

- ‘true’ you agree and flick through your textbook

- ‘why don’t we write about that then?’

- ‘what? how we’re still depressingly far back in the equality movement, despite being told otherwise?’

- She stares at you for a few seconds

- A mixture of shock and surprise

- Before nodding

- And smiling

- An actual genuine smile

- You didn’t even know she could do that

- Well you did

- Of course you did

- But you just haven’t seen it a lot

- Usually when you see Maeve

- She’s either mad, grumpy or very, very, very angry

- But her smiling

- Puts a smile on your face

- And this was definitely not where you thought this was going

- ‘yeah...that’

- ‘okay.’ you shrug. ‘you can do classic literature because i know you prefer them and i’ll cover modern works.’

- ‘how do you know i prefer classics?’

- ‘the pile of books’ you nod towards the floor and she follows your gaze, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. ‘they’re all ripped and folded. you either love them or really, really hate them’

- ‘okay’ she eyes you suspiciously as you focus on your laptop

- And you can feel your cheeks heat up under her gaze

- However as quickly as they were there

- They disappear

- And the two of you fall into a surprisingly comfortable silence.

- After about half an hour

- Maeve stops what she’s doing to stretch

- ‘is it okay if i play some music?’

- ‘sure, it’s your place. do what you want...as long as its not awful’

- ‘and what constitutes as awful?’ she asks, a smirk playing on her lips

- ‘well’

- And with that one question

- Your entire day disappears in front of you

- Laptops and books are closed and long forgotten

- And instead you talk about music and movies

- Books and plays

- Characters that you love and hate

- And the fact that her favourite character is the one you hate the most

- She makes you lunch while you debate between movies and books and which adaptations are good

- And which ones should never have been made

- And you clean up and apologise profusely after a stray cushion (possibly thrown by you) ends up knocking the pan over

- Surprisingly

- She finds it quite funny

- And you let out a relieved sigh

- Soon the sun goes down on another day

- And you’ve barely written two paragraphs done between you

- ‘do you want to stay?’ she asks while your putting your jacket on

- If she’d asked you that this morning

- You would have thought she had lost it

- But now it feels almost inevitable

- And you feel genuinely lucky to be asked

- Not many people get to know Maeve

- The real her

- And that last person she told all of this to broke her heart

- Very publicly

- And she told herself she would never let herself be that vulnerable with someone ever again

- But this just feels right

- For some reason you feel right

- She feels safe with you

- And part of her hates herself for it

- But then again

- She hates herself for not getting to know you sooner

- She feels far too attached to you

- And it’s barely been twelve hours

- You of course agree to stay

- Shocking yourself and her

- And while she sorts to sofa out

- You excuse yourself to the bathroom

- Under the pretences of telling your parents where you are

- It takes two seconds to text them

- And the other 28 to ask yourself

- What the fuck are you doing?

- Why are you agreeing to this?

- Why do you feel like this?

- What are you feeling?

- Who knows?

- Not you

- Great

- Now you’ve been in the bathroom for a suspicious amount of time

- Just get it together, Y/n

- It’s just a study sleepover

- Maeve gives you a questioning look as you leave

- ‘you know how mums are. always worrying about where you are and what you’re doing’

- ‘i wouldn’t actually’ she shrugs and your eyes widen

- ‘oh shit, sorry. i’m so sorry. god, i’m an idiot.’

- ‘it’s fine’ she forces a laugh and you wince. ‘i got you an extra duvet and little women is ready to watch so i can show you that the book is better’

- ‘that’s not what i said and you know it’

- ‘i’m sorry. i can’t hear you over the sound of me being 100% right and you being 100% wrong.’

- ‘you may be good at english, but you suck at maths’

- The next day you wake up to the sun shining through the curtains

- And a clump of Maeve’s hair in your mouth

- You splutter and cough and wake her up quickly

- And she jumps away from you and smacks her head of the table

- The two of you ended up moving the blankets to the floor while watching Pride and Prejudice

- And neither of you bothered to move back

- Maeve yawns and scratches her head

- Exposing a small part of her stomach and you feel yourself become a little breathless

- ‘are you okay?’

- ‘ye-yeah’ you nod and she eyes you suspiciously

- ‘whatever’ she shrugs and starts making breakfast

- You watch as she pours to bowls of cereal

- Giving you the last of the milk

- And for a second you’re a little worried as to how she knew you liked it

- But then you remember that she also likes it and you had a whole discussion about the best and worst types of cereal at 2am

- And half way through breakfast

- You remember the original reason you’re here

- And both of you curse loudly

- Before rushing to finish eating

-You get half way through your project

- When Maeve asks if you want to go out for a bit

- And well

- She doesn’t need to ask you twice

- And by the time you come back

- The feeling you had last night returns

- And has settled in your stomach

- For the foreseeable future it seems

- It makes you feel both light and heavy at the same time

- And when you look at her

- You feel dizzy

- So you rush to finish the project

- So you can go home and pretend nothing has changed

- And yeah

- With the need to leave

- You get the rest of the assignment done fairly quickly

- But you end up leaving feeling more confused about Maeve as you did when you started this

- Maybe Miss Sands was right about a weekend project

- Any longer and you would have gone insane trying to figure out whatever the hell this is

- You just have to get through tomorrow and then you’ll be okay

- Everything will go back to normal

- You and Maeve can go back to being neutral to each other

- And you won’t have to deal with all of these confusing feelings that have decided to make an appearance for some reason

- Wellll

- Turns out Miss Sands was wrong

- A weekend is not enough time

- And the first few presentations are awful

- To put it nicely

- So you spend the next week in a permanent confused state

- Confused as to why you start looking for Maeve whenever you enter a room

- Confused as to why your heart skips a beat whenever you hear her laugh

- Confused as to why you never want her stop talking in class

- Even if the bell has rung and it’s lunch

- Confused to why you keep looking for excuses to go over to see her

- Despite your assignment being long done

- And even more confused as to why you feel anxious when you’re waiting for her to answer the door

- The next Monday rolls around both painfully slowly and far too quickly

- And while you wait for Ola and Danny to finish their presentation

- Your hands shake with anxiety while your grip your papers

- Maeve reaches over the table and gives them a reassuring squeeze

- But it just makes them shake more and she slowly pulls back

- Your turn can’t come quick enough

- But then it’s over far too quickly

- And you slump back down in your seat disappointed

- Despite Miss Sands’ praise

- Because it’s over

- You no longer have an excuse to hang out with her

- You never talked before

- So why do you care about after

- But there’s so much about her that you want to know

- Like the weird swan/moth hybrid

- And the ugly plate that sits on top of the bookshelf

- You want to be part of these stories

- You want to be able to point to these things and say

- ‘yeah, i know exactly why that is special to you’

- You want to be the reason to add to this random collection of stuff

- You want her to smile when she looks at them because they’ll remind her of you

- You want her to smile when she looks at you

- ‘y/n? are you okay?’ she asks making you jump

- The classroom is now empty and you didn’t even notice the bell go

- ‘ye-yeah’ you nod and grab your bag

- ‘are you sure?’ she grabs your arm forcing you turn around

- ‘whats the weird swan thing on your coffee table?’ you ask and she furrows her eyebrows at you. ‘it’s just i saw it when i first came over and i really want to know the story behind it’

- ‘oh. aimee went through a pottery phase last year and that was the only thing she made that didn’t have a hole in it.’

- ‘and the plate?’

- ‘birthday present from my neighbours’

- ‘they got you a plate?’

- ‘yeah, they don’t have any kids’

- ‘clearly’

- Silence fills the room and you stare at the peeling posters behind her head

- You can feel Maeve move closer to you and your breath hitches when she stops a few centimetres in front of you

- She grabs your hand and squeezes it again

- And your heartbeat increases

- ‘y/n?’

- ‘yeah?’

- ‘i’m really, really confused right now. like more confused that i have ever been in my life. but what i do know, is that if i watch you walk out of that door without saying anything first, then i’d regret it for the rest of my life. i’ve only ever felt like this about boys before, but now i feel this and more about you and i have no idea where it’s come from or what i need to do, but i do know i need to tell you. because otherwise, it wouldn’t be fair for either of us’ she whispers and you stare at her wide eyed

- ‘can i kiss you?’ she asks and you nod your head quickly

- Slowly she leans in

- Her eye flutter closed and you follow

- Your lips brush over hers

- Her hands wrap around you waist to pull you close

- And then your lips connect

- And you feel everything change

- She kisses you slowly

- And when you pull away you both feel breathless

- Her cheeks are bright red

- And there’s a shy smile playing on her lips as she looks at you bashfully

- And all of a sudden you feel really grateful for Miss Sands and her personal issues

- Although you really hope they are resolved now

- For your sake as well as hers

support my writing! if you want!

#sex education #sex education imagine #maeve wiley #maeve wiley imagine #maeve wiley x reader

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babymetaldoll · 4 years ago

Text

DIWK - Chapter nine: “Fuck it, I love you”

Word count: 8,2K

Summary: (Y/N) is struggling with her feelings for Spencer, and being just her friend might be harder than she thought. Spencer feels everybody but (Y/N) knows he is in love with her, and for a second, he is sure he will lose her.

Warnings: Cursing, angst frustration, mention of S03E09 (Penelope), usual Criminal Minds content.

A/N: Hello my dearest friends! hope you are having a great week, and I hope you enjoy this chapter. All feedback is welcome!

Masterlist

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(Y/N)'s point of view

Since Rossi joined the team, we were as busy as we had been in a long time. We didn't have much free time, and most of the cases took us out of Virginia. But, it was our job, and we all liked it, which is why none of us complained much. No one but JJ, who still tried to keep her relationship with Will a secret.

On the bright side, all that traveling and working with the team got us even closer. Having Rossi there gave us a boost to be better at what we did and be even better friends. We had to spend a lot of time together, and by the look in David's eyes, you could tell he was surprised by how good we all got along. At least most of the time.

We were in Florida trying to find an unsub who kidnapped and mutilated women when it happened. After knowing them for over two years, Garcia and Morgan had a fight. A real fight.

- "Hey, how is it going with Father Marks? Any of the volunteers jumped out at him?"- I asked Morgan when I found him at the station after a long day trying to find a lead that might take us to the unsub or the victims.

- "Not yet"- my cellphone rang that second, and Garcia's voice at the other side of the line gave me more info on the case.

- "I'm still running the particulars of our homicides though vicap. Nothing so far."- she announced.

- "Ok. I just sent you the volunteer search list"- I walked from Morgan and sipped my coffee, feeling there was something off.

- "Ok. And I'm cross-checking the names against mental institution records."

- "Pay attention to individuals who were involuntarily committed in Florida. Rossi is convinced our unsub is the type that likes to stick close to home."

- "Got it. Talk to you later."

- "Wait, PG. You usually call Morgan about these kinds of things. Is everything ok?"- I whispered though I knew Morgan was paying a lot of attention to what I was talking about on the phone with Garcia.

- "God, I hate profilers"- she groaned at the other side of the line.

- "Come on, tell me."

- "Fine. I met this guy in the coffee shop I go to every day. His computer crashed, and I helped him fix it. He flirted, I flirted, and he asked for my number, and somehow I gave it to him 'cos he was incredibly hot and nice, and did I mention he was smoking hot? I didn't think he was going to call, but he did, which was surprising 'cos these things do not happen to me, sweet cheeks, never! But it did! And when I told Derek, he just told me I have to blow him off 'cos it's too weird."

- "What!?"- Penelope spoke so fast she didn't even breathe.

- "Yes! Just because he wouldn't hit on me doesn't mean another hot guy wouldn't! And he made me feel like I don't deserve anyone's attention."

- "I'm gonna kill him,"- I whispered and turned around. Derek wide opened his eyes and shrugged, not getting what was going on.

- "Don't. I'll take care of him when you guys come home."

- "Well, take care in the mid-time, and I'm here if you need to talk."

I hung down and sighed. Morgan looked at me, knowing I knew what happened between the two of them.

- "So?"

- "You fucked it up,"- I whispered and smacked his shoulder.

- "Is she furious?"

- "She's hurt. That's actually worse."- Derek sighed and shook his head.

- "What do I do?"

- "You mean, other than to apologize?"- I walked with him to get Hotch and tell him what Garcia had just informed us- "Think big, 'cos you really fucked it up."

- "What does Reid do when he fucks things up with you?"- Morgan asked, and I could sense the innuendo hidden in his words.

- "He doesn't do a thing, 'cos he never fucks up"- I answered with a pleased smile and turned to Hotch. It was time to catch a killer, not time to argue with Derek.

I always thought Morgan and Garcia were the greatest friends I had ever met. I could envy their relationship, especially 'cos they could be so flirtatious and so adorable, and at the same time, you knew their friendship was sacred.

I envied that. I don't think Penelope felt for Derek the way I felt about Spencer. That's why I was sure I had fucked it up. I didn't have to catch those kinds of feelings for my best friend, and I felt I had to find a way to get rid of them. I had to stop having a crush on Reid.

Those weeks had been challenging and yet amazing. It was awful knowing I had a crush on my best friend, but I was really enjoying all the time we were spending together. We had been sharing rooms for the last two cases, and that meant endless sleepovers with Spencer. After a long day, we would meet in our room and just share candies, ice cream, pizza, movies, whatever we needed to decompress.

If things had been too hard, I would lay with him on his bed and just cuddle for a while before going back to my bed. More than once, I fell asleep with him, feeling his fingers playing with my hair as he read. I always apologized the following day, but Spencer kept saying he didn't bother, that he had slept well and that I could always count on him whenever I felt bad.

Knowing I had never done that with Mikey or Frank more than a handful of times in all the years we had met each other made me feel like the shit. Sure, I could sleep in the same bed with them, but not the way I did with Spencer. This felt intimate. Serious. Real. Waking up in Spencer's arms was the best way to start my day, and each time it happened, it made me feel worst and worst 'cos I didn't want to ruin the best friendship I ever had over a silly, stupid, meaningless crush.

Each time it happened, I promised myself it would be the last one. And each time I did, I ended up falling into his arms again. It never meant anything sexual. It was just sharing a bed, cuddling. Holding each other. It was all the intimacy I always refused to share with other people. And I guess that's what freaked me out the most: how vulnerable I was with Reid and how much I enjoyed it for the very first time. Ever.

- "Hey,"- I heard Spencer whisper when we landed. I was curled up on his chest on the couch on the plane, as usual after a long case. I scratched my eyes, probably messing with my makeup, and smiled at him.

- "Sorry... you must have been awfully uncomfortable."

- "Not really. Besides, you looked like you needed a good nap,"- I chuckled and shook my head, sitting down correctly.

- "Next time I drool on your jacket, please wake me up,"- I collected all my things and took a look around- "What time is it?"

- "Almost midnight,"- he announced and stared at me as he held his go bag and put on his jacket- "Do you want to grab something to eat before you go home?"- and I nodded, thinking that was exactly what I had in mind.

But life had other plans, and this time it had nothing to do with us. We were about to get out of my car to catch a late dinner when I got a call from Hotch telling me Penelope was in the local hospital. Spencer's cell phone rang at the same time, and JJ announced the same. We looked at each other for a moment, scared of the worst, and all we managed to do was to get buckled up and drive to the hospital. We both needed to know Penelope would be ok, but all we knew was that she had been shot, and the doctors were doing all they could to save her life.

As soon as we reached the waiting area, we met Aaron and JJ. They looked as worried as we were.

- "She's in surgery,"- JJ announced, and I hugged her immediately- "There's no word."

- "This is crazy,"- Spencer whispered as I felt JJ's arms tighten around me.

- "I can't believe it! I talked to her before we took off."- I murmured and closed my eyes.

- "What do we know?"- Rossi asked, walking over in a hurry with Prentiss.

- "Police think it's a botched robbery,"- Aaron explained.

- "Where's Morgan?"- Emily asked, looking around the hall.

- "He's not answering his cell,"- JJ replied, and Spencer took his phone right away.

- "I'll call him again."

I looked at him as he walked away and turned to my friends. Emily and JJ were doing their best to stay strong, but it was clear they were fighting the tears back, just as badly as I was doing.

Spencer walked back and shook his head. He couldn't reach Morgan. I walked to him and rested my head on his chest, and he wrapped his arms around me, holding me close to him. It was unreal. I felt I was in a nightmare, and I couldn't wake up, no matter how much I tried.

- "They can't give me an update,"- JJ walked over to us after half an hour. She had been trying to get more info about Penelope's condition, but nothing.

- "Morgan's phone just keeps going straight to voicemail,"- Spencer added, and Prentiss's angry voice nearly made me jump.

- "Where the hell is he?!"

Nearly two hours later, Spencer finally contacted Derek, and in less than half an hour, he rushed into the hospital and found us still waiting for news about Penelope. He ran over, shocked and confused, and looked at us, waiting for an explanation.

- "She's been in surgery a couple of hours."- JJ whispered as soon as he stood by our side.

- "I was at church. My phone was off,"- he explained and mostly tried to excuse himself for not being there earlier.

- "There is nothing you could have been doing here,"- Reid whispered, trying to make him feel better. Spoiler: it didn't work. Morgan was getting more and more hyperventilated with every second he spent in that hospital.

- "The police got any leads?"

- "I spoke to the lead detective. He doesn't think we'll get anything from the scene."

Hotch spoke in the calmest voice he had. Morgan was about to say something but bit his tongue. Instead of yelling, he walked around the hall for a few minutes until a doctor approached us.

- "Penelope Garcia?"- and we all nearly yelled "Yes" as a desperate reply.

- "The bullet went into her chest and ricocheted into her abdomen. She lost a lot of blood. It was touch-and-go for a while, but we were able to repair the injuries."

- "So what are you saying?"- JJ questioned as we all held our breath.

- "One centimeter over, and it would have torn right through her heart. Instead, she could actually walk out of here in a couple of days. And I'd say that's a minor miracle."

The way we all sighed, relieved at those words, was priceless and unbeatable. The doctor smiled at us and added.

- "She needs her rest. You can see her in the morning."

- "Thank you,"- I smiled at him, and he was gone. I turned around and looked at Reid. He cut me a short smile as Hotch's voice caught our attention.

- "David and I will go to the scene. I think the rest of you should be here when she wakes up. I don't care about protocol. I don't care whether we're working this officially or not. We don't touch any new cases until we find out who did this."

We all nodded right away. No one had other plans. And after those words, Hotch and Rossi were out of the hospital, and we were left waiting for Penelope to come back from surgery.

- "How are you?"- Reid whispered and handed me a new cup of coffee.

- "Scared. You?"

- "Me too"

- "Who could ever want to hurt Penny? She is adorable,"- I murmured and shook my head.

- "We are gonna find whoever did this"- Spencer held my hand and cut me the warmest smile. I nodded and looked at Derek, who stood up from his chair for the hundredth time and walked to Penelope's room to see if she was ok.

- "In case we ever fight, I want you to know I will always forgive you,"- I murmured in Spencer's ear and rested my head on his shoulder.

- "Should I be worried?"- he asked me, and I just shook my head.

- "I just wanted you to know that you will always be my best friend, Spencer Walter Reid. No matter what happens between us."

And I meant every word back then. I had no idea what was coming ahead and how much things would change within a few months.

Spencer's point of view

The attack against Penelope hit us all hard. She had been shot by the same man who had invited her out for dinner. The one she and Derek had had a fight about.

Of course, Morgan was the one who was more affected by the whole situation. I tried to comfort him, and he nearly killed me. I knew Derek didn't mean to be mean. He was just losing it and feeling overwhelmingly guilty about everything going on. He was in hell, and you could tell. I didn't want to think what it would be like to be in his place. If anything ever happened to (Y/N) and I wasn't there to help her, I would go crazy. So I understood how Derek felt and did my best to be supportive.

Those days also made it pretty evident Rossi was still shocked we were such close friends and team members at the same time. I know he was friends with Gideon, but the fact our friendship surprised him so much made me wonder how close they really were.

It didn't get better when we were all asked to stop working on the case after Hotch found an encrypted file in Garcia's system, and she ended up suspended. That's who we found out how the FBI had recruited her.

Morgan and I were at the hospital with Penelope when Hotch gave her the news and heard the story of her hackers days. Something that I bet she didn't really want us to know about her.

- "After my parents died, I... kind of went off the rails for a while. I dropped out of Cal Tech. I lived underground, basically. But I kept teaching myself code. It was like the one thing that kept me together. In the way, the bureau decided to keep an eye on me, I guess... Did you know they keep track of hackers?"

Neither Morgan nor I opened our mouths. We couldn't, 'cos we were processing the whole information.

- "They do, of the ones who have the skill to be either extremely useful or a potential menace."

- "So they offered you a job?"- I asked her, and she simply nodded- "Like Frank Abagnale. The bureau figured if you can't beat 'em, hire 'em."

- "Yeah. Something like that."

- "Garcia, what's on the encrypted file?"- Derek crossed his arms on his chest and stared at her, waiting to hear nothing but the truth.

- "I'm required to keep a record of everything the team does. And after my system got hacked and Elle got shot, I just didn't want anyone else to be able to get at you."

- "We'll talk to the doctor, see if he'll clear you to leave,"- I whispered and left the room, just in time to get JJ's call to announce we were officially off the case. It wasn't good, and it wasn't getting any better at all.

In a way, the fact we were all such good friends wasn't as beneficial to the case as it could be. It all came clear later that night. Penelope was attacked again, this time in her own house. Unfortunately, a cop was killed in the process, and if it weren't for Morgan, who insisted on crashing her couch that night, Penelope would have been dead too.

We were all at her house at three in the morning. We wanted to take her to the BAU and keep her safe, though we all knew it would be hard to explain to the authorities, all things considered. We were all just talking about what had just happened when Garcia started remembering more details about her date with her attacker, and we decided to ask more questions about it in case she could give us more info that might lead us to him.

- "Tell us about the car,"- I told her and sat in front of her.

- "Why?"

- "Just go with him"- Morgan smiled at her and nodded, trying to reassure her everything was ok. It wasn't, not even close.

- "You said it was white, 4-door, American. What else?"- I asked Penelope, but she shook her head, confused.

- "That's it. It was just a car."

- "No, come on, think. Anything. Go back."- Morgan held her hand. We could tell she was trying her best to cooperate, and he was making his best effort to be sweet and calm, considering he was losing it to catch the asshole who hurt her.

- "The seat belt was buckled behind his back. Why does that matter?"- and that was progress.

- "It wasn't a rental. It was for surveillance,"- Derek explained to her.

- "Agents don't wear seat belts. They need to get out in a hurry"- (Y/N) added and was about to add something else when Rossi walked across the room and sat in front of Penelope.

- "All right, let's cut the crap. You need to be straight with us. Right now!"- she wide opened her eyes in shock and turned to Morgan- "Look at me, not them!"- Rossi commanded.

- "I'm not hiding anything,"- Garcia whispered, astonished.

- "You got shot. Most people get shot for a reason,"- she tried to look at Derek again- "Eyes here!"

- "Ease up, Rossi!"- Morgan shouted when David raised his voice, scaring everybody in that room.

- "You got a roomful of people here willing to believe that an FBI agent has tried to kill you. We need to know everything you do on company time that we don't know about!"

Rossi yelled on her face, pushing her to tell the truth, and Garcia nearly started crying.

- "What?"

- "Come on, man!"- I guess we were all waiting for Derek to lose it and punch him.

- "It's nothing bad!"- Penelope yelled, and every eye in the room turned to her.

- "Spit it out!"- David pushed her again.

- "It's... I counsel victims' families, and they know where I work, so sometimes they ask me to look into cases for them."

- "What does that mean?"- Rossi frowned and kept his eyes on hers.

- "It just means that the cases, the unsolved ones, I tag them, so whoever's investigating them knows that the FBI considers them a priority."

- "You're not authorized to do that"- Hotch's voice was as severe as kind, which surprised us all. Rossi the most, I guess, 'cos he stood up and turned around.

- "I know. I was just trying to help."- Garcia whispered, fighting the tears back.

- "But whoever's working those cases thinks you're watching them,"- (Y/N) said in a softer voice, probably to explain to Garcia how the whole situation had ended up with her being shot.

- "I just wanted to put pressure on them so that they don't slide,"- Penelope excused herself.

- "How many cases are we talking about?"- Hotch asked.

- "I don't know. 7, 8 maybe. I need to get into my system."

- "You can't. You're suspended,"- Hotch reminded her, though it sounded more like "you are grounded."

- "Wait a minute,"- Morgan interrupted the conversation- "Garcia, on your date, you said this guy was pressing you to find out if you were working murder cases. Hotch, we gotta look at those files."

Hotch looked at David, who was still as pissed as earlier. I don't think neither of us had ever seen him acting like it.

- "I told you, I'm sick of this jagoff being in front of us,"- Rossi said to him, and Aaron nodded.

- "Dave's right. We'll go back to the BAU. Morgan, Reid, (Y/N), Prentiss, you stay here and make sure no one forgets to log out of the system. Garcia should not have access."

We all stayed in her living room as Garcia walked to her room and hacked her own system. At the other side of the screen, Kevin Lynch, the analyst of another FBI department, was fighting back, trying to protect the files, and losing the fight after a few minutes.

Later on, (Y/N) explained to me that was how they met and finally how they fell in love. I guess everything happens for a reason, after all.

We didn't catch the bad guy that day. Instead, JJ was forced to kill him. It was the very first time she shot anyone, and surprisingly, she wasn't as shook up as we all imagined she might be.

- "You do whatever it takes to protect your family,"- she said when Penelope asked her if she was ok.

And she was right. That's how we all felt for each other at that point. And somehow, we all knew we were going to prove it, sooner or later.

(Y/N)'s point of view

I had been part of the BAU for almost three years already when it happened. And I felt so stupid 'cos we had all had a rough couple of weeks, and the last thing anyone needed was another worry. We had just gotten over the whole Penelope issue; having another member of the team injured was the worst thing that could happen.

But it did.

I got shot.

We were after our unsub. George Flemming. The bastard had killed four women in less than a month, convinced God had sent him to Earth to get rid of sin. We had been after him for two whole weeks until we finally got him. But I was stupid and reckless and didn't wait for backups. I wanted to catch that mother fucker, 'cos the way he had killed those women made me madder than I had ever been with an unsub before. That's too dangerous. You can't lose yourself in a case, 'cos you lose your objectivity. You risk your life every day in this job, but that specific day, I put mine on a silver platter.

We were supposed to wait for backup. I was just checking the perimeter, searching for the unsub. Spencer was with me, but he stayed behind for a second, trying to contact Garcia to run the plate number of a car we found hidden in a barn. I should have waited for him, but I couldn't stay still and do nothing when I heard a woman screaming for help. I had to run and try to save her. I wasn't going to let George kill yet another innocent woman and get away with it. He had to pay.

- "FBI! Freeze!"- I shouted as I walked into the last room of the house and found George holding close and pointing a gun at a woman who was covered in blood and bruises but still very much alive. Which, I must say, was a relief.

- "Stay away!! I'll shoot her!! I swear I'm gonna shoot her!!"

The unsub was sweating cold; he looked sick and weak. He looked like I could definitely take him down in a fight.

- "George! Put down the gun!"- I commanded and didn't move my eyes from him.

- "You put your gun down!"

- "I am sorry, George, but I can't do that!"- I answered- "Now let her go and put the gun down before anyone else gets hurt."

- "I don't have to listen to a whore like you! Who do you think you are? Giving me commands? You are evil!! Evil!"- he shouted, clearly losing control.

- "(Y/N), where the hell are you?!"- I heard Reid asking in the earpiece, and I just shook my head.

- "That's all you've got, George? Hiding women in the back of your house and threatening them with your gun? That makes your God proud?"

- "Shut up!! You bring disgrace to Earth! You should be punished too!!"- I took a step closer slowly and shook my head.

- "You are going to be punished, George. For killing innocent women."

- "Innocent? What makes you think they didn't deserve it?"

- "What makes you think you are the one to judge them?"

I kept my gun pointed at him, but I couldn't take a shot 'cos he grabbed the victim and kept her close to him, like a shield.

- "There's a special place in hell for whores like you!"- he announced, and suddenly, all I could feel was pain. There was a second gunshot, and George was down. I took a look around and saw Morgan still pointing his gun at him from outside the room, as Spencer and Prentiss ran inside, and he moved to me and held me close.

- "Medic!! We need a medic!!"- Reid yelled frantically through the speaker- "(Y/N)! How do you feel?"

- "I'm ok, honey bunny,"- I whispered in the most excruciating pain I had ever felt in my entire life- He just shot my shoulder, nothing important.

But the way Spencer looked at me, I swear that no one has ever looked at me the same until this day.

- "Don't move!"- he commanded, though his voice was soft and gentle. Prentiss took care of checking George's body. He was clearly dead. She liberated his last hostage and helped her to the ambulance while Reid stayed by my side until a doctor appeared.

- "Why didn't you wait for me?"- Spencer asked as they took me to the ambulance.

- "She needed help"- that was all I could say.

- "Please, try not to talk,"- the paramedic commanded and got me into the ambulance, followed closely by Reid.

- "I'm coming with her."

My best friend wasn't asking for permission. He was informing the medical team he wasn't going anywhere else. And by the tone of his voice, it was clear no one was ever going to change his mind.

- "That was so stupid, chipmunk,"- Spencer whispered and held my hand in our way to the nearest hospital. The paramedics kept pressing my shoulder to stop the bleeding, and I just closed my eyes 'cos honestly, it hurt too much to process what was going on.

- "I am so sorry I wasn't there with you, chipmunk."

- "It's ok, honey,"- I mumbled- "You are right. I was stupid. This is my fault."

- "Please, don't talk,"- the paramedic commanded again, and I just shut up 'cos the pain was too much.

Spencer stayed by my side the whole time. After we reached the hospital, the paramedics took me to the ER, where a doctor cleaned my wound and took out the bullet from my shoulder.

It was a clean wound, and luckily, no arteries were hit. I just got some stitches and a sling, plus a few painkillers I really didn't want to take, 'cos after Spencer's experience with drugs, I was scared of painkillers.

- "Thank you,"- I whispered to the nurse who helped me get dressed and walked out of the room to find Spencer filling up the medical forms and Morgan and Prentiss waiting for me

- "How are you feeling, princess?"- Derek asked and caressed my cheek.

- "Like a virgin"- I sang the Madonna song- "Shot for the very first time"- and though Emily chuckled, Spencer didn't think it was funny.

- "I can't believe you think this is something to joke about!"- Reid frowned, upset.

- "Calm down, honey. I'm ok, I'm alive. It was just a shot on the shoulder."

- "Just? Just a shot in the shoulder?"- and Spencer freaked out- "Did you know some of the larger vessels of the human body run through the shoulder? The subclavian artery and vein, which by the way, are the basic blood supply to the upper extremity."

- "I'm sorry, honey bunny. I shouldn't have said that."- I whispered and tried to calm him down, 'cos I knew precisely the kind of man Spencer could be when he was mad and stressed.

- "The brachial plexus is also located in the shoulder, and it's the primary nerve supply to the upper extremity as well,"- he added and didn't take his eyes from the form he was filling.

- "I understand,"- I added, but he didn't stop.

- "You should also know that the shoulder is a very complex spheroid joint, and if it's injured, it can lead to lifelong disability."

I stood in front of Spencer and placed my movable hand on his chest. That forced him to stop writing and look at me.

- "I'm sorry I got hurt. It was a mistake. I didn't mean to make you mad at me or worry. I am ok, I am here, and I promise I won't do something as stupid and reckless as this ever again. Ok?"

Spencer looked at me and sighed. Morgan and Prentiss were still there by our side, and I had the feeling that stopped my friend from saying what was in his mind. Instead, he nodded and cut me a short smile.

- "Good. Can we go home now?"- I asked, and Morgan grabbed my bag immediately.

- "The jet is waiting, pretty girl. Let's go."

The flight back home was too long. It was only a four hours flight from Fargo to Quantico. But it felt eternal. Besides, I kept doing my best to act cool and in zero pain, in a poor attempt not to worry Spencer. Little did I know, no matter what, he would be worried sick anyway.

- "I was on the phone with Frank,"- he announced and sat in front of me with a cup of hot chocolate.

- "Please don't tell me you called to tell him I got shot,"- Spencer stared at me and cut me a short smile. I closed my eyes and groaned- "Did he go nuts?"

- "No, I started by telling him you were alright."

- "Thank you,"- I whispered and sipped the cup he had prepared for me just the way I liked it, even with the little marshmallows.

- "Your mom went bonkers, though."

- "You called my mom?!"- I shouted, and everybody in the team turned around and looked at us- "Why did you do that?"- Spencer looked at me surprised and frowned.

- "You just got shot, chipmunk. Of course, I'm gonna tell your mom!"

- "But she is going to overreact!"

- "She won't! We already talked. She said she'd stop tomorrow by your apartment to have lunch."

- "Tomorrow, I'll be at work for lunch,"- I frowned, and I swear I wanted to cross my arms on my chest, but I couldn't, 'cos... I have been shot.

- "You won't be back to work until next week,"- Aaron announced from his seat, overhearing the conversation.

- "But Hotch! I'm ok!"

- "Spencer is correct. You just got shot. Take the rest of the week,"- I groaned and frowned at my boss.

- "I can still do my paperwork."- I can't believe I was begging not to get days off from work.

- "You do realize most people don't argue when their bosses give them a few days off, right princess?"- Derek took off his headphones and asked, frowning.

- "But I'm not injured,"- I argued, but I knew I was losing that fight.

- "Chipmunk, may I remind you, you just got shot!"- Spencer looked at me, annoyed.

- "But I'm fine! Look at me! I can dance!"- I was about to stand up and do a little dance, but Reid stopped me. He literally grabbed my good arm and kept me on my seat.

- "It's Wednesday. You just have to stay home Thursday and Friday. And I'll be there, making sure you won't do anything stupid."

I looked at Spencer and groaned one more time.

- "There's no way out of this, (Y/N). You are hurt, and I'm gonna take care of you."

- "Will you cook?"- I whispered and pouted, defeated. And Spencer chuckled, blushing.

- "I will definitely call and ask for your favorite food"- I tried not to smile and shook my head.

- "Oh no, no. If you wanna take the lead and take care of me, you will have to do the whole job and cook, Spencer Walter Reid."- I teased him, and his cheeks turned blood red in less than a minute.

- "Fine,"- he whispered, narrowing his eyes.

- "I can give you my carbonara a la Rossi recipe,"- David said to Spencer from his seat- "Guaranteed to heal all wounds, and special to cheer up your girlfriend, kid."

Everybody stayed quiet at the same time. I wide opened my eyes, shocked, and looked at Spencer, whose cheeks were burning red.

- "She... (Y/N) is not my girlfriend,"- Spencer mumbled and avoided looking at me for a few seconds. Rossi chuckled and turned to us.

- "You call each other cute nicknames, you are always together, you argue like I did with my first wife..."

- "No"- I shook my head and did my best to ignore Derek's teasing comments and Emily's laughter.

- "Well, you could have fooled me,"- David smiled at me, and I didn't know what to answer. I frowned and looked at Spencer, who somehow was even more blushed than he had been a moment earlier.

- "I'm driving you, by the way,"- he whispered, and I didn't really have the strength to argue against that, so I just nodded and sighed.

Spencer's point of view

I thought I was going to die when I saw (Y/N) lying on the floor, blood coming from her shoulder. Time passed in slow motion, like a movie cliché. I ran to her, and I didn't know if the perimeter had been secured. I had no idea if the unsub was dead. I would have killed him myself if I hadn't been focused on (Y/N).

Then she smiled and assured me she was ok. But that wasn't enough for me. Her face was so pale, though her smile was shining bright. So I held her and called a medic. She was in pain, and I didn't know what to do to help her.

I held her hand the whole ride to the hospital and stayed by her side in the ER while the doctor cleaned her wound and put some stitches on it. Then I walked with her to the jet, and the whole time I made my best and biggest effort to stay calm. But once we were on the air, on our way back home, I couldn't hold it back anymore. I could feel the tears fighting their way out, no matter how much I tried to keep them inside.

So I did what seemed more logical and locked myself in the backroom. I needed a minute to put myself together again before I had to continue pretending I didn't nearly lose the woman I love that day. So I washed my face and let the water run through my fingers for a few minutes, trying to calm myself down. But I failed, and the tears started falling down my cheeks anyway.

I rested my back against the door and slowly slipped down to the floor until I was sitting, hugging my legs, crying my heart out.

I knew why I was crying. It was a weird mix of fear and relief. I was scared to lose (Y/N), and at the same time, relieved nothing terrible had happened to her. I had to convince myself it was all ok, that she was there on the plane with me, hopefully trying to get some rest.

- "Spence?"- I heard JJ's voice at the other side of the door, and I quickly stood up and washed my face saying, "In a minute." I looked at my reflex. My eyes were puffed, my cheeks were red. There was no way I could ever convince anyone I hadn't been crying.

- "Can you open the door?"

- "There's another bathroom, JJ,"- I said and closed my eyes.

- "I need to talk to you."

- "I'm kind of busy here..."

- "Spence, please"- she begged, and I gave up, only because I knew she wasn't going to leave me alone. No one at the BAU seems to understand the concept of personal space.

I opened the door and let her in. The bathroom was too small for the two of us, and I didn't want to think of all the teasing I would get from Morgan if he saw us locked in there. JJ smiled and handed me a cup of coffee. I just sipped it carefully, 'cos it was very hot, and looked at my hands, avoiding eye contact.

- "Why were you crying?"- she whispered and stood against the wall in front of me.

- "I wasn't,"- I lied, but she just raised an eyebrow, and I knew it was useless to deny it- "It was a hard day, and I needed to decompress somehow."

- "Was it because of (Y/N)?"- she simply asked, and I just nodded- "It wasn't your fault, Spence."

- "I should have been there. But I stayed behind, on the phone with Garcia checking the plate of a car that didn't even matter at the end."

- "You were doing your job, and so was she."

- "But I should have done my job better, 'cos something bad might have happened to her, and I would have never forgiven myself,"- JJ nodded and reached out for one of my hands. I tried not to look at her but failed.

- "Are you going to tell her how you feel?"

- "Telling her I feel guilty she got injured won't stop her from being reckless,"- but JJ shook her head.

- "No, Spence. I'm talking about you telling her you are in love with her."

I widened my eyes and stayed still, shocked, blushed. JJ cut me a short smile and probably tried to soothe me, 'cos I immediately got all defensive.

- "What... what are you talking about? I am not in love with (Y/N),"- I whispered and prayed no one outside that bathroom had heard her.

- "Spencer, there is nothing wrong with being in love. I actually think you two would make a cute couple."

- "No, JJ, no. I am not in love with her."

- "Spence, I'm not a profiler, but you are not that hard to read. I can see the way you look at her."

- "She is my best friend."

- "But you love her,"- JJ sentenced, and I just sighed- "It's not wrong to have feelings for someone, Spence. I am sure she feels the same way too."

- "We are just friends. That's it. Thanks for the coffee,"- I added and opened the door.

I walked out of the bathroom in a rush. To avoid talking with anyone on the plane, I called Frank and told him what had happened. I also asked him for Mrs. (Y/L/N) phone number and explained the facts too. She was so scared it took me a while to calm her down.

- "I'm going to stay with her tonight,"- I said and looked at (Y/N) at the other side of the yet. She hadn't slept at all, and I knew she had to rest.

- "Thank you, Spencer. I'll be in Virginia tomorrow. I'm visiting Phoenix in New York this week."

- "Don't worry, Mrs. (Y/L/N), I'll take care of her."

- "You are the sweetest man she could have met,"- she whispered before hanging down, and I couldn't help but wonder if she knew it too.

Apparently, I wasn't hiding my feelings for (Y/N) very well. If JJ could see it, maybe anyone else could. And after what Rossi said, I didn't know if I was busted or not. I didn't know anything. (Y/N) seemed to be as shocked as I pretended to be, so I guess I felt safe. But I knew I had to watch my back now.

Of course, planning to stay with her that night didn't make it easier for me at all.

- "I'm ok, honey bunny,"- she argued and sat carefully on her couch- "You don't have to stay here with me."

- "I'm sorry, chipmunk, but you were shot. There is nothing on Earth that's gonna make me leave you alone right now."

- "Fine, then help me take a shower,"- she simply said, and I widened my eyes. I know I even held my breath at that. I stared at her from the kitchen door, on my way to make her a cup of tea.

- "Well, in that case, I, I will do... I will do whatever you need to help you,"- I whispered and made my best not to stutter. She shook her head and sighed.

- "I was bluffing, honey. But I mean it, you don't have to stay and take care of me. I'll be fine. Just go home and rest,"- but all I could do was walk to the kitchen and put on the kettle.

- "I'm not going anywhere, so... how do you feel about that carbonara a la Rossi recipe?"

- "Spencer Walter Reid, you don't cook."

- "I do cook! Do you think I've lived on take-outs and coffee all these years?"

- "Hell yeah!"- she said and chuckled. She was right, though. I wasn't the best or more experienced cooker on Earth. But for her, I could try.

- "I tell you what. What if you take a bath and relax, I'll cook you dinner, and then we'll watch a movie? Anything you pick."

- "Anything?"- she raised an eyebrow and stared at me so sweetly and concentrated, I nearly stopped breathing. I didn't trust myself with an answer, so I just nodded and looked at her. Her cheeks were blushing, and that made me feel better. Clearly, she was relaxing at home. The color was coming back to her after being hurt. That was always a good sign.

- "Even my favorite chick flick?"- (Y/N) bit her lips and caught my full attention with that simple movement. I nodded again, not really thinking what she meant with "chick flicks." All I could think of were her lips and how incredibly soft they looked.

- "Even Pride and Prejudice?"- she added, and I nodded again.

- "It's an essential piece of literature. Jane Austen was an incredible writer,"- my voice was muffled, and her eyes were shining- "Did you know In 1802, in her late 20s, Austen briefly accepted a proposal from Harris Bigg-Wither, the younger brother of two of her close friends? She rescinded it the following day."

- "Yes, neither her nor her sister ever married"- (Y/N) added, and her eyes moved from mine, traveling around the room- "She believed that a woman shouldn't get married if she wasn't in love. She once advised her niece Fanny Knight that "anything is to be preferred or endured rather than marrying without affection."

Somehow, (Y/N)'s eyes were blurry with sadness all of a sudden. Her words stopped. I was tempted to hold her hands that rested on her lap but stopped myself. I was scared to give too much away, and that she suspected how I felt about her. I didn't want her thinking I was in love with her. Don't get me wrong, I was. I am. And I know I will always love her. But that night on that couch, I was afraid of her rejection and scared she might have stopped being my friend if she ever knew how I really felt about her.

- "Maybe you are right, honey,"- (Y/N) whispered and slowly stood up- "I'll take that bath after all."

- "Watch those stitches"- I quickly stood up too and just nodded, looking at her as she started walking towards her room- "I'll cook dinner meanwhile."

- "Thank you, honey bunny,"- she said and turned around just to cut me a small smile before disappearing into her bedroom.

I made my best effort with dinner. I followed Rossi's instructions to the letter. (Y/N) had a lot of food in her fridge. Unlike me, she actually cooked her own meals. She was right about me and the take-outs. I had never been a great cook, and I trusted my local Thai place with most of my dinners. But that night was different.

Pasta carbonara was pretty good, I must say. (Y/N) opened a bottle of wine, though I told her it was a horrible idea mixing drinking with the pain killers she was prescribed.

- "I am actually not taking them,"- she whispered and took a sip of red.

- "You had a major injure on that shoulder (Y/N)."

- "It's just five stitches, honey. I don't need those pills. I actually didn't even get them,"- she replied. I looked at her in awe, thinking she was way stronger than she even gave herself credit for.

- "In that case, you can have two glasses of wine and extra dessert,"- I stated, and she chuckled.

We ate in silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable. I guess the two of us were pretty tired that night. It had been a long day, a long case, and though neither of us wanted to deal with it, we knew things could have easily gone wrong.

After eating, I cleaned the dishes and prepared a tray with a cup of herbal tea for (Y/N), a coffee for me, and two bowls of ice cream, and we cuddled on the couch to watch Pride and Prejudice. She whispered most of the lines and argued against Darcy for half of the movie. But by the end, she snuggled closer to me, and I wrapped an arm around her carefully, trying not to get near her shoulder at all. Her head was resting on my chest, and I could feel her sighing with each word that Darcy spoke.

- "What is it with you and this book?"- I asked her suddenly. She huffed and looked at me with a cut, short smile.

- "I don't know, but I've been obsessing with Darcy and Lizy ever since I first read the story. I guess the classic "fools in love" story is my weakness. How couldn't they see how much they loved each other from day one?"

My mouth fell open, but I didn't say a word. She just smiled and turned to the screen again. That was good. I didn't want her to see how flustered I was.

- "Darcy knew he loved her, but he tried to fall out of love with her, and she was completely blinded by her so-called "hate" towards him to deal with her real feelings."- (Y/N) added- "I know that's not a complex and complete study of the story but in a short version of the whole plot... I guess that's what's so endearing and addictive about it. Everyone has been Darcy or Lizzy."

- "I doubt most people can relate with having four sisters and an obsessive nervous mother who keeps forcing you to get married,"- I joked, and (Y/N) giggled.

- "You'd be surprised, honey,"- she sighed and snuggled closer. My hand played with her hair for a few more minutes until the end of the movie.

- "(Y/N)?"- I whispered when we were already in bed. I wore the pajamas I kept in my go bag and crawled into bed with her as soon as she asked me to sleep with her. Ee had done it before, it wasn't weird, and we were best friends.

There was absolutely nothing friendly with how I felt, though. But I had to put all those feelings in a box and hide them deep inside of me 'cos they were no good for our relationship.

- "What happens, Spencer?"

- "I just wanted to tell you... you scared me today,"- she sighed. We were already hugged, but she snuggled closer and kissed my cheek softly.

- "I'm sorry, Spencer. I'll be more careful, I promise."

It was such a simple promise, and I knew though she meant well, the job was always going to get in the way. Our lives were always on the line working at the BAU. And no matter how much we wanted to take care of ourselves, sometimes things were out of our control.

- "Promise me you'll be careful too,"- she whispered, and I leaned over to kiss the top of her head gently.

- "I promise I'll be careful, chipmunk."

- "Will you always come home to me?"- she whispered and sighed, dozing off.

- "Always. I love you so much, (Y/N)"- that last confession fell from my lips before I could even realize what I was saying.

- "I love you too, honey,"- she answered, her voice muffled against my chest.

I stayed still, trying to burn in my memory every second of that moment, 'cos I knew it was going to be one of my most precious memories until my last day.

–

DIWK Taglist:

@all-tings-diego @big-galaxy-chaos @muffin-cup @shilohpug @eternalharry @tvandfanfic

Spencer taglist

@calm-and-doctor

General Taglist

@spenxerslut @ash19871962 @babebenhardy @meowiemari @archer561

–

Do you want to be on the taglist or ramble about this chapter with me? Just send me a message here.

Next update: June 9th, 2021

#Spencer Reid #Criminal Minds #Spencer Reid fanfic #spencer x reader #Criminal Minds Fanfic #Matthew Gray Gubler #Babymetaldoll writes #fluff #angst #Spencer reid fanfiction #DIWK #Series #Criminal Minds rewrite #Derek Morgan #Penelope Garcia #Aaron Hotchner #David Rossi #jeniffer jareau

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theasstour · 4 years ago

Photo

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐋𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 𝟕.𝟓𝐤 𝐍𝐁: 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠 𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐧

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reblogged and sent me an ask after last chapter ❣️ I might not have gotten through all the asks yet, but know that I see all of you and I appreciate you more than I will ever find the right words to articulate 🌟 Thank you for the kind words and for reminding me of how fun it is to post my stories on here! Love you sm sm sm 🥰

Tuesday, 4 November 2017

One of the worst things Y/N knew of was seeing someone she cared about go through something troubling. If she knew them well enough, it would be written out on their face and in their gestures, making it so that she could not ever look past it and pretend everything was alright. Her ability to read people, to understand their wants and to see when something was off, was something she had crafted over many years of being a people pleaser. Now, it came naturally to her to study a person’s way of acting, talking, being, and then make them happy accordingly.

She realised when she grew older that the reason she did this was so people would look past her body and like her for who she actually was. She hated herself sometimes for still giving in to this need to please people all the time. She hated the things it had made her do in the past, how she had bent herself over backwards for people who did not, and would never, give a single shit about her. Though she felt at home in her body, she felt content in it, these tendencies to constantly make up for how she looked, to make light of it or make people feel comfortable around her, still hung around. With absolutely everything she was, Y/N hated that part of herself. She did not have to make up for anything. What did she have to apologise for? For existing? It did not make sense to her, but it had made sense to those that bullied her in school and those skinny people whose worst fear was becoming fat. Y/N’s worst fear, because of this, was not being liked. She realised how it all connected now.

Y/N realised how this need to please people came into play as she was sitting in a seminar room with Hayden, Chloe, Thian, Annalise, and three others from the International Society that Annalise often went to. Annalise was whispering in Dutch to the other Dutch girl she had met, while the rest of the room was relatively silent. Hayden had put on some music to lighten the mood, but it was evident that they were unsatisfied and sad. They were eight people; a single game of Uno was being played in a room that had been made so that at least 20 people would show up. Hayden had bought five decks of Uno, only for the one they brought with them to London to be the one the group ended up using. Their eyes drifted to the door every so often, silently begging for anyone else to show up to what looked to be a disastrous start to their Uno Society.

After two hours, they had to get out of the seminar room and go back home. As they were cleaning up, Y/N walked over to Hayden and helped them put their Uno decks and everything else they brought, back in their bag.

“More people will show up next time,” Y/N assured them.

“You’re just saying that.”

“No, I genuinely think more people will show up at one point.”

Hayden smiled at Y/N, though it did not reach their eyes. “If we don’t have at least 15 people by the third meeting, this won’t be considered a society by Helmond standards and we won’t be allowed to meet on campus grounds.”

Y/N felt a small tinge of panic at that. This was not usually the society people would jump to be part of, it would take a little while for people to want to show up to an Uno Society on a Tuesday every fortnight.

“We can hope more people will come, but I doubt they will,” Hayden said.

“There aren’t a lot of people our age who play Uno, though,” Chloe said as Hayden and Y/N made their way to the door.

Y/N furrowed her brows at Chloe’s comment, but did not say a word.

“No, but I love Uno, and it’s a very social game. It’ll be fun if a lot of people show up, you know?” Hayden said, closing the door behind them before they walked down the corridor for the exit.

“Obviously, people just don’t know what they’re missing,” Thian chimed in, showing off his usually wide, happy beam. “It’s a great idea, Hay.”

“Really? It’s not bound to flop?” Hayden asked, scrunching up their nose as if they could not quite believe what Thian was saying.

“Of course not,” Annalise said.

“It’s a nice break from all the assignments,” Y/N said.

“By the way, speaking of assignments,” Chloe groaned. “Y/N, have you started on the Othello presentation yet?”

“You haven’t had the presentation yet?” Thian asked.

“No, different Introduction to English Studies seminar groups have presentations at different dates,” Chloe said. “Since Y/N and I are seminar group E, we have it last. Monday, 4th of December.”

“That’s still a while away, though,” Hayden pointed out. “You still got a month.”

“Yeah, but the presentation’s 40% of the final grade. I know I’ll ace the essay, but we only get to have a five-minute presentation on Othello.” Chloe rolled her eyes. “How am I supposed to talk about how Othello’s a sexist play in just five minutes?”

“Easy,” Thian said. “You talk about how it’s a sexist play for just five minutes. You love to talk, it’ll be easy peasy.”

“I love to gossip, this is entirely different,” Chloe complained.

“Not really,” Y/N said, cocking her head a little to the side as the group rounded a corner. “You’re essentially just gonna gossip about Othello and what’s wrong with him and the way Shakespeare wrote the play.”

Chloe stared at Y/N for a few seconds, pursing her lips as she thought. A grin spread out across her lips and she nudged Y/N’s shoulder. “You’re right.”

“It’s gonna be fine,” Annalise smiled.

“And by the time that happens, the Uno society will be history,” Hayden mumbled, making Thian pout his bottom lip and wrap an arm around Hayden’s shoulders. They all made their way back to Dinwiddy, Lancaster Complex, and Fleming Hall, three of the seven different campus accommodations. Dinwiddy was definitely of a bit better standard than Lancaster and Fleming, but Y/N was sure that, had she decided to live on campus, she would have gone for either Lancaster or Fleming like Annalise, Thian, and Hayden. She said goodbye to all of them and went on her way, walking back to Haggerston while talking to her parents on the phone. They always insisted she call them if she walked out alone at night, no matter how many people were around.

The shops she strolled by were starting to put up Christmas decorations and sales, making Y/N long for holiday. She just wanted a few days off uni. Though it was only the first year, the amount of work they were getting was ridiculous, and Y/N felt like she either spent most of her time in the library with her Literature gang, or at a café with Nathan, doing uni work. The fact that Christmas lights and decorations were already making an appearance, gave her some hope.

Getting to Orsman Road was no problem, and Y/N hung up with her parents when she reached the flat building. The mere thought of her bed made her knees buckle, she could not wait to be snuggled up in a blanket and watching the newest true crime series on Netflix. Once inside, she got her shoes and outwear off, then walked straight for the kitchen. She halted.

In a pair of worn-out black rugby shorts and a black hoodie, Harry stood pouring water into the kettle. The muscles in his legs flexed and unflexed as he moved, making it impossible to look away from his thighs. Y/N could not find the right words to express just how much she hated those tiny shorts. It was as if he knew exactly what he was doing. Except he didn’t. He was very much just trying to wear something comfortable at home and Y/N was ogling him. He looked up as she entered.

“Hi,” Y/N said, walking over to the fridge where she kept her oat and banana milk.

“Hi,” Harry answered, watching her as she walked before putting the kettle on. “Been out shagging old men?”

Y/N blinked a few times before looking over at Harry as he put a teabag into his mug. “You’re very obsessed with my sex life.”

“I’m just nosy.”

Y/N sighed, knowing this was true from experience, and went back to getting her milk out of the fridge. “No, I was at a society meeting. The first one, actually.”

“Oh?” She could see in her peripheral vision that he turned around to watch her. “What kind of society?”

“Uno.”

Silence settled in the kitchen, and Y/N could hear Nathan and Mason in the living room next door playing something on the PlayStation. Y/N could feel Harry continue to just look at her as she poured herself a glass of the oat and banana milk. It was not until the milk was back in the fridge and Y/N met his eyes, that Harry spoke again.

“Uno?”

“Like the card game.”

“That’s… a niche interest.”

She raised her eyebrows. “And you’re being judgemental.”

Harry’s eyes grew wide. “No, no, no! I-“ He stopped himself, taking a grip of the kettle and quickly pouring himself a cuppa before meeting Y/N’s eyes again, something frantic shining within his own. “It’s just a very specific interest and society.”

She raised one of her shoulders. “Which is what makes it so amazing.”

“Yes. Yes, of course,” Harry said quickly, gesturing at her with his hand as if he completely agreed. Y/N wanted to laugh at how fast he was talking, as if he was desperate for her to understand that he was not being judgemental. “How was it?”

“Barely anyone showed up,” Y/N explained, sipping her milk.

Harry frowned. “Really?”

“Yeah, and at least 15 people total have to show up for it to be considered a society, or else Hayden, my course mate, can’t continue hosting on campus grounds.” Y/N sighed, looking at the ground. “Basically, if Hayden doesn’t find, like, twelve more people to join within the next two times, we won’t have a society any longer.”

Harry opened his mouth as if to say something, but just then, the sound of quick footsteps could be heard, and then Nathan’s face appeared in the doorway. A grin spread out on his face as he met Y/N’s eyes.

“Thought I heard you come in!” he exclaimed. “We’re playing GTA, wanna come drive some people over?”

Y/N smiled at that, scrunching up her nose. “As appealing as that sounds, I’m gonna have to decline.”

Nathan pouted his lips and Harry stood watching quietly. “Why?” Nathan asked.

“Have an essay that I need to finish.”

Nathan sighed heavily. “Fine. Guess I’ll let you write that bloody essay.”

“Excuse you? ‘Let me’?” Y/N rolled her eyes and Nathan laughed. She gave him and then Harry a smile, making her way out of the kitchen.

“Have a good night,” she heard Harry say as she walked through the doorway. She gave him another smile before walking up the stairs and to her room. She quickly got out of her clothes and into loungewear, taking all her make-up off and finding a fluffy blanket she could sit under in bed as she started writing her Introduction to English Studies essay. She could hear the boys shouting and playing downstairs and drowned it out by putting her earbuds in and shutting them out.

She ended up reading academic articles and writing down an essay plan until she felt her eyelids get heavy a few hours later. Putting her laptop away and finishing her oat and banana milk, Y/N took her contacts off and started getting ready for bed. The door to the room beside hers opened and closed, she could hear Harry rummaging in his room, though the sound was not disturbing in any way. The only disturbing thing about it was the fact that it was Harry, but Y/N was learning to accept that. It had only taken her two months, but she was coming to terms with the fact that Harry Styles, an ex-good friend of hers and person she had sex with once, was living and sleeping in the room right next to hers.

Friday, 17 November 2017

The pizza at Domino’s was absolutely amazing, but working for them was anything but. This was only Y/N’s first shift, and she was already dreading her next. Not only would she be bringing home with her the memories of a horrible first day on her new job, but she would also be bringing the smell of greasy pizza. She would have to do a deep clean in the shower before going to bed, she was not rubbing that smell onto her bedsheets.

With some experience working for Pizza Express before, Y/N was already well-versed working for a pizza chain. Pizza Express had been her job from 15 until she moved off to uni at 19, which she knew was what must have given her this new job at Domino’s rather quickly. As much experience as she had working at Pizza Express serving people, she had never been the one to drive around delivering pizzas. After all, she had not gotten her license until sometime last year, so it had never been a possibility. However, in the job description for this position at Domino’s, it had clearly stated that Y/N would be working mostly as a delivery driver, something that sounded chill at first, until she realised she would have to go deliver pizza to people that would be anything but friendly. Or maybe a little too friendly. Because of her inexperience in this particular field of the job, she had another employer join her for her first shift.

Isla was very quiet, maybe even a little too quiet for Y/N’s taste. She would mostly just stare out the window, sometimes chime in to help Y/N pick a quicker route, or help her make out how much she owed the customer if they paid a few quid too many. Other than that, Isla did not really offer much conversation wise. Even when the two of them picked up the pizzas for their first drive, the first time they spent together, Isla did not say much.

“Have you worked here long?” Y/N asked, giving Isla a smile so she would know that she was actually asking out of curiosity and not because she felt obliged to.

“A year.”

Y/N nodded as she sat down behind the wheel, Isla sitting down in the passenger seat. “I worked in Pizza Express at home in Nottingham before I moved here. Dunno why, I’ve always preferred Domino’s to Pizza Express. Though, Zizzi is top tier.”

Isla only nodded slightly.

Y/N had waited for a response, but realising she would not be getting one, she started the Domino’s car and started driving in the direction out of the parking spot on the street beside the tiny restaurant on Homefield Street. Y/N almost drove right into the Domino’s mopeds that all stood on the spot in front of the car. She just knew that at one point, she would be driving one of those. She followed the instructions on the GPS, up Hoxton Street, in the direction of Lavender Grove. Without any radio on, the car was very quiet. Too quiet. It made Y/N break out in sweat.

“Do you drive around with deliveries often?” Y/N asked.

Isla shook her head. “No.”

Y/N whipped her head back in the direction of the street in front of her, trying to produce spit so she could nervously swallow. Her mouth was too dry. “You work by the till then?”

“Mostly.”

Y/N smiled. “That’s the best place to work, isn’t it? Don’t have to drive around, don’t have to actually make the food.”

Isla gave a feeble smile. “I suppose.”

God, all Y/N wanted as an okay day. All she wanted was for one single day to be alright.

Isla would twine a single piece of her brown, bushy hair around her finger sometimes, then put it behind her ear, only to go back to fidgeting with it. Y/N was unsure if she was nervous to be in a car with someone she did not know, or if she was just deep in thought. Y/N wanted to get to know Isla, to make a friend at her new workplace, but she did not want to harass Isla if it meant it would make her uncomfortable. It was clear that she did not like being this close to Y/N considering the two had never met before and would now be spending a good six hours together. Therefore, to not push away what she hoped to be a future mate, she only made occasional conversation and then left Isla mostly to herself. She could sense that was what her companion wanted most of all.

In a particularly dodgy part of Lea Bridge, Y/N was delivering three pizzas to what she knew even before knocking on the door, would be to a rather creepy encounter. The man that opened the door was bald with glassy eyes and a blue tee shirt tucked into his grey joggers. At the sight of Y/N, he grinned.

“Three pepperonis?” she asked, wondering if this man just really loved pepperoni pizzas or if he was hosting a party.

“That’s me, yeah.”

“Alright.” Y/N handed him the three pizzas just as another man emerged from behind him, and it was then that Y/N noticed the incredible stench of alcohol and cigarettes. Some 80s rock was playing from a stereo and there did not seem to be much light on inside the flat. Y/N suddenly felt very sick.

“You pre-paid,” she stated, more to reassure herself that she could just leave than to make them aware that she knew they did not have to go get any money to pay her. “Have a nice night.”

“Wouldn’t be nice if you didn’t stick around,” the bald one holding the pizzas said.

“Yeah, why don’t you come inside? Have a bite with us?” the other one offered. “You look like a hard-working girl, why don’t you take a few minutes off with us?”

Y/N could feel her heart begin to beat faster, her hands begin to sweat. “No, I have to get back to work,” she said, giving them a smile before walking off.

“Wait, we didn’t give you a tip!”

“Come back, love!”

Y/N tuned them out as she walked down the stairs, keeping an eye over her shoulder and her ears on alert as she made her way back to the car. Isla was sat on her phone when Y/N sat back down in the driver’s seat, putting her seatbelt on a little too fast and gripping the steering wheel harder than she had previously. She just wanted to get away from those men, she just wanted that shift to be over.

“You okay?” Isla asked. The first question she ever asked Y/N. First time she ever took initiative to start a conversation. Y/N really appreciated it in that moment.

“Yeah,” Y/N said, sighing heavily. “Just hate men.”

Isla must have understood what Y/N was talking about because she nodded, looking straight ahead at the road in front of them. “I’m sorry you met the worst type of customers on your first night.”

“Had to meet them at one point, though,” Y/N said.

“You shouldn’t have to meet them at all.”

Y/N felt that statement reverberate through the car, lay in the air between them for quite some time after it was said. She could not stop thinking about it as she drove to the next destination, feeling disgusted and angry. Had she stayed there a second longer, she would have had to resist the urge to knee them both in the space between their legs. This was just one of the stupid encounters that night, though the rest were more so on the scale of weird than disgusting. Like a man that was clearly high thanking Y/N for his frozen milk when he had ordered three Ben and Jerry’s, or a woman with her hair a mess, make-up completely destroyed, and just her dress robes on, snatching the pizza out of Y/N’s hand before hurrying back inside. It was a strange few hours, and as she drove the car back to Domino’s Homefield Street, Y/N felt absolutely drained of energy.

Walking home after her shift at 3:30am was next to torture, she just wanted to be in bed, cosy underneath the covers, and forget about the fact that she was working tomorrow night as well. Though the Hoxton Street was washed in the yellow lights from the streetlamps and the occasional car driving by, it was anything but empty. Drunk people were walking home from pubs, while others, like her, walked home from another nightshift, and some were just out for a night stroll. She walked without listening to music, not feeling comfortable with not being completely aware of her surroundings when it was dark out. Besides, she was so tired as well, listening to music would probably put her to sleep.

Orsman Road was completely deserted, only a few people walking home from The Stag’s Head passed her smelling of beer and cigarettes. This street was darker, smaller, and less busy than Hoxton Street, so Y/N opted to walk in the middle of the road instead of in the shadows. She felt less vulnerable that way. As she reached the flat building, she got her keys out of her purse and went to unlock the door.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

She jumped, keys falling onto the asphalt. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Harry standing there with the smuggest, most infuriating look on his face. God, how she wanted to slap him until his teeth fell out. While she contemplated how to physically hurt him, Harry bent down, picked up Y/N’s keys, and put them back in her hand.

“Don’t lose those,” he said. “50 quid to get a new pair.”

Y/N only narrowed her eyes, unlocking the door for them both and striding on to the next floor. After opening the door to the flat, she got her shoes off, and walked straight for the kitchen. She needed strawberries, especially after the shift she just had. The door closed behind Harry and she heard him lock it before taking his shoes and jacket off, too. As she turned around after closing the fridge door, Harry stood by the kettle, filling it up with water.

“Didn’t know you worked at Domino’s,” he said, looking over at her briefly, nodding at her black Domino’s fleece jacket before turning his attention back to the kettle.

“Just started.”

“How’re you finding it?” he asked.

Y/N sighed, leaning her hip against the counter. “Considering this was my first shift and I have to show up again to work another nightshift tomorrow…” She pursed her lips as if deep in thought. “I’d say shite.”

Harry laughed, stopping the tap. “Tea?”

“No, I bought myself some banana and oat milk from M&S earlier, I’ll just have that. Thank you, though.” She gestured at what she had placed on the counter while he was busy with the kettle.

Harry watched her as she got herself a glass for the milk. “Can’t for the life of me remember you being a Tory.”

Y/N laughed. “Oh, you don’t remember me hating the poor?” she said, putting on a posh accent, Harry could not hold back his own laughter. “Quite a big part of my personality, don’t know how you missed it. Now-“ She put the milk back in the fridge. “-If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go spend five weeks at my £1.000.000 18 century holiday house in Surrey.”

Harry’s laughter echoed through the kitchen as he put the kettle on, shaking his head at her. “No, but how’d you like your first shift? Anything like Pizza Express?”

Why the fuck did he remember that? Why did he have to remember everything? Bloody hell…

“Not for me. There were just a lot of creepy men, and some very dodgy neighbourhoods. I’m sure that’s not all there is to the job as a delivery driver, I’m sure I was just unlucky my first time, but I can’t really afford to quit unless I have a backup.”

Harry frowned at that. “If you don’t like it and you feel unsafe, you don’t have to continue doing it.”

She nodded her head. “No, I know, but it’s still the only job I could find and that I could get at the moment. I’ll apply to others later.”

Harry’s frown deepened, crossing his arms over his black, tee-shirt covered chest. No tattoos on display. She wondered why he only had tattoos on his chest and torso.

“Yeah, alright…” he said, voice a little darker than before. “But if you feel unsafe-“

“-Harry, I practiced capoeira when I was younger, remember?”

At that, as if he was slowly unveiling a memory he had not thought about in a little too long, Harry smiled. A small, fond smile that Y/N remembered from a previous life; a life with far less troubles, far less complications than this one.

“Of course I do.”

Not “yes”. Not just “I do”. “Of course”. He had said “of course”, as if remembering was a privilege. As if not remembering would be the strangest thing in the world. Y/N hated that this man did not forget a single thing. Never had, never would.

“Well,” she said, trying to act normal after that. “Well, I can hold my own.”

“Good to know,” Harry smiled, getting a teabag from his cupboard. As he turned his body and face away from her, she saw something glisten in the lights of the kitchen. Two earrings. Two gold earrings right next to one another. In his ear. Y/N would never admit to it out loud, the sight made her mouth salivate. “But I still think you should quit if you don’t like your work.”

Y/N opened the strawberry container and took one out, taking a bite. She needed to look away from Harry, away from his two earrings, and away from him because he was making some points. She knew where Harry was coming from, she really did, but she could not go on living in London, using money every single day, and not have an income. Until something better came along, this would be her job. “How’s the pub?”

“Alright,” Harry said, pouring hot water into his mug. “I’m having my last shift there December 15th.”

Y/N blinked. “You’re quitting?”

“Yeah, I’m starting a new job in January.”

She raised her eyebrows, meeting his gaze again. “Okay, good for you. What one?”

“Tattoo artist.”

He had to be fucking kidding at this point. Y/N had to do everything to keep her eye from twitching.

“Just got my tattoo license, so I’m ready to go come January.”

Y/N did not want to admit it. She could not admit it. She physically could not. But… everything about Harry… everything he did, everything he said… It all hit different. And it did not help that Y/N, who loved tattoos, getting them, having them on her body, and seeing them on someone else’s, was now made aware that Harry could legally give people tattoos. He was going to become a tattoo artist in January. Y/N wanted to eat chalk.

Harry just looked at her, studying her face. “You okay?”

She swallowed the strawberry bite she had just taken. “Fantastic.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Did you draw your own tattoos then?”

For the second time that night, Y/N was witness to Harry’s smug smile. He raised his cuppa, cocking his head a little to the side as he said, “You’ve seen my tattoos?”

Y/N wanted to die.

“You’ve been sneaking into my room to watch me sleep, that it?” Harry asked. “You’ve probably seen the tattoo I have by my crotch then, too-“

“-Oi!” Y/N narrowed her eyes at him. “Piss off. I saw them when you were wearing that low-neck top at Footprint.”

Harry took a sip of his tea. “If you say so.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and Harry laughed.

“It’s jokes, Y/N.”

“Good. I’m genuinely scared you think I fancy you.”

Harry smiled. “You mean you don’t? Really?”

She took a hold of her strawberries and milk. “Goodnight, wanker.”

“I’m a dreamboat, what about this-“ Harry gestured at himself, flexing his arm muscles that weren’t really there. “-Doesn’t give you the fanny flutters?”

“You’re disgusting.”

Harry laughed.

“I was just interested to know about your job as a tattoo artist ‘cause I love tattoos,” Y/N explained.

Harry’s eyes travelled down to Y/N’s hand where the ‘M’ was tattooed, it lingered there for a moment too long. For some unknown reason, a tingle started up in Y/N’s thumb, making its way up her arm and to her breasts, then her stomach. Slowly, he lifted his eyes to her ribs where he must have seen her ‘saudade’ tattoo. Though it was not visible right then, it seemed as if Harry was seeing it all the same, sensing it somehow. At last, his eyes met hers, and Y/N felt something in her throat stop working. The tingle that had laid in her stomach just seconds earlier exploded, slithering all throughout her body and making her hyper aware of how knowledgeable Harry was of the tattoos on her body; of her. He must have paid more attention to her than she thought he had. Something about that made it hard to breathe. Bloody hell, she hated how fucking fit he was. She hated how she reacted to his glance, to his attention.

“I can tell,” he said, voice a tinge darker than before.

She was surely about to explode. Blinking a few times, she held her strawberries up, nodding her head to Harry in a silent goodbye, then made her way towards the door.

“Oh, Y/N,” Harry said, making her look over her shoulder at him. “Do you want some Ginger Nuts? I’m having some with my tea-“

“-No thanks. Goodnight.” Y/N walked straight out of the door and to her room, needing to stick her head out her window to cool down in the Regent’s Canal breeze before sitting down in her bed again. How could he be considerate, respectful, smart, pretty, and sexy at the same time? Some otherworldly powers had truly been at work these last few years to make Harry Styles into everything Y/N was attracted to.

She did not even want him as a boyfriend, she never had, there had never been any romantic feelings between them before and there never would be, but he was just so… so… frustrating. In every single sense of the word. He was just… very attractive. Very pleasing to look at. Everything that got to Y/N. And Y/N wanted to scream at Harry for making it so hard to ignore him, and at herself for falling for it.

Wednesday, 29 November 2017

Y/N was originally going to travel home to Nottingham that Friday so she could stay home that weekend. She had not been home since September, and though they only had two weeks of uni left before Christmas break, she wanted to go home this weekend. She missed her parents terribly and wanted to see them so badly, she could simply not wait until Christmas. So, because it was the last Wednesday of the month, Y/N travelled back up to Nottingham.

Every last Wednesday of every month, Davi would invite all of his Brazilian family who had settled in Nottingham after he had, as well as Lottie’s parents, over for feijoada. Brazil has many region-specific dishes, yet the one that best translates into a nationwide dish is the beloved feijoada. The name stems from the word feijão, which is Portuguese for bean, and also the key ingredient of feijoada, which is essentially a bean stew mixed with beef and pork. Though, depending on what region of Brazil you are in, you will find different ingredients added to the feijoada.

In Rio de Janeiro and Minas Gerais, feijoada is almost always cooked with black beans, while in Bahia, red or brown beans are preferred. In Bahia and Sergipe, they also usually add extra vegetables to the feijoada such as plantain, kale, potatoes, carrots, cabbage, and pumpkin. However, in the rest of Brazil, feijoada is simply beans and meat with no additional vegetables. It is served with white rice, shredded kale with bits of fried bacon, crispy pork crackling, and slices of oranges that are meant to aid the digestion of the heavy meal. Which is what Y/N had grown up eating.

Typically, it is served at noon on Wednesdays and Saturdays, as this hearty meal is a thick mixture that will have you full in no time. The only activity Y/N would recommend after it, is bed and a good book. Maybe even a little nap. Their big family often used to eat it during the weekend as it meant more time spent with the family, more time spent chatting and being social, but Davi who worked in a bakery, had often worked Saturday and Sunday afternoons, meaning that it would fit best for the family to keep the tradition of hosting the meal on Wednesdays at Davi and Lottie’s house. Which was why Y/N was on her way home that Wednesday at the end of November.

Closing Vidas Secas by Graciliano Ramos that she had just been reading, Y/N got up from her seat to get off the train. Graciliano Ramos was Y/N’s favourite writer of all time. Though she loved English Literature and especially loved studying it, she always found his works to be better than most. He was the only modernist writer she could stand. São Bernardo was her favourite of his novels. A story about a man who, having been born poor, gets rich using any ruthless means he can and ends up utterly alone. It had stuck with Y/N her entire life. The main character’s ability to love others, his selfishness, and arrogance, make up one of the most complex characters of world literature, in Y/N’s opinion.

In the last chapter of São Bernardo when Paulo Honório reflects on his life alone at night, Y/N found some of the best few pages she had ever read. The closing words ‘I ruined my life stupidly’ express the agony of a man whom Y/N learned to despise throughout the book, but who, thanks to the mastery of the author, leads us with him through his tragic life choices towards self-destruction. Y/N got goosebumps just thinking about it.

Stepping off the train with her small bag and book under her arm, Y/N walked straight for the train station exit. She recognised her mother’s brown hair in a bun at the top of her head, a pair of colourful flare trousers on along with a white buffer jacket. Lottie jumped up and down at the sight of Y/N and ran for her daughter, throwing her arms around her in a tight embrace.

“My baby,” she said, kissing Y/N’s cheeks and forehead. “Oh, my Y/N.”

Y/N hugged her mother back, burying her face in her mother’s neck. She did not care that she could hear Vidas Secas fall into the tiled floor or that her bag would get dirty where it lay, all she cared about was her mother’s embrace and the smell of home around her. She was fluent in two languages, yet Y/N could not find a word that could quite capture how happy she was to be home just now.

“Okay, my dove,” Lotte said, taking Y/N’s bag off the floor. Y/N bent down and picked up her book, bringing it to her chest. “Let’s go home.”

The two of them walked out to the car park, and Lottie quickly started driving them in the direction of Y/N’s childhood home. The familiar ride and the familiar city outside the car windows made her relax, sinking far into the seat until she felt enveloped in safeness and contentment. It didn’t take them long to reach the semi-detached brick house, all their family members’ cars parked out front and visible in the windows overlooking the street. Y/N took her own bag this time, and her mother led the way up the stairs to the house so she could open the door for her.

There was no time for Y/N to go upstairs with her bag and book, because she was bombarded with hugs and kisses the second she stepped inside. Her grandfather, avô, her grandmother, avó, her papai’s two sisters and her aunties, tia Gilma and tia Lara, their husbands and her uncles, tio Jaren and uncle Finnley – who was British and had met Lara after she moved here -, and her seven cousins, or primos. They all came rushing to her, with her British grandmother and grandfather grinning and waiting for her to be done hugging and kissing everyone. Being with them and smelling feijoada everywhere, made Y/N almost tear up. Blimey, ever since moving away to University, she had become so incredibly sappy.

“Amorinzho!” came like a scream from the kitchen. Davi came out into the foyer with his apron still on and the biggest grin on his face. He threw his arms around Y/N. “Eu tenho saudade de você.”

She had missed him, too. So much. She felt safer, more at ease, almost more herself now that she was reunited with her parents close.

So, she told him that as she whispered, “Eu também senti sua falta,” back. Her papai hugged her a little tighter at that, grinning at her with tears in his eyes as he squeezed her shoulders.

“Y/N!” avó shouted from where she now sat in the living room, her grey hair in a long braid down her back and a big knitted cardigan wrapped tightly around her small frame. “Venha comer!”

“I’ll come eat in a second,” Y/N said. “I just need to put my bag in my room.”

“I’ll do that for you, my sausage,” Y/N’s grandfather said, stroking her cheek before he bent down and brought the bag with him up the stairs to her room. Since her mother had been an only child, her parents, Y/N’s grandparents, had always been very caring and constantly present as Y/N and Marcela had been their only grandchildren. Not that her avós had not been present, because they really had, her entire family had, but her grandparents’ life had no meaning if it were not for Lottie, Y/N and Marcela.

Y/N walked past all her family and to the kitchen where her papai stood making her a plate of feijoada. He handed it to her and she smiled at him before helping herself to some rice. Just then, Lottie walked into the kitchen as well, hugging Y/N from behind before she walked over to make her daughter something to drink. Silence stretched out in the kitchen as conversation started back up again in the living room, everyone talking about everything and nothing, in English and Portuguese. But, something that was unusual for her parents, they did not say a single thing. Though this might not be unusual for some, it was extremely unusual for someone who came from a generally very talkative family.

“Charlotte,” Davi said, looking over at Lottie. “We should…”

“Not yet.”

Y/N looked over her shoulder at her parents. “What?”

“We should tell her.”

“She just got home, Davi,” Lottie reasoned. “We can tell her later. Let her enjoy her feijoada.”

“No, what’s going on?” Y/N asked again, turning her body to face them now.

“No, amorinzha,” Davi said, squeezing Y/N’s shoulder. “Your mother is right; we can talk about it later. It’s not appropriate to do it now.”

“What’s going on? What’re you talking about?” Y/N looked at her papai, then at her mum, both of them sharing a look with one another that Y/N did not understand. Over the years, she had become a master at deciphering what her parents were discussing when they shared looks, though she never managed to quite understand the proper subject of discussion, she could detect the mood. She understood this was more of a serious matter.

“Tell me,” Y/N said, feeling her heart begin to beat a little harder, a little faster, the more time went by without any of them saying anything.

“Fine,” Lottie sighed. “Put your plate down first.”

Y/N did so reluctantly, not taking her eyes off of her parents. If it was serious enough for her mother to want her to put her food down so she would not drop her plate, then Y/N was on the fence if she even wanted to know what was going on or if she wanted to live in blissful ignorance of it.

“Your pai and I have decided to sell the cabin.”

Y/N’s heart stopped beating. Her body felt numb, the chatter in the living room deceased to exist as she just looked at her mother, and then at her papai. Her mum, and then pai. Suddenly, as if slapped with a brick, Y/N’s brain roared to life and her body came as hot as coal. She looked at her mother who had been the one to speak, her mouth falling open and shutting again as she continued to process what she had just been told.

“You’re… you’re going to sell the cabin?” Y/N asked them, just to be completely sure that what she heard was correct.

“Yes,” Davi answered.

“You’re selling the cabin?” She could not believe it.

“Y/N-“

“-You’re selling our Newport cabin? The one in Wales?” she asked again, her voice rising now. They did not have any other cabins, but Y/N just had to know she was not mistaken. They couldn’t… They couldn’t just…

“Y/N, we never go there anymore,” Lottie reasoned. “We want to spend the money we use on the cabin on something else, we don’t know what yet.”

“So, you’re just going to sell the cabin where your daughter was murdered?” Y/N asked, voice filled with so much rage she barely recognised herself when she spoke. “Where Marcela was most likely stabbed? You’re selling that cabin?”

“We’re never there because she was… she was killed…” Davi cleared his throat. “Spending time inside that cabin when we know what happened inside it, does not feel right.”

“No, selling it isn’t right,” Y/N said. “What if there’s more evidence inside? What if there’s somewhere they haven’t looked?”

“Baby, they have cleaned out the cabin and there’s nowhere they haven’t looked. There’s nothing more they can investigate,” Lottie explained. “We don’t want to own that cabin anymore.”

“Kit murdered Marcela in there,” Y/N said. “Her murderous ex-boyfriend is running around somewhere because no one investigated that cabin thoroughly enough.”

“Selling it doesn’t mean they are going to stop investigating Marcela’s case, amorzinho,” Davi pointed out.

“We don’t… We still don’t know if Kit did it,” Lottie mumbled. “It was most likely him, but there could have been someone else who killed Marcela, Y/N.”

“Marcela’s body hasn’t been found, there’s no trace of Kit’s blood or remains on that property. That murderer is on the loose, something inside that cabin can tell us he killed her, I am sure of it.”

“Y/N, Kit hasn’t been seen since the murder either. Maybe he was killed, too,” Lottie said.

“Mum, Kit was a rubbish person, why are you sticking up for him?” Y/N groaned, running her hands over her face.

“We decided, Y/N,” Davi mumbled, rubbing his daughter’s back. “It’s happening.”

That was all Y/N needed to hear. She took her plate in one hand and the glass with water her mother had made her in another, and she walked straight past everyone in the living room and up to her room. She felt like a child stomping past everyone like that, but she just needed to be with her thoughts. There was absolutely no way they were selling that cabin. Not that cabin. Y/N was sure there was evidence in there somewhere, the police and the investigators had just not looked thoroughly enough. That was all. And if they had done a shite job, well… that just meant Y/N had to do it for them. She had to go to that cabin and look for herself once and for all. After all, who else would? It did not seem like anyone cared anymore.

NEXT UPDATE: Sunday, 21th March, 9PM GMT!

Huge thanks to my AMAZING beta readers! 🏛️ @aileenacoustic 🏛️ @devil-in-bw-the-sheets 🏛️ @sunflowerstache 🏛️ @fromyourstrulyh 🏛️

FIC PAGE | COME TALK !!!

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #1dff #:DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD COME TALK PLSSSS :DDDDDDDDDDDDDD

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dynyamight · 3 years ago

Note

fluffy prompts! 211 please! :) -sneakers <3

send me a writting ask

211. We’re a team, remember?

If he had the option, Midoriya would prefer to patrol alone.

And, everyone seems to be baffled about it.

“Can you blame us? You don’t look like the lone wolf type, you know.” Shinsou had mentioned before, back in the locker rooms.

Blinking, Midoriya tilted his head over to him, a few lockers away. “I didn’t know lone wolves had a look.”

“They don’t. But, if they did, they wouldn’t look like you.” Shinsou sighed, bringing a towel up to his neck. He dabbed gingerly at the sweat. “Though, I guess with your power, you wouldn’t need another person to weigh you down.”

“It’s not about power. I just don’t want to drag anyone into immense danger.” Midoriya admitted, slipping his arms out of his hero costume.

Immediately, he felt a sharp jolt of pain cease his arms. He winced, looking down at the stitches around his shoulders, now tightened, fresh, and sensitive.

The wound, as well as the others littering his body, are reminders of that danger he worries for others. Each fight is with a different villain, varying in strength and quirk. But, they all have the same intentions when battling Midoriya.

Enemies want him dead. Simple as that.

Sometimes, even everyday people wish him dead.

And, it’s the type of danger he wouldn’t want anyone to face.

Shinsou shrugged, having tossed his wraps in his locker. “You say that, but all heroes are bound to be in danger, at some point. Aren’t they?”

“That’s not—“

Midoriya halts, immobilized. At first, he worries the new frozen sensation is an enemy quirk activating, from their recent shift on the clock. He instantly cursed himself for not being attentive.

But, a split second later, he realized from the tooth eating grin from Shinsou, that it was actually his doing.

He had been in the middle of unbuckling his utility belt. So much for that.

“Life and death. It’s the real game we’re all playing out in the city.” Shinsou stated, buttoning up his civilian clothes. “And, you swear you are its only player, Midoriya.”

The spell finally broke. Finally able to regain his movements, Midoriya gasped a deep, willful breath. “I-I just don’t want anyone to worry about me.”

“Worrying is a part of teamwork.” Shinsou insisted, shaking his head, “If we didn’t worry, then everyone would be reckless, without a care in the world. People wouldn’t care, and then, there would be no sense of compassion, anywhere.”

Pulling off his stirrups, Midoriya weakly laughed, unable to say anything else.

Yeah, that seems to be something he does too often, than not. Reckless. Spontaneous. Relying on gut feeling.

But, Midoriya cares, he does. Just, maybe not the way the rest of the world does.

So willing to give himself, grow tired and weak. When others just want him to rest.

Midoriya left shortly after that. He felt a little guilty, leaving Shinsou earlier than usual. He hoped his friend knew that he appreciated his advice, as well as his honest truth.

However, he had lost the will to continue the rather self-exposing conversation. Besides, the exhaustion always settles into his bones, the moment he stops moving and starts thinking.

Alas, he has a long way back home; clock out of the agency building, take the elevator, walk to the train station, street stop, and up the elevator to his apartment.

Which leads him to now; standing outside his apartment complex, shivering under nothing, but a hoodie and sweats.

His teeth chatter, behind his face mask, as he tries to jiggle the keys inside. The winter night breeze burning his nose cold.

A click resounds his brain, and relief washes over him. The moment he steps inside, the guard he feels, tight in his shoulders, drops finally. Closing the door gently from behind, Midoriya lets out a long needed sigh.

Home. He’s back home.

Quietly, Midoriya offers a pardon of intrusion, as he shuffles his shoes off at the front. He sets down his work duffle bag on the floor, mentally promising to wash his hero costume and the undergarments, early in the morning.

He wishes he could at least put them in the washer. But, the weight of his eyelids feel so heavy; he stumbles into his bedroom simply on instinct, rather than sight.

Slowly, Midoriya pushes the cracked door open. With quiet footsteps, he walks to the bed, towards one open space, ready for his arrival.

The other space was filled, obvious by the big lump of covers right beside it.

Lifting the bedsheets, Midoriya simply worms himself inside. He makes sure to leave a gap between him and the occupied space, as to not alert his presence. He even makes sure to keep his chilled toes curled, towards himself.

It was futile. The body shifts, and suddenly, a tired, glaring pair of red eyes look at him. “..Took you long enough.”

Midoriya’s heart tightens, feeling bad. “Ah, it was supposed to be a double shift, but then, they needed me for an extra team up. Everything changed at the last minute.”

Twelve hours, out roaming the city. And, then, a whole team mission added on top of all of that. More or less, two days out in the city. Draining didn’t even cover the amount of tired he felt.

“Tch. ‘Course you did..” Under the covers, a warm pair of arms outreach towards Midoriya. They wrap around his waist. “Had me fucking waiting.”

Midoriya smiles, bringing his own body closer to the warmth of limbs. Cold and hot legs entangled together. Arms at each other’s waist. Foreheads touching.

“I didn’t mean to make you wait, Kacchan. Sorry.” He whispers, closing his eyes.

He hears Bakugou click his tongue, before there’s a hard pinch at his cheek. Midoriya whines at the pain, but Bakugou pays no mind.

“Send a damn text, next time.” Bakugou hisses.

“Okay, okay! My face s’hurting, Kacchan.”

He doesn’t need to see Bakugou’s intense glare; he can feel it staring right at the space between his brows. However, instead there’s a soothing hand that runs through Midoriya’s curls. “Gross. You’re freezing as hell, and you didn’t even shower, either?”

Midoriya shakes his head. “I will do it later.” He sleepily says.

“And your clothes?”

“..Will do it later.”

Bakugou growls, and Midoriya mentally prepares for the onslaught of curses and complaints at his lazy attitude.

But, it never happens. Instead, Bakugou pulls himself closer to Midoriya, head nestled in the crook of his neck. “S’fine.” He huffs.

“I swear I will do it tomorrow morning.” Midoriya offers weakly.

“Don’t bother.” Bakugou breath tickles around Midoriya’s ears. “Sleep in. I’ll do it.”

“No, please. I will—“

“Did I fucking stutter?” Bakugou mutters, and there’s a small pull at his ear. “I said don’t bother. And, I mean it.”

“Then, I will make breakfast.”

“No.”

“..How about lunch?”

“I said no.”

“Kacchan, please—“

“Fucking hell, go to sleep!” Bakugou yells into his ear, tightening his grip around Midoriya. “Just— I got all of tomorrow. Sleep.”

Midoriya shrugs against the embrace, heart feeling heavy. “I can do it all, too.”

“M’not saying you can’t. I know you can.” Bakugou whispers, running his fingers through his curls again, “But, you keep forgetting that you don’t have do shit alone all the damn time.”

“I just prefer—“

“To do it all on your own. Yeah. I fucking know.” Bakugou sighs, “But, we’re—“

There’s a moment of hesitation, obvious on Bakugou’s end. However, after a deep breath out, Bakugou wills himself to speak. “..We’re a team, remember?”

Midoriya’s face reddens instantly. A team. That’s another way to put it.

Dating. They’re dating. Almost a year now.

And, Bakugou even remotely mentioning it never fails to make Midoriya feel the fanny flutters all over again.

“Y-Yeah.” Midoriya barely voices, wobbly smiling, “We are.”

“Then, let me do shit.” Bakugou mutters, his face feeling hot against Midoriya’s neck, “Let me be there for you.”

“You don’t have to..” Midoriya insists feebly.

“I ain’t doing it out of force. Even if it’s just for one day, I want to help you.”

Sighing, Midoriya brings his hand to Bakugou’s chin, lifting up his head. Their gazes meet. “You mean that?”

Bakugou rolls his eyes. “God, how much more do I got to fucking spell it out to you? Yes.”

Letting a soft snort, Midoriya inches his face close. “It’s like you love me, or something.” He teases.

“Shut it.” However, there’s a slight upturn in the corners of Bakugou’s lips. “You’re the fucking worst.”

Midoriya smiles back. “Thank you for putting up with me, Kacchan.”

“You put up with my shit, just as much.” Bakugou mumbles.

“Yeah, but I have problems.”

“Don’t we all.”

Midoriya laughs feebly, shaking his head. He closes his eyes, losing the strength to keep them open any longer. “Thank you for worrying about me..” He plants a small kiss onto Bakugou’s lips, before settling his head onto his shoulders.

“Hah? Who said anything about ‘worry’? I ain’t fucking worried.” Bakugou growls, “Never have been. Never will be.”

But, Midoriya knows better. Especially with how close Bakugou holds him, and the way he continues to rub a comforting hand onto his back, making sure to avoid his stitched shoulder.

Warming him up. Lulling him to sleep. Allowing him to let go of all his stresses.

Midoriya smiles himself to sleep.

#star responds #FINALLY !! settled back home ;; & now i can post my airplane ficlets !!#hope you like this one sneaks !! it's soft & sweet just like you #also i was so sleepy writing this so it was totally self projection #bakugou being touchy & gentle we LUV #clingy bkdk #bakudeku #bkdk #dekubaku #katsudeku #gardenjade #dekusneakers #my beloved #FICLET

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firewoodfigs · 4 years ago

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Hi!! Could you do "It was a hospital bed, and A slipped in carefully to lie beside B all night" for a Royai fic from that prompt list? Thank you!! ❤️❤️

hello anon!! thanks for the prompt aaaah I had a lot of fun toying with it in between work and the other shenanigans that have been cropping up this week <3 I hope you don't mind the somewhat unusual ending ahaha I dimly recall writing a few other fics indirectly responding to this prompt (here and here!) so I wanted to try something slightly different from my usual fare 👉🏻👈🏻 part of this was also originally from a two-shot I'm working on, tweaked to fit the prompt hehe. I hope you enjoy!!! 🥰

+++++

Riza can think of a million reasons why hospitals are awful.

First, the food. She’s not sure if it’s as nutritious as they make it out to be; there are times when she wonders if it’s even edible. She’s had worse, of course - hospital food isn’t as bad as ration bars - but she’s quickly getting tired of eating plain yoghurt and bland porridge every day, for every single meal.

Second, the stench. Riza hates that every inch of the place smells like a victim of obsessive cleanliness; she has to resist the urge to upchuck every time the door opens and the smell of chemicals and antiseptic filters in like an unwanted guest.

Third, the fact that she’s sharing a room with a man who, at this point, is behaving more like a cat on hot bricks than a disciplined soldier is quickly driving her insane. She’d readily agreed to be his caretaker, of course; Riza doubts there’s anyone else capable of dealing with his antics and ever-growing anxiety. But after hearing him sigh and toss and turn in his bed for the fifty-eighth time that night (she’d counted, because she was bored out of her wits, and there was nothing else she could do other than sleep or stare at the ceiling, per doctor’s orders), Riza decides she’s just about had enough.

She looks at him from her bed. He’s presently engaged with twiddling his thumbs, thinking out loud.

Riza sighs and rises from her bed quietly. She brings the IV stand along with her - an unnecessary inconvenience - and carefully slips into his bed once she’s made sure that the tubes and wires connected to them are tangle-free.

“I never pegged you as an opportunist, Lieutenant,” he murmurs, despite her best efforts to be discreet. “Sleeping with your commanding officer while he’s blind?”

“You could always court martial me later, sir,” Riza deadpans. “Now scoot over.”

Luckily, he obliges without much retort.

“Your wish is my command.”

Riza huffs. She adjusts the thin, scraggly piece of linen that the hospital justifies as a blanket - another downside of this shitty place - and makes sure he’s probably covered, warm.

“Three words,” she mutters.

“Eight letters?”

“Twelve, actually.”

Roy raises a brow. “What could it be?”

“Would you like to wager a guess, sir?”

“Not really.”

“You’re an idiot,” she says. Roy laughs, and it’s a tiny little sound that is so discordant with his current mood, but it’s at least genuine. “Now go to sleep.”

“Alright, alright.”

He stops fidgeting, for a while. Riza closes her eyes and attempts to fall asleep - and she actually does, for a while - at least until she hears the sheets rustling again, the movement and tension coming from beside her. She groans softly.

“You should sleep, sir.”

She feels him stiffen. Roy smiles sheepishly, looking right through her like she’s not there. It still unnerves her how this is probably going to be their new normal: him without his sight. Her as his eyes.

“Sorry.”

Riza frowns. An apology is not the answer she wants. What she wants is for him - or them both, actually - to sleep and rest and properly recuperate so that they can have a speedy recovery, so that they can get out of here as soon as possible.

“Bad dreams?” she asks, because it’s the exact same thing that’s been haunting her. (She’s lucky her throat makes it impossible for her to scream or kick up a fuss; she’d hate for Roy to stumble blindly through the room in what he probably thinks is an act of chivalry and/or heroism.)

He shrugs.

“Then and now,” he offers. His smile fades, and he lapses into an unexpected moment of vulnerability. “Hard to differentiate between day and night nowadays, too.”

And because Riza doesn’t know what to say, she simply brushes her knuckles against his.

Roy returns the gesture, drawing indiscernible patterns on the back of her hand with his bandaged one.

“Well, it’s almost midnight now, sir.”

He lets out a small laugh, but it’s painfully hollow.

Riza shifts slightly. It’s a bit of a tight squeeze - hospital beds are clearly not meant for two persons (or anything inappropriate) - but it doesn’t bother her all that much. She just wishes there’s more she can do, to comfort him. Make him feel a little less gloomy.

“It feels like I’ve been sleeping for years.”

“If it helps reduce the incidents of you falling asleep during office hours, then you should get more sleep now, while you can.”

Roy turns, like he’s searching for her, even though there’s not much closer she can be at this point. He exhales shakily. She feels his hand trembling against hers, and responds with a gentle caress. (She knows he’s still feeling guilty, probably berating himself internally about their predicament, about what transpired beforehand. And to be fair, there’s a part of her that’s still angry about all that's happened underground. They’ll probably have to talk about it, at some point, but probably not now — not when they’re both still drugged up and only half-lucid.)

“Humour me, Lieutenant.”

“What?”

“I can’t sleep,” he confesses. Dimly, Riza notes that his voice has taken on a somewhat petulant edge — like a child complaining about their bedtime, but she doesn’t comment on it. Being nearly bedridden for a week is enough to drive her nuts, too. “I’ve tried counting sheep and all that shit, and it’s just — it’s not working.”

Riza sighs. She’s tired, yes, but she’s also aware that she’s probably not going to get any sleep at this rate. She tries to think of ways to stave off his restlessness. Reading is one — she can probably bore him into sleep with a Xingese recitation (she’s gotten pretty good at that lately), but she’s technically not supposed to be talking much. Alcohol is another, but neither of them are supposed to be drinking (and besides, the only form of alcohol available in hospitals isn’t meant for human consumption). Maybe chess, then. She’s not particularly keen on playing a game of chess, now (because she just wants to sleep), but she thinks it’ll help exhaust some of his boundless energy.

“We could play a game of chess, if you want. Breda was kind enough to drop a vinyl board here in the afternoon.”

“I can’t see —“

“I’ll tell you where I move my pieces.”

He frowns, clearly not liking the idea. “You’re not supposed to be talking much, Lieutenant.”

“I’m fine,” she insists, turning to pour a cup of water for herself before continuing. “I won’t have to speak much — unless you’re being a nuisance or a cheat or a fraud.”

He laughs. “I’ll be none of those things, Lieutenant.”

“Good.”

She sets up the board on his bed and helps him sit up. Riza lets him play white.

“It’s your move, sir.”

“You’ve made yours?”

“No. You’re playing white.”

“Tough. It’ll be more embarrassing if I end up losing.”

Riza smiles. “Well, we don’t know that yet, sir.”

He opens with pawn to e4. She helps him move his pieces and parrots her movements back to him. Pawn to e4, too. Pawn to d4. Same here. A closed game, not quite like his usual aggressive style of playing.

Riza watches as he frowns with intensity. It’s probably more a test of memory than strategy for him at this point. She wonders if there’s a way he can adapt to chess, to the military’s utilitarian (and frankly unsympathetic) demands now that his sight’s impaired.

(Life is so unlike chess, Riza thinks, in spite of Roy’s silly metaphors that postulate otherwise. The rules are never fixed, and the universe is always rife with uncertainty. It’s not like chess, where you can predict your opponents’ moves if you get good enough. Neither of them had expected that he’d be here right now, losing sleep and contemplating life over a chessboard while blind.)

He clucks his tongue, reciting a series of movements from memory. The Blackmar-Diemer. Riza smiles indulgently.

Still as aggressive as ever, sir.

Of course.

The game quickly becomes a round of blitz, and though he manages to open his lines and mount a rather decent attack, it’s clear that he has trouble recalling after the eighteenth move. It's still an impressive feat, though. Better than the average layperson.

“Check,” Riza announces, conversationally. Technically, she’d had the advantage, both on the board (and in real life). It shouldn’t really count, and besides, checkmate isn’t her objective — it’s to get her commanding office to sleep.

“Well-played,” Roy hums. He’s strangely still in his bed as he closes his eyes, rubbing at his temples — presumably to ease off an oncoming migraine. It happens a lot, when he’s in deep thought, when he’s over thinking. Thinking too much for his own good. “I need to work on my recall, I think.”

“I think so too, sir.”

He laughs, but the sound is again empty, foreign. It is so at odds with his usual smirks and unbridled laughter (when he’s laughing at someone else, or a joke made at somebody’s expense), like there’s an ache beneath the surface that she cannot reach.

Roy turns slightly, bumping into his dethroned king as he adjusts himself on the bed.

She blames the sudden, uncharacteristic urge to cry on her drugged-up system.

(Riza doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to how uncommunicative his eyes are. He’s always regarded each and every one of his subordinates with respect and meaning and gratitude, but he’d simply looked over the unit as if taking inventory when they had come by earlier.

But she’ll make do, Riza thinks. She has to. She’s always known him in a way nobody else has, in a deeply intimate way, like a book she’s memorised by heart.)

They fall silent for a few minutes. His lips part a little - she knows he’s about to say something - but it snaps shut again, like he can’t bring himself to say the words.

Riza simply waits for him, like she always has; holding onto his held breath like it's the last thread of hope. She leans into his touch a little closer than necessary.

I’m right here, even if you can’t see me.

Roy smiles.

“I hope I won’t forget your face, Riza.”

#royai #royai fanfic #royai fic #sorry my lunch break is almost over so I gotta go back to work LOL but I will come back and edit this later AHAHAHAH #my new brand is 'excessive usage of chess metaphors' and man. it shows.......#lovely anon <3 #have a great week anon!!! mwahmwahmwah!!!!!!#reblogs and comments are always appreciated :")

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littlesmartart · 4 years ago

Text

Leverage AU thoughts

okay so I wanted to keep the worldbuilding for the AU in that specific photoset relatively short for the sake of how the post worked, but I've seen a lot of questions in the tags so here is some more information for you all, under the cut because it got LONG:

MORALITY: okay so I called this the "(sort of) Leverage AU" because it basically flips the Leverage concept of "criminals work together with one non-criminal for the greater good" into "one criminal persuades a bunch of non-criminals that law =/= morality and that sometimes to make sure the bad guys get justice you have to work around legality". Obviously some people are easier to persuade than others (Huaisang has always been pretty ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ about the law, but before he joins the team he insists all of his crimes have been Theoretical, and besides, pirating movies isn't real crime, da-ge, god), and some of them are a little troubled by it but have their own reasons for joining (Mingjue has a LOT of issues with it, but joins to protect Huaisang for That One Job, and then stays with the insistence that a. they don't kill anyone, b. they don't involve anyone who doesn't super deserve it, and c. that their goal is always to get evidence so the mark can be convicted and the mark is always handed over to the appropriate authorities at the end of the job. he has a little more moral flexibility than canon Mingjue because of his Complicated Past He Wants To Atone For, but he still has an incredibly strong internal moral code that he absolutely will not violate. Jiang Cheng cares more about the law in principle, rather than personally, and as soon as he sees that they can get Justice that the law can't, he's sold). Xichen has the hardest time of it; he jumps into the first job without protest because Meng Yao asks (and Meng Yao never ever asks for anything, so it... it must be important, right? And Jin Guangshan definitely deserves it). After that he has a lot of internal struggling going on, and he's usually the one in the team trying to steer them towards legal means, and going through the "correct" channels. He probably has a breakdown about it at the end of a season and spends the next season Travelling To Find Himself. He winds up coming back to the team when, on one of his travels, he watches a family he's staying with lose everything after being targeted by a conman, but because of a dirty police chief the evidence is destroyed. They refuse to take his money when he tries to help, and he realises that they only way to get them justice... is to call in the team. That's not to say he is 100% cool with everything from then on, and he definitely draws the line at certain criminal acts (stealing for the fun of it he is not okay with, for example, and he gives a Hard No on the suggestion of trying White Rabbit) but for the most part he accepts the concept of what they do as being for the greater good.

GRIFTER XICHEN: yeah it's ridiculous and implausible but hear me out... that just makes it better. Because this man is terrible at improv and can only lie when he's in character (you see that means it's not lying then, it's just ACTING) and doesn't drink and absolutely will not seduce a mark past the level of general flirting... and yet he's somehow a wildly successful grifter??? How??? I'll tell you how: he's so fucking handsome and kind and charming and cultured that pretty much everyone who meets him just... melts a little bit and, with some coaxing, gives him whatever he needs. IT'S LIKE A FREAKIN SUPERPOWER and it's absolutely ridiculous. With the added bonus that he's juuust famous enough that the average person might kind of think he looks familiar, which means he's very good at coming across like he totally belongs wherever he's seen. Of course he works here, he's been here for months... don't you recognise him?

NO WOMEN ON THE TEAM: look, in Meng Yao's defence, when he put together this team he thought it would only be for one job, he wasn't trying to future-proof it! But yes, it can sometimes be an issue if they don't have time to plan ahead, and he and Huaisang - as the most stereotypically feminine members of the team, and by far the best liars - will usually take on any female roles they need if they're in a pinch and can't call in outside help, although all of them are ready to take on roles of different genders if need be (female roles are actually the only way to persuade Huaisang to grift, and he has an extensive shoe collection for such roles that he likes to expand by billing to the company account... Meng Yao is deeply unimpressed by this).

OTHER CHARACTERS: when Meng Yao started this, he worked very very hard to keep his siblings and the rest of his family out of it, to keep them all away from any fallout in case it went wrong (and also to stop any pesky Moral Issues from getting in the way). When that was over and they started taking regular cases, he relaxed the rule a little - Mianmian will sometimes step in to help if she can be sold on how bad the person is they're taking down, Zonghui can be relied upon if they need extra muscle, and Wen Qing is their go-to Ask No Questions doctor. Wei Wuxian frequently gets roped in to consult, as, if you give him six packs of hot chips, ten cans of monster, twelve hours, and a laptop, he can become a specialist in almost anything. Jiang Cheng was very very resistant towards the idea of his brother being allowed in the team, even just as a consultant, but the MOMENT Wei Wuxian was given any access to Shenanigans there was no fucking stopping him. In the later jobs Qin Su accidentally gets pulled into one of the cons and turns out to be a WAY better grifter than anyone could have imagined, so she winds up on the "ally call list". Meng Yao is both perturbed and proud, but absolutely draws the line at teenage Mo Xuanyu being allowed to help.

PAIRINGS: flipping the "two parents + three kids" dynamic in Leverage, this AU has 3zun and Sangcheng - so "three gege + two didi". Xiyao have a One That Got Away sort of past, and Xichen joins the team SPECIFICALLY because Meng Yao expresses emotional vulnerability by asking for help fOr OnCe In HiS fUcKiNg LiFe. Nielan dated when they were teens, and are happy to be reunited, but Mingjue refuses to rekindle a romantic relationship until Xiyao sort their shit out because it's obvious to anyone with eyes how hung up on Meng Yao Xichen is. Nieyao have a certain amount of "I'll work with you towards a common cause but that doesn't mean I have to like you" vibe, but veeery slooowlyyy wind up bonding over doing stuff they're not proud of for something they were so sure was a worthy cause at the time, but now they just feel jaded and used (there's a lot of arguments along the lines of "oh, so my corporate espionage is worse than what you did in spec ops... because the military says that what you did was legal. RIGHT. OKAY. SURE."). After several years of will-they-won't-they struggle, 3zun do get together, and everyone is very relieved. As for Sangcheng... it starts off as Huaisang just flirting kind of obnoxiously with Jiang Cheng, who rolls his eyes and snarks back, and then naturally Huaisang winds up catching feelings and is like [meme voice] Haha, I'm In Danger! He is unwilling to act on his feelings because he doesn't believe that Jiang Cheng likes him that way, and continues to believe that right up until the day Jiang Cheng snaps, and grabs him and kisses him, and is like "if I didn't actually like you flirting with me I would have punched you in the face years ago" and Huaisang is like "huh. Yeah that's probably true."

#3zun #sangcheng #leverage AU #AUs #meng yao #lan xichen #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #jiang cheng #the untamed

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tedisnotdead · 3 years ago

Text

The water flow stopped, and Andrew sighed, picking up the towel. He looked at himself in the mirror, his eyes scanning across the plain chest and stopping before his view reached his elbows.

"Andrew?" a voice called from the other side of the door, startling him. Andrew took a quick breath, closing his eyes before sighing, reminding himself of where he was. Renee's bathroom. Allison was downstairs, probably preparing baby Seth to stand in the crowd with her. "Nicky just left me your clothes. Do you want me to leave them in the spare room for you?"

"Yess." Andrew replied, looking down and pulling his boxers on. "I'll be out in a second." He reached for the armbands, pulling them on and tucking his thumb into the holes before walking out.

Betsy, Nicky and Erik were changing at home. They didn't need the preparation like the twins did, they wouldn't get picked. Jesse was safe too, wrapped up between his dads but next year he wouldn't. Next year he would be up there, and Andrew couldn't save him. Andrew had already felt the guilt of the six years he missed protecting his cousin and the four years he missed with his brother.

When they were united two years ago, it was a shock to everyone around them. Andrew had been in Betsy's care his entire life before then, with help from Renee for a few years during his more rebellious phase. When Renee started her fighting lessons twelve years ago, he was one of the firsts to sign up. Eight years after Andrew signed up, another Andrew signed up. Renee knew it wasn't him. And she mentioned it to Betsy, who connected the fourteen-year olds and since took them both in, alongside their cousin. A year later, Nicky introduced his boyfriend and his son to the family, and they were welcomed with open arms.

Betsy took two-week-old Andrew in from the day she saw him left on the side of the work field, wrapped in only a blanket. She took him home, where eight-year-old Renee was waiting. She hadn't been ditched like Andrew, she has been unfortunately orphaned by a factory malfunction and lost her mother at only six.

Renee and Andrew grew up alongside each other, but when she left for the games at age thirteen, they knew they would never be the same. Renee came back a victor, that's when she started her fighting lessons. Betsy advised against it but saw her development and let her work. When Andrew questioned her why she let her fight after she had won, Betsy reminded him Renee had won for a reason.

That's when he met Wymack. David Wymack, the winner of the forty-third Hunger Games. David Wymack, the man who relied on the pain of tattoos to give him a mental escape from the pain that the Games had caused him. The same David Wymack who took Jean Moreau out of Betsy's care less than a week after she took him in.

"Just because Jean was taken in by the Wymacks, it doesn't mean that you're not wanted." Betsy would always say. She would say the same thing every time she took one kid into her home and then they were taken in by a family a few days after. "You are just as valid. You are just as special. You just need to wait for your special time to shine."

Eight years passed and Aaron appeared. They united, Nicky was introduced, and Betsy took them all in. Betsy introduced them to Wymack, who introduced them to his kids and the Boyds. Befriending the entire of the Victors Village was a kick in the guts to Andrew. A reminder how he wasn't special, how he was basically nothing in comparison to some people.

Jean remembered him though. Jean made him feel special way. Not a romantic or sexual thing. Andrew knew those. Well, he knew sexual. He knew from all the hook-ups behind the factories, he knew from the nights he stayed at Roland's, a classmate in Renee's fighting class, and experimented with things. He knew from the start he was gay, but never said it out loud. He wasn't too confident when it came to romantic feelings however, but he had an idea.

Jean Moreau-Wymack was his first and only friend. Renee accepted this, seeing how they're bond was more sibling like than friends. Jean joined him on the tree searched. Andrew taught him to climb quick, how to spot the nests quickly, how to remove both wasp and birds safely. In return, Jean baked him sweet goods. The banana breads and cakes and muffins rolled through the door daily, Jean delivering them every morning with a small smile. Occasionally, Jean would bake with exotic flavors that David Wymack brought back from his annual visits to the Capitol.

With all the time Andrew had started spending Jean, Aaron began spending it with the other child in the Wymack household. Kevin Wymack-Day. David's biological child from a woman he didn't meet again after their one-night stand.

When Kayleigh, Kevin's mother, passed Kevin had been put in the custody of David. Jean, Kayleigh's other child, had been given to Betsy to be cared for. David hunted him down and took him in, not having the heart to separate the kids.

Aaron and Kevin clicked the second they met. Both being insufferable, obsessive assholes in Andrew's opinion (and Jean's, but that was one of the secrets between the two that were shared in the tops of trees over a muffin each). Aaron's obsession laying in the profession of David's wife, Abby Wymack. One of the best doctors in District 7. Since Aaron became closer with her, he became more obsessed over the profession and soon, if he survived the final reaping, would become her apprentice. Kevin's obsession laid in a Capitol sport, Exy. Whenever his father visited the Capitol for the games, he would bring back his son merchandise of his favorite teams. David had a friend in the Capitol who recorded every game so he could take them home and Kevin could watch them.

Andrew reached the spare room and froze before remembering where he was. Renee's house. Aaron was at the Wymacks', using their shower like Andrew was using Renee's. He knew the only reason was to see Kevin, and 'secretly' say goodbye and good luck in their own special way.

Their attraction to each other was not unknown, practically everyone knew. But it was obvious they were waiting until Aaron's last reaping, until today, to make anything exclusive. As long as they snuck out of the Victors Village before anyone began to head to the town center, no one would notice the luxurious treatment the twins were getting.

The clothes were spread out, waiting on the spare room bed. Nicky's old black, short sleeved button up shirt and a pair of Erik's old, tight fit, wash jeans. A pair of old boots that Betsy had managed to afford where on the floor, with a pair of Allison's bright pink socks laying neatly in the neck of the boot.

"You'll need to be ready in a few minutes Andrew." Renee's voice filtered through the door again. "The ceremony starts in an hour. People begin to move soon." Her footsteps echoed down the corridor as she left and Andrew looked at the clothes, sighing.

◒◓◒◓◒

Andrew stepped out, seeing Kevin and Aaron talking through a gap in the curtains. He sat back, waiting silently and watched them argue.

"They're horrible." Jean mumbled, sitting next to Andrew on the wall, leaving a large enough space for Capitol's largest man to sit between them. "Kevin kicked me out so I couldn't hear. I think they're talking about their latest hook-up." He took a bite from a muffin, leaving one on the wall beside Andrew. "It was at ours while we were climbing. I think they think we're fucking."

"How disappointed will they be when they find out we don't fuck; we talk shit about them and stuff our faces with shit." Andrew mumbled and Jean giggled, taking another bite. "Truth for a truth?" Jean nodded. "I'm nervous."

"That's well justified." Jean said. "Your name is at the highest chance it's ever been, and ever will be. But some people do sadly have their names in there more than you. So, the chance it being you is low. And the chance it's Aaron is even lower, since your name is still in there from the past years of tesserae. "Jean sighed. "I'm gay. I think." Jean mumbled before looking over.

"Want another round?" Andrew asked and Jean stopped before nodding. He took another bite of his muffin, looking forward again. "I'm gay too." Andrew said, picking his muffin up. "I've known for a few years."

"I have a crush on Jeremy." Jean said. Andrew turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "The baker's son. I used to talk to him a lot when I lived with Kayleigh. She would let me pick up her weekly orders from the bakery and I would pay them with grain and milk. I used to talk to Jeremy every Sunday, and that's why I like baking. Because I like Jeremy. "

Andrew looked back through the window, seeing them still talking. Aaron seemed more angry than usual during their 'conversations'. "You should offer to work there." Andrew suggested. "You could see him more."

Jean laughed, looking down before taking the final bite. "I could, but who would you hang out with then? You haven't got any other friends." "I have Jesse." Andrew said, taking a bite. "This is good. What flavor is it?"

"It's another new one from the Capitol called Palmetto. It's basically a super sweet blood orange." Jean said. "And Jesse doesn't count. He's got school you know."

"I'll teach him then." Andrew argued, his eyes following Jean as the older boy got up and started pacing. "I remember all my lessons. I could teach him with no struggle." Jean snorted, looking up. "Shouldn't you be getting ready?"

"Kicked out remember?" Jean mumbled, looking back at Andrew. Andrew shrugged, taking another bite from his muffin and Jean laughed. "I should. Aaron seems to be done in the shower, so if I go straight up Kev probably won't care." Andrew nodded, taking another bite quickly. "I need to, don't I?" Andrew nodded again. "I'll see you after. Good luck Andrew." Jean turned to walk back.

"Jean." Andrew said and he stopped, turning. "If I get picked, don't be nervous to say goodbye."

Jean knew that was Andrew asking him to come. But Andrew didn't like asking. Andrew didn't want to ask, say the word please. It wasn't how Andrew worked, and Jean knew that. He never questioned why, but he knew that. He never pressed any questions when it came to Andrew, because Andrew never did the same to him. He never questioned the scars on his cheek or the roughness of his hands or the burn marks that Jean turned up with.

"I will." Jean said, smiling gently. "I hope you enjoyed the muffin! If I do need to visit you, I'll bring one along. A parting gift." He laughed before walking inside.

Andrew watched the door for a few seconds after it closed before moving his glance to the gap in the curtains. Their argument went on for a few more minutes until Aaron looked out the window. Andrew raised an eyebrow and Aaron sighed, turning back to Kevin and saying something before leaving.

"Trouble in paradise?" Andrew muttered when Aaron reached his side.

"Shut up." Aaron muttered, already towards the village entrance.

He was dressed in a tight red shirt, it looked like Kevin's with the way it was too tight around his waist but loose around the arms, and a pair of trousers which were too torn to belong to a victor, and the style choice only pointed to Nicky. Too tight around the thighs with baggy bottoms. Just how Erik liked it.

"He just wanted to wish me good luck and I wanted to thank him, or tell him to thank his dad, for letting me use their shower."

"Wish you good luck with a massive smooch." Andrew said, walking after him.

"As if you and Jean weren't doing the same." Aaron muttered, scowling at him.

"Jean was actually just telling me about his crush. I got a name and everything. It was glorious." Andrew said. As Aaron went to ask, Andrew continued, "But I will not be saying anything about the mystery person. It was in our game, and I never tell secrets from our game."

"You're stupid shitty 'Truth for a truth' game?" Aaron asked and Andrew nodded. "I don't know why you two play that. It's not even a game, its talking. Like normal people do. You and Jean are weird."

"I think Jean is smarter than you when it comes to most things." Andrew mumbled, pushing the gate at the end of the pathway open. Nicky looked up through the window, smiling when he saw the twins. "If him being weird is the consequence of that, I don't think he minds.

"Fucking weirdo." Aaron muttered, pushing past. Nicky immediately fussed over him, asking where the shirt he left out was. Erik moved closer to Andrew, holding Jesse in his arms.

"I have missed you." Erik said.

"Jesse." Andrew called and the young boy looked over. "Want to hug?" Jesse nodded excitedly. Erik squatted down, letting Jesse run over. But just before he reached Andrew, he slowed down and then calmly wrapped his arms around Andrew's waist. "Oh Andrew, you look amazing." Nicky whispered. "I wish Betsy could see you before the ceremony, but she's already gone to get the other kids ready." He stood up, smiling. "You both look amazing. And we are going to get through this, and we are going to come home and be calm and happy."

His smile faltered for a second, but he plastered it back on before Aaron could notice. Erik and Andrew did, but both decided to stay quiet, knowing he was trying his hardest.

"Andrew, are you sure you don't want to move to a factory job with me and Aaron? You could watch the games."

"I'm fine being a clearer." Andrew mumbled. "I get good pay and I only have to talk to Jean. I see no flaws."

"But you can't watch the games." Nicky said.

"Erik doesn't like to watch the games. Neither do I." Andrew said, looking down at Jesse, who had buried his face in Andrew's side. "I am happy getting the updates from you over dinner."

Nicky went to say something, but Erik stepped forward and whispered into his ear. Nicky sighed, looking at him. Erik pecked his lips softly.

"We should get going, though," Andrew said, pushing Jesse back lightly and holding his hand out. Jesse smiled widely, taking his hand and holding tightly, as if his life depended on it.

The walk to the town center was mostly fully of Nicky's nervous rambling, with Erik and Aaron occasionally responding. But Andrew ignored them and chose to focus on the small tune Jesse was humming, squeezing his hand along to the beat.

When they reached the town center, Erik picked Jesse back up. Jesse waved to Andrew sadly before his dad carried him off, holding Nicky's hand. They passed the peacekeepers and stood in the crowd beside Jean and Kevin. Andrew took off down the silent path, leading them to the identification tables.

He could see over the peacekeepers' shoulders, David, Matt and Renee lined up along the back of the stage, with their escort, Kathy Ferdinand, standing in front of them. She was talking animatedly to them, with her big blonde hair and eyes practically painted with pink. The skin-tight pink leather dress clung to her to an uncomfortably revealing extent where Andrew had to look away.

"Next." The peacekeeper said and Andrew looked up, seeing Aaron's whole-body flinch. "Go through. Next."

Andrew stepped forward, holding his hand forward. The peacekeeper grabbed his wrist roughly, tugging it forward and pricking the end of his finger. They then pressed it to the paper, scanned it and let him through.

Andrew rushed through, pushing through all the crowds to find his brother. Aaron was waiting nervously, wringing his wrists. Andrew pushed through the crowd until he ended up besides his brother, waiting silently.

"What if we get picked?" Aaron whispered, looking at his brother. Andrew shrugged, keeping his eyes focused on the stage. "Andrew I'm serious." he said before his voice was drowned out by Kathy tapping the microphone.

"Welcome, welcome." she said, smiling at everyone.

The neon yellow contacts she wore made everyone unsettled, but she continued, her cat-like eyes scanning the crowd.

"Welcome to the fifty seventh Hunger Games. May the odds be ever in your favor." She smirked, looking across to the group of people who weren't being reaped, taunting them. "Now, the time has come for us to select one courageous young man and women for the honor of representing district seven in this year's Hunger Games." She stopped for a second, smiling. "As usual, ladies first."

She shuffled across the stage in her overly tight dress and waved her hand over the bowl. A hand skimmed Andrew's wrist and he looked down, seeing Aaron's beside his, the knuckles brushing the black cloth. Andrew slid his hand into his brothers as Kathy waddled back to the microphone.

"Marissa Goodman." Kathy read out, looking across the crowd. People were stepped aside two sections before the twins.

Sixteen years old, Andrew told himself. The girl stepped forward, dressed in a light green dress which skimmed her knees and her hair tied into a tight ponytail.

"Come on up dear, don't be afraid." Four peacekeepers surrounded her, leading her up to the stage. Marissa slowly walked up, and Kathy enthusiastically welcomed her. "And now the boys."

Aaron's grip tightened on his hand as she reached the glass bowl. Kathy smiled, waving her hand around the top before diving in and pulling out one white slip. She slowly shuffled back to the microphone and leant close, undoing the slip slowly. She smirked before reading, "Aaron Michael Minyard."

"I volunteer as tribute." Andrew looked down before he even had acknowledged the words come out of his mouth. He looked back up, seeing everyone staring at him. Aaron was looking at him with tearful eyes.

"Not Andrew." he whispered, but Andrew pushed past. "No. Andrew stop!" he shouted, following him through. Andrew took his place in between the peacekeepers but was dragged back violently. "I won't let you do this." Aaron shouted.

"I volunteer." Andrew repeated, making direct eye contact with Aaron. Aaron shook his head, his mouth opening and closing until the first tear rolled down his cheek and his grip on Andrew's arm loosened.

Aaron was pulled back quickly, and Andrew recognized the hand around his twin's shoulders immediately. Jean pulled Aaron back, avoiding Andrew's eye. Andrew turned around and followed the peacekeepers down the aisle. Renee was staring at him, shocked, from the back of the stage. Matt's eyes were filled with tears, while Wymack's jaw was clenched.

Andrew didn't remember as far back as to when he was four, but he knew Wymack's story.

Wymack had trained as hard as he could after losing a close friend to the games when he was twelve. When David turned eighteen, he volunteered himself before the name was even called out. His reasoning was to save one more helpless kid from being killed in his district. This caused him to become a fan favorite in the Capitol, and a respected citizen in the district. In every shop, I have had a discount. Everyone smiled at him in the streets. Everyone welcomed him into their homes and invited him round for dinner.

Every year, when the victors returned, all three of the victors visited the houses of the fallen tributes to mourn with them for one night. They supplied the family with the food for the night and left them all the leftovers. It was a tradition started by Wymack, but when Renee won the forty-fourth Hunger Games, she joined in. And when Matt won the fifty-first Hunger Games, he became the final part of the trio.

Andrew was snapped out of his thoughts when he reached the bottom of the stairs, looking up at the stage. He made eye contact with Renee, who smiled gently at him. He sighed before walking up.

"A volunteer!" Kathy cried, holding her hand out to showcase Andrew's arrival. "Now, what's your name young man?"

"Andrew Joseph Minyard." Andrew said, looking forward.

Jean was finally looking at him, his face contorted with fear. Nicky was beside him, crying into Erik's shoulder. Erik was staring at Andrew in fear while Jesse sobbed, bundled in Betsy's arms. Aaron was crying, while being held back by Kevin.

"Oh, and was that your brother I picked?" Kathy asked, smiling widely.

"Yes, my twin brother." Andrew answered, trying to keep his voice monotone.

"How lovely." Kathy said before turning to the crowd again. "Here we are. Our tributes from district seven!" She started clapping, but everyone stayed silent.

Jean brought three fingers up to his lips before raising them above his head. Slowly, everyone around him began to do the same, the gesture spreading among the crowd. A single tear rolled down Jean's scarred cheek and Andrew took a deep breath before bringing three fingers to his own lips then raising them above his head.

"Happy Hunger Games!" Kathy cried, "And may the odds be ever in your favor."

They turned away, Kathy leading them both to the door at the back. Andrew flinched away from her touch, overtaking Marissa and pushing himself into the corridor.

"Andrew." Renee said, walking up to him.

"Not." Andrew spat out through gritted teeth.

He would not let himself cry; he would not let himself cry.

"We can talk on the train. I want to say goodbye to them."

81 notes · View notes

tintentrinkerin · 4 years ago

Text

Title: Pink Pulse

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Rating: explicit

Tags: Bottom!Dean, Top!Sam, Witch OC, Magic, Demon Blood!Sam, Horny Idiots, Breeding kink, Dean has a magic pussy, slightly crack!fic

Summary: Dean wants to piss Ruby off and reclaim Sam as his. During a bender he meets Mandrake, a shady witch who offers him help.

Word Count: 4.5k

READ UNDER THE CUT OR ON AO3

When Dean Winchester regains his consciousness on this cold and foggy morning, he doesn’t really expect a surprise. He’s been drinking for a day… or maybe two, after Ruby, this damn bitch!, showed up again to lure Sam back. It’s her usual fucked up game, she does that when the angels aren’t looking. Sometimes, Dean knows it, Sam secretly calls her and when he sneaks out, Dean knows where’s going. And when he returns he stinks of blood and skank.

Dean’s head hurts like crazy. It takes several attempts for him to roll from his stomach to his back and then get a grip on the dumpster he’s lying next to and swing his body up. His feet feel jiggly and his stomach seems to be empty but he’s nauseous as hell. He hasn’t been robbed, that’s a good thing, his phone, his purse, even the keys to the Impala are still in his pockets. He checks his phone.

It’s 7.38am. Okay, great. He might’ve just passed out a few hours and if he’s super lucky, Baby is parked in close distance.

His phone shows several texts from Sam and from someone who calls themselves “Mandrake”. Doesn’t ring a bell. Not yet. Rather, Dean browses Sam’s texts which tone switches from mopey, to angry, to frightened and then there are over thirty missed calls. Holy shit, was Dean really gone for just a night? Dean tumbles out the alley and winks at the bright daylight he’s now exposed to. He might call Sam before he really freaks out. Some memories flare up in his brain about the damn fight, and that Dean insisted Sam was caught by Ruby so easily because he was underfucked and needed pussy a little too bad. He still thinks he’s right.

There is something to that word. Pussy. Dean loves saying it, Dean loves eating it, Dean loves everything revolving around it, but when he accused Sam of being a horny underfucked loser craving some, he felt bitter about it. A feeling that he had earlier, before Sam went to Stanford. Now Dean is a grown ass man with the Apocalypse on his heels, he has more pressing issues - or so it seems.

He phones Sam while stumbling through the alleys and trying to find Baby. Damn. His pants feel weird. Like he has a wedgie. In the front.

“Dean! For fuck’s sake, where are you?!”

Dean stops in his tracks and scratches his crotch.

“Chill out, Sammy. I’ll find out where I am, I just need to find the damn car.”

“I was a second away from letting Castiel locate you.”

“Forget the damn angel, I’m on my way.”

Sam scoffs into the phone.

“You’re such an idiot. Do you have any idea how worried I was?”

“No, no, I don’t. I thought you’re sucking pussy all night.”

Sam hangs up without another word.

There it is again, this fucking thought. That Sam could be out fucking Ruby while he’s been… what? What exactly happened between nightfall and now? There was a fight, not physical, but Dean has been so fucking close to slap the bitch across the face. Sam stopped him.

Dean finds the pub where he supposedly was drinking his anger away. It’s closed. The “Full Moon”. And it’s been a full moon last night. How damn right poetic. His phone rings.

“Yo, Sammy - wanna apologize and admit you’ve been eatin’ her all night?”

A female voice on the phone laughs. Dean frowns.

“Who’s this?”

“Mandrake. Don’t you remember?”

“I remember jack. Where’d you get my number?”

Dean knows, he should hang up. This is maybe a very bad idea. Give too much away. This woman sounds familiar but a lot of women do, he’s not exactly in celibacy since he’s back from Hell.

“I got it from you, idiot. And I got something else.”

Dean follows the main road for as long as he somehow feels he’s been here before. He surely didn’t drive far from the motel but far enough that Sam wouldn’t find him. This is so not usual for Dean. Being a mopey idiot? Yes. Getting drunk? Also very much yes. It itches in Dean’s pants and when he makes sure no one’s looking he sticks his hands in his boxers.

Holy shit. What the fuck.

Sam can’t focus. He sits at the motel room’s table, trying to do research, but he just can’t block out all of the things that distract him. The flickering TV. The humming of the air conditioning system. His fingernails clicking on his laptop’s keyboard. The thoughts. All of his thoughts combined as sinister and hilarious and frightening they are at the same time. Dean’s been gone for two damn nights. Okay, now he’s back, sitting on the sofa, manspreading. Only in his now deflated looking underwear. Watching something on TV that Sam can’t process. He sees the images, but his mind is racing like crazy around all the other things. The goosebumps on his own arms, the sound of his own breath. He feels the harsh and fast pumping of his heart, circulating his blood. He can feel his pupils dilate. And his legs won’t hold still. He has to move somehow.

Ruby’s blood wasn’t enough last time. The fuck wasn’t enough. Everything aches inside Sam. Anger is like a fist in his stomach but he isn’t quite sure if the anger is the fuel of everything.

He knows Dean hates it when he bounces like this, his legs are shaking and damn, something is pressing against the zipper of his jeans. Of course it’s not something. Thing is, he wants to ignore it.

Dean seems to be calm right now, but he’s sitting right under the air conditioning, the blow is ruffling his hair while he stares on the screen, his arms crossed, legs spread out. He scratches himself. There. Sam follows the movement and gulps.

And then, shit, Sam, stop fucking looking at your brother’s crotch! - but he can’t stop! - Dean isn’t scratching anymore. Two of his fingers press right between his thighs, the fabric rustles, and it turns wet. The fucking boxers get wet. Dean doesn’t even seem to notice, but he should. It’s his body! It’s his-

Sam can’t even think it without feeling a rush of hot blood and sharp imaginary knives stabbing his lower stomach. Pulse spikes up. Pupils dilated. Mouth waters. Sam tries to hide a grunt but he can’t.

“Sammy, you good?”, Dean asks, still rubbing his-

Sam looks at him. He must look like a drug addict in withdrawal. Well, maybe he is. He’s maybe addicted to- it’s all Ruby’s fault. She came when Dean died and she lured him in, now he can’t stop thinking of her warm salty blood in his mouth. Or his teeth on her skin. His tongue-

“Fuck.”

Dean looks irritated.

“Hey, look. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you angry, I don’t even remember most of the fight. It’s only twelve or thirteen days from now and I’m-- I’m normal again.”

Sam inhales. Dean’s scent was building over the last couple of hours and now it’s so thick, musky and intoxicating that it’s hard to ignore it.

“Shut up and take a shower.”

Dean now closes his legs and presses his hands on his thighs. He looks at Sam with furrowed eyebrows.

“There’s nicer ways to tell me I still stink of garbage.”

If it was only fucking garbage! Sam is so close to yell it, to jump up, throw the table over or punch a wall.

“You don’t stink.”

“Then what?”

Dean gets up and walks towards the table. His chest is heaving, Sam notices. Breathing heavy. Such a broad chest, covered in goosebumps. Sam feels incredibly sick all of a sudden.

“I can smell…”, Sam needs to cover his mouth and nose with his hand. The closer Dean comes the worse it gets.

“Now tell me already, if I don’t stink anymore what’s the problem?”

“Dean, I could smell a chipmunk’s fart from miles away, that is a problem.”

Sam needs to breathe. He jumps up and throws himself over to the window and opens it. He should’ve done that way earlier, he realizes. But Dean is behind him now.

“Unless we have chipmunks with flatulences in here, I still don’t have a clue what’s going on.”

Dean touches Sam’s shoulder. Adrenaline. Dopamine. Oh holy shit, the whole hormonal time bomb erupts inside Sam’s body. When he turns around, he’s sure he looks super frightening to Dean, but he can’t stop, won’t stop and pulls Dean close. Dean freezes. A shaky little laugh.

“Sammy… what…”

“I can smell your pussy”, Sam growls, his lips on Dean’s skin.

Dean doesn’t smell like a woman at all, everything about him is testosterone, if there wasn’t this tiny anomaly about him.

That he got himself hexed by a shady witch.

There’s no struggle against Sam’s force when he pushes Dean against the table and then -- as if he waited for it -- Dean hops on that table, opens his legs for Sam.

“What are you doing?”, he still asks, his green eyes big and glassy, lips a cute pout.

Sam has no answer to that than before: “Your smell drives me mad. I need…”

What does Sam need? His brother? His magical pussy? Or wouldn't it be easier to run away to mountains nearby and scream from the bottom of his lungs until he passed out?

Decisions, decisions.

Dean's face has the colour of fresh pink guava juice, his freckles pop, his eyes pop. His lips part for a second. His tongue flicks. No Sam knows exactly what he needs.

“Do you need it? My pussy?” Dean whispers. He slowly pulls his boxer briefs down to his ass but then Sam needs to help, Dean clings on him, Sam pulls. Dean lays across the - thank GOD, long table and is spread out like a delicious meal, while Sam frees Dean from the fabric. It's more ripping then pulling and Sam groans, shit, he's ripped them apart. But then, when Dean opens his legs even more, lying here on his back like a beetle, helpless and weirdly pliant, the odor of Dean's pussy makes Sam cuss and tumble.

“Fuck, Dean…”

“Huh? Not good?”

Sam is out of words, super-ego just logged out with an ‘I have no power here’ and damn right it doesn't!

Dean's pussy is perfect. Another grunt. Holy shit. Instead of an answer for Dean, Sam kneels between Dean's wonderfully wide spread legs. His brother is the definition of a bottom here. Just opening his legs for anyone. Even Sam. The smell is intense and rich, Sam knows it from the other women he's been with... but Dean has one perfect twist. He smells like Sam's brother, too. Musky and citric. And that makes Sam go lizard brain.

“I need to taste you.”

Dean now even slides closer, his legs lie on Sam's shoulder. Sam jerks up and leans over the table, over Dean's naked body. This pussy is just the material of Sam's wet dreams. His nose rubs Dean's skin under his belly button and Dean moans.

“Do it, Sammy. Fucking do it or I'll push your face in my pussy myself.”

Well. Not the worst threat he's ever received. Sam's hand trails between Dean's legs and when he feels the wetness, a fucking intense wetness that is spread all over. Even the thighs are a little glossy from Dean's fluids.

Sam needs to see. Going down, he pushes Dean's legs apart even wider and dives in between these legs. Pink and juicy, dripping wet. The smells almost knocks him out, makes his mouth water and a generous drop of drool falls from his lips. He cannot fucking take that anymore. And Sam pushes Dean closer to him, winds his arms under Dean's now trembling legs and -

Dean cries out, muscles flex, he kicks out, then sinks down again. Just one damn lick.

Sam is in such rage that he can't be fully a gentleman here and do everything slowly, patiently. He's hungry and his primal urge has taken over. Greedy, he licks up and down Dean's labia, tongue working and opening his brother's pussy up and Dean sounds so fucking hot. No girl or guy ever made him sound so needy and so desperate for a fuck. He tastes just as good as Sam imagines when he sucks the thick and sweet wetness from Dean's pussy, sucks on the folds while his fingers run up and down Dean's thighs and Sam needs one free hand now, his thumb rubbing just above the hood of the clit, other finger just teasing his entrance. Not really pushing it in, just a little rubbing while Sam sucks and licks and circles Dean's clit with his tongue.

Dean feels like he is losing his mind. Not only that Sam really is between his legs and gives him mind blowing oral sex, fuck, Dean loves it. He thought Sam was angry but the way he devoured Dean's pussy, anger was definitely gone. He can't stop moaning and winding and his hands in Sam's hair. When he looks down and sees his brother's face up and down, he looks very focused on what he's doing. And in Dean feelings build up, it's a heat and a tumbling, never felt like this.

In a moment of taking a deep breath and Sam looks up, Dean's juices run down his chin and in the collar of his shirt. “Dean, you taste so good…” he says and bites in Dean's thigh. Doesn't hurt. “Better than anything.”

Dean shudders. He needs more.

“Sammy, keep going.”

Sam smirks, his thumb circling Dean’s now swollen and hot clit, his whole pussy is slick with his wetness. No woman Sam ever had sex got that wet.

His thumb is gentle, a perfect rhythm of circling. Stopping. Circling. Stopping. Little pressure. Dean’s body feels on fire.

“Is that what the girls tell you when you go down on them?” Sam asks, his voice rustling leaves.

Dean can’t help but utter a short, almost hysterical laugh.

“I never really listened.”

Tsk. Tsk. Tsk, Sam clicks his tongue.

“You should’ve. Not only that. Listen to what they say but what-”

Sam finger slides in Dean’s wet pussy with one fast but well adjusted movement. Dean winds and arches his back. Tries to get Sam’s finger away and yet…

“-when they want to escape you, you’re doing it right.”

“Sam, for fuck’s sake! I had enough sex with enough people to know the god damn basics!”

But feeling it himself gives him a whole new sense for it. Sam’s finger moves, wet sounds, in and out and it takes not even a blink and Dean begs for more. Two fingers, holy shit, Sam’s fingers are thick and long and when he starts fucking Dean’s pussy with them while sucking on his clit, the impulse to turn on his stomach and either crawl away or present his naked ass to invite Sam to fuck him -- Dean wants both!

Sam’s ‘come hither’ movements tighten the knot in Dean’s stomach. That’s not what an orgasm feels like for him when he’s about to blow. This is so much deeper, feel tight and hot right up to his lower belly. The noises Sam makes as he sucks Dean’s clit are downright vulgar. And the faster Dean’s breath goes, the more he tries to wind away, Sam’s hand around his upper thigh is a bench vice - he won’t let Dean go. Not unless…

Dean can feel it. He whines “fuck, Sammy, ‘m gonna cum…” and this would be the same moment he came. If Sam just sucked his dick. But this is… slower. And Sam goes absolutely frantic, like a boxer he just goes for Dean’s weak spots and he has definitely found them now and he rubs Dean’s insides, sucks his clit, damn how big can such a tiny thing swell? And Dean fucks himself on these fingers, his rhythm clashes against Sam’s, the bigger the friction, the better. His fingers clench in Sam’s hair and then finally, Dean comes, he feels like exploding, black dots in his sight and he has to close his eyes. His heartbeat goes straight up to his throat, only faint moans, a ‘holy fu…’ but he can’t even finish a fucking curse. Sam won’t stop fucking him, but slower now, more gentle. His tongue presses against Dean’s clit. Dean feels Sam’s breath on his wet skin. Everything tingles still, Dean’s hornystupidmanbrain is on standby, extremities just twitch helplessly.

When Dean opens his eyes he only sees the dirty brown ceiling and the dim light.

“I need a smoke”, Dean blurts out. Oh, the sweet refusal to acknowledge what just happened.

“Fuck, you clenched so hard I thought you would break my fingers.”

Sam sounds so deep, so gravely. Does Ruby hear that a lot?

Dean laughs, trying not to choke on his jealousy. Sam just ate him out. His brother. Just. Ate. Him. Out! Dean feels like he took drugs, heavy, light, euphoric. Not tired. This doesn’t seem to end in a hangover.

“Sam. I really, really wanted that”, another stupid thing to stay. But Dean’s stupid, especially when things are about Sam.

Sam scoffs. “I guessed, otherwise you would’ve punched me to a pulp.”

“Damn right…”

Dean covers his face with his arm, the dim light is too much right now. His breath hasn’t even calmed down yet and somehow, he has to admit, he’s not satisfied. The climax gave him a solid blank for a couple seconds but even now he’s throbbing and wet, Sam’s spit hasn’t made him any drier.

Dean is still a powerhouse of sex, Sam can’t deny it. Resting between his legs doesn’t help but he doesn’t dare to get up and reveal that he is rock-hard and ready. Eating his brother out has been a wild ride already, something he maybe dreamed of as a teenager (but even then - who would imagine Dean as a girl?), of sucking him off like he saw when Dean brought a girl or a dude home. Sam needs to get himself up, slowly, Dean is lying there, arm covering his eyes, but a smile on his face. He grins like an idiot. It’s cute.

Silence.

Awkward.

Sam doesn’t know what to say now, he’s lost control, because his brother grew a pussy. How could you ever explain that? Gladly he doesn’t have to.

Dean gets up, his eyes look teary, but not in the sad I’m-about-to-cry way. He rather pulls Sam close and whispers, something so idiotic, something so innocent, and yet something that makes Sam’s boner grow even more.

“You didn’t even kiss me first.”

“Sorry”, Sam replies, he’s just as stupid.

Dean makes it easy for Sam, wrapping his arms around Sam’s neck and kissing him. This is just another short circuit for him and before Sam realizes what he’s doing, his vision turns red. His instincts and his lust are wired to the taste and smell of blood - and Ruby. This is not Ruby. Gladly, this is not Ruby. It’s Dean. The one he thought of when it first happened, the one he was mourning so deeply. Now he gets what he wants from the person he wants. Bingo.

His brother is heavy, but Sam’s strength is to be reckoned with these days. It’s easy to lift him up - Dean’s legs wind around his hips, his ass feels so great. Firm. Dean moans in his mouth when Sam throws him on one of the motel beds and follows, laying his full weight on his brother.

“Sammy…”

Damn, Dean’s fumbling on his zipper.

“You’re big.”

Scoff.

“Am I?”

“Yeah.” Dean looks really intrigued. Sam lets it happen. Dean slides a hand in his boxer briefs and squeezes his raging dick.

“Fuck. Dean.”

These big pleading eyes. Sometimes Dean looks at him like this. And he looks younger than Sam now. Needy. Small. Vulnerable. Sam can never say no when Dean looks like this. He kicks out of his jeans and Dean is so damn impatient. Fabric tears on the seams. Sam doesn’t care.

The way Dean strokes him, the close they are it would be easy, way too easy just to slide inside Dean. Feel his wetness, how tight. How hot. And greedy. Swallowing Sam’s cock like he did with his fingers. Dean stops him. Sam’s heart sinks. It hurts.

“Take everything off”, Dean just says, “I don’t want to feel like quick fuck-”

Sam just has to laugh.

“Never”, he vows and then pulls the shirt over his head and throws it over his shoulder.

The way he towers over Dean, ready to mount, he feels like a steam breathing monster. He really shouldn’t do that. He’s spiralling down to something he never wanted to be. But he can be with Dean this way. Just this once…?

More than once…?

Dean’s legs around his hips trap him now, he can feel the slick wet folds on his cock already and all he can do now is just thrust in. Around his fingers Dean already felt like heaven and hell on earth, but this. Sam hisses, he feels like growing fangs, he digs his teeth in Dean’s neck, he tastes salt and sweat, Dean whimpers but doesn’t complain.

“God… so deep…”, he says. Like he can’t believe it.

“Hurts?”

Dean makes a sound that says ‘nuh-uh’ and that’s enough for Sam. He even pulls Sam closer, his legs force his cock deeper inside this fucking wet and inviting pussy.

This is so much better than Ruby. He needs to fucking forget her. The deeper he sinks, the harder he thrusts and sweat runs down in his eyes and makes them sting, he forgets about what all of this could mean for them. He just wants to fuck Dean silly. And Dean clings on him like he’s drowning in this feeling, no matter how harsh Sam is. His hips are snapping, damn, it must hurt, right? He eventually slows down to kiss Dean sloppily and open mouthed, their moans intertwining and building a cacophony of sounds, loud and rough, soft at the same time. Sam manages to slow down a little and Dean relaxes.

“I want you to fuck me from behind”, Dean mumbles on Sam’s lips, trying to hide the fact he’s blushing deep.

Sam huffs.

“Yeah. Whatever you want.” Babe.

He almost called Dean babe. Sam winds out, slides out, winces. It feels so good, Dean’s so wet, Dean’s just perfect.

On all fours, arms spread out like a silly yoga pose, back stretched… Sam definitely dreamt of this more than once. This time he pushes in slowly, and Dean arches his back. His breath staggers, yelps. But yet again, after a second of adjusting, Dean starts moving. Fucking himself on Sam’s cock and saying such nasty, irritating, hot things. He mewls and begs for more and then.

“God, Sammy, cum inside me!”

Sam stops. Dean repeats. “Cum inside me!”

There’s no way Sam can deny him, he’s close since Dean started working him like he did it a thousand times already. Sam grips those hips tight, leaves white marks, then pink long traces of his fingernails as he snaps in Dean’s pussy, shit, these sounds. Juicy and full, and Dean’s longing. This is the best fuck. This is it. This is what will blow Sam’s mind for hours, the whole night. Days.

“You want me to breed you, big bro?”, he hears himself say, the animalistic side, awake, fully in rage makes him say it, he can’t stop. “You want me to pump my load in ya?”

Dean nods frantically, his mewling and crying is so pretty. He’s still bouncing on Sam’s cock, his wonderful, round and firm ass, perfect for slapping. And Sam does. Dean whimpers, “please, more, Sammy, more!”

Sam claws at Dean’s hair, pulls it, overstretching his neck. He’s so out of control he might fuck Dean all bruised and sore.

“Touch your clit, c’mon babe, rub it. Cum on my cock and you’ll get it. I’ll knock you up”, whoa.

Dean does it, his hand traces down his body and he starts rubbing his swollen, red, overstimulated clit, squeezes it between his fingers and starts rubbing, circling.. hard to find the thing that gets you going, right? But soon, Dean writhes even more, his voice turns higher. Legs start shaking. “I think I’m gonna-”

He cums on Sam’s cock, clenching and moaning, getting so wet it drenches Sam’s crotch and runs down both their legs. The feeling is amazing, Sam’s checked out once again, babbling “Good boy, good boy” and then shoots a generous load of cum, he tumbles and hips snap and snap, until he’s finished.

They collapse, sweaty and gasping for air, Dean makes incoherent post orgasm noises.

Another period of silence that is only interrupted by the usual motel room sounds that creep back in Sam’s ears. He wants to pull out but Dean claws on his arm, his legs trapping Sam’s.

“No, no. Not yet. Please not yet.”

Sam sinks back and gives Dean what he needs, the closeness. Even though after some time fluids will dry and get cold. It will get sticky and that’s when Sam will have the urge to shower.

Not with Dean. They stay like this for minutes before Dean turns around, Sam lets him. They lay beside each other and the whole scene is hilariously and bizarrely romantic. They keep kissing and Dean’s like the devourer of Sam’s kisses and affections.

Dean rubs his nose on Sam’s, humming. He seems so proud of himself, so satisfied, but then his eyes widen.

“Oh. Shit.”

He gets up on one elbow and looks at the mess they made. Cum is leaking out of him and he wipes it from his thigh. Tastes it.

“Dean, really?”

“Hey. It’s only natural. Have you never been curious?”

Sam shrugs. “Yeah I was, but I never thought you would be.”

“You know this breeding kink thing. I did that before but I- I mean. Hot fantasy, works with anal but… Do I need an emergency pill now?”

Dean’s face is deadpan serious. Sam clears his throat to hide that he actually wants to laugh. How could he know?

“Just to be sure, I would say a magical pussy isn’t spunk proof. We could get to a pharmacy ...”

Dean falls silent and leans into Sam. There’s so many things unsaid and he’s not in the mood to unpack it. Sam is reluctant either. It’s enough for him to hold Dean close, pet his hair and keep kissing him over and over until they feel in the mood again. That Dean’s been hexed is a secondary matter. They will enjoy it as long it lasts.

Sam goes down on Dean, even when he’s still leaking cum, he just swallows it, he doesn’t mind. And when they get tangled into each other, both thinking ‘well, if he needs an emergency pill we’ll make it worth it’.

Consequences? Which consequences?

Apocalypse might come, they might enjoy every fucked up delightful thing along the way.

#wincest #dean x sam #sam winchester #dean winchester #rating:nc 17 #dean with a pussy #wincest smut

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starsfic · 3 years ago

Text

10 Different Happenings: Long Xiaojiao

Summary: In different worlds, there are different what-ifs.

Here’s ten what-ifs for Long Xiaojiao.

(Notes: 1 is from @purble-turble’s Time Travel AU, 3 is from @cassidyisnowdrawing’s Swap AU, 4 is also a swap au from @strange-lace, 6 is from @winterpower98′s intro for Zan, 8 is a hc that @vegalocity had for my DND AU, and 9 is from @kitkat1003′s possessed MK au.)

-_-

Xiaojiao had calmly been going about her business.

Well, calmly wasn’t the best descriptor. She was practicing for her new race, which was just zooming up and down the marked practice paths. Usually, Tang or Xiaotian would come to cheer her on. But something had blown up at the noodleshop that required Xiaotian and Red’s help and Tang was on standby in case an ambulance was needed.

Also to steal what noodles he could.

Leaving Xiaojiao to zoom back and forth alone.

Eventually, she called it a day. She should head to the shop to see if they needed help. Slowing down, Xiaojiao headed off the street. It was a smaller side street, empty of people. Like a good driver, she waited for a minute just in case some traffic popped up.

And then someone grabbed her collar and threw her into a wall.

Too startled to react, Xiaojiao felt her suit slip off. “Well, well, well...” The familiar voice made her crane her head up. “It looks like I found a poisonous little dragon.”

It was Red.

But not Red.

Unlike Xiaotian, Xiaojiao hadn’t heard much about Red’s travels through time. She knew there was a lot of timelines. She knew Red usually clung to Xiaotian after he got back. And she knew that it had all started when Red decided to not betray his boyfriend after...

King Red.

This must be him, from what little she heard.

Fine robes, long wild hair, and a maniacal gleam in his eyes that told her he absolutely wanted to break her neck.

Xiaojiao attempted to get to her feet. Her stomach twisted and her head felt dizzy. “You know,” the king said as she tried to push through what was most certainly a concussion. “I was hoping to kill that weak little version of me. Or to check in on my poor darling.” The last word was panted out and she could almost see the lust radiating off the word.

She fought back a shiver of disgust as she finally got to her feet. She pulled out her sword. The king hummed.

“But you’ll do.”

“Hey, Xiaojiao-” Xiaotian froze when he came into the room.

General Ironclad was running out of the hall. Away from the crashed motorcycle.

Away from Xiaojiao’s still body.

“Hey, Green, have you seen-” Xiaojiao had entered the room to look for something.

Any thought escaped her mind when her best friend gasped and she got a proper look at him. “XIAOJIAO!” Green shrieked. “I told you to knock!”

His face was bright red. His ponytail was three inches from falling out and his jacket was halfway off his shoulders, one side of his sweater’s collar pulled down. The biggest giveaway however was the distinctive red makeup smeared on his face and the smoke trailing from his lips.

She couldn’t help her laughter.

“What?”

Xiaojiao came to with a groan.

For a moment, there was nothing but ringing in her ears. Eventually, it cleared and the first thing she heard was a groan. “Green?” she managed out, sitting up. “What-”

The garden. The sweet, sweet date Xiaotian had presented them with. Just being happy together.

And then those voices.

The voices of those creepy puppet versions of them!

“Shit.” Xiaojiao managed out, scrambling to her feet. Her sundress was ruined, that was for sure. When she managed to stand, she got a good look at the damage.

The picnic table was nothing but splinters now, that was for sure. Most of the flowers that had created their clearing and the decorations that decorated it had been shredded in clear fury. There was no sign of Xiaotian. And Green was sitting up, clearly not on the same level of awareness she was.

“C’mon,” Xiaojiao scooped up the staff. Green yelped as she yanked him up. “We gotta find them!”

Before their puppet doppelgangers did anything to Xiaotian...

“Oh, c’mon!”

Xiaojiao paused at the yell. She was heading to her parents’ house to assure them that she was alright and to see if they were okay. She hadn’t had a chance to check on them since the takeover began and... they were her parents.

She glanced down the alley. A small girl- barely fourteen if anything- was glaring up at an orange cat perched on a light. Guessing by his collar, he was the girl’s cat. “Hey!” Xiaojiao called. The girl turned as she hurried up to her. “Do you need help?”

The girl smiled. “Oh, yes please!”

Eventually, the game plan was for Xiaojiao to boost the girl up. “Can you reach him?” she called down below.

The younger girl strained, reaching hopefully for the cat. “Almost! C’mon, kitty, let’s- No!” There was a groan. “He jumped away, Miss.”

“That’s okay! We can find him.” Xiaojiao helped the girl down. The two started down the alley. “Oh, it’s Long Xiaojiao by the way.”

The girl gasped, eyes sparkling. “Oh, you’re the Monkie Kid’s friend!” Xiaojiao chuckled at the excitement, feeling a burst of pride for Xiaotian’s sake. “I’m Bai He!”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Bai He.” She didn’t notice the faint white mist curl around their feet, not until a burst of cold shot up her spine. “Hey-”

Then something slammed into her, crawling into her mouth. The girl screamed next to her as she gagged and choked on the mist. Whispers rolled through her mind as the cold chilled her blood. She managed to turn towards Bai He, frozen and staring at her. She managed to whisper “Run.”

The last thing she saw was Bai He scrambling down the alley with a scream of “Monkie Kid!”

Xiaojiao couldn’t help but laugh as she and Xiaotian look over the small pink baby monkey. “Okay, Zan,” she couldn’t help but coo. “This is very important. Who is your favorite between us?”

She and Xiaotian shared a snicker.

Then a high, squeaky voice spoke. “Like. B-both.”

Xiaojiao blinked. Next to her, Xiaotian gaped.

“DID SHE JUST SPEAK CHINESE!?”

Xiaojiao snickered at the image that popped up on her screen.

It was Red. He was dressed in gossamer fabric and lunging off a stool at Qi Xiaotian.

She couldn’t help but grin at the clear meme format.

As long as Red never found out she started it.

The beer was the crappy kind, enough to get them all buzzed. The minute Xiaojiao set the twelve pack on the table, Pigsy opened his mouth. She started before he could. “So, just so we’re clear, Bai He is not allowed to touch these.”

The kid, not even paying attention, looked up. Like the good troublemaker she was, she pouted. “Aw.”

Pigsy eyed his daughter. “Bai He, you’re fourteen.”

“Still!”

Xiaojiao couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s the crappy stuff, kid.” She sat down next to her, unable to resist ruffling her hair. “I’ll taking you drinking when you’re of age and we’ll get the good stuff.”

Her best friend was gone.

He wasn’t dead, at least. But still, he was gone, lost in snow and madness. She had left him behind, left him crying frozen tears. She had to, if they hadn’t left she would be like Sandy and Tang.

But, still. Xiaojiao had left Xiaotian behind.

Behind her, Pigsy and Wukong were yelling at each other.

Xiaojiao couldn’t bring herself to say anything.

10.

The room was warm, both due to the blankets and the company of her partners. Their commitment ceremony was a few hours ago, something to replace the wedding Princess Iron Fan wanted.

Xiaojiao hummed as Red’s hand gently held her shoulder, bringing her and Xiaotian close. She pressed a kiss to his hand and couldn’t help her smile as Red’s hair sparked. Xiaotian hummed contently between them and she pressed a kiss to his temple too.

Sooner or later, instincts or Iron Fan’s attempted meddling would take over and Red and Xiaotian would start trying. Her own instincts of protect, keep away enemies was already starting to eat at her- but it was Xiaotian, her best friend. Her platonic partner.

Of course she would protect him and Red.

The movie started and she settled down.

But they had time.

#my writing #Long Xiaojiao #au #LMK #Lego Monkie Kid #Monkie Kid

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creepling · 4 years ago

Text

pineapple express (irl!quackity x gn!reader)

request: just a quick side note - love your writing! if you’re comfortable with it and it doesn’t cross any boundaries could you do a getting high with quackity for a gn! reader? tyty. (anon)

a/n: I DO NOT SUPPORT THE USE OF DRUGS OK. i just thought this was a very fun ask. do not take drugs underage and if you do take drugs, please do so responsibly. don’t end up being a f*ck-up like me lmao. also i’m sorry this is so short, i have been so busy with uni work and i am doing this while i have a night off. hopefully sometime after 4th may i will be writing for frequently.

pairing: irl!quackity x gn!reader (platonic)

summary: the reader has been having a stressful week and alex has the perfect remedy to make them loosen up. and of course, how could the reader deny spending time with their smoking buddy? (inspired by this hilarious clip of paul rudd and jason segel high during an interview.)

tw: use of drugs (cannabis), intoxication, cursing.

Thank God, it was finally the weekend. I finished all my duties for Friday and I could finally anticipate personal time to myself. I expected to just drive home and become vegitated from exhaustion and stress up until the next week, until I received a text.

Alex: I got some stuff today, smoke buddy. Wanna come over and hang out?

A smile immediately came to my face. I texted back in approvement and prepered myself for arrival; quickly heading back home to change into fresh clothes and fix myself up. I brought my rolling kit in case Alex was on short supply and made my way to my best friend’s house.

“Hola Amigo!” Alex swung the door open the minute I rang the doorbell; his voice exaggerated and welcoming. I engulfed him in my usual hug as my way of entering his apartment. Routinely, I dropped my backpack into the living room and idly chucked my jacket over the couch. I could already inspect the event that was coming; Alex had a ton of shit. Normally Alex counted on me to roll the perfect joint, but when I became too high to do so, he always had emergency cone joints and even a fuck-off bong for special occasions.

“So are we cranking up the hot water and smoking in the bathroom or in here?” I asked for reasurrence, gesturing around the living room.

“Nah, it’s just me and you today. Even the neighbours are out of town.” Alex said, taking a B-turn to his usual spot of the couch. “Have you rolled anything yet?”

“Sorry, didn’t have time. Pretty hectic day.” I apologised, sinking next to him on the couch and running a hand stressfully through my hair. “I’ll quickly do one now. Want your own?”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. You’re a busy-bee.” Alex said understandingly. “Oh and- Yes please.”

I soon got to work, taking my papers and grinder out of my pocket. Alex insisted in dealing with the grinder, putting the buds into the container and got to twisting. At this point, we were a couple of stoners. We never expected to be smoking buddies until I realised that out of all my mutual friends, Alex was the only person that had the same tolerance as me. I could never vibe with anxious high people, since they made me anxious myself. I had fun when I smoked; I giggled profusely and the most aburd theories would pour out of my mouth. Sure, I also got the munchies, but not as bad as Alex. One time Alex ate six packets of hot-flaming cheetos to the point his mouth was on fire. He was so high and flustered from the spice he throught he was breathing out fire. However, that experience does not beat the time I thought his cat was floating in mid air. In conclusion, me and Alex had the funniest experiences when under the influence.

After a few intricate minutes of rolling, I succeedingly rolled two joints. Alex liked his thick at the beginning but thin at the end, and I preferred a medium gurth all throughout. Alex admired my creation, muttering a ‘wow’ and praised my efforts, then took a lighter out of his pocket.

We said our cheers and began to blaze up. Leaning my head back on the couch, I stared at the ceiling as I took slow draws, engulfing the smoke deep into my lungs before deeply exhaling. Alex at this point began to play a playlist (that we specifically created for being stoned) and took his first inhale. He always coughed at the first inhale before slowly easing into his usual rhythm. When my joint was halfway, I began to feel my body outlining with a buzzing sensation. My teeth felt isolated from my gums and the ends of my limbs felt invisible. Our combined exhaled smoke began to intermingle, everytime I took a breath it entered back into my lungs. The sound of Alex’s chuckles flowed into my fuzzy ears and as if almost contagious, I became to chuckle as well.

“That’s some strong stuff.” I commented, my eyes beaming at the ceiling before my eyelids began to grow heavy. Alex hummed in agreement, taking the last straw of his joint before smothering the brown-stained tip into his ashtray. The ashtray was one of those clay creations that had the eyes and mouth on them. I gave him it as a gift for his birthday.

An hour went by and at this point, Alex and I powered through another joint. We mobilised ourselves onto the floor as we lay on large pillows and blankets; a nook that Alex made up before my arrival. We laughed at the most mundane shit and lay on our backs, our heads closely together as we stared at the ceiling.

“Have you ever had a best friend?” Alex asked in a stoned haze.

“I mean . . . you’re kinda my best friend.” I admitted, a sentence that would probably not leave my mouth if I was sober due to hesitation.

“Really? That is so sweet.” Alex said, his tone of voice so idle it was borderline adorable.

“Am I your best friend?” I asked, my eyes glancing over to him anticipating a response.

“You know this, (Y/N). I have had the same best friend since I was twelve years old . . . and he is imaginary.”

“Oh my fucking God . . . Not Pablo.” I cringed, squeezing my bloodshot eyes closed. The amount of times Alex has talked about his childhood imaginary friend while high is annoyingly been multiple times. At this point, I don’t know if he was joking or being serious. Or just completely and utterly stoned.

“He’s fucking amazing, (Y/N)! I’m not fucking kidding!” Alex exclaimed, looking at me in shock but also trying to hold back a laugh.

“Oh yeah sorry . . . I didn’t mean to offend Pablo.” I said sarcastically, “Pablo who visits you in your dreams!”

Alex howled at my words and laughed from his chest, clenching his ribs from the pain. A laugh also escaped my throat harshly and I coughed from the suddenness, slamming my hand into a pillow as I was paralyzed from the hilariousity.

“Oh my God . . . I’m literally sweating” Alex mustered out in between wheezes. He was bent double on the floor, still clenching at his ribs. The sight of him made me chuckle even when my laughter became to calm down.

“Then take off your hat, silly!” I said, noticing the beams of sweat that formed on his temple.

“You jerk! I can’t take off my hat.” Alex exclaimed, his fingers clenching onto the hem of his beanie as if he thought I was going to yank it off him. “It’s a mental compulsion!”

“A mental compulsion?” I emphasised in confusion, his random reasoning retracting me back into a fit of laughter. “Why’s that? Will Pablo come and kill us all if you take it off? Is that why you have been wearing one for all these years?”

Alex at this point laughed so hard at my joke, I was convinced he stopped breathing. When his body allowed him to exhale, he let out the loudest cackle I have ever heard come out his mouth. It even beats the ones he makes on streams. His sudden burst of laughter made we want to make him laugh even more.

“Don’t take off the magic hat, Alex! Otherwise Pablo will come visit you!” I mocked a spooky voice as I sat up from the floor and began to tickle Alex into submission. Alex squirmed, his red eyes now pouring with positive tears. His belly laughs continued as I physically taunted him in a joking manner.

“I’m sorry Pablo, I’m sorry! Please don’t hurt me!” Alex jokingly pleaded, his voice becoming so high-pitched that his vocal chords let out a squeak. I flopped back onto the pillows in laughter as we were squirming like idiots for several minutes. Once our jester behaviour came to a close, our laughters died out and we lay exhausted on the floor. The music from the speakers now dominated the sound in the room. Alex breathed heavily next to me trying to catch his breath. It was moments like this were I felt the least anxious, were I could just let go and not worry about the world. It felt absolutely bliss.

TAGLIST ! / @momo-has-a-gun @diggorysmalfoy @quack42069 @obsidiyan (join my taglist!)

#quackity x reader #irl!quackity x reader #quackity x you #quackity x y/n #gender neutral reader #quackity x gn!reader #quackity imagine #quackity fanfic #mcyt fanfic #mcyt imagine #mcyt x reader #youtuber imagine #quackity fluff #platonic quackity x reader #stoner!quackity #quackity one-shot

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thesmokingguns · 4 years ago

Text

24 Hours

Word Count:3454

Request/ Summary: “Can i request one where nicki gets turned down by their makeup artist or like stand in manager and hes upset and he finds out the the manager just doesnt sleep with people she just met”

I tried to write this where she breaks rules for him and turns him down. He understands what her restrictions are but he can see that living by her strict rules she created for herself she is making herself unhappy.

I hope I hit the prompt you wanted!

A/N: This turned out longer than I expected it to be so sorry about that one. I do have three requests I’m writing right now on top of some of the stuff I am writing so you can all still make requests but I'm going to be saying it’s a two week wait for a new request right now. I also want to say I am going to write a third and fourth part to the 3am Duff series because I have no self control. Thank you for everyone being patient with me and all your kind words! If you want to be added to my tallest please message me or go HERE

Tag List: @thenobodies-inc , @littlemisscare-all , @agroupiewhore , @ayablackwood

You were having a bad day. Not just a bad day but one of those days where everything that could have gone wrong went wrong. From morning to night it was the literal day from hell for you.

8:12am You woke up, an hour after you had hit snooze on your alarm, twelve minutes after you were supposed to leave your house to get to work.

8:34am After throwing yourself together and rushing out the door, you were running out of the apartment with the cup of coffee you had economically and time consciously thought to make. On the last step before you had escaped into the day you slipped, the hot coffee spilled all down the front of your red dress, because of course it was the one day you weren’t wearing black. Rushing back up the stairs you realized that the keys to get into your apartment were in your apartment, hanging on the hook just out of reach behind the door. So you would be going to work in your coffee dress.

9:01AM You made it to work, only thirty-one minutes late. Your boss wasn’t happy that you were late on a Friday, thinking you had done this on purpose as some slight to them. Which meant they had pulled you in the office and chewed you a new asshole.

They also told you about coming to work in a clean, tidy appearance as if you had wanted to be wearing your coffee.

As you were being yelled at you watched the line back up and couldn’t help but think about how yelling at you was just making the situation worse. You also were also thinking about how next time you’d just call in sick instead of being late.

11:59AM One minute before you were scheduled to take a break, one fucking minute, and the crazy man came in. Throwing his shit smelling money at you and proceeding to vomit all over your window.

Your window, your mess. So instead of having a much needed timeout from the day from hell you were trying to scrub the smell of puke off a counter.

1:47 PM You finally stepped out for lunch. Moving to the payphone to call your roommate. She thankfully answered on the second ring of the apartment phone. At least the door would be unlocked after work, which was one thing you had been worried about.

She was quick to tell you about how she had gotten you a gig for the night. Knowing how you wanted to travel, you two had come up with a plan a few months ago to find work in Hollywood for bands or on film sets. She had been pretty popular making costumes and helping to come up with whole concepts for the upcoming Glam Rock scene. One of her usual bands needed help because their makeup artist had been sick, so you were going to work for her tonight.

This would be considered a good thing but since it was a trial run you were not going to be getting paid for this gig. So your time would be free. The makeup you used on them you needed to provide. And you have to be there at 5PM to set up, which is the exact time that you need to get out of work. Your roommate agreed to help set you up and she was going to bring you a change of clothes to the gig. It would be fine because the band wouldn’t need to be made up until 6 or 7 but it was just another thing on your plate.

So you would be losing money that you needed to pay rent on a bunch of entitled rock stars who would probably not hire you and this whole night would just leave you feeling exhausted and annoyed. Really looking forward to it.

3:49PM Your coworker went home sick with a headache so now you had to do twice the amount of work and there was no hope in hell that you would be making it to the gig in time tonight. That great first impression that you would need to get an actual long job was gone. And you were stuck with a line out the door of people trying to cash their checks all seeming to want to kill you. Happy Friday.

5:02PM You were running down the street, thankful you worked around the corner from the venue. A sigh of relief left your lips seeing your roommate waiting for you. She dragged you inside pushing you towards a bathroom and giving you a bag of clothes to change into. You lined your brown eyes with the kohl liner, winging your eyeliner and adding a deep burgundy lip shade that complimented your darker skin.

“Y/N, hurry up.” you rolled your eyes, repacking the bag and heading out where your friend was waiting for you. “I put your makeup in the dressing room already. It’s not set up yet.” she pulled you down a few hallways. Equipment for the band was more around as they started getting ready to set up everything for the show.

You entered the dressing room, seeing there was a table for food and drinks set up, a rack of costumes for the band to wear, and finally a vanity where your makeup bag was sitting ready to be unpacked. Your friend handed you a cup, pouring a few fingers worth of vodka into it before splashing in some juice to help the taste.

“Cheers,” you tapped red solo cups drinking heavily. If you weren’t going to get paid for the gig you might as well take advantage of whatever free perks came with it.

6:23PM Sitting on the couch, legs crossed, you were chatting aimlessly with your friend when the door opened and a man walked in looking at you confused.

“Hey, I’m Y/N. I’m the makeup artist for the night.” you were quick to introduce yourself not wanting him to think you were another girl who was just trying to sleep with the band.

“Mick.” he moved to pour himself a full cup of straight vodka, “Can you do my makeup now? The three pretty boys take too much time.” Ushering him into the seat you started out on him, wondering what the hell he meant about the other guys being divas.

7:45PM A blonde burst into the room, seeming surprised that you were standing there. The girl on his arm laughed too loudly and you looked over to your roommate who was handing Mick a belt to wear. She just shrugged, this was normal for her.

“Vince, new makeup artist. You should sit now before the Terror Twins stumble in.” Mick warned him. He pulled away from the girl on his arm headed over to your chair with an easy smile.

“You're going to make me prettier, doll?”

“I’m thinking that you would look with some blue eyeshadow. It would really complete your Malibu Barbie look.” You retorted, watching amused as his mouth dropped open, not used to having someone give it back to him.

You hated cocky assholes who thought that they were God’s gift. There was nothing wrong with a man who was confident but the way that he was looking at himself in the mirror as you did his makeup you knew he was the type that thought he was above everyone else.

8:21PM Two men burst into the room as you finished up Vince. Looking at the two taller men you let your eyes wander over them. Vince was a diva but there two were going to be where you had the most trouble. They must be tber terror twins Mick had mentioned.

One of the guys fell into the chair, laughing about something as he sipped the beer he was drinking, rubbing his nose. He lit up a cigarette as he sat back in the chair not seeming to care if it was annoying that he was blowing smoke in your face as you tried to work.

You bit your tongue, annoyed as you tried to work around his cigarette, that he almost burnt you with seven different times. As you worked you could feel a set of eyes on you. Looking up you saw the man he had walked in with, staring at you with these intense olive eyes.

There wasn’t a chance in hell that you would be interested in any of these loudmouth guys, who all seemed to be drunk and hyperactive. It was kind of like you were doing makeup for a bunch of chimps instead of men.

8:55PM Finally the last man was sitting in your chair. His eyes gazing up at you with such intensity you stopped moving around to just look at him.

“Have we met before?” there was something familiar about him and you wondered if you had met him at a bar or at a show before.

“I don’t think so, sweetheart. I’m Nikki.” Usually when a guy used a nickname instead of your given name you chalked it up to them being a douchebag but with him it seemed natural and not derogatory, “Thank you for coming out to do our makeup today. I heard the other artist got sick at the last minute. We appreciate you taking your time to help us out…” he left it blank waiting for you to give him your name.

“Y/N.” You were surprised by how talkative he was. The kindness in his tone is different from the way the other guys have been. Just when you thought he was different you felt a hand on the back of your thigh, “If you don’t get your hand off me I’ll break your fingers so you can’t play tonight.” you warned him, looking into the olive eyes gazing up at you.

He was too good looking. The type of guy you could get into trouble with if you allowed yourself but you wouldn’t be taking home a stranger tonight.

“Do you always talk to your clients like that?” he asked with a coy smile on his face. This was the type of smug you liked. The funny easy going type who could make you laugh if you had not been on your feet for twelve hours.

“Only the ones that don’t pay me.” you replied, swiping his eyeshadow on. You wanted this to be over so you could go home and sleep.

The drummer came over, bumping into the vanity and knocking the eyeshadow off and not seeming to notice as the makeup smashed into a thousand pieces on the ground. You were officially losing a lot of money on this job and didn’t have the funds to replace it.

“Jesus, T-Bone, watch where you’re going.” Nikki commented, watching you start to pack everything up, “Aren’t you sticking around to watch the show?” You shook your head. “Why don’t you stick around and I’ll take you out after for a late dinner. As an apology for this being a bust for you.” You were sure that the way he smiled and how his eyes were so clear made it easy for him to pick up chicks but you weren’t going to be one of them.

“I had a long day. I’m not going out with you.” You zipped up your bag ready to leave

“Listen, Y/N, just stay until we go on. Maybe I can talk to someone and you can get paid for coming out.” You did need the money. So reluctantly you stayed.

9:57PM You shouldn’t have stayed. Nikki had seemed to think you telling him you were not going out with him was a maybe you’d go out with him.

It had been an hour of him sitting on the couch getting to know you, asking questions and being nice to you. Men weren’t nice to you just for the sake of being nice, they were born without the concept of human decency.

But he had also talked to their manager, pointing at you and saying stuff you didn’t get to hear. Now you were stuck in a weird limbo wondering if you were going to get paid.

11:15pm The band rushed on stage and you were pulled aside by the manager. He handed you and envelope that you knew contained cash.

“The boys are going to have a few California gigs. If you can stick it out for a couple weeks I’ll consider hiring you for the tour. I’ll pay you $100 bucks a gig and you need to bring your own supplies to start but if you go on tour you’ll get a contract.” He said. You agreed and he handed you a piece of paper with four dates, the upcoming week, times, and his phone number to call if you couldn’t make it. There was also a chicken scratch handwriting with the name Nikki and a phone number

You were stunned when he walked away. You not only got paid but you have jobs lined up to make even more. It was a dream.

Looking up, you moved towards the stage watching the bassist move around the stage. He was high energy, loving what he was doing. There was this presence about him that drew you in. If you did get the tour position that would be trouble.

11:59PM You had finished packing up and we’re heading out of the venue to head home. You were ready for your bed and a few hours of sleep. The guys were playing tomorrow and you wanted to not be having a bad day.

Trying to sneak out, you almost jumped back when four sweaty men came barreling into the room. Your heart instantly went to your throat seeing Nikki. His smile dancing across his lips, hey black hair stuck to his forehead just oozing self confidence and sex appeal.

“You’re leaving so soon?” You just nodded at his question, wondering if it would be considered rude to tuck his hair out of his face. “Did you call a taxi or need a ride? There’s a lot of unsafe riff raff out this late.” He warned and you almost thought he sounded concerned.

“I’m a grown woman. I can walk myself home. It’s only like 15 minutes from here.” His eyebrow raised as he wiped the sweat off his face with a towel.

“I’ll give you a ride.”

“No you won’t.” You shoe back, “I don’t know you and I don’t leave with strangers I’ve only known for one day.” You responded. It was practical to have rules to keep you from getting hurt.

“Well, Y/N, we’ve known each other for two days now since it’s past midnight.” He was so calm saying this to you, “And I’m trying to cut back on drinking so if they see me leave with you I won’t be harassed so you’ll really be doing me the favor.” Thinking about what he said, your tongue licked your top lip nervously. The way his eyes followed this motion gave you your answer.

“Thank you for the offer. I’m going to say goodbye to my roommate. I’ll see you in 20 minutes outside?” You gave him a smile and saw the way he was melting under your touch as you moved away from him.

You moved over to your friend letting her know you were leaving and you’d see her at home.

12:22 AM Adjusting the bag over your shoulder you weaved through the crowds pouring in and out of all the clubs. No one ever really bothered you walking home. It was just the cat calling and guys thinking that they had a right to run their mouths

“Y/N.” You frowned hearing your name. The roar of a motorcycle speeding up had your eyes looking out on the street.

Oh Shit. There was Nikki, looking at you with a line where his smile had been, his kind eyes looking annoyed at you. You had left him after saying you’d let him take you home but he was too pushy.

“Get on.” the steely tone of his voice made you stop what you were doing, thinking of what to do next. People were looking at the pair of you, some probably recognizing Nikki from his band. You rolled your eyes, stepping forward.

“Listen to me, I’m not getting on. I don’t know you.” His look softened and it was like for the first time he understood what the issue was.

“I just want to make sure that you make it home safe. I know you don’t want anything happening to you. It would feel like my responsibility if you went missing after doing the band's makeup.” you rolled your eyes. Eyeing him and the bike. It had been a long day and it was onlya five minute drive. What was the worst that could happen?

1:02AM The worst thing that could happen was happening.

When you got on the back of Nikki’s Harley he had asked where you lived. As he drove, you wrapped around his back you realized for the first time of the night you were smiling a genuine wife smile.

Watching the lights of the Strip and the hustle and bustle fly by when wrapped around his warm body, the noie drowned out by the roar of the bike was nice. It felt good. So when you pulled up on your street and he asked if you wanted to drive around more you didn't say no like you should have.

Weaving around the empty highways with just the pair of you was nice. There was no conversations but it felt like you two were getting to know each other on another level.

3:55AM Nikki pulled the bike into a donut shop on the side of the highway. The smell of fresh baked pastries and coffee brewing awakening you much like the wind whipping your face had been keeping you awake but it had been almost twenty four hours awake.

The pair of your ordered black coffee and a donut, sitting on stools at the counter and eating in a comfortable silence.

“Are you mad at me?” He didn’t have a cheeky grin on his face like you had expected but he was serious. “I know you said you wouldn’t go out with me but it just seemed like you were having a bad day and I have a hero complex.” you snorted when he said this. Surprised he admitted that he had a heroes complex.

“I’m not mad. I got on the back of your bike and stayed out.” you thought for a second, “I think I needed it. I always follow my rules and never break them. I think sometimes I need a break from the rules I create.” you said all this with your heart beating wondering what the hell you were doing with this guy in the middle of nowhere.

5:41AM Nikki had wrapped his leather jacket around you, both your boots abandoned by the motorcycle as you sat with toes in the sand watching the sun rise over the Pacific. You hadn't even seen the sun rising over the ocean before so you were wrapped up in the orange and golds of the sky, how the inky black of the water came alive into blue and purple hues with the light.

It was beautiful.

It felt like something was washing over you as you watchined it. Something was changing as you watched the sun start a new day. A new day that you had this feeling in your bones was going to be a good day.

Wiping a tear away, you took a deep breath remembering that you had moved here to make your dreams come true and for the first time it felt like it was going to happen.

A hand on your back reminded you that you weren’t alone. His olive eyes looking at you, concerned. You wiped a tear away trying to laugh it off.

“I never saw the sunrise over the ocean. It’s beautiful,” It was at that moment, wrapped up in the beauty of everything that you realized that he was going to kiss you. The way his hand was against your check, wiping the tears away.

But you surprised both of you leaning forward to push your lips against his. Making the first move. You were breaking all of your rules for him but it felt good and you could tell you would be breaking more rules with him

6:00AM It was going to be a good day.

#nikki sixx fanfiction #Nikki Sixx #Nikki Sixx headcanon #Nikki Sixx X You #Nikki Sixx X Reader #Nikki Fucking Sixx #Nikki Sixx fanfic #Nikki Sixx Imagine #Nikki Sixx writing #Nikki Sixx Request #Request

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dreamy625 · 2 years ago

Text

This rockstar life - 3.14 Communication breakdown

Words: 2357

Content: I don’t believe it, actual plot! Angst, drinking, mention of drugs but no drug-taking.

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

“Oh god. Is he all right?”

“That was two days ago! Why didn’t you call me sooner?”

“Well fat lot of good that’ll do, they never do anything.”

“But he’s stable now? And talking and everything?”

“Thank god. So what…”

“Has he agreed to go?”

“Then no, you can’t send him against his will.”

“No I can’t. And I won’t. He’s an actual adult and he gets to make decisions about his life. Even though he is spectacularly bad at it.”

“Well I would be all for it if I had any hope that it would work. But it never does, does it. In fact, it makes him worse. You know he’ll just go on a massive binge the minute they let him out.”

“That’s a twelve step thing isn’t it? That’s even more useless.”

“Look, I know you Americans don’t understand this, but Steve, like most English people, believes in god about as much as he believes in the tooth fairy. So anything that relies on the intervention of a higher power is hopeless. The nearest thing he’s got to a higher power is Jimmy Page. And he’s a heroin addict.”

“Still no. Not unless he agrees to it.”

“I just feel like you want to put him somewhere so he’s not your responsibility, but that’s not what he needs. None of those places ever deal with the real problem.”

“Yes but that’s just temporary. The alcohol isn’t the problem, or not the… core problem. Drinking is the coping mechanism… the medicine for whatever is really wrong with him.”

“I don’t know, I’m not a bloody psychiatrist. And neither are you.”

“I am not being hostile. Look, the only person who’s ever done any good was the counsellor at Highcliffe. Maybe we can get him booked in there? Just as an outpatient. Unless he says otherwise.”

“Fine. I’ll deal with it. As you say, I am indeed very familiar with that institution.”

“I’m sorry Peter, but you’ve been packing him off to hospitals and treatment centres and holistic healing whatnots for at least five years now and it hasn’t done the slightest bit of good. So maybe just… leave him be.”

“Okay, then I’ll come over and get him. Will the hospital keep him in until tomorrow?”

“Right. Can you at least book me a plane ticket? And two to come back again.”

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

Steve was almost entirely silent on the way from the hospital to the apartment, to pick up his stuff as packed by the devoted Malvin. He looked like shit, ghostly pale under four days of beard growth, with shaking hands, which I hadn’t seen since his first days in the clinic nearly two years ago. We were in the second cab, nearly at the airport, when he finally spoke:

“Are we really going home?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Mensch said… I have to go… to another…”

“I said he couldn’t send you anywhere unless you wanted to go.”

“You stood up to Mensch?”

“I guess I did.”

“You’re fierce when you need to be.” He managed a lacklustre smile before lapsing into blank silence again.

He trailed along behind me as if half-asleep as we navigated check-in, where I wrote a ridiculously large cheque to get many-times the standard baggage allowance, including three guitars, accepted by the harried clerk, got through Security, and found the right gate. I don’t know if there was some kind of VIP channel we could have gone through, Q Prime had just booked us business class tickets on a regular Heathrow shuttle flight and it hadn’t occurred to me to ask if there were usually special arrangements for transporting rockstars. Through the whole process I was afraid that someone would take a close look at Steve and decide that he couldn’t be allowed to fly in that state, but apparently shambling, glassy-eyed Englishmen are not that noteworthy and no one said anything. Finally we boarded and as I sat down my legs felt as wobbly as if I had climbed a mountain over the last twenty-four hours. As the plane taxied, I looked across at Steve and saw that there were tears trickling down his cheeks. As soon as the seatbelt light went off he clambered as much onto my lap as the armrest would allow and we clung together for the entirety of the short flight.

By the time we’d got off the plane, waited for all the luggage, found a cab, and made it back to Chelsea it was almost ten o’clock. Once we got inside I just left all the bags in a heap in the hall and propelled Steve up the stairs to our bedroom. He just stood there, docile as a sleepy child, as I pulled off his clothes and pushed him under the shower. Concentrating on getting him warm, and ridding him of the hospital smell, I left the tangled hair. A problem for another day. It was only a few weeks since I’d seen him last, but he was noticeably thinner, every bump of his spine distinct under my hands as I soaped his back. I kept my head angled down so he wouldn’t see the distress in my face. Out of the shower and dried off, I wrapped him in one of the fluffy robes left from the Hysteria tour and he ambled into the bedroom while I quickly wiped the smudgy remains of make-up from my eyes and dragged a comb through my own hair. The person in the mirror looked like she’d fled from a warzone.

“You should eat something. Are you hungry?”

He made a face.

“Soup?”

Another face and shake of the head.

“Well… tea then?”

“Okay.”

He drank the tea, and ate a couple of bites of the toast I’d optimistically brought with it before pulling off the robe and burrowing under the covers. I climbed in beside him and switched off the lamp. He was curled into a ball but unravelled enough at my touch that I could spoon him, and he held tightly onto my hand. After a little while, his grip loosened and I thought he was falling asleep, but then he murmured, oh so quietly,

“I can’t do this anymore.”

“I know baby, I know. We’ll sort it.”

Even though I’d been awake for about 40 hours by then, I couldn’t sleep and just lay there listening to his too-fast, too-shallow breathing, thinking about whether the ‘this’ he couldn’t do anymore meant the band, or… everything. He’d been relatively stable, with some ups and downs, yes, but nothing life-threatening, for so long that I’d convinced myself he was fine. For a given definition of fine. And a given definition of convinced. If I’m honest, I think I was just refusing to see that everything - him, me, us - had been getting worse since that horrible Christmas, because I didn’t know what to do about it. I do not feel grown-up enough to deal with this. Eventually I must have drifted off, to be woken again just as it was getting light by Steve twitching and moaning in his sleep. I made soothing noises and stroked his shoulder until the dream passed, and then he seemed to be sleeping more naturally, with slower breathing.

When I wake up again, it’s to bright sunlight coming through half-drawn curtains and an odd smell. As I reluctantly blink open my gritty-feeling eyelids, I see Steve next to me eating a banana and drinking orange juice. He looks, well, still bad, but less awful than yesterday.

“Hey. Feeling better?”

“Sort of. Not feeling sick anymore at least.”

The banana smell is making me nauseous, but I keep that to myself. He needs to eat and I don’t want him to stop on my account. His skin, though still pale, has lost the deathly grey tinge, and his hands are steady holding the glass. Which probably means…

“Is there vodka in that?”

His face couldn’t hide anything if he tried. “A bit.” he admits.

“Maintenance dose huh?”

He nods.

I haul myself upright. “Well I need my fix too. Of coffee. Want some?”

He shakes his head.

“And then, will you be up to talking?”

He nods again.

“In actual words?”

Smiling, he makes the hand gesture for maybe.

When I get back with the pot of coffee (I had remembered that he doesn’t want any, but today I think I’m going to need the whole thing for myself!), he’s snuggled down again, duvet pulled up to his nose. Being July, it’s not exactly cold, but maybe he feels safer that way. Quickly I gulp down a cup of the magic caffeine potion and slip down beside him. It’s so tempting to just… not. Not start the conversation, just pretend that everything is fine now. He looks so sweet and vulnerable, and even relatively healthy in the golden sunlight, and the relief of getting him back makes me want to just hold onto him as tight as possible, keep him here and never let the world touch him again. But that would only last until the next phonecall from Peter. So, we talk. Quietly. Gently. Lots of pauses for thinking. Some crying, mostly me. Cigarette breaks, mostly Steve. Almost like proper functional adults. Eventually he drops off to sleep again, and I won’t wake him because he really needs to rest, but it doesn’t matter because by then we’ve got the outline of a plan. Or if not a plan, at least the acceptance of what needs to happen. Now we just have to be strong enough to stick with it.

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

“I can’t. I just can’t.”

A week later, both still hiding under the duvet long after the alarm clock has rung, Steve is besieged by anxiety and second thoughts. I’m trying to be supportive, but it really is a life-changing decision. And one which only he can take and only he can enact. And to be honest I’m almost as terrified as he is. The band, and everything that goes with it, is a major source of the pressure that crushes him, but also it gives him structure and purpose, and it’s been his whole life since he was eighteen. I don’t know what he’ll do, who he’ll be, without it. After talking to Phil yesterday, today is the day he’s supposed to tell the rest of the guys. And then Peter and Cliff. And to say he’s dreading it would be an understatement. I think this is the worst I’ve ever seen him. He drank almost an entire bottle of vodka last night, no pretence of it being a sociable activity, barely even bothering to dilute it, just a grim, deliberate, unstoppable emptying of the bottle to get as far away from reality as possible. He was itching for some coke as well, but he’s out of practice with that and fortunately the only contact he still has in London wasn’t answering the phone. Anyway, the booze was enough and he eventually passed out on the sofa about 1am. I did the whole recovery-position - blanket - bucket procedure, and resigned myself to a sleepless night keeping watch over him, prodding him periodically and making sure I at least got a grunt in response. A little after 3am he woke up, threw up, and then I was able to half-drag him up to bed, using all the pillows to prop him on his side once again, where he snored like a warthog for the next four hours until the alarm went off.

Now, I think he’s gone through dread and out the other side into a kind of blank paralysis. Not hungover (I guess he probably puked half the bottle back up), but white as a sheet and huge eyes staring at nothing in the darkness under the quilt. There’s nothing I can say or do that would make it better. It’s definitely one of those ‘the only way out is through’ situations, but I’m not sure that’s a helpful observation to make when the ‘out’ part is a scary unknown future that you don’t necessarily want either. The car’s coming in an hour for the flight at noon. Phil’s going to meet us at the airport and go to the studio with him. I’ll wait at the hotel until after the meeting and the call to Q Prime in the States; this is definitely a band-only thing, and I do not want to be Yoko. Phil’s going to ring me when it’s all done and then, well there is no real plan for then. It depends how it went, what state he’s in. I can’t think about it now. It’s too much.

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

Captain’s log supplemental - we’re all having dinner at Joe’s house. I think. I hope. It went okay?

They are making jokes, all at Steve’s expense, pretending to forget his name and saying ‘you still here?’ every time he walks into a room. But it seems good natured, no barbs, and I know this is how boys, these boys anyway, show affection. Joe, when he thinks no one is watching, has something of the look of a kicked puppy, so I think he’s more upset than he’s making out, but from the rest all I see is kindness and, not relief exactly, but like a weight has lifted. It must have been so tough to watch their friend struggling, horribly worried about him but also relying on him to keep doing his job so the band would stay afloat.

From the quick debrief in the taxi, predictably Peter and Cliff had not reacted with unmitigated joy. But I think they recognised a fait accompli staring them in the face. They’re going to ‘thrash out a deal’, which definitely includes finishing the album and doing the tour that follows. I guess Steve’s going to need a lawyer to deal with it all, but for now he seems content with the general plan. Would a clean break right now have been better? Maybe. In the short term. But I think the guilt would have got to him in the end. I don’t know, it doesn’t feel entirely real yet.

#steve clark #steve clark fanfic #steve clark fanfiction #def leppard fanfic #def leppard fanfiction #this rockstar life fic

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