#I’m not sure she could take up the slack for a lame Pretty Girl because although I find her highly amusing she’s not actually a comedienne | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

anika-ann · 4 years ago

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Attached: Word Is that We Might Work It Out

Type: Modern-college-professor AU - part of Attached series

Pairing: professor!Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 6850🙈

Summary: You said yes to Professor Rogers – Steve – taking you out for ‘coffee’. Ball’s in your court – and you decide to make your move.

A date, maybe first of many, maybe not. A date with the gorgeous professor who happened to read your erotica about him. What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: alcohol consumption, professor-student relationship and unspecified age gap, language, lots of fluff

A/N: Timeline-wise, this one-shot fits in after chapter four of Attached!!! At the end, you can find the reason behind me writing this. You can consider it one big flashback, if you will 😅 Gif by capchrisevaans.

Series masterlist | previous in timeline

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You lasted one day. One full day since the encounter in the office, since Professor Rogers admitted he would like to take you out for coffee or something similar. Since you two exchanged numbers.

It took you twenty-four hours – maybe less – to decide that so what if that might be a bad idea. It was not against the university rules and Professor Steve Rogers was a fucking specimen who also seemed to be a genuinely nice human being and if you allowed yourself to play chicken just because something only might go wrong in the future, you’d be an idiot.

Penny, your roomie, wholeheartedly agreed. She actually punched the air in victory as you were nursing a greasy lunch due to the wild-ish celebration of the end of the semester together the night prior and you just said to the void: “You know what, screw it. I’m gonna go for it.”

You didn’t even have to say what you were talking about – Professor Rogers had been the topic ever since the faithful Monday.

So you texted him that if the offer still stood, you’d like to meet up on Friday evening. Was he free?

Hey, Y/N :) Thank you for reaching out. Friday sounds great. Do you have anything specific in mind?

“Dude. He’s such a cutie. Who even texts like that?” Penny chuckled, a wide grin on her face as you couldn’t but read the text out loud.

“I texted him like that.”

“Touché. Because you want to impress mister ‘hot as fuck intellectual’ there.”

You just rolled your eyes, neither confirming nor denying. Mostly because Penny was right. But he was the first to use an emoji and… yeah, cutie indeed.

Well, I never say no to dinner and I’m down for almost anything-

“I bet you are,” Penny hummed to your ear and you swung after her blindly and thought of a better phrasing.

Well, I never say no to a dinner and I’m not picky. You choose. Seven-ish sounds good?

“Spoilsport.”

“Stop reading over my shoulder!” you chuckled and bit your lip as the answer came almost immediately.

Seven is alright. I’ll think of something to treat a girl right ;)

Your stomach made a small somersault, your face instantly radiating heat at the possible innuendo. The phone vibrated again before you could fully process the image your mind painted of him actually saying it in his gentle timbre.

Just so we’re clear, what is the nature of the dinner? It can be whatever you feel comfortable with.

Your heart leaped into your throat, hammering wildly.

That was the question, wasn’t it? Since you texted him, you made one thing clear with yourself. If you were doing this, it was going to be a date. You wouldn’t be doing things by halves.

Penny next to you made a noise that sounded as something between an aww and her gagging on nothing. “He’s disgustingly considerate for a man his age planning on going out with a girl your age.”

“He’s not that much older,” you protested instantly, frowning. He wasn’t. She knew that; you had both done your research. “And I think it’s amazing.”

You caught Penny’s smile from the corner of your eye as you typed.

“Well, it is kinda sweet. And I know he’s not, I’m messing with you. It’s just-- DON’T SEND HIM THAT!”

“Why?” you questioned, looking at her quizzically and totally clicking on send on purpose at the same time.

I’d be comfortable with a date if you are.

“It’s so lame. Of course he’s comfortable with a date, he suggested it. Duh.”

The reply came way too fast and Penny chuckled behind you as your jaw went slack.

“You know what? Don’t mind me. Good job. Keep it up,” Penny patted your shoulder as you stared at the screen where Professor Steven Grant Rogers just texted you a damn heart.

It’s a date <3

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It was a date indeed.

Steve texted you an address on Friday morning (along with an adorable good morning :) ), apologizing that he couldn’t pick you up, making sure you’d be alright getting there on your own. You found it absolutely sweet, considerate and smart. You suspected that his ‘inability’ to pick you up had something to do with the fact that you lived at the dorms and if he showed up there, it would be trending in the university chit-chat room within five minutes.

You spent a better part of the Friday afternoon researching the place and the weather forecast so you could dress accordingly and getting ready.

You were not ready for a date with Steve Rogers however; your nerves were a mess and nothing could ever prepare you for when he showed up perfectly on time in front of the restaurant---- wearing a suit no less.

How were you supposed to function when he was wearing such elegant clothing, a suit he filled up so fucking well?! And he looked just as breath-taking as always, stupidly perfect beard and slightly tousled hair you just wanted to run your fingers through and his smile was so gorgeous and--- Jesus Fucking Christ, the suit- how could you even put words together when looking at him-

“Wow, I feel so underdressed now.”

Clearly, you could speak just fine, only you lost your brain-to-mouth filter. Also, your mouth might have started watering and your heart was pounding like crazy. You would not survive tonight.

But, you also had a point. The restaurant was supposed to be a nice place, but relatively plain. And he showed up in amazingly fitting dress pants, white shirt, a tie and a suit jacket. So yes, you did feel underdressed.

“Oh no, no! You’re not,” he rushed to reassure you, eyeing your semi-leisure white dress with burgundy flowers with an attentive gaze that had you shifting your weight nervously. “I’m overdressed if anything. Sticking out like a sore thumb, I’m sorry.”

You could always just strip the suit jacket, was your first thought, but luckily for you, this time you managed to contain the words before they got out to the open.

“You’re fine,” you said instead, not knowing how else to react; needless to say you were grateful for the smile he gave you despite the double meaning.

Yes, he was fine indeed. Always. It was unfair, really.

“Thanks. You too. In fact, you look beautiful.”

Your heart stopped in your chest, your mind suddenly racing a mile per minute.

It was ridiculous. It was just a word. But for one, it was spoken so kindly and genuinely you couldn’t but think he meant it, for two, it was Professor Steve Rogers who told you that and--- beautiful.

You couldn’t remember a guy ever calling you beautiful.

Cute? Sure. Pretty? Maybe. Hot? Might have happened once or twice . But beautiful?

You might actually swoon.

And you were so lost in your head that you couldn’t but silently stare at the lethally handsome man in front of you and then it again registered in your brain that this was your fucking crush speaking to you and he was on a date with you and he had read your erotica, one that was about him no less-

Your face was set aflame in an instant and you… you couldn’t let out a word.

“It everything okay? Did I… did I say something wrong?” Steve asked hesitantly, a concerned wrinkle appearing between his brows and it reminded you of all the times you had seen him wearing such thoughtful expression in the two classes he taught instead of Professor Barnes and-

You were screwed.

Tonight was going to be a disaster.

“No, uhm, no, sorry--- maybe we should go inside or-“ you muttered, lightly gesturing towards the door and could you get any more awkward?

“Yeah, sure, sounds good.”

He let you walk in first like a real gentleman, the lightest skim of his fingers on your lower back, which caused your heartbeat to skyrocket; and only when the hostess seated you, you realized you never accepted his kind compliment.

It was too late for that now, you assumed, so you sipped at the still water which waited at each table, and repeated like a mantra to yourself that you needed to get your shit together otherwise you’d ruin your shot before the night even started.

But clearly, you succeeded at that already.

Whatever awkward aura you had around yourself, it seemed to extend now to him too – he shifted slightly in his seat (he had pulled out your chair for you before, because of course he had), his shoulders stiff. Despite that, he smiled at you over the menu.

“So… all exams worked out? Enjoying the freedom?” he asked casually.

“Oh, yes. Yeah.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” you uttered with a forced smile, your stomach twisted unpleasantly.

For some reason, you felt like you were having a lame attempt at small talk with a professor, which you were, but it wasn’t supposed to be like that.

Not tonight. Not on a date.

What were you even doing here? What were you playing at? Professor Steve Rogers was entirely out of your league, gorgeous, funny, kind and smart and here you were, barely making conversation.

It was pathetic really. It was embarrassing for both of you.

“You up to anything fun?” he queried, the question less enthusiastic than the one before. He was already growing tired of making your uncooperative brain work at least a bit, it was obvious.

Your gulped as the memory of last night popped in your head – staying in, quiet evening, in a mood for some dirty writing--- oh bless, another reminder of why this dinner was and should be really weird.

Steve read your smutty story. The one about him.

“Nothing special,” you squealed silently, earning a plain nod. “Eh, we went out with Penny, my roommate and best friend in one person. But mostly I just stayed in and--- caught up on sleeping.”

“I know what that’s like,” Steve hummed, clearly as grateful as you were when the waiter appeared by your table to take your orders.

Silence stretched as the man left, your hand beginning to fiddle with the neatly folded napkin on the table, lump growing in your throat due to your nerves.

“What about you? Anything… fun?” you asked reluctantly, noticing a brief smile passing Steve’s lips. Pretty, sinfully pretty lips. Perfect. Untouchable for mere mortals like you.

“Oh, not much. Few exam sittings, faculty meetings – we had one now, hence the suit-“

“You came here right from school?” you blurted out, startled – and clearly surprising him with your rudeness. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Yes, I did. We have a meeting every last Friday of the month.”

“Oh my god, you must be so tired,” you sympathized with him quietly, the uneasy feeling in your stomach only growing. He came here straight from work and for this? “Why didn’t you say something? We could have postponed or something.”

Steve swiftly shook his head, his warm hand landing on yours, gently stopping your restless fingers. This time, it was butterflies in your stomach erupting with life, the sweet comforting gesture warming your heart. He wanted to be here. He came here for you. He was interested in you.

And the feeling was mutual. So why was it being so weird then?

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m glad you reached out. I’m glad that you said yes in the first place,” he admitted, features softening despite the tension in his shoulders never leaving. His brows furrowed as he slowly withdrew his hand – it must have been an automatic reaction then. “I’m not that tired and… and maybe I was little worried that if I asked for a different date, then…”

He trailed off and your lips parted in surprise, your heart swelling in your chest at what he was implying.

Did he think you’d back out? Did he think that all the potential obstacles intimidated you too much? That you’d think it wasn’t worth it? That it wouldn’t work out anyway?

Seeing as you were now, you couldn’t blame him. Despite him being the world’s most charming man, here you were, being… not at all yourself, stressing for no reason.

It seemed to you that had had chemistry, back there in his office. This date made sense. When you imagined how this could unfold, well, it went a bit differently too. There was considerably less embarrassment going around.

This was why you preferred writing to speaking. That’s why you liked daydreaming. Because reality was often less than ideal, no script, awkward silences, misunderstandings…

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your food arrived.

You both thanked the waiter politely and you hoped that at least now you’d have a good excuse for the lack of normal conversation.

“What are you sorry for?”

You sighed and nibbled on your lower lip, not missing the way his gaze instinctively flickered there, pupils dilating just a fraction – but enough for you to notice. Your heart skipped a pleased beat – but the undeniable physical attraction couldn’t be enough.

“For this,” you said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. His features twisted in disappointment and something that looked a lot like regret flashed in his eyes. “I want to be here, Steve. I really do. I don’t know what’s wrong with me-“

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you,” he was quick to oppose and you couldn’t help it as a wry chuckle escaped you.

“Well, there’s certainly nothing wrong with you. And still, there’s this…”

“…tension?”

You wished.

“Sort of? But not the fun kind, for sure.”

He grimaced, but a spark of amusement lit up his blue irises. “Awkward air around us?”

“Yes!” you exclaimed victoriously as he voiced exactly what you were thinking. Then you quickly lowered your voice, looking around. Luckily, no one stared at you. You realized you leaned closer to him over the table, your heart racing at that, but you didn’t withdraw; it was a lovely opportunity to get even a better look at his perfect face. “But I don’t know why!” You knew why. “I like you, Steve-“

“I like you too. And I know I already said that, but you look stunning.”

Your cheeks burned again, but this time, you managed to stutter out a thank you at least. Stunning, Jesus, was he for real?

“T-thank you. You look incredibly handsome too. Then again you always do—why did I say that.”

One corner of his lips quirked up.

“Why thank you, I’m glad you did. The feeling’s mutual, believe me.”

“Then why does this feel like one of the most awkward dates I’ve ever been to?!” you whisper-yelled, causing him to chuckle, the tips of his ears turning red.

His hand once again landed on yours, this time deliberately, the gesture warming you in more than one way.

“Well… I’m nervous. You might be too.” You hummed in agreement. Was that all it was? “But the way you said it, at least it seems to me that it could have been worse, right? More awkward?”

You felt the corners of your lips rise at the remark, shrugging. He had a point there. And he squeezed your hand a bit and good Lord, it should not be making your heart race so much, but he was touching you and he was being really sweet and his fingers were nice and warm and long-

“Tell me.”

You blinked in surprise, realizing you had been staring at your joined hands. You raised your gaze, finding him watching you with a subtle smile.

“Tell you what?”

“Tell me about the most awkward date you have ever been to,” he clarified, his thumb caressing your wrist.

You only hesitated for a beat before you nodded in agreement, god knew why. Perhaps you did need a reminder that this could have gone much more disastrously and it was mostly your traitorous brain telling you that you were messing everything up.

Plus, Steve deserved whatever he wanted – so far, he was the only reason this date wasn’t as disastrous as it could be.

“Okay. You ever been to a speed dating event, Steve? Because I have.”

“Oh, this is ought to be good,” he noted with another squeeze to your hand, before he released you. Shame. He sipped at his wine and dug into his pasta. “I’m all ears.”

This is ought to be good, Steve said. Well, maybe. You certainly hadn’t thought so at the time.

Explaining to Steve that as you had been under duress from no other than Penny, you both went to the event which promised you meeting ten dashing men in only an hour. You’d get five minutes with each, as anonymous as you’d wished to be, receiving a folder with nothing but a table with the first names of the men and a yes and no option and a line for your own notes about them.

You weren’t sure what to think of it – but after three epically failed Tinder attempts, you agreed to try. If nothing else, you’d gain a new experience.

And an experience had it been. You even lasted a month with one of the guys, but you didn’t tell Steve that. It wasn’t important.

André was.

André Whatever-was-his-last-name – because that was how it worked, no last names – definitely believed he was important. With the guys moving around the tables from one woman to another, spending five minutes with each, you could already hear André closing to your station from two tables over.

He was hard to tune out, courtesy of the colour of his voice, extremely unpleasant to your ears, and him never letting the woman he faced talk. Always interrupting. Always turning the conversation around so it would be about him.

Asshole.

You liked to think you weren’t quick to judge people, but André was making you cringe before you were even introduced. And then you actually were.

A minute into his monologue to you, you felt like you were being tortured.

And then the waitress managed to stumble and spill a glass of white wine – partly over your table, but mostly on the floor. At least she caught the glass and you had but a tiny spot on your dress.

“She was apologizing so profusely and I wasn’t thinking, okay. I went for the napkins few tables over to help and— I didn’t realize I put the open folder down for everyone to see,” you explained, feeling like face-palming when you remembered the night.

Steve watched you in anticipation, a small smirk and a knowing look on his face as he guessed you had already circled ‘no’ for André at the time.

Oh, you wished it were that simple. You felt your cheeks burn hot as you continued.

“André read it, of course. Obviously, he already got a hard ‘no’ from me, but… I might have written a tiny note for myself as to why,” you admitted and Steve’s eyebrow rose minutely, his curiosity piqued even more.

You took a deep breath.

“I wasn’t exactly kind to him. It was something along the lines of self-important asshole who probably compensated for something.” Steve huffed in amusement. But oh, if he only knew... you sighed and continued. “And If Draco Malfoy and Gilderoy Lockhart had a love child, this would be him.”

No sound came from your companion this time and your teeth anxiously sank into our lower lip, your pulse wavering. What was Steve thinking? Did he think you had been rude? Mean even? Nerdy? All of the above?

He stared at you for full three seconds, clearly rendered speechless by your harsh judgement.

And then he burst out laughing.

Suffocating weight fell from your shoulders and you silently joined him as you explained yourself.

“I was in my Harry Potter phase! And in my defence, I think it was actually pretty accurate...”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that, sweetheart,” Steve chuckled lightly before laughing some more, irises twinkling with amusement and something… softer.

You shuddered upon hearing the endearment spill unwittingly from his lips, upon seeing the emotion on his face. And maybe you were a little proud of yourself for making him laugh and lose the tension in his shoulders completely.

“It was one of the longest and most awkward three minutes of my life, the silence that followed,” you huffed, massaging your forehead. “He did not appreciate the comparison.”

“I bet,” Steve cackled, taking another bite of his meal, smile playing in the corner of his lips as he swallowed and continued. “But you’ve got to give it to him, he knew his Harry Potter characters.”

“Ha! My thoughts exactly. But that’s a little bit of weak base for dating, I think, especially since I kinda already hated him.”

“Oh, you did? I didn’t catch that,” Steve joked lightly, causing you to smile despite the horrid memory.

And funnily enough, telling him and remembering it… it did make you feel better and more at ease with him.

“Ha ha ha, laugh it up, Professor. Your turn.”

“I’m sorry?” he said, clearly puzzled. It didn’t escape your notice as his voice faltered, his Adam’s apple bobbing at the addressing.

Oh, so that’ s still a thing. You couldn’t but smirk a bit at that.

“An awkward date. You have to share now, it’s only fair,” you shrugged, only for a terrible realization to dawn on you. “Please tell me there is at least one awkward date story, Steve. Tell me this isn’t really your worst date ever.”

He shook his head with a soft chuckle.

“Oh, there’s plenty. I’m just trying to think about one that won’t scare you away from me. I’d hate that.”

One corner of his lips raised, he looked you up and down, lingering on your lips for a bit before meeting your gaze, something you could only hope was fondness and wanton in his eyes. Your breath hitched, heat pooling in your abdomen at the thorough onceover despite the gentle tone of his voice.

Fuck how could he make you feel hot and soft at the same time.

Unable to stand the intensity of his stare, you lowered your gaze and gulped, your stomach making an excited slip. He did want you. You had been being silly, letting your nerves get the better of you.

Clearing your throat, you willed yourself to look up, finding him still watching closely – and perhaps, there was a hint of a red to his cheeks, the tip of his ears burning as if despite the blatant flirting, he was unsure of himself too, because he didn’t want to mess up with you either.

You found it absolutely endearing and your heart swelled. The way you got to see there was more to him than his professor side and his dashing looks… you felt incredibly lucky. The more you got to interact with him, the more it wasn’t just your sinful thoughts belonging to him – he was quickly working on stealing your heart as well.

Plucking up your courage, you were the one to reach out this time, carefully sweeping your thumb over the back of his hand, smiling.

“I’m not scared off all that easily, Steve.”

He mirrored your genuine smile, a glint of something you couldn’t read lighting up his eyes.

“That’s good to know,” he said lowly and sighed, narrowing his eyes as if he was assessing you again. “Alright, here goes…”

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You actually managed to get one more awkward date story from Steve, because frankly, his experiences were hilarious. And surprise surprise, he was a great narrator. Plus, while he talked, you could ogle him shamelessly without fear of looking strange.

But you guessed that since you were on a date, you could ogle him anyway. He didn’t seem to mind; in fact, whenever he got the opportunity, he reciprocated it. It finally did feel like a date, the air growing thicker as you gradually shifted closer and closer, the light touches prolonging, feet meeting under the table without parting as soon as they made contact.

Your belly kept warming up with each smile and laugh, with every second of the intense eye contact, with every flicker of his gaze to your lips and vice versa. Sharing a dessert was a terrible idea, because you wanted kiss the crumbs sticking on his lips away. You teased each other, you complimented each other – with Steve absolutely winning the undeclared contest – and you realized that despite sharing your most embarrassing dates with each other at the beginning, this was the absolute best you had ever been to.

And you didn’t want it to end.

The light sweater you had brought with you did nothing to shield you from the surprisingly lukewarm wind. As you wandered the streets, Steve finally heard out one of your first thoughts you had had when meeting him today – he shrugged off his suit jacket.

Which… yum. The seams of his shirt were crying for help and you could only think fo one way of helping them – taking his shirt off too. But alas, Steve didn’t continue the striptease, probably because you were on the street. Instead, he did the most wholesome thing and held out the jacket for you to slip into.

You only hesitated a moment, teeth sinking into your lower lip. How could you say no to that?

“That’s awfully cliché and really sweet at the same time,” you muttered, causing him to shrug, one corner of his lips raised in a smirk as he helped you put it on, forefinger most definitely deliberately caressing the side of your throat before withdrawing.

A shudder ran down your spine, electrifying feeling going straight to your core. The whiff of whatever cologne he was wearing enveloped you, clouding your senses. Goddammit he smelled so good.

“Maybe I just want to see you in my clothes,” he hummed, the suggestive remark knocking the breath straight out of your lungs.

Stepping to your side from behind your back, you caught a glimpse of his expression – a little bit smug, a little bit panicked as it probably registered with him just how much suggestive it was, perhaps crossing a line.

It was absolutely not crossing the line, because the thought of wearing his clothes, preferably grabbing it because you couldn’t find yours after you threw it all around the room as you frantically stripped each other was making your head spin in the best way.

“Maybe I’d really enjoy wearing your clothes after you rip off mine.”

Steve’s jaw went slack, a choked noise leaving him and you couldn’t but laugh at his dumbstruck expression. Surprise, professor, you little shit. I can keep up.

“That was… mean,” he said, clearing his throat. Your eyebrows rose, pot calling the kettle back style. “But I see how I deserved that.”

“Damn right… but that doesn’t mean it’s a lie,” you shrugged, chuckling at the exasperated look he shot you.

‘Man, she’s gonna fuck you up on a whole new level and I’ll be here for it in the front row with a bowl of popcorn,’ Barnes’ words to Steve which you weren’t meant to hear echoed in your head, making you grin.

The teasing was intense, yet you felt comfortable in it. You blamed Steve and his nature – he already felt like a guy to go lengths to make you feel at ease enough; the way he had kept insisting on you choosing whether this was a date or not only proved it. He made it easy to be yourself, making you feel like you could.

And he made it perfectly clear that he was enjoying seeing you like that, that he appreciated you as you were.

But the closer you got to the campus, the more the reality was settling in, your laughter fading, butterflies and heat replaced by anxiety. He was still a professor. If you went for it, it wouldn’t always be uncomplicated like this. The awkwardness crept in as your steps grew slower, the inevitable arriving.

He couldn’t walk you home, to walk you to the dorm, even if the desire to do so radiated from every fibre of his being. He couldn’t do that for the same reason he hadn’t picked you up.

You came to a stop, feeling like there was this invisible border to a safe, students-free part of the city, the line you couldn’t cross side by side.

“So, uhm… this is it, huh?” Steve hummed, grim. You appreciated the lame attempt at a smile though and reciprocated, turning to face him.

“Looks like it.”

Heavy silence settled over you pair. Your eyes trailed all over him, lingering on his face, noting as he did the same. He was beautiful; you didn’t care you should say that about a man. He was. The light in his eyes dimmed compared to that just a few moments ago, but it was still there, expression soft, almost as soft as his beard looked, causing your fingers to twitch in need to run them over it and pull him in for a kiss.

Your lips tingled as the idea. You had never kissed a man with a beard and you wanted to know how it felt. The fact it was Steve only sealed the deal and made the need grow exponentially.

You wanted to kiss him so bad. But here you stood, unable to move, unable to speak. You sighed.

“Would you-“ “I want to-“

“Sorry,” you and him said at the same time again, laughing it off quietly, your fingers running through your hair.

Your stomach clenched when you noticed his eyes following the movement almost wistfully.

“You go first,” he prompted you gently.

You didn’t argue – if you learned one thing tonight, it was that Steve was a gentleman and that was so rare these days that you wouldn’t want to discourage him from being that way. Even if you really wanted to know what he was about to say, as soon as possible.

“I… I just want to say thank you. For the… for the date. I had a good time, so I hope you had too, at least a little,” you offered lamely, feeling blood rushing to your cheeks.

Like a schoolgirl blushing in front of her professor. Jesus, why were you being like this again.

Steve didn’t seem to find you as awkward as you felt however, your name slipping from his lips, kind and soft.

“I had a very good time. You’re amazing.” Your lips parted at the blatant and genuine compliment. His eyes went wide. “I’m sorry, that came out so strong, I didn’t mean to put you in spot like that-“

Stronger than ‘maybe I just want to see you in my clothes?’ you asked yourself. No, you didn’t think so. It was just that the playfulness had left at least two blocks back.

This felt more serious. More intimate.

“Ditto,” you whispered, gracing him with a shy smile he instantly mirrored. “But hey, I already knew that, so…”

He chuckled, shaking his head lightly, his smile only growing. When he looked at you again, his eyes were the beautiful warm blue that made you weak in the knees.

“Would you like to do something like that again?” he queried lowly.

Yes. YES. YES PLEASE. Minus the awkwardness at the beginning and the one a moment ago, preferably.

“Yeah. I’d like that,” you agreed simply, taking note of how his face lit up even more.

How could a man be so indescribably hot and yet adorable enough to tug at your heartstrings?

“Good. I’m glad.”

He tugged at your hand unexpectedly, pulling you to your left, his other hand steadying you by gently grasping your forearm.

Before you could question his actions, a pair of men swaying in a drunken haze passed you, having no care in the world for whom they might crash into.

“Thanks,” blurted out lowly, sparing a second to shoot their backs a dirty glare.

But Steve’s hands were still on you, distracting, as you stood face to face, chest to chest, a little too close, a little too far. Your heart sped up in your ribcage, breathing picking up in anticipation. So close…

But all Steve did was to squeeze your forearm reassuringly, lifting your joined hands to his face.

Just like the day you agreed to get coffee with him, he kissed your knuckles, only this time it was much firmer. His smile was sweet and utterly irresistible as he kept looking at your face and you felt all the worries about the future melt away once again.

He was so precious and this felt so right and--- you didn’t want him to kiss your hand.

Well, you wanted it, but you wanted more too.

You had been aching to kiss that mouth since you had first set eyes on him, on that inhumanly gorgeous and hot creature. You were on a date, you both had a great time and clearly he was giving you the opportunity to decide how far you wanted to take this, because as much as every little touch of his made to crazy, the displays of affection were positively chaste.

And you wanted to take it very very far.

Your rational brain wouldn’t let you just hop into sac with him today, but fuck, you could do with a kiss. You wanted to feel that perfectly trimmed beard of his and you wanted to taste him.

Did he?

You stepped even closer as he let go of your hand, distracting you minutely; due to the sudden proximity, it landed on his chest and Jesus fucking Christ he was firm.

Your fingers clutched at the white fabric of his shirt as you observed his face, your gaze inevitably flickering to his lips. Glancing up once more to find him still watching you intently, pupils dilated, your breath caught in your throat, heat stirring in your belly.

Rising to your tiptoes, you gripped the fabric tighter and shortly pressed your lips to his.

It was a funny feeling – lips hot, soft and slightly chapped, a stark contrast to the beard, less rough than you expected, leaving a tingly sensation behind. It was different; exciting and addicting. Before he could react and before you could think twice, you kissed him again, this time lingering for a few seconds, your eyelids falling shut.

Your heart fluttered when you felt his lips reluctantly respond just as you withdrew, his grip on your arm tightening. You ran your tongue over your lips to savour the feeling, mouth instinctively curling up in a smile, gaze meeting his.

Little wrinkles appeared around his eyes as he smiled as well.

“You okay?”

You nodded, almost too eagerly, lowering back to your whole feet. Involuntarily, your gaze flickered to his mouth again, wanting more.

“Uhm… beard,” you piped up unhelpfully, pressing your lips together as soon as the admission left them.

Steve’s smile widened as he once again grasped your hand, leading it to cup his face – not before he dropped a kiss to your palm.

You almost let out a very embarrassing whine at the curious sensation, your mind, still enveloped in Steve’s warmth and cologne, wondering how the beard would feel elsewhere.

Your fingers unwittingly caressed the hair, thumb brushing his lips, unable to resist.

His Adam’s apple bobbed, lips parting, hot breath fanning over your skin as watched you.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed out and that was it – you pressed against the soft swollen flesh at the pet name, causing a low grumble echo in Steve’s chest.

And then his hand slid to your waist, the other sinking into your hair, and he pulled up into a kiss that had nothing to do with how patient he had been before. He was still a gentleman, but it was a close call – he angled your head to his liking, his lips dancing with yours in a sensual dance with just a tease of tongue licking at the seam of your lips, causing you to sigh in bliss, granting him access.

He hummed appreciatively, the sound shaking your bones as he held you flat against him, the heat of his body seeping into yours – as if every nerve ending in your body wasn’t on fire already. He breathed you in, consumed you entirely – there were no other words for it.

There weren’t many words you could think of to begin with, too busy feeling his broad shoulders under your palm, fingers roaming to find the soft hair at his nape, revelling at the taste of him, just a smidge of tongue and you wanted more, your insides twisting in need--- and oh, your back was pressed against a wall now.

You let out a small startled sound which Steve instantly swallowed – but it was a good wake up call for you both. The motions of his lips slowed, softened, a gentle caress more than anything, his thumb stroking your cheek.

Breathless, you chased after his mouth when he retreated, earning one small peck and then another. He rested his forehead against yours, nose briefly skimming yours, causing you to smile and meet his gaze.

“Sorry,” he muttered and you genuinely wanted to slap his arm or something for apologizing for that. Because you knew what you’d be thinking about for the next few hours, days even, hell, probably weeks. “For springing out like that. I just… wanted to do that for a long time.”

The admission had your heart skip a beat and you couldn’t but lean in to kiss the corner of his mouth – and nope, you weren’t over how it felt, his beard against your lips. You wouldn’t be over it for a long time, you suspected.

“Me too.”

“So… we’re doing this again, right?“

You smirked up at him as he reluctantly released you. “You springing out like that or-“

“Don’t test me, babygirl,” he nearly growled, causing your eyes going wide as saucers, feeling as if you were sucker punched to your gut – and liked it.

Babygirl. Jesus, he was going to be the death of you.

“You can spring out like that again too,” you chimed, your voice sounding a bit strangled, because holy shit he just called you that. His gaze flickered all over your face, a shade darker than before. Your underwear was thoroughly ruined with that single look… and the earlier make-out session. “But if we’re talking second dates, I’d definitely do that too.”

He huffed and shook his head, a chuckle escaping him.

“You’re a minx…. I think I like it.”

You grinned at him and then sighed regretfully, reaching to slip off the jacket, which made him frown.

“You could give it back later.”

“Don’t tempt me… don’t want to rob you of it--- and there would be questions,” you explained, knowing that even walking around the campus like what would raise rumours of god knew what.

Like, maybe someone would think some gentleman like Professor Steve Rogers himself lent it to you or something, gee, where would that come from...

Steve nodded in understanding, accepting the jacket and shrugging it on.

“Plus, I’m thoroughly warmed up,” you added cheekily, causing him to chuckle incredulously again. With a sigh, he leaned in, cradling your jaw in one large hand and pressed a sweet lingering kiss to your forehead.

You could melt on spot.

“Goodnight, sweetheart. Let me know when you get home safe?” he asked of you gently, tugging at your heartstrings some more, because of course he did.

“I will. You too?”

His smile was soft and sweet as he promised to do so, clearly touched by your care. Well, that made two of you.

“Goodnight, Steve. Thank you for tonight.”

“Thank you.”

You breathed in deeply, dropping a last kiss to his cheek and quickly spun on your heels to walk away – because if you wavered a second longer, you might have not left at all.

Sure, you looked back at him several times, finding him standing where you had left him, his eyes following your receding figure. But you kept walking.

And once you couldn’t see him anymore, you broke into a fit of giggles, hiding your face in your palms to muffle your delighted squeal.

You were just coming back to the dorms from the date with Steve Rogers.

And despite the hiccups, it was the best damn thing in the world, leaving you giddy and already craving another date and more. Your cheeks hurt from smiling by the time you made it to the dorms, your heart pounding excitedly the whole time.

As promised, you let Steve know you made there safe, earning another text with a heart. It only made you squeal again, fingers frantic as you replied – and with a kiss for goodnight so he knew you truly enjoyed your night, ending included.

What he didn’t know was that maybe, just maybe, the next evening you wrote a tiny story in which you elaborated at what could happen if he ever pushed you against a wall and kissed your breathless ever again.

And hopefully, he would.

Soon.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Attached masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

...how it happened? I was asked about the first date, very kindly and in a no pressure manner.

S: Hey, just out of curiosity, you don’t really have to answer… how do you imagine their first date went?

me: Hm, let me think, I guess, mm, it would be like this--- oh shit. Oh no. It’s gonna be a fic again, isn’t it? Maybe I could finally write a headcanon or a drabble--- sigh.

As if I could ever.

Thank you for reading :-*

#fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #professor steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #captain america au #modern au #professor au #college au #steve rogers #captain america #student reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #word is that we might work it out #attached #attached: word is that we might work it out #anika ann

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imgoingtohellsofuckit · 4 years ago

Text

Oops

Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings - criminal minds based mentions of violence (not really), drinking

Summary - When something slips out at the round table things between the Reader and Spencer get really awkward

(i got the idea from notjoselyn on tiktok)

Y/n walks alongside Penelope as they move through the BAU bullpen. Talking about the girls' night plans the girls have been working on for the last couple of weeks. "That club would be so fun," Y/n says brightly, "but did everyone agree? I mean it's a little you know loud and crazy."

"I mean Emily is always down," Penelope says, "especially when I ask her... And JJ needs a minute away from her kids. Even if she won't admit it."

"Little angels my ass," Y/n chuckles as they reach the round table, "oh my I have the cutest dress to wear. It's a little- you know."

"Oh, I do know," Penelope says smirking lightly, "you're gonna look hot!"

"Mmm you just wait and see," Y/n chuckles.

"Wait and see what?" Spencer asks as he joins the two at the table. The girls chuckle lightly as Spencer looks between them. "What?"

"Well, boy wonder we are talking about our upcoming girls' night," Penelope tells him, "specifically about the dress miss Y/n here is going to wear." Y/n chuckles lightly. Spencer nods lightly. "What color is it?"

"Black," Y/n tells her, "a little black dress moment you know?"

"Yes!" Penelope says brightly, "oh I can't wait." Y/n chuckles lightly. "I have this really cute dress picked out- it's purple very sparkly. Very eye-catching."

"Hot," Y/n says playfully. Spencer looks slightly amused with the banter. "I just hope JJ can keep up. I mean with all the mom duties she's been slacking behind on girls' nights... I feel like we are gonna exhaust her."

"Redbull drinks exist for a reason," Penelope says.

"Right," Y/n says.

"What even happens on a girls' night?" Spencer asks.

"Chaos," Y/n tells him, "We all drink until we can't stand. Dance with strangers. Leave the FBI training at home and have fun."

"Sounds dangerous," Spencer says, "do you have a designated driver?"

"Uber," Penelope tells him.

"That's not safe," Spencer says, "do you guys not pay attention to the cases we get? How many of the girls we see started out at some random bar?"

"If you're so worried you be our dd," Y/n offers. He looks between the two girls carefully.

"Fine," He says, "I'll go."

"You can't go," Emily says as she and JJ join them at the round table, "it's girls' night."

"I won't ruin the fun I'll just keep you from dying," Spencer says, "1 in 5 violent victimizations involving perceived alcohol use by the offender."

"That's ruining the fun Spence," JJ says placing her hand on his shoulder, "we are big girls-"

"No no, he wants to be DD then let him," Y/n says, "we save uber money that way. Plus he can't be the one that gets to play wheres, Emily."

"Or Can we keep clothes on Penelope," JJ chuckles. Y/n nods lightly. Spencer raises a brow lightly. "Just remember you signed up for this." Rossi and Hotch join the others in the room. The conversation shifts from reckless drinking to the cases they are supposed to be consulting on. "I'd say, sadist."

"Profiler JJ always comes through," Y/n says smiling lightly. The blonde chuckles lightly. "I mean it profiles relatively simple... This all the cops have?"

"Yes," Hotch answers her, "I think what we have so far is all that we'll be able to give them based on the files they sent." They all nod lightly. Handing the files over to Penelope as they move to the next one. After six or seven more cases the attention starts to shift. Small conversations breaking out around the table. Y/n tries her best to focus but the words were all blurring together.

"So are the girls' night plans always this dangerous?" Spencer asks her. Clearly more curious than he's trying to let on.

"You worried about me?" Y/n teases lightly.

"Well yeah," Spencer says, "I'm worried about all of you... I mean it's really risky going out like that- not that I'm saying you guys can't take care of yourselves but- you know what we see. The statistics show how dangerous it is."

"I understand what you're saying but we watch out for each other," Y/n assures him, "and besides with you babysitting us we will have a knight in shining armor to save us if it goes too far."

"You don't think it'll look weird with me watching a group of girls?" Spencer asks.

"You're right," Y/n says, "we should ask Morgan if he wants to go."

"Go where?" Morgan says looking from his conversation with Hotch.

"To this new club," Y/n tells him, "tonight with the girls and Spencer."

"Spencer?" Morgan asks clearly shocked at the addition of the younger man.

"Don't be so surprised," Emily says, "he offered to make sure us ladies got home alright." Morgan nods lightly.

"Yeah and you can make him feel a little less left out," Y/n offers, "make it seem less like he's babysitting... Rossi, Hotch if you want to come as well we can make it a team thing."

"If it's a team thing then I want everyone to forget what happens when we leave this office," Penelope says, "whatever happens when we drink stays in the safety of the club."

"Jack has a sleepover," Hotch tells them, "maybe another time." They all look to Rossi. The older man chuckles.

"I think my clubbing days are past me," Rossi tells them, "plus its poker night."

"Lame," Emily teases lightly, "Morgan will you at least come?"

"Of course," Morgan says, "I don't wanna leave our boy genius all alone." Y/n looks back to Spencer and smiles lightly. Trying to get back to her work. The boy keeps his eyes on her. She looks up carefully. He smiles to deflect the fact he's been staring at her.

"That necklace looks really nice on you," Spencer tells her. She smirks lightly.

"Thanks," Y/n says, "but your hands would look nicer." The words leave her mouth before she can process what she said. She freezes at once as the table looks around in slight amusement and shock at what just happened. Y/n's eyes widen in horror. Rossi laughs lightly.

"At least let him take you out on a date first," Rossi jokes. Y/n looks up to Spencer who's still frozen. His mouth slightly open as if all words are suddenly lost to him. Morgan just laughs loudly at the situation. Y/n can feel her face go red. She moves covering her mouth lightly.

"Did she really?" Penelope starts.

"Oh she did," Emily says in pure amusement.

Y/n closes the file and moves to stand up.

"I'm gonna walk out the door," She says slowly, "and when I walk back in here we can pretend that it never happened."

"Please," Hotch says. She nods quickly. Walking out the door. She takes a lap around the BAU in an attempt to work through the crippling embarrassment this situation is going to bring her for the next forty years. She can already tell she's gonna see this in her nightmares.

Back at the table, Spencer is still frozen.

"She broke him," Emily chuckles as JJ waves her hand in front of Spencer's eyes. He blinks quickly. He looks over the others.

"Did that actually just happen?" Spencer asks them finally. They nod lightly. His face is bright red. Suddenly that big brain of his is nothing more than a peanut. When Y/n steps back into the room he's still in slight shock. She shuffles nervously back into her seat beside Spencer. Making a point to not make eye contact with anyone.

"I'm never going to live that down am I?" She whispers over to Penelope. The blond chuckles awkwardly.

"Oh no honey," Penelope says, "probably note."

"Oh goddammit," Y/n says softly. She moves the file lifting it to cover her face.

Meanwhile, in Spencer's big brain he's trying to process that the girl he's had a crush on for years said that his hands would look good around her neck. He tries to explain it in any way that makes sense but he's out of luck there. All he can think is what just happened?

Y/n's thankful when Hotch dismisses them back to their desks to work on their reports. She's suddenly very grateful for having the desk furthest away from Spencer. She can't even begin to think about what the hell she'd say to him to clear all this up. And Spencer and Emily laughing lightly don't help at all. She can just imagine all the things he's saying. Not to mention him avoiding her eyes at all cost.

Her face is still bright red when she shuffles into the elevator to head home later. However, life is forever cruel. Instead of giving her an empty elevator to escape to Hotch and Emily jump in beside her. She chuckles nervously.

"I'm not going to say anything," Hotch tells her, "just- try not to say anything like that while we're trying to work."

"Right," Y/n says softly.

"Where did that even come from?" Emily asks leaning forward to get a look at the girl. Y/n chuckles nervously.

"You're gonna have to get me drunk before I answer that," Y/n says carefully, "mostly because that's the only way you're gonna get me to talk about what is probably one of the top ten most embarrassing things that I've ever done." Emily chuckles lightly.

"Well, then the first round is on me."

When she meets back up with Emily the other girl is pretty much shoving a drink into her hand. Y/n takes it without a word. Knocking back the shot eagerly at the thought the others would be meeting them soon. More so that she's going to have to see Spencer... Considering she invited him.

"Oh, you do look hot!" Penelope exclaims as she and the others move to join the two girls. Penelope engulfs Y/n into a hug. Clearly excited to see her outside of the work setting. "Oh and look at you, Emily!" As Y/n's eyes settle on Spencer she starts to panic.

"I'm gonna go get our first round," Y/n says planning her escape route in her mind. Before the others can say anything she's rushing off to the bar. She orders the drinks quickly. Trying to focus on the bartender's movements.

"Hey," A soft voice says. She turns to look at Spencer. She turns back to the bar immediately. Spencer looks at her slightly confused. "You shouldn't walk off alone it's dangerous." The bartender sets the tray down. She takes it eagerly.

"You could see me from the table," Y/n says trying her best to not look at the boy. He follows her carefully as she hurries through the crowd back to the table. She sets the drinks down at once. "To the BAU!" The others grab the shots eagerly. She takes hers knocking it back quickly. Spencer looks over her carefully.

"Oh, I love this song!" Penelope says as she drags Y/n off to the dance floor. Emily follows. The second they get to the floor y/n tries not to focus on the awkwardness. Instead pushing her attention onto dancing with her friends.

"So?" Emily asks, "where did that come from?"

"Deep in my subconscious," Y/n answers, "you know I've always had a thing for Reid but- I can't believe I said that out loud!"

"I thought I was dreaming!" Emily chuckles as she moves her hips to the beat, "but Hotch's face- that was real."

"So was Spencer's heart attack!" Y/n adds, "did you see him? I thought he was going into shock!"

"I think he did," Emily says over the music. The two chuckle lightly. Emily looks over to the boy. Elbowing Y/n to look as well. They see him drinking out of a water bottle as he looks over the crowd carefully. Morgan talking to him about something that seemed serious. Spencer looks like he's turning red again.

"He looks good tonight," Y/n says to Emily, "the whole sweater and tie combo." Y/n bites her lip lightly. Emily chuckles.

"Maybe you can have his hands as a necklace then?" Emily teases. Y/n scoffs lightly. "Go talk to him- now."

"Why?"

"Because I said so," Emily says, "and you trust me with your life." Y/n sighs lightly. "Come on." She doesn't get a chance to argue. Emily yanks the girl along the dance floor before practically shoving her into the booth. Then Emily looks to Morgan. "Let's get another round." The two are gone before Y/n has a chance to process her thoughts. Spencer smiles lightly.

"Hey," He says softly.

"Hey," Y/n says, "how's the- weather?"

"Fine," Spencer says, "about earlier-"

"I know over the line," Y/n starts.

"You think about that often?" He asks. Y/n's eyes widen at his words. Layers of confidence and the slight smirk on his face make her wonder if she blackout and this was a dream.

"Uh- well I," She mumbles lightly. Spencer leans over to her ear.

"Cause we can make it happen," Spencer whispers. Y/n steps back at once. Spencer looks at her carefully. "Shit Morgan said the wouldn't sound creepy. I'm sorry- I just was trying to be flirty." Y/n looks at him carefully. As if she's deciding him if he's real or not.

"Wait so you don't think I'm a freak?" Y/n asks him carefully.

"No no- I was just kinda taken back," Spencer admits, "I mean I'm not exactly used to hearing that." Y/n chuckles lightly. "But you know- we could?"

"Hmm- I don't think they'd notice if we left," Y/n chuckles lightly. Spencer bites his lip lightly.

"Well if you don't think they'd notice," Spencer says. Y/n chuckles grabbing his home to pull him along the bar to get to his car.

They absolutely noticed.

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid Criminal Minds #criminal minds x reader #Criminal Minds

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all-about-seggs · 4 years ago

Text

Sultry Blues-

Rating: ❌18+, Explicit❌

Pairing : Gojo Satoru x Insecure! Fem Reader

Word count: 2.5 k

Warnings: Trigger warning for insecurities (not specified), Body Worshipping, a bit of food play, cunnilingus, Semi-public sex.

The faint sounds of ringing bells from the shrine was still in the air as you made your way to the inner structure of the prestigious Jujutsu academy. The path to the meeting room was straight and lined with stone carvings which gave the entire place an ancient look. You had a lunchtime date with your boyfriend, who would, hopefully be on time so you could be on your way.

This place always made you uneasy, not because of the dangerous connotations it brought in everyone’s lives but it was the people who freaked you out the most. To you, each one of the teachers as well as the students looked like some characters straight from a book, elegant, strong and perfectly capable of doing things normal people like you could only read about. Not having enough confidence on yourself physically or mentally worsened every time it dawned on you that you were dating the most perfect being of them all.

Perplexing wouldn’t even began to describe your state of mind when Satoru first took interest in you, sure looks or status didn’t meant anything to him but even in terms of personality you never thought the two of you would get along, so much so that you would become such an irreplaceable part of each other. But you knew his feelings for you did nothing to stop the ache in your heart when you saw him getting ganged up on by a bunch of women. Women attractive than you, smarter than you and definitely stronger than you.

This was exactly the place where all those kind of women lived making you feel even more of an outsider in his world. Not wanting to cause Satoru any worries you tried to psyche yourself up by picking up your pace only to be met with a hard shoulder to your cheek.

“I’m sorry! I wasn’t looking”, you looked up at the stranger, she was tall, her sturdy figure seemed like she was also a sorcerer but her ID pass was tucked on the breast pocket of her coat along with her youthful face indicated she was a student, you squinted to see that her name was Lisa and as you were about to apologise when you saw her sneer at you.

“ Ugh… outsiders. Don’t you know how to walk properly? Or did you not learn that in your no name school?”, her condescending tone took you aback.

You knew you didn’t exactly belong here but she wasn’t cutting you any slack for being a civilian either. You wanted to ask her why was she being so rude but your queries were cut off as by the girl.

“ No need to explain yourself I already know who you are, I’ve seen you following Gojo- San like a lost puppy a lot of times, seriously it’s like you don’t even have a presence without him.”, with a pause you finally thought her pointless berating would come to a stop but she went on.

“ He has a reputation to uphold here so don’t go around embarrassing him with your airheaded and average looking face”, now with THAT she crossed the line but as much as you wanted to give her a comeback all you anger turned into self loathing in a matter of seconds and you stood there dumbly not being able to defend yourself from the onslaught of verbal attacks that even you partially agreed with.

Not even bothering to look at her when she passed you thought about her mean words that were half untrue. You knew dating a popular guy would include more that just a little bit harmless envy of girls. At this point you’d be lucky if you didn’t get attacked by one of your boyfriend’s fangirl. But, It wasn’t about Satoru anymore, you thought. It was about how you were letting the jealousy of his superficial admirers who didn’t even knew only knew his name and face. Before you could delve more into your darkening thoughts you heard a cheery voice call out to you.

Bag at hand, which probably contained some sort of dessert you saw Satoru gleefully making his way towards you. It took you a few seconds to plaster a believable smile to your face so you could greet him normally.

“ Wow I can’t believe IM the one who had to wait around this time”, placing a tiny kiss on your nose he pulled you in for a hug, his warmth seeping into you put your mind at ease and help you distract yourself from the horrible encounter before.

“ The meeting was pointless and even the snacks turned out to be lame”, whining a little he waved the bag in front of you. A convenient store vanilla sponge cake with a packet of strawberry sauce was right in front of you and honestly if it were you, you’d probably eat it without question but knowing his love for quality sweets it was understandable why he’d complain.

“ Well actually, with the right toppings and modifications even convenient store packed cakes can taste top class!”, thinking about all the ways you’ve experimented watching diy food videos you started thinking up of ways to serve it to him.

“I see, that’s a good idea and I think it’ll give us some headstart for our date wouldn’t it?”, saying that he gestured you towards one of the buildings that lead to the back exit.

Walking hand in hand Satoru came to a stop which seemed like a closed off gate that was not in use anymore.

“ Why are we here? I thought the back exit was the other way around?”, confusion painted over you face you turned to face your mischievous partner.

“ you said you’d help me eat them, and I think it’s a pretty good place, don’t you?”, stepping closer he urged you to take a look around. The area didn’t have any benches, buildings or even people around and the only sound you could hear was the birds and the small artificial streams of river that flowed a few steps away from the closed off exit.

If Satoru was insinuating something you started to get the hang of it and you soon felt you face get hotter. The afternoon sun did nothing to help you cool down as you struggled to make sense of the situation. His hands were all over your body, caressing, pinching and feeling you up.

“ What’s wrong? Not up for it in semi public style?”, his breathy voice got lost in the crook of you neck where he inhaled your scent, “ you know nobody’s gonna come” with a slight push, he pinned you againt the vine-covered gate, “Except for you”.

“what the- WAIT! It’s still so bright out here not to mention we’re in PUBLIC Satoru!”, wide eyed you try to grab at his hand that was halfway done unbuttoning the top of your blouse.

“Do you want me to blindfold you?”, throwing these words nonchalantly he started licking every bit of exposed skin he could find from your ears to chest.

His mouth made contact with your covered breasts and without bothering to remove the piece of clothing he latched his mouth onto your hardened nipple to give it a gentle bite. Holding back your own moans you placed you hands on his broad shoulders, a feeble attempt at stopping him.

“How would THAT resolve anything?!” already half naked, your retorts seemed like pathetic excuses even to your own ears. It wasn’t until you heard a sharp rip that you realised your underwear was no longer on your body anymore. With a horrified look you saw your unusable underwear in Satoru’s hand.

“ I don’t think you’ll be needing these anymore my sweetness because I want to see ALL of you”, dangling the fabric from his long fingers he made a show of tucking it in his pocket. Hiking your skirt up with one hand he caressed the soft flesh with his thumbs.

“I knew you had no sense of danger but this could even get us arrested”, your reasoning seemed to fell on deaf ears as your boyfriend, already half way down on the ground, pulled his blindfold down with ease. Looking at up at you with his ethereal turquoise eyes that lied beneath strips of heavy white eyelashes, this part of his face was something you couldn’t see all the time.

“You’re beautiful……”, the genuine nature of his words felt unreal when compared to his everyday frivolous self, “at least I’ve always thought so”.

All the voices in the place except for his, got drowned out by the throbbing of your heart in your chest when he kneeled right in front of your crotch. The warm smile on his lips contradicted with his tantalizing actions but he enjoyed it precisely because of that.

“Open your legs a bit more y/n, I need more space to eat”, with his haughty smirk back he exposed more of your pussy with his fingers and dribbled the strawberry sauce over it until it started trickling down to the ground underneath it.

“This looks like a good dessert, waaay better than the one I was offered before”, making one last smartass comment he threw the now empty packet away and your sugar coated pussy was soon met with Satoru’s soft, warm tongue as he buries his face in it. His tongue worked it’s way beneath the layer of your pussy hair and down to the soft flabby skin underneath. Your natural slick combined with the dressing sauce tasted even sweeter in his mouth, the pleasant hums falling uncontrollably from his mouth made you wetter.

All the blemishes, scars and your self imposed flaws started melting into something more complete and unbreakable in its nature when you felt Satoru touching you, feeling you and tasting you from the inside and out.

His warm hands firmly gripped your thighs to lap at the soft peak in between. All the sensations his tongue was providing you made your vision turn black and your body heated up to the point of burning. The broad daylight and your exposed form added to the fear of being found out but your trust in your boyfriend outweighed everything so you let him have his way.

“ Hmmm, yeah y/n…”, the exaggeratingly loud slurping of his mouth came to a stop as he looked up at you, his pink lips glistening even more when he spoke, “Even this cheap stuff tastes better when I eat it directly from you”.

You were a panting mess, already having lost the ability to make coherent words you kept you eyes on Satoru as rose to his feet.

“ Let’s move on to the next part shall we?”, after smoothening out your skirt of you he held out his hand and your need for release took over all rhyme and reason so you put one of your shaking hand in his. The next few moments were confusing as a white light enveloped both of your forms and by the time your vision returned you found yourself in an unknown room.

The place itself was nothing out of the ordinary, some books, a cupboard and a vanity. The single bed near the curtained window was properly made. It was clearly not Satoru’s room but the neatness of the place also suggested that it wasn’t an unused room either.

“ Hey we’re are we?”, you question the white haired male when he casually made his way to switch on the lights.

“Don’t worry we’re still in the academy premises, you wanted to finish this right? And I didn’t wanted to go another second with hearing your pretty voice, so you can scream now,” his voice dangerously low, he held your arms in both of his hands and guided you to the single bed in the corner.

“ and I didn’t meant that as a request”, flat on your back you had no time for further questioning as your exposed cunt got filled to the brim in a single thrust. The stretch made you cry out and remembering Satoru’s previous warning you didn’t bother covering your mouth. The light in the room was enough for him to see all of you, even if he had all of you memorized at the back of since the first time.

Your twisted face that you’d consider ugly was nothing if not arousing to him from the kneeling position of his at the edge of the bed, endearing even at how the side of your eyes well up everytime he fucked you so hard, the creaking of the bed acted as a proof of his brutal pace that threatened to break the furniture.

Each powerful thrust of his made your entire body lurch from its position, your juices flowed endlessly down your thighs, on Satoru’s cock and down to the sheets. Your voice ricocheted off the walls and gave life to the entire building.

Having your orgasm cut off before, the anticipation that had build up made your upcoming release feel even ore intense. Your walls started clenching around his shaft, already feeling waves of ecstasy you waited for it to reach its peak.

“ Y/n...Come for me”, in between his grunts he placed on of his hand on the side of your head, lowering himself till your noses touched. Breaths intermingling, you came with a loud cry of his name. Euphoria spreaded through both of your bodies making a gush of liquid come out of your pussy when Satoru pulled out, both of your mess soiled the sheet.

Few minutes of silence passed by as a fully clothed Satoru sat beside you, stroking your head until you calmed down.

“ Hey y/n?”, abruptly his cheeky tone filled the room and you looked up at him questioningly,

“ Wanna take a pic? ya'know, as a momento”, the odd question made you come to an obvious conclusion, which now seemed obvious considering your boyfriend’s not so secret rebellious nature and with how much of a brat he can be it was nothing short of hilarious.

“ It’s Lisa’s room isn’t it?”, barely controlling your laughter you tried to pry an answer out of him, the soothing motion of his hands never coming to a stop he took out his phone with another.

“ Yeah, it is, I’d say it’s an excellent way of showing her our ‘bond’ dontcha think?”, his cringey answer made you burst into laughter. The first real smile he’d seen on your face since you got here was something Satoru wanted to be a constant thing, always there when he wanted to see it just like a still photograph.

Bending his face down his lips softly met your forehead and before you could open your eyes back up you heard the click of the camera go off.

“ Heh, so how is it?”, propping yourself up on your elbows you tried to peak at the screen but it was pulled out of sight just as quickly.

“ It’s perfect”, with a warm smile that reached all the way to his eyes Satoru put his phone down before peering into your eyes, “and it’s mine”.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu kaisen smut #smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru #jjk oneshot #jujutsu kaisen scenario #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo smut #my writing

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ssa-pretty-boy · 4 years ago

Text

Dizzy on the Come Down

Summary: Snippets of phone conversations between Spencer and his girlfriend while he’s away working on cases. Based on the song ‘Dizzy on the Comedown�� by Turnover.

Word Count: 2.7k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: all fluff except for some brief phone sex / masturbation

A/N: This is mostly dialogue seeing as though its just phone conversations ha. Also, I’ve repurposed this a couple of times but each time I feel like it comes out a little better. Sooooo if you’ve seen this before… no you haven’t.

——

Up and down like a red rubber ball

You’re always back and forth like the clock on the wall

I want to know about you

I’m spinning all around you

“Ya know,” Spencer thought aloud as he lounged back against the stiff mattress, “I’m really glad we ended up getting together. Your cat-and-mouse shit was getting really annoying.”

“Cat-and-mouse shit? Spencer Reid,” she paused to snort out a laugh, “I was smitten from the start and you know it! Besides, it took me weeks just to convince you to come into my apartment.”

A dark blush worked its way onto his cheeks even though he was alone in the dingy, motel room. “I was too,” he grinned. “I’m completely enamored, bubs. And I have been from the moment I saw you dancing around in that crap hole of a record store. And by the way, that’s called being a gentleman.”

“Okay first of all, its not a crap hole anymore since the new owner cleaned it up,” she defended, immensely proud of all her hard work she put into her store. “And second, its called you being too chicken to ask me out.” She laughed, knowing damn well that he had made her just as nervous and giddy as she made him. She smiled broadly and snuggled a little further into the leather arm chair, her legs dangling over one of the arms.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he chuckled.

If I stay do you think that we could change your routine?

I know a trick, I’ve always got a few up my sleeve

This life is controlled confusion

It’s just a grand illusion

“Today I was at this mall right? We were trying to find anyone who could have been a witness,” he paused, choking out a laugh, “Well, I saw this magician guy and he was doing card tricks. Derek and I went over to him but when we got closer I realized his form was all wrong-”

She wasn’t able to help the giggle that bubbled out of her, he simply could not resist the opportunity to show off his ‘sweet skills’ as he so loved to put it. “Let me guess: you showed him how to do the trick properly?”

He scoffed, “Of course I did. With technique like that he was giving magicians everywhere a bad name.”

“Oh I’m sure,” she teased, screwing the cap on the bottle of red nail polish she’d been using to paint her toes. “Did you finally teach Derek how to do one while you were at it?”

“Absolutely not! I can’t just reveille my secrets to a member of the general public, Y/N. The only reason the old guy got any help is because he was at least trying to teach himself.” She could practically see the look on his face right then, the overly dignified set to his jaw, his raised brows.

“M’kay doc. Whatever you say,” she hummed into the receiver, fanning her freshly painted toenails.

And you ask me “How do you feel when you’re away?”

And you ask me “How do you pass the days?”

“How are you feeling?” she whispered into the dark of their bedroom, her phone tucked between her shoulder and cheek.

He sighed, a long drawn out breath that could’ve easily been mistaken for a gust of wind. “It’s been pretty shitty; hectic and tiring ya know? Local P.D. doesn’t want to cooperate, the families are clearly not telling us something… But we caught a break today so we’re really hopeful things will start to turn around now. But right now?” Spencer paused, squeezing his eyes shut and sighing again, “Right now I just really fucking miss you.”

“I miss you too,” she whispered, clutching his pillow tightly to her chest. “Please just be safe, Spence.”

His chest tightened at her words, he knew worried she always was for him. “I will be baby.”

Sing along to a song that I know

It goes bah bah bada, sing it over and over

Let it hypnotize you

I’m still here right beside you

“I cannot get that stupid song out of my head,” he groaned as the simple chorus of the over played pop song drifted through his mind again and again and again.

She laughed, a melodic tune he’d missed so much in the past few days. It sounded slightly warped though the phone but it was her none the less. “Which one, doc?”

Scrubbing his hands over his face he sighed as he mindlessly flipped through a boating magazine he found tucked into the nightstand drawer. “I don’t even know the name of it. The chorus goes something like ‘bah bah bada’,” he hummed, his fingers subconsciously tapping out the rhythm on his thigh.

“I think I could list off ten songs with a beat similar to that one,” she countered, her laugh still light and lilting.

Spencer rolled his eyes but he couldn’t help the small smile that was tugging at the corner of his lips. “Oh c’mon bubs, you know it! It’s the one you really like! You’re always singing it,” he mused, reminiscing on all the times he’d caught her humming it under her breath.

Her eyebrows puled together as she concentrated, trying to recall the song he was speaking of. “Spence, there is honestly no telling. You know its like a 24 hour radio in my head!”

Hold my hand, you can follow my lead

You’re like a ballerina twirling round on your feet

And watching is so fantastic

I want to ask you

Spencer hadn’t laughed in what felt like days, not a real belly aching laugh anyway. But she had him stitches, nearly doubled over at the lame jokes and stories she was telling him in attempts to lift his spirits, she knew how tough this case was. Finally after a moment she caught her breath. “Do you remember that time we were dancing around in the kitchen? It had to have been like midnight or something and you just started to twirl me around. And we ended up slipping because we both had socks on and I broke my arm?”

“God, how could I forget that?” he groaned, softly laughing at the memory of the two of you tangled in a mess on the kitchen tiles. He had truly been scared to shitless regardless of her assurance that it wasn’t his fault. When he saw her trembling lip and the tears she had tried to hold at bay, it damn near broke his heart. “I was terrified I had hurt you really bad- worse than a broken arm! Then when I finally got you home from the hospital you were so high on the pain killers you could barely walk straight. I all but had to carry you to bed.”

“And you apologize for weeks and you probably still don’t believe that it wasn’t your fault.” She started laughing again as she said it and he could practically feel the love radiating from her, even from so far away.

“I really fucking love you.” Spencer smiled so wide it actually hurt his cheeks a little but it was an ache he’d always welcome.

Would you come here and spin with me?

I’ve been dying to get you dizzy,

Find a way up into your head

So I can make you feel like new again

“I really fucking need you right now. I’ve been hard for days.” Well, she thought, what a way to answer the phone.

Mindful of her surroundings, she bit down on her lip to suppress her laugh and quietly suggested that he go take care of that.

Scoffing, he rolled his eyes as if she could see him through the phone. “My hand has nothing on your mouth or your pussy.”

“Spencer!” she squealed and quickly reached up to turn down the volume on her cellphone when the lady next her gasped at what she had no doubt heard him say.

Mumbling a quick ‘sorry’ to the other patrons, Y/N made a mad dash for the door of the crowded coffee shop. She looked over her shoulder to see the woman staring after her slack jawed. Cringing, she turned away from the storefront window, her cheeks and neck heating up as she started speed walking down the sidewalk.

“Well, it’s fucking true! I’m dying to touch you again. To make you cum,” he said, his voice growing husky.

“Are you trying to have phone sex with me, doc? While I’m walking down the damn street? The people in the coffee shop probably thought I was some ten cent floozy!” The thinly veiled attempt at annoyance did nothing to hide the amusement in her voice. Spencer hummed, his hand sliding down over his stomach and toying with the drawstring of his faded (he refused to refer to them as ‘ratty’ as Y/N did) flannel pajama pants. “No way. Fifteen cents minimum.”

With a roll of her eyes she did laugh that time. “Can we put this conversation on hold until I get home? I’m literally only a block away from the apartment.”

Now collapse, take delight in the fall and catch your breath

I know you feel the ring from it

So try and collect yourself now

It’s just a euphoric comedown

“Come on baby,” he practically growled as he continued to roughly tug on his throbbing cock. “Cum hard for me. Make the neighbors think I’m actually there.”

She gasped at his encouragement and sped up the fingers she had rubbing small, tight circles on her clit, she had nearly forgotten just how filthy his mouth could be. “Oh god,” she moaned, tossing her head back into the pillows and arching her back off the mattress, the phone nearly slipping from where she had it trapped between her shoulder and ear. Adding just the slightest bit of pressure as she continued to swirl her fingers, she came, choking on a hoarse call of his name. Letting the pure euphoria take over, her toes curled and legs trembled as the pleasure washed over her in waves. It wasn’t as intense as the orgasms he gave her but it would have to do until he got home.

At the sound of her cumming and calling out his name, Spencer met his own high. He grunted and easily milked himself through his own orgasm. The line went quiet for a moment and he thought she might have fallen asleep. “You still there sweet girl?” He was panting, still trying to catch his breath as he grabbed a few tissues and cleaned himself up.

“Yeah,” she sighed softly and Spencer was kicking himself for not thinking of switching to FaceTime so he could see the look on her face. “Just a little blissed out.”

And you ask me “How do you feel when you’re away?”

And you ask me “How do you pass the days?”

“How are you feeling?” she cooed. “You’re on bed rest right? You need to be if you aren’t. You have got to start getting some rest. That’s probably a big part in why you’re so sick. That and you don’t take vitamins or drink juices.”

Spencer rolled his eyes and tried to snap a snarky reply but all that came out was a bone-rattling cough. Groaning, he rolled onto his side and placing the phone on the pillow beside him and switched it to ‘speaker’ so he wouldn’t have to use the energy to hold the phone up. “I feel like hot garbage. Wish you were here,” he mumbled before another fit of coughs racked through his achy body.

She pouted and sat completely helpless in their bedroom, wishing more than anything that she could be there with him, nursing him back to health. “I’m sorry baby. I love you,” she offered quietly, hoping her words would comfort him in some way.

“Love you too,” he rasped and she felt her heart sink a little further in her chest.

Cause I can still remember when you were afraid of the dark

And I told you to come and you followed where I asked you to go

“You know I’d follow you anywhere, right?” he whispered, pulling the scratchy sheet tighter around him. “To hell and back if I had to. All you have to do is ask and I’m there.”

Sighing, she squeezed her eyes shut and willed the tears away. “I know you would.”

They were both quiet for a while, letting the silence fall over them like a thick, comforting blanket. His eyes darted around his hotel room and he desperately wished he was back in his apartment with her. Holding her. Comforting her. “Its just scary ya know?” she finally spoke up. “I mean I have total faith in your ability to take care of yourself, don’t get me wrong. But being so far away from you… its terrifying and not to mention so fucking lonely sometimes. Every time the phone rings I’m terrified its going to be Derek or J.J. telling me you’ve been hurt. I know how much you love your job and I’d never ask you to choose, but it is scary.”

His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach, he swore it actually felt like it had cracked in half. “I know, baby. I know,” he sighed, raking a hand through his hair, tugging at the ends a little. “It wont be much longer now. I promise.” He paused again, eyes darting around the room in hopes of finding something to say to help ease her worries. Finally his eyes landed on the book peeking from his opened satchel at the foot of the bed. “Would you like me to read to you?”

His offer was sweet and genuine and instantly brought a smile to her face. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

Would you come here and spin with me?

I’ve been dying to get you dizzy,

Find a way up into your head

So I can make you feel like new again

“Bubs,” Spencer cooed, his tone quiet and soothing. “Just come out to Las Vegas. Let me fly you out. We’re wrapping up the case now and my mom was asking about you when I called yesterday. She’d be thrilled to see you.”

Sniffling, she wiped at her nose. She was quiet for a few minutes, her attention focused on picking at a stray string on the fluffy white duvet covering their bed. “Can I? Come out there, I mean. I need you. I wont be in the way, I promise.”

Spencer was speaking quietly, trying not to draw too much attention to himself in the bustling precinct but he was practically buzzing with excitement at the thought of her accepting his offer. As discretely as he could, he sat down at the nearest unoccupied computer and pulled up a few airline websites to compare prices. “Of course you can baby. And there’s no way that you’d get in the way. I’ll book you a flight now. How long do you want to stay?”

“How long can I stay?” Her voice quiet like his own, raw from crying to him for the past fifteen minutes about how horrible her day had gone.

With the phone tucked between his ear and shoulder, he quickly browsed through the webpages, comparing the airlines and what each had to offer. “We can stay as long as you want,” he assured her, his tone making it evident just how serious he was about his offer.

“You were planning on a whole week, right?” she asked hesitantly, almost like she was afraid he would tell her that he had changed his mind.

He confirmed that a week was in fact the original plan but then offered to tack on a few extra days, he had the extra vacation time saved up so why not use them up. They both desperately needed the break. When she agreed he gave a comical ‘whoop!’ into the phone earning him several confused looks from not only his team mates but the local detectives that were still in the room. “This is going to be great. I can show you all my favorite places from when I was a kid! All you need is a little quality Spencer time and we’ll have you feeling like new in no time.”

“I think that’s exactly what I need.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine

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danishmiilk · 4 years ago

Text

PART ONE. --- SICHENG

next || masterlist

summary || a collection of crack stories from y/n and nct working together in taeyong’s pizza shop - ncity pizza. written from povs of different characters.

genre || crack

pairings || none.

warnings || swearing. a lot. probably. idk.

word count || 1.8k

taglist || @teasysan @hannie-dul-set // send a dm or an ask to be added to the taglist! though why you’d want to be added, i have no idea why

The cashier grinned at Sicheng as he walked into the pizza shop after his psychology lecture with Professor Kim. It was nice to be welcomed with a smile after a long day, so Sicheng smiled back at him at approached the cashier.

“Hey, you must be the new part-timer, right? Well, you go into the back over there, and Y/n’ll pass you the uniform.”

Sicheng felt the smile slowly slip off his face. What? He hadn’t signed up for this. “Uh,” Sicheng let his eyes wander to the nametag on the cashier’s uniform, squinting at the small writing. “Uh,” he repeated again intelligently. Channeling two years of Japanese lessons which he had mostly forgotten, he tried reading the nametag again. Screw it, he couldn’t remember how to read Kanji - reading it the Chinese way would have to do. “What, think my pecs are impressive? Why do you keep staring at my chest?” Sicheng felt himself flush, heat rushing up to his cheeks. He glared at the cashier silently, too taken aback to say anything else.

“You’ve got it wrong, I’m not a part-timer, uh, Yōu tài-san?” The cashier’s grin grew impossibly wide. “Yuta,” he corrected gently, “Anyway, are you younger than me? Your application says you’re born in 1997- you can call me hyung, then!” Sicheng opened his mouth to protest again, but before he could say anything, Yuta was already calling out for someone. “Y/n! GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE, THE NEW PART-TIMER IS HERE!”

“COMING! My god, what’s gotten your knickers in a twist today, Yuta?” A girl popped her head of faded purple hair out of the back room. She was a traditional beauty, very pretty with smooth skin, a small face and delicate features. Sicheng felt his breath catch for a moment, momentarily forgetting that he should be correcting the cashier who was so adamant on him being the new part-timer even though Sicheng was not. He felt hot breath on his ear, “Ah, ah, part-timer. It won’t do to ogle now, would it? Don’t worry, we were all like that once. But she’s the devil’s spawn.” Sicheng felt heat rush to his cheeks again, though it had never really left.

The girl looked him up and down, then stretched out a small hand. “You must be the new part-timer! I’m Y/n, one of the workers here at this godforsaken pizza shop.” Sicheng reached out his hand mindlessly to shake hers, “Sicheng. But I’m not the part-timer?” At the same time, Yuta said, “Don’t let Taeyong hear you call his shop godforsaken.”

Y/n looked at Sicheng quizzically, “You’re a funny one, you. And Yuta? I’m the favourite child, you know. The only daughter will never get into trouble.”

“What did you do now, Y/n?” A voice floated into the front from the distance, presumably Taeyong. Y/n gulped, “AH! UH, NOTHING! What are you waiting for, Sicheng? Come on.” Seeing as Sicheng would continue insisting that they’d gotten the wrong person, Yuta pushed him into the back room and slammed the door. “HEY!” Sicheng turned to bang on the now-closed door, but decided against it. He could use some money and he’d been planning on looking for a part-time job anyway.

“Yeah, see? No point arguing with Yuta if he’s made up his mind,” Y/n grinned at him, “And by the way, Donghyuck just stole your wallet.” Huh? Sicheng whirled around, only to be met with a boy with rainbow hair holding up his wallet. The expression of shock on his face must’ve been extremely hilarious, because both workers around him burst into laughter. “Don’t worry, I’m not actually a thief,” Donghyuck smiled at him, “But do consider buying me a meal sometime, I’m broke and hungry.” Dazed, Sicheng nodded slowly along to his words, having zoned out a while ago. Then the realisation hit him that Y/n’s previous words hinting at her knowing about the misunderstanding.

“Wait, you know I’m not the real part-timer?”

“Ooh, an impostor? What are we doing, playing real-life among us?” Donghyuck stuck his head in front of Sicheng’s face, smiling a cheeky grin. “Fuck off,” Sicheng blurted out before he could stop himself. “Ha, I like you already. Anyway, Chenle’s stealing food from the walk-in freezer, do you want me to get you some, Y/n?” Y/n gave a squeal and threw her arms around Donghyuck, nodding her agreement. Looking at another boy who just walked past gnawing on a frozen mozzarella stick, Sicheng decided not to tell them that if the food was in the freezer, it was either frozen or raw, and they couldn’t very well eat it.

Having shooed Donghyuck away, Y/n turned back to him, “Well. Of course you aren’t the real part-timer, I saw his application form thingy, his name is Jung Jaehyun. You’re Chinese, aren’t you, Sicheng?”

“Yes! Oh, it’s great to meet another Chinese speaker, I-” Y/n cut him off in Korean, smiling apologetically, “Sorry, I don’t speak Chinese.” Someone yelled, “Don’t believe her! She just wants to eavesdrop when you speak Chinese, she’s perfectly fluent!”

Y/n’s face darkened, and she lunged after the culprit, “Yangyang, you fucking piece of shit, I was going to have some fun with him!” Grabbing a rolling pin off the nearest counter and out of the hands of the chef, she whacked the wall with it by accident, then threw it at Yangyang, running after him while laughing.

At this point, Sicheng wasn’t even sure if this pizza shop had rules of its own, seeing as theft, violence and eating frozen things belonging to the shop were - apparently - allowed. Someone hit Sicheng’s head with a greasy pizza box by way of greeting, and he turned around, realising that it was Ten, his seatmate in one of his classes. Which made the pizza box greeting not that out of the norm, really.

“Ten-hyung…”

“Sound more awake, motherfucker!” Ten yelled at him, dropping another pizza box into the arms of a passing worker, who only saved it because he kicked it up like he was playing soccer. “Yo, Sungchan! Stop playing soccer with that shit and pass this whole stack over to Mark over there, kay? He’s the driver, he’ll know what to do.”

Sungchan grinned and lobbed all ten pizza boxes one by one across the whole kitchen to Mark, standing by the door, who somehow managed to catch them all, though not without getting cheese and tomato sauce all over his “carefully styled” - his words, not Sicheng’s - hair.

“Shit, why’d you do that?” Mark whined, shaking out his hair, “Now it’s ruined!”

Sungchan rolled his eyes, “Nothing’s ruined, you shit. It looks way better this way, your hair was fugly.”

“Ah, yes! Let’s go,” Ten dusted his hands off on his apron, dragging Sicheng to a rack of clothes sitting in the corner. Sicheng eyed the dust on the uniforms dubiously. Pulling the rack out forcefully, Ten elicited a yelp from the circle of people on their phones behind it. Ten glared at them, “Slacking off during work hours?”

One of them looked up and shot a string of angry German at Ten. Ten, scandalized, gave a mock gasp of shock and put his hand to his chest, “Yangyang taught me how to swear in German! And you did not just call me a-”

“Did too.”

“Oh, you’re the new employee? What was it, Sicheng? Y/n told me about that little misunderstanding, but you look alright, hey! Welcome to Ncity Pizza. That’s Jaemin, Jeno, Donghyuck,” at this, said rainbow-haired boy waved at Sicheng, not taking his eyes off his phone, “Renjun, the one who just swore at Ten is Chenle, and I’m Jisung.” Sicheng offered up a smile, then found a nice corner with fitting clothes that weren’t three sizes too small or five sizes too large (both of which had been proposed by the boys a few minutes prior; they were apparently horrible judges of size).

By the time he’d returned, Ten had been dragged into whatever game they were playing that Sicheng couldn’t recognise. Ah… among us.

“GUYS, I SWEAR IT’S RED. RED’S THE IMPOSTOR.”

“I’M RED!”

“NEVER SAID YOU WEREN’T THE IMPOSTOR, HYUCK!”

“IT’S NOT HYUCK, HE DID ASTEROIDS IN WEAPONS.”

“DID YOU SEE THE GUNS SHOOT OUT STUFF?”

“WHAT GUNS.”

“YOU SEE, IT’S HYUCK!”

“WHAT PROOF DO YOU HAVE?”

“YOU WOULDN’T LET ME COPY YOUR HOMEWORK YESTERDAY.”

“WHY IS IT GETTING PERSONAL?”

“BECAUSE I HADN’T DONE IT EITHER YOU LITTLE SHIT?”

“Oh. WELL, I DON’T CARE! RED’S ALWAYS SUS.”

“YEAH OKAY VOTE RED VOTE RED.”

“Red was not An Impostor, 2 Impostors remain- YOU SEE? IT WASN’T ME!”

“SHUT UP, YOU’RE DEAD.”

“I’LL KILL ALL OF YOU. ALL OF YOU! THEN NONE OF US WILL BE ALIVE!”

“Ooh, scary.”

Chenle - or was it Jisung?- waved at Sicheng, “Care to play?” Sicheng shook his head hurriedly, deciding not to partake in this tomfoolery. The boy shrugged and returned to his game, calling for an emergency meeting and starting up another round of discussion.

“IT’S JENO GUYS, I HADN’T SEEN HIM THE WHOLE GAME.”

“WELL, MAYBE BECAUSE SOMEONE SET THE VISION TO BE 0.25x? AND THE SPEED IS LIKE 0.5x I WILL CRY PLEASE.”

“WHERE WERE YOU JENO?”

“OH WAIT GUYS I JUST PASSED BY ORANGE’S DEAD BODY THAT’D BE CHENLE.”

“YEAH I DIED.”

“THEN WHY ARE YOU GOING AROUND ACCUSING PEOPLE?”

“I WAS IN NAVI GUYS.”

Weird. Sicheng could’ve sworn he’d seen the dude standing around admin, at least two metres (or the in-game equivalent) from any task. Then again, Sicheng was looking over his shoulder, and Jeno was An Impostor.

“Jaemin sus y’all,” Ten fiddled around with his phone, “It’s so definitely him.”

The younger boys stared at him for a while, before Renjun asked, “Are you even playing?” “Yes! I’m playing, okay? Jisung asked me!” Ten replied indignantly. Renjun stared at Jisung accusingly, “Stop inviting all the lame people to our games! Now that I think about it, Ten’s sus too.”

Of course, neither Jaemin nor Ten were The Impostors. Chaos followed, with everyone dogpiling on- the real Impostors? Of course not! Jaemin and Donghyuck and Ten! (“Why’d you act so sus if you’re not An Impostor?”)- including the actual Impostors, which somehow nobody bothered to check at the end of the game. Sicheng would go so far as to say that Jeno and Y/n did a good job, but really all they had to do was keep their mouth shut at the side and add fuel to the brainless “discussion” (what discussion?) going on in the background.

“Y/n,” a man in a white shirt strolled toward the group of people, “Can you go to the front and help out with the register?” Y/n groaned and ran her hand through her hair, putting her phone down, “But Doyoung, Yuta’s being the cashier and Taeyong’s handling the calls and online orders!”

Doyoung arched an eyebrow at her, “You can go on damage control.”

Grumbling and groaning, Y/n made her way back to the front. “And the rest of you! Go and work! What does Taeyong pay you for?” Honestly, Sicheng didn’t know either, noting the fact that he hadn’t seen a single person work in all the time he’d been at the pizza shop.

©danishmiilk, 2020.

#neowritingsnet #kdiner #kpopscape #dreamwritersnet #neo-the-stars-net #nct-writers #nctcreations #starryktown #look id like to know what this is #if yall know #kindly tell me #thanks

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alias-b · 5 years ago

Text

sins of my youth. 005

Billy Hargrove x OC! Evie Fenny~ Also posted to my AO3

Summary: It was common knowledge that Billy Hargrove hated Hawkins. Hated Cherry Lane. Even loathed the strange girl next door. Evie Fenny wasn’t too fond of the chaotic Cali transfer either. An awful high school tradition sparks a chain of events that changes everything, ultimately bringing two frayed souls together.

A/N: Well. It's time for the dance. Sigh. TW: Teenagers can be evil. Also head's up, light will be shined on an unhealthy relationship Evie is navigating. I won't get explicit with it, but we as readers are going to see red flags that our girl cannot see. Or is ignoring. Taglist open :)

Chapter 5: Skirt Safari

Evie didn’t tell anyone she was going to a dance with Billy Hargrove for New Years. Just said some party in the city. Didn’t tell her mother. Not even Heather.

Floated through the holidays with her guitar on the porch swing. Bundled up as snow fell. Little, perfect flurries. Open notebook next to her as she crossed her legs and exhaled into cold. Strumming idle tunes away from her mother’s indoor phone chatter.

A car skidded up to Billy’s house. Day before the party. Tommy’s freckled face popped out of the driver’s side with Carol getting up too.

“Hey, Fenny!” Tommy couldn’t resist prodding. “You stay on the nice list this year?”

“Don’t spend all your coal in one place.” She set one leg down. Head cocking. Billy came out of his house shrugging a jacket on. He stopped to gawk at the snow. Let it fall into his curls. Rough and ethereal.

“Let’s go.” He didn’t glance at Evie there as Tommy approached her porch steps. “Gimme the keys, I’m driving still.”

“Little birdy told me you were gonna be around on New Years.” Tommy leaned against a brick post. A broad smile.

“Oh, you guys are going too? That really makes me want to go.” Evie replied flatly. Billy smacked Tommy’s chest with a hiss at him.

“I got shit to do. C'mon.” He warned, not wanting the annoying boy to ruin his chances here.

“Don’t worry, Evie, I already have plans that night. I probably won’t be around that joint. I don’t qualify.” Carol’s bracelets clinked together when she swept her styled hair aside, undaunted by Billy's steel glaring. Tommy chuckled with her and Billy gave a growl low in his throat.

“You take requests on that thing?” Tommy continued. “Got a song for me?”

“Sure. How about this?” Evie straightened up. Strummed and tapped one foot to a beat.

“Don't stand, don't stand so… Don't stand so close to me...” Evie flashed a smile and kept playing. “How’s that?” Tommy hitched to laugh until Carol hit his chest, tugging because she was over this conversation.

Billy paused to smile at Evie there. Looking so pretty in the snow, it was criminal. Evie touched the strings to stop the flow of vibration.

“She isn’t bad.” Tommy stumbled as Carol pulled him away.

“Come on, you don’t even know what that song is about.” She peered back to glower at Evie. Lethal.

“You see? I can’t sit on my own porch without being bothered.” Brown eyes lifted to Billy as she sat back to idly move the swing with one foot.

“Never actually heard you sing.” Billy had observed instead, twisting the ring around his middle finger. No compliment or insult followed him back down the steps. Evie plucked a few cords, watching him go.

Billy wrestled Tommy for the driver’s seat. Won. Skidded off to raise hell somewhere else.

It was a clock ticking down each lazy hour as her secret hung in the air. Heather parents stole their daughter away to the Holloway's lavish cabin for a family New Years Party which took the heat off the lie.

Evie spent the whole day preparing in her bedroom. Tossed dress after dress upon her bed like she cared what Billy Hargrove thought. Decided on something short and maroon. Sleeves just above her elbows and a slight poof to the little skirt. Gave her waist a little pull and didn’t make her cleavage look half bad. Matched her nails and lip color too.

Makeup spread all over her dresser. Glittery gold shadow with a smoky haze. The dress was a metallic foil maroon, seemed fun enough for New Years. Big hoops and a necklace completed her look. Evie hurried to grasp a jacket before Billy could come to her door.

“I’m going to a New Years thing mom, I’ll be safe.” She called on the way out.

“Have fun, baby!”

“I will.” Evie sprayed amber perfume and was lotioning her hands rushing out of the house. Almost bumped into Billy on the doorstep ready to knock. His eyes narrowed.

“You didn’t tell anyone.”

“Bet you didn’t either. Do your parents know?” She slipped her jacket on. Billy blew smoke in response. He seemed annoyed today which did nothing for her nerves. “So, I put on a dress...don’t get me murdered.”

The joke seemed to go over him.

“Well, let’s go.” He turned and went toward his car, stunning in the cold and twice and rude. “Let’s just get this shit going.” A cigarette hit the pavement.

Evie didn’t move.

“Are you alright?” She asked slower.

“I just want to get there.” Billy snapped. “C’mon.”

“Listen, I really don’t have to go anywhere if you’re going to be an ass the entire time.” She crossed her arms and Billy flared up. “I spent hours getting ready for this stupid thing. This stupid thing that you pestered me to go to!”

His shoulder dropped.

“Hours, huh.” Billy came around and opened the door for her. “We can’t waste that.”

The charm reeled back.

Evie stood unmoved.

“Look, I just got into it with my old man. Wasn’t you.” Billy explained. “You lost the bet, Angel.”

“I did.” She sighed and crossed to get in. He shut the door and joined her. Turned the music down when it blared. “What’s this bar called?”

“The Dogfight.”

“Charming.” Evie stuffed a tiny wallet into the bodice of her dress. Billy eyed her chest. “Watch the road, Hargrove.”

“You spent hours getting ready for me.” He mused, rubbing his chin. “I like when a girl admits it.”

“And how long did it take you to get this hair just right?” She reached and tugged at a curl as he’d done with her so many times. He’d doused himself in that sex cologne he liked so much. A red shirt opened and tucked into the tightest jeans he could have picked out. Leather jacket again today. “We both wore maroon.”

“Looks more wine on you.” He fussed at that.

“Just saying.” Evie broke to smile. “I meant it, don’t get me murdered.”

“We get in, we snag some drinks, we get out. The streets are going to be chaos; it should be fun.” Billy turned onto the main roads. Sped beyond all the other cars.

“I’m not letting you drive drunk.”

“A motel is always an option for me, sweet cheeks.” Billy clicked his tongue.

“With two beds, ponyboy.” She only grinned, undaunted. “I lost a bet, not all my morals.”

Billy laughed, picking up speed.

“We can loosen those up tonight.”

** ** **

“What do you drink, Angel, an appletini?” Billy dragged Evie into a dark lit bar. Pink and yellow lights shooting all directions. Metallic streamers hanging and swaying with the dancers already smashed on the floor. Evie looked down at his hand as he peered around and brought her all the way to a corner table near the window.

Even settled a menu on the other side like they might be hiding behind it.

"Something with a little pink umbrella?" He continued, eyes on the window. Drunks sang along the streets in their party clothes.

“Try whiskey. I’m going to need one for this.” She caught Billy’s head whipping around. “Who are you looking for?”

“No one, I-fuck!” The gorgeous boy lost all composure and skidded out of his chair when a bare ass pressed the window. Evie gasped and covered her eyes, pouty lips slack. Kind of enjoyed Billy losing his cool. “Asshole!” Music overlapped the chaos. Tommy fucking H howled with laughter on the other end, pulling his pants up.

"Fuck." Billy sank back into his chair. "Shithead."

Tommy swaggered in still laughing, had a woman on his arm that wasn’t Carol.

She was clearly older, wrinkled and fatigued. Maybe forty. Wearing a tight purple lace number that was not keeping her warm or fitting correctly. Jean jacket. Fishnets. Smudged makeup. Big beehive hairstyle. She smelled like sweet pineapple and chain smoked her teeth brown and broken.

Billy and Evie exchanged looks because she was also clearly a lady of the night.

“Tommy...who is your new friend?” Billy asked slower. All teeth.

“Her name’s Bubbles.” Tommy was shorter than her in those heels. Head on her shoulder with the cheesiest grin. “She’s a real winner.”

“Charmed, handsome.” The woman rasped and reached for Billy’s hand then Evie’s. “Like the shadow, sweetie, it suits you.”

“Thank you,” she blushed. “I like your beetle hairpin.”

“We’re going to hit the dance floor,” Tommy scanned Evie, “good to see you here, Fenny.”

“Right.” She glanced at Billy as they left. “What was that about?”

“He’s drunk. Probably sad about some dumb shit with Carol, they’ll be screwing again before school starts.” Billy said that quicker than intended. A light bulb went off in his head. “Drinks. Wait here.”

“Thanks.” Evie recognized teens from her school and rivals.

“Fenny!” A couple football players spotted her inside. Poked until the window tilted open. “What’s a pretty girl doing in this dump?”

“Our girl who brought Tannen down a couple pegs.”

Questionable Hawkins High Fame.

“Just enjoying New Years.” Evie giggled there fiddling with her nails.

“If someone messes with you, let the guys know, we’re down the block. That bar on the corner.” They started off.

“Will do, boys.” She jilted when Billy smacked a drink down, sitting. “Thank God.”

“He ain't here. Thank me." Billy leaned over to see her. Crossed his arms as she drank. "You don’t party this hard?”

“We snuck into a bar, did you even get carded?”

“Told you, no one cares.” He gulped his own glass down. “Stop worrying.”

Evie just drank more in response.

"You established I only go to lame high school parties." Evie paused to see him. "Kind of waiting for a rain of pig's blood here. I guess I actually want a good night."

"I wouldn't say it's asking a lot." Blue eyes went to the table, paint chipping away from wood. There was an uneasy beat before he softened. “Another? It’s open for the party. Free shit even after twelve.”

“Please.” She followed him this time. Felt the burn in her throat as they leaned there together. "So, why-?"

“Hey, Fenny.” Brock Tannen’s sculpted face craned over her shoulder. Billy tensed, jaw twitching. “Boy, am I shocked to see you here. With Keg King Billy Hargrove. Apply enough heat and even the ice queen melts. Must be a Cali boy thing.”

“You’d be about Antarctica.” Evie replied. He only smiled. Eyes shifted to Billy.

“Hope you stick around to midnight, have fun you two.” Brock pulled a girl off with him, staring at him like he was a pot of gold at the end of a spring rainbow. Little blonde with some acne scars she tried to cover with make-up. An eyeshadow look in blue to match her dress that must have taken hours to perfect. Two missing teeth in her mouth. Skin and bone thing. Young looking.

“Asshole.” They said at the same time. Tension broke. Billy chuckled and she peered in the direction Brock had gone into.

“Did you see that girl with him?”

“No, who?” Billy scratched the back of his neck. Kept looking around.

“Ah, nothing.” Evie brought the glass to her lips again and sipped. Screens all over this bar and the city played the party in New York. Commotion in the streets marked with loud party goers. “So, what’s there to do before midnight hits?”

“Whatever the fucking fuck hell we want.” Billy tapped his glass to hers and downed it. Relished the burn.

“You like to swear.”

“No, I like to drink.” He corrected, offering her a menu. “Eat something.”

“We gotta pay for food.”

“I’m buying, I invited you.” Came a shrug. “Pick some shit out.”

“You want food, honey pie?” A man flocked over.

“Damn right, I do.” Evie peered at Billy. Amused. “I’ll take the fucking chicken tenders with a side of bitching fries.”

“Ketchup?” They were writing, amused because she was cute even still.

“Fuck yes. Um, please.” She gestured to Billy with his jaw slack open. “And who knows what this asshole wants.”

“Blondie?”

“Ah...I’ll just have another drink. Fucking beer.” He batted his lashes.

“Wonderful.” The man slid off snickering.

“What was that, Fenny?”

“I swear, but not like you. It sounded like fun to try it out.” She covered her lips to giggle. “Why didn’t you get food? We’re drinking and it’s going to be a long night.”

“Long night, you say? So, you want to stick around for the whole party.”

“I put on a dress and makeup. People are going to see me and the effort I made.” She set her jaw on her chin. “Avoided the question.”

“I only had enough cash for one meal. Rest is if we need the motel.”

“Billy, you should have said something! I have a few bucks on me somewhere.” Evie frowned when he got his beer.

“Doesn’t matter, you’re probably a lightweight. Get food in your stomach before you down more free whiskey.” He brushed it off quickly, blue eyes on the windows. Evie’s food came and she slid it between them.

“It’s hot, have some. Don’t make me feed you, I won't be my mother..” She pressed and pouted until Billy snagged a piece of chicken. They shared the basket, licking warm fingers clean. Billy took the thumb he licked and fixed her lipstick, earning a snort of protest.

“Ick.” She cocked her head away, amused. “Thanks, mom.”

“You know, it took me ages to place that tiny accent you got. But, it’s so Louisiana. Mona rubbed off on you.” Billy pointed when Evie had gotten a new drink.

"It's not."

“Let’s get air, I think some idiot is setting off fireworks in the street.” They got up to get away from the crowds. Evie noticed the odd couples. Scanned before Billy was pulling at her wrist through the mess of dancing bodies. Cool air chilled her pink cheeks as they got down the block to pause. Billy sighed and set one foot on the brick behind him to light up.

“Don’t have an accent," Evie picked up again, "that’s all mom.”

“Born and bred in Louisiana, it’s sticking to you too.” Billy offered the smoke.

“Not good for the singing voice.” She declined so he puffed again. Groups were already tossing balloons and confetti about. Bar hopping from club to club. Evie pulled her coat closer. “I don’t have an accent. You have one, west coast.”

Billy watched her look up at the few stars that decided to come out over the city.

“I haven’t been to California. Been to Vegas a couple times. All the women in my family descend upon that city every few years and I always had to tag along. Not much for me to do but look at the lights.”

“My dad says Vegas is full of swindlers and whores.”

“He strikes me to think that about most places.” She chuckled and Billy agreed, stepping on the butt of his cigarette. “This your first time out here?”

“Yeah.” He sucked in some air, tongue sweeping his lip.

“Hargrove's never been to New Orleans. I bet you’d like the food, it’s unreal.”

“You haven’t had the food in Cali.” Billy quipped, scooting in next to her to see the sky that had her so enamored. “Never really have to deal with the fucking cold.”

“I always wondered how you stayed warm in those clothes.” Evie’s giggle cut the second he pressed into her.

“I just tuck in next to a warm girl, Fenny, it isn’t rocket science.” A breath touched the air and Evie felt herself spark. Saw those same stars glittering brighter within Billy’s eyes. A distant shore calling them both home.

Evie felt those flower petals whirling around her stomach like butterfly wings. Burrowing deep to bloom with new life inside her. Vibrant colors she hid from the world spinning to unfurl. Billy looked into her soul and saw the colors dance neon. Wind picked up their curls with gentle caresses. A pull of vines and thorns bubbled up too. Twisted every way to protect Evie in the only way they knew how.

She could feel Billy’s chest heaving with air. Hard and flush into her skin, stealing warmth. Admiring the echo of lights behind her brown eyes. If she opened her mouth, a rose might blossom on her tongue. Billy wondered about tasting it for himself. He dared to inch in and she spun out.

“It’s a nice night. Beautiful.”

“Let’s get a beer to go take a hike from this place. We’ll make it back before the ball drops.” Billy figured he could just keep her from the main party and she wouldn’t notice the odd couplings within. They delved in and out of bars. Watched the mayhem in the streets. Even caught a totally illegal race or two. Sparklers on every corner underscored by laughter and jeers.

“What’s next for you, after school?”

“Save money to hightail it out of here. See the beach again and get a shitty job.” Billy gulped, licking his lips after. “You going to college?”

“Probably just the local community college, more focused on my songs. My mom and I keep trying to put it out there. Something’s holding me back.” Evie saw him peer at her to continue as they clicked along the cool sidewalks. Decorations scattered all over the buildings and streets. “What if these big time producers don’t like them? My songs. I mean, what if they tell me I’m no good?” She paced ahead to ramble. “I just don’t think I can take that kind of rejection.”

“So, you find some asshole who wants to put you on the radio.” Billy chuckled. “You had entire albums on your walls. You want it bad, chica.”

“What about you?” Evie gestured with the bottle. “What secret hobbies and talents does Billy Hargrove hide away?”

“I care about my car and that’s about as deep as I go, Angel.” He winked, tossing his empty into the trash so she finished her own and followed. Swallowed the froth down. Evie hurried to nudge into him.

“C’mon. You’re a good enough student. I see the grades you get in our classes.”

“All to keep my old man off my shit. Not like that works.” Billy stopped at a crosswalk, settled his hand on the bar so Evie slipped under it to lean there and make him look at her. He couldn't help the smirk at this playful side.

“Who will I tell?”

“Heather, most likely.” Came the quick reply.

“I don’t tell her everything,” Evie trailed off with her eyes wandering, a sly smile pressed, “I sing, sew, play the guitar, and collect little trinkets. Buttons. Rocks and crystals. Old coins and keys. Little vintage ceramic and porcelain figures. And I needle felt.”

“What’s that?”

“You stab wool with a special needle until it makes a pretty shape. You probably caught a few things in my room. On the bookcase.”

“You’re a hoarder.”

“I’m very organized.” Evie giggled as they crossed the street. In their own little bubble, ignoring all the festivities around them.

“What can’t you do?”

“I can bake alright, but it's messy. Not a great cook. I’m hopeless, my mother gave up trying with me. I also can’t get my leg behind my head. But, I’m close.” Her joke brought a full laugh out of him. Angelic sort of sound. “I’m serious.”

“You’ll have to demonstrate, I don’t believe it.” Billy stood in front of her, walking still and chuckling as he went.

“Fat chance.” Her heels picked up to get beside him. They passed a window full of TVs and stopped to see all the parties playing within each screen. “You ever think the world is too big? We don't have enough time to experience all of it, I mean.”

Billy only puffed.

“So, what can you do?” Evie pressed again.

“I can cook alright. I don’t know, I just do good in school because the shit’s never been hard on me. Used to surf,” he glanced at her, “back in Cali.”

“I’m not a strong swimmer.” Evie said, looking up at him and the lights playing on his stunning face. Followed the curve of his jaw down his neck. “You know, Heather lifeguards at the pool every summer. She’d help you get a gig if you need a job when school is out. Probably prefer you over the other jerks that apply.”

“Not as bad as the other jerks, I like that.” Billy mused, eyes flicking all around. Caught in stars again. “Hey, there’s the LA bash. Miss that shit. Music scene raged pretty hard.” The way he smiled melted Evie all the way to the pavement. Billy standing there lax and missing home. Displaying his own lush colors. Dreaming and feral.

“You’re always writing in class when you’re not drawing dicks in textbooks.” Evie observed, earning an amused look in response. “Do you like that stuff? Stories?”

“My mom used to say I told better stories than she did. I’d tell her them to help her sleep.” Billy admitted, blinking a couple times before the illusion shattered and he went stony again. Paced around Evie to continue.

“You could write books, get more into English. Make some money being an author. Sell stories to the big screen.”

“Burn out and go broke, sure.” Billy lit up another cigarette, gave this entertained puff. His wall went up higher and Evie stayed too soft. “End up teaching some snots like that jerk, Bowers.”

“He’s not a jerk.”

“Not to the girls in class.” Billy flicked his ashes. “Probably likes you and Carol fighting for his attention.”

“We don’t…” Evie went red as an apple. “I don’t. Carol’s just jealous of the attention he gives me.”

“Still weird. She hates that you’re a teacher’s pet. Don’t know why you’d want to be.” Smoke edged from his lips.

“It’s nice when someone is respectful once in a while to a girl like me. When they listen, you know?” Evie held herself as they walked along a bit slower. “He respects me and what I have to say.”

“Shouldn’t trust someone just because they’re being nice to you, Evie.” Billy had this distant expression when he said that. Full of ocean waves rolling into a peaceful shore.

"Nice is still better than..." She never finished and Billy didn't ask her to.

They peered at all the buildings illuminated before them. The skyscrapers pointing straight to heaven. Music boomed from several clubs, mingling all the celebrations together.

“Want to head back? Get another hard drink.”

“I’d like that.” She admitted, shuffling some.

“Move it, Fenny, free alcohol doesn’t happen every day for us.” Billy snatched her by the hand, picked up the pace until they were both laughing and out of breath. Reeling around drunk groups of friends to squeeze back up to the bar.

The hard notes of Joy Division’s “Love Will Tear us Apart” began after the second round. Evie was swaying already as they stood at the corner of the bar counter.

“Do you dance, Angel?” Billy cocked his head.

“Sometimes. If I’m supposed to be onstage one day, I have to.” She giggled, bubbling and pink like champagne. “You?”

“Fuck, no. Just bounce around and smash into people at concerts.”

“That counts!” Her voice picked up over the ruckus. People dressed in glitter and metallic moved together above a floor that lit up. Gave the place an opulent vibe.

“You look like you want to get out there!” Billy leaned toward her. The third round came.

“We don’t have to!” Evie was pressed all the way into him. Both shouting at each other out of necessity. A pulse pounded their flesh apart. Jackets were left on a chair next to Tommy and his date.

Billy sank his drink in one go so Evie followed.

“I asked you here, I’ll ask you to dance if I want!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!” Billy echoed, sweeping Evie by the waist out with him. Bodies swayed all directions. Smashed them even closer together. Curls bounced.

Evie got swept up in the lights dancing on her skin. Blue and red glows now. She let her head tip back and moved with Billy there. He watched her intently, felt the whole world slow. Smiled brighter than he should have. Hot and sparking.

Electric and dreamy. Fizzling neon in their hungry veins. Bodies heating and sweaty. Nothing mattered in these lights though, something freeing there.

Didn’t even care that it was fucking Cyndi Lauper blasting.

“Girls just wanna have fun!” Evie sang along. She came alive under these glimmers in the crowds. Like she was the only one there. Every song change, they banged to each beat and never seemed to tire of it.

And then the mood tipped. Tempered with that damn Foreigner song about love. Billy and Evie stilled with it. Looked out at the couples coming together for a slow dance.

“Uh,” Evie swallowed harder and tucked some unruly curls behind her ear, “did you want to…?”

“We’re doing this fucking party right. You asked for two things. A good night and no murder, I can manage that much.” Billy stole her forward. He tried to blame the alcohol.

Dipped a palm around the small of her back to bring her into his chest. Inches shorter, her eyes popped open. Lips parted with no words in sight. The alcohol in their bellies caught fire. He grabbed her hand and she laced their fingers without a thought about it. It was bold, how he touched her and Evie wasn't used to that.

“There ya go. Just sway some.”

Evie pressed her lips and broke that eye contact because it was turning her back to mush. Stared at the saint chain around Billy's neck. There was a pleasant glisten upon his taut chest from sweat. She got drunk off his stupid cologne. Let him inhale her perfume in turn. Boiling amber gleaming to stunt all his senses. Hint of sweet vanilla lotion.

Unabashed, Billy pressed into her body. Not thinking she took up too much space or she wasn’t desirable. No, Evie Fenny was perfectly covetable. With her batting lashes and lights highlighting a glow upon her high cheeks. They swayed together between couples so Evie brought her arm over his shoulder. Gathered the bravery to see his eyes again, already looking at her face.

“Billy,” Evie curled her fingers into his shirt, “why am I here?"

“Because I asked you.” Billy spun her around under all the stars and streamers.

“Why’d you ask me?” She searched him. Saw his eyes flicker beyond her a couple times.

“Because I wanted to, Evie.”

“Why’d you want to?” Her tone etched into him, gentle as she could with another change of songs. Something older from the 70s by Kate Irving. Her little voice filling the space around them.

Billy just kept spinning Evie there at the center of the floor and they looked at each other without even getting dizzy. Let the world tilt while they stayed static. Silence crept and it was stunning.

I'm afraid 'cause it feels too good

And I want it too bad

“Because you called me pretty.” Billy winked that time. Devilish. “At that party on Loch Nora.”

“When we yelled at each other?” Evie felt the tension break and spill out. “I said your eyes were pretty.”

“Same thing.”

I never dreamed someone like you

Could want someone like me

Her head came to his collar when she laughed that time. The heart under his skin picked up.

“Evie.” Billy pressed then so she came up. The syllables died on his tongue. “We’re here and I like it. So, it doesn’t fucking matter.”

“No, I guess not.” She let herself smile into his skin when her head dropped again. A slight giggle. “I like it too.”

“Good.” Billy hit that word hard. They spun and spun to the flow of sound and lights. Drank it all in. Until it was seconds to midnight. Couples were stilling to count.

Billy looked at Brock raising his drink across the way.

Twenty seconds.

He peered down at Evie when her eyes lifted to see him.

Just one kiss, he could have stolen it.

And he couldn’t do it.

Their hands dropped away. Evie smiled at the scene. Everyone celebrating the birth of this new year. It felt magical. Too good to let flutter away.

Billy just looked at her and Evie breathed.

It happened too fast.

Soft hands on his jaw while she came to her toes and gave him one peck upon his lips. So inordinate in sweetness that Billy felt his eyes water.

Instantly she slipped back down. Still beaming brighter than any star this night.

A thank you for every single smile he’d painted upon her face in these short hours. For his boldness and his touch without fear.

A kiss where there were no thorns for the first time in all her life.

Billy had never been given such a kiss. It was gift wrapped. Something so signature for him from this girl. This girl he decided he liked to be around. He gasped the moment she let him go. Caught Brock laughing all the way across the room.

“No.” He said. Crushed somehow.

“No?” Evie’s head cocked in confusion.

“Happy New Year!” Echoes and fireworks blasted. Everyone jumping up and down while Billy and Evie remained still as marble. Locked into each other.

"Ah, I mean..." With midnight gone, Billy pulled her in. Decided to make this one count.

Palms cupped Evie’s face. Brought her back with the slightest gasp he drank down. Kissed her full on the mouth like he'd been thinking about it all night. Billows of shiny confetti fell over them. Stuck to hair and clothing. Caught on flushed cheeks. Even tickled the kiss and made them laugh into it. Evie held his wrists, tried to remain steady until she had to part and angle to go back in.

“Why?” She hitched the hot word against him.

“Because I want to.” Billy uttered, mouth open just a little to coax her back in.

This candied confetti kiss she’d remember forever. And the beautiful boy who opened his heart just enough to share it with her. Evie shined at him when she drew out enough to see his eyes. Billy’s thumbs drew shapes into her cheeks.

A finger had to playfully swipe a bit of caught confetti from her bottom lip so he could taste her again. Utterly divine.

Evie’s arms slipped around his neck. Pulled.

“Let’s get out of here,” Billy spoke between kisses. “Yeah? Let’s just go somewhere.”

Her lashes fluttered at him. Same sensation drew up her stomach before she was nodding.

“Okay.” Nerves crept. Billy smacked their lips together one last time. Like he wanted her and only her for the rest of this night. “I have to, um...restroom.”

“I’ll grab our coats.” Billy’s hands brought hers down. Held them. He seemed in a hurry. “Meet me at the door. We’ll go.”

Evie floated off into the wave of bodies so Billy sped to Tommy’s table. Bubbles must have excused herself too.

“Man, you tongued, Fenny. It was actually kinda hot.” Tommy raised his hand for a high five that was ignored. “I won the pot, you know.”

“You paid that girl.” Billy snatched their coats up.

“Yeah, no one has to know that. Don’t get me disqualified.” Tommy leaned over. A hand clapped Billy on the back.

“I’m so impressed. She kissed you, man. Whatever you did, I want that power.” Brock laughed loudly. “She was all over you, and that bit after midnight. Poor girl. Thinking anyone would ever-”

“Man, just shut up.” Billy shoved to pass him. "Let's just forget this shit ever happened."

“Oh, no, B. I don't think we will. You probably just want your reward. You earned it.” The horrible boy made it a point to count each bill carefully until he pressed it at Billy’s chest. “Good work. Maybe you can get a blowy out of her before you drop her off at home. My date’s good for one too before I call her a taxi.”

Billy shoved the money into his pocket. Felt like trash. Eyes anywhere else.

“Whatever, man.”

** ** **

At the same time, Evie stumbled to the sink and washed her hands. Cloud nine. Sang to herself out of habit.

“Oh, but anyone...who knows what love is…” She looked at that reflection. This breathless, kiss smothered girl who was grinning. Happy. Dabbed under her eyes to fix the makeup with a cold paper towel. “...would understand.”

“Pretty pipes you got there, sweetie pie.” The scratching voice called before a stall opened. Tommy’s date. “Nice night, huh?”

“The best.” Evie was still dancing in a dream, showered in confetti.

“Wasn’t as bad as I thought. Free meal. Pretty guy who treats you right for a night. Not a bad gig. Not at all.” The lady came to the mirror. Washed her hands and started to apply some extra make up. “Stupid name though. Skirt Safari.”

“What?” Evie’s head cocked. Hip leaning into the sink.

“Oh, baby. You should open those big eyes.” The woman puckered up and put a lipstick into her tiny clutch. “Tommy told me everything. Tradition. These boys bring a date. The ugliest girl gets them the win and they get some money. Stupid high school thing. And I won. Tommy said I’d get a bonus for that.”

“They…” Evie felt her entire heart sink. The vines and their thorns wrapped tighter around her heart until it bled. Like it never wanted to be touched again. “Wait, Billy…he...we-” No breath came into her lungs, it was all punched out. Ruthless and swift.

“The world is unkind to us, sweets.” Bubbles sighed at her reflection. “We have to find that kindness where we can. While we can. Just enjoy it because you never know what the next day will bring. Husbands who like to hit. Women who walk out on their babies.”

“It’s not fair.” Evie tremored there. Unable to move so Bubbles gave her cheek a pat.

“I know. But, we don’t let them see they’ve beaten us down. Do we?” Bubbles smiled at her without fear in her heart. And it was tragic because no one cared about her strength, all they saw was how she looked. “My ma always said to be brave and kind. Not everyone’s parents give that advice. But, they should. Be a better world.”

“My mom says that also.” Evie’s fists closed. Passionate tears sprang to be blinked away. “I really hope the world is kind to you tomorrow too.”

The woman paused. Gave this fluttered smile when her eyes watered. Evie was marching away from her. Shoving through the crowds where Billy stood with Brock and Tommy.

Billy saw her expression and she caught fire.

“Skirt Safari, huh,” Evie shoved him into the bar, ripped her coat from his arms. Billy just gave this opened mouth look of horror. She laughed cruelly and Brock joined her, tugging some of his friends to see. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“It wasn’t like that.” Billy pushed up.

“No, Evie, he’s right. Your boy didn’t take you because you’re ugly.” Brock was still chortling, holding his stomach. “Three hundred bucks to get him to take the Hawkins Ice Queen. And you were so easy, girl. We all took notes.”

“Shut up!” Billy had snapped.

“You didn’t disappoint, he was supposed to kiss you before midnight. But, you earned him the win all on your own!” They clapped and laughed at her there. Evie shook and growled. Shoulders raised. Cackling hyenas.

“Three hundred, wow.” Calming, brown eyes snapped to Billy. “You should have held out. Tannen hates me so much, I bet you could have gotten five. Maybe seven.”

“She’s right, man!”

“Evie, it-”

“You’re all disgusting!” She swept her hand out. Came to Billy’s face. Her tone thickened, but she didn’t cry. Not one drop for any of them. Vibrating so hard with fury that her hand came up. Billy saw it. Waited. Didn’t flinch the way he did at home. Figured he deserved this one.

Silence drowned the boys behind her.

“I want to hit you,” she let her lip wobble, “you know why I’m not. You know.”

“Evie.” Billy had nothing. Nothing to give her. Nothing to make her stop shaking.

“You’re all horrible. Disgusting, pieces of shit. Bet Tannen gave you an earful about me. Fuck you both.” Evie leaned out, looked around. “You know, I don’t care why I’m here. What’s awful is every stunning woman you animals brought here will always deserve more than the world can ever give them. You’re the fucking beasts.”

She tore away to go outside. Marched through all the jubilation. Steaming.

“Evie!” Billy was running after her. Yanking at her wrist after she got her coat on.

“Don’t touch me!” A shriek had him skidding backwards.

“Let me fucking explain this.”

“Nothing to explain. Brock paid you to thaw the ice queen. Jokes on you! I’m not even a virgin! I’m not a prize, I’m not anything to you.” She shoved him again because he kept grabbing at her. Trying to slow her down.

“Let me drive you home.” Billy insisted. “Let me get you home safe. I won’t even talk. Hate me forever. Evie, wait, damn it!”

“Leave me alone!” Her scream sparked some attention. She got colder. Sneered at his eyes. “You’re not worth it, Billy.”

Something about that struck an arrow to his heart.

"You talked all this shit about fire's starting and getting out and I..." She hitched to get lower. "I trusted you. I believed it, you made me believe it...you're disgusting." A scream perched in her throat, but never left.

"Just let me-"

"No! I don't have to listen to any of this, so just leave me alone!" Evie kept pushing back at him.

“Hey, hey, back off the lady!” Those football players from Hawkins were descending. Grasping Billy by the arms. “Hargrove bothering you?”

“Yes!” Evie shot out, eyes on Billy’s face. “He’s bothering me!”

“Let go of me!” Billy struggled so Evie began to run. As far and as fast as she could until she couldn’t hear him anymore. Fireworks banged over their heads. Exploding to rain down.

Her chest seized so she went to the first payphone she saw. Dialed a number she shouldn’t have.

“Mmm, yes? Who is this?”

“I know you said not to call, I need you. Can you pick me up?” Evie shut her eyes so tight. One tear fell. “Please.”

A sigh.

“Evie? What happened? Where are you?”

Evie finished the call. Went into an alley so Billy wouldn’t find her. Waited there in the cold. Tried to hide from the pretty explosions in the sky.

They rang too loud upon her ears. Started to sound like thunder. Evie shut her eyes. Began to rock. Felt out of her skin and trapped in it at the same time. No control. Nothing. Just an ache while the vines crushed her heart. Hands covered her ears.

A lighter palm touched her shoulder.

“Evie.”

“Fredrick.” She reeled up. Tossed herself into his arms. Sobbed so hard and betrayed herself.

“Hey, hey. I got you.”

“Can we go? Can we go home?” She wept, ruining his shirt with makeup and glitter. “Can you take me to your place? I didn’t...I didn’t tell my mom where I was. I don’t want her to know. I don’t want anyone to know.”

Bowers was already buckling her into the car. Evie curled up under his coat when he offered it. The air conditioning calmed her some until she was biting her fist to stop the flow. Blood welled under teeth.

“What happened?”

Evie sniffled.

“They...They all laughed at me.”

** ** **

Curls ruffled out on a towel that smelled of pine an hour later. Feet padded out of the bathroom. Evie in a soft grey robe. Cloth dragged upon the floor until she saw Fredrick in bed. Seated up with little reading glasses to mark some papers down. Handsome.

“You really won’t tell me what all happened?” He mused.

“Just some stupid boys.” Evie played with the tie at her waist. “You told me to go out with a stupid boy my age. Remember? At the end of summer. After everything I let you do to me. Did...Did you get bored of me? Was that it?”

"No, Evie. You don't understand."

"You told me we had to stop, why did we start?"

“I remember.” He sighed, settling his work aside. “It was for the best. I thought. You're all I think about, did you know that? I want to be with you, but there are rules in place. They don't believe what we have can overcome.”

Wearing nothing but some boxers and a clean, white tee. His feet touched the floor before he rubbed his head.

“You still look so good in my robe.” He sounded bashful when he said that. Eyes drinking her in and averting. "You're all sin, Evangeline."

She shuffled. Shy. Uneasy. Ignoring it.

“Used to say that a lot.” Evie pressed her lips up.

“And I mean it every time.”

“I meant what I said...before summer ended. You remember that too?”

“You know I do, Evie.” Fredrick rubbed his eyes. Swept his hair between those soft fingers. Evie crossed to him.

“We were together the year. You weren’t my first, but you were the first man I ever loved. We spent all of that summer together and you told me we had to stop. Out of the blue. You talked of us running away from this place and getting married and it hurt me.”

“I’m your teacher. If people found out about us... They'd never understand.”

“You waited a year to stop us. Why kiss me if you knew we'd end? I didn’t tell anyone. Not even my best friend.” Evie reached out. Touched his shoulder. “You miss me and I miss you.”

“I’m weak for you, Evie. You know that.” Fredrick let her climb into his lap. “You’re so different and special. Not like other girls. You heard me. You listen to me.”

“I want to be with you. And I said I loved you, but you…”

"What if I said I loved you? Huh? Those boys don't matter, a girl like you needs someone mature to match." He pecked her cheek. "I do love you."

Evie's resolve melted. He shut out the red lights. Burned her thorn covered vines. Words held power because we gave the syllables a charge.

And all Evie Fenny could put out into the world was lightning.

"You do?"

He smiled. Her prince. Braving so much to be with her. Wasn't that magical?

"How many boys have seen you like this?" Fredrick asked in a peculiar way. Charged.

Evie bit her lip. Couldn't look anymore. Didn't answer the question.

“I was scared of us.” He soothed now. “I should never have let you go. I’m always going to want the best for you, Evangeline. I hope you believe that. I’ll take care of you now, but you have to let me.”

Evie leaned in. Kissed him lightly. Wondered how Billy would have touched her in that motel room if they made it. How he'd feel in return.

"Will you let me?" Fredrick pressed. Wanting all the control she clawed to keep for herself in this skin and marrow. Devouring her without shame or remorse because he was older and knew best.

But, nice was better.

Evie had nothing. Head full of static. Body pulsing against her will. She wanted to scream. She wanted to eat more flower petals. A man loved her and she felt ugly and blaring. Out of control. No longer held to this world. Is that how it should feel?

“Okay."

His chest heaved like the sun might have just come out.

"Can we go to bed now?” She pecked his cheek. Felt his hands going under the robe to open it.

Wordlessly, Fredrick Bowers reached and turned the lamp off. The blaring in Evie's head never ended that night.

Darkness loomed to snuff out every star.

~~~~~~~

Next up, we learn how the rest of Billy's night went. It's been an odd week. Thanks for reading :) Feel free to chat. TAGGED::: @80sbxtch @nottherightseason @orxhidshavana @alagalaska @alongcamedolly

#billy hargrove #Billy hargrove x oc #Billy Hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fanfic #angel fenny #billy x angel #SOMY #writing #mine

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96harmony96 · 4 years ago

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Chapter 4 part 2

I threw myself into clubbing like it was going out of style. Cary and I bounced all over downtown clubs from Tribeca to the East Village, wasting stupid money on cover charges and having a fabulous time. I danced until my feet felt like they were going to fall off, but I toughed it out until Cary complained about his heeled boots first.

We’d just stumbled out of a techno-pop club with a plan to buy me flip-flops at a nearby Walgreens when we ran across a hawker promoting a lounge a few blocks away.

“Great place to get off your feet for a while,” he said, without the usual flashy smile or exaggerated hype most of the hawkers employed. His clothes—black jeans and turtleneck—were more upscale, which intrigued me. And he didn’t have fliers or postcards. What he handed me was a business card made from papyrus paper and printed with a gilded font that caught the light of the electric signage around us. I made a mental note to hang on to it as a great piece of print advertising.

A stream of quickly moving pedestrians flowed around us. Cary squinted down at the lettering, having a few more drinks in him than I had. “Looks swank.”

“Show them that card,” the hawker urged. “You’ll skip the cover.”

“Sweet.” Cary linked arms with me and dragged me along. “Let’s go. You might find a quality guy in a swanky joint.”

My feet were seriously killing me by the time we found the place, but I quit bitching when I saw the charming entrance. The line to get in was long, extending down the street and around the corner. Amy Winehouse’s soulful voice drifted out of the open door, as did well-dressed customers who exited with big smiles.

True to the hawker’s word, the business card was a magic key that granted us immediate and free entrance. A gorgeous hostess led us upstairs to a quieter VIP bar that overlooked the stage and dance floor below. We were shown to a small seating area by the balcony and settled at a table hugged by two half-moon velvet sofas. shepropped a beverage menu in the center and said, “Your drinks are on the house. Enjoy your evening.”

“Wow.” Cary whistled. “We scored.”

“I think that hawker recognized you from an ad.”

“Wouldn’t that rock?” He grinned. “God, it’s a great night. Hanging out with my best girl and crushing on a new hunk in my life.”

“Oh?”

“I think I’ve decided to see where things go with Trey.”

That made me happy. It felt like I’d been waiting forever for him to find someone who’d treat him right. “Has he asked you out yet?”

“No, but I don’t think it’s because he doesn’t want to.” He shrugged and smoothed his artfully ripped T-shirt. Paired with black leather pants and spiked wristlets, he looked sexy and wild. “I just think he’s trying to figure out the situation with you first. He wigged when I told him I lived with a woman and that I’d moved across the country to be with you. He’s worried I might be bi-curious and secretly hung up on you. That’s why I wanted you two to meet today, so he could see how you and I are together.”

“I’m sorry, Cary. I’ll try to put him at ease about it.”

“It’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it. It’ll work out if it’s supposed to.”

His assurances didn’t make me feel better. I tried to think if there was a way I could help.

Two guys stopped by our table. “Okay if we join you?” the taller one asked.

I glanced at Cary, and then back at the guys. They looked like brothers and they were very attractive. Both were smiling and confident, their stances loose and easy.

I was about to say, Sure, when a warm hand settled on my bare shoulder and squeezed firmly. “This one’s taken.”

Across from me, Cary gaped as Lauren Jauregui rounded the sofa and extended her hand to him. “Taylor. Lauren Jauregui.”

“Cary Taylor.” He shook Lauren’s hand with a wide smile. “But you knew that. Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

I could’ve killed him. I seriously thought about it.

“Good to know.” Lauren settled on the seat beside me, her arm draped behind me so that her fingertips could brush casually and possessively up and down my arm. “Maybe there’s hope for me yet.”

Twisting at the waist, I faced her and whispered fiercely, “What are you doing?”

she shot me a hard glance. “Whatever it takes.”

“I’m going to dance.” Cary stood with a mischievous grin. “Be back in a bit.”

Ignoring my pleading glance, my best friend blew me a kiss and the guys followed him. I watched them all go, my heart racing. After another minute, ignoring Lauren became ridiculous, as well as impossible.

My gaze slid over her. shewore dress slacks in graphite gray and a black V-neck sweater, the overall effect being one of careless sophistication. I loved the look on her and was attracted to the softness it gave her, even though I knew it was only an illusion. she was a hard woman in a lot of ways.

I took a deep breath, feeling like I needed to make an effort to socialize with her. After all, wasn’t that my big complaint? That she wanted to skip past the getting-to-know-you stage and jump straight into bed?

“You look…” I paused. Fantastic. Wonderful. Amazing. So damn sexy…In the end, I went with the lame, “I like the way you look.”

Her brow arched. “Ah, something you like about me. Is that a general like of the overall package? Or just the clothes? Only the sweater? Or maybe it’s the pants?”

The edge to her tone rubbed me the wrong way. “And if I say it’s just the sweater?”

“I’ll buy a dozen and wear them every damn day.”

“That would be a shame.”

“You don’t like the sweater?” she was pissy, her words coming clipped and fast.

My hands flexed restlessly in my lap. “I love the sweater, but I also like the suits.”

she stared at me a minute, and then nodded. “How was your date with B.O.B.?”

Oh hell. I looked away. It was a lot easier talking about masturbation over the phone. Doing it while squirming under that piercing green stare was mortifying. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

she brushed the backs of her fingers over my cheek and murmured, “You’re blushing.”

I heard the amusement in her voice and swiftly changed topics. “Do you come here often?”

Shit. Where did that clichéd line come from?

Her hand dropped to my lap and caught one of mine, her fingers curling into my palm. “When necessary.”

A quick stab of jealousy made me stiffen. I glared at her, even though I was mad at myself for caring either way. “What does that mean? When you’re on the prowl?”

Lauren’s mouth curved into a genuine smile that hit me hard. “When expensive decisions need to be made. I own this club, Camila.”

Of course shedid. Jeez.

A pretty waitress set two pinkish-colored iced drinks in square tumblers on the table. she looked at Lauren and gave her a flirtatious smile. “Here you go, Miss. Jauregui. Two Stoli Elites and cranberry. Can I get you anything else?”

“That’ll be all for now. Thanks.”

I could totally see that she wanted to get on the pre approved list and I bristled at that; then I was distracted by what we’d been served. It was my beverage of choice when clubbing and what I’d been drinking all night. My nerves tingled. I watched her take a drink, swirl it around in her mouth like a fine wine, and then swallow it. The working of her throat made me hot, but that was nothing compared to what the intensity of her stare did to me.

“Not bad,” she murmured. “Tell me if we made it right.”

she kissed me. she moved on fast, but I saw it coming and didn’t turn away. Her mouth was cold and flavored with alcohol-laced cranberry. Delicious. All the chaotic emotion and energy that had been writhing around inside me abruptly became too much to contain. I shoved a hand in her glorious hair and clenched it tight, holding her still as I sucked on her tongue. Her groan was the most erotic sound I’d ever heard, making the flesh between my legs tighten viciously.

Shocked by the fury of my reaction, I wrenched away, gasping.

Lauren followed, nuzzling the side of my face, her lips brushing over my ear. she was breathing hard, too, and the sound of the ice in her tumbler clinking against the glass skittered across my inflamed senses.

“I need to be inside you, Camila,” she whispered roughly. “I’m aching for you.”

My gaze fell to my drink on the table, my thoughts swirling around in my head, a clusterfuck of impressions and recollections and confusion. “How did you know?”

Her tongue traced the shell of my ear and I shivered. It felt like every cell in my body was straining toward her. Resisting her took an impossible amount of energy, draining me and making me feel tired.

“Know what?” she asked.

“What I like to drink? What Cary’s name is?”

she inhaled deeply, and then pulled away. Setting her drink down, she shifted on the sofa and drew a knee up onto the cushion between us so that she faced me directly. Her arm once again draped over the sofa back, her fingertips drawing circles on the curve of my shoulder. “You visited another of my clubs earlier. Your credit card popped and your drinks were recorded. And Cary Taylor is listed on the rental agreement for your apartment.”

The room spun. No way…My cell phone. My credit card. My fucking apartment. I couldn’t breathe. Between my mother and Lauren, I felt claustrophobic.

“Camila. Jesus. You’re white as a ghost.” sheshoved a glass into my hand. “Drink.”

It was the Stoli and cranberry. I pounded it, draining the tumbler. My stomach churned for a moment, then settled. “You own the building I live in?” I gasped.

“Oddly enough, yes.” she moved to sit on the table, facing me, her legs on either side of mine. she took my glass and set it aside; then warmed my chilled hands with her.

“Are you crazy, Lauren?”

Her mouth thinned. “Is that a serious question?”

“Yes. Yes, it is. My mom stalks me, too, and she sees a shrink. Do you have a shrink?”

“Not presently, but you’re driving me crazy enough to make that a possibility.”

“So this behavior isn’t normal for you?” My heart was pounding. I could hear the blood rushing past my eardrums. “Or is it?”

she shoved a hand through her hair, restoring order to the strands I’d mussed when we’d kissed. “I accessed information you voluntarily made available to me.”

“Not to you! Not for what you used it for! That has to violate some kind of privacy law.” I stared at her, more confused than ever. “Why would you do that?”

shehad the grace to look disgruntled at least. “So I can figure you out, damn it.”

“Why don’t you just ask me, Lauren? Is that so fucking hard for people to do nowadays?”

“It is with you.” she grabbed her drink off the table and tossed back most of it. “I can’t get you alone for more than a few minutes at a time.”

“Because the only thing you want to talk about is what you have to do to get laid!”

“Christ, Camila,” she hissed, squeezing my hand. “Keep your voice down!”

I studied her, taking in every line and plane of her face. Unfortunately, cataloging the details didn’t lessen my awe even a tiny bit. I was beginning to suspect I’d never get over being dazzled by his looks.

And I wasn’t alone; I’d seen how other women reacted around her. And she was crazy rich, which made even old, bald, and paunchy guys attractive. It was no wonder she was used to snapping her fingers and scoring an orgasm.

Her gaze darted over my face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m thinking.”

“About what?” Her jaw tightened. “And I’m warning you, if you say anything about orifices, preapprovals, or seminal emissions, I won’t be held accountable for my actions.”

That almost made me smile. “I want to understand a few things, because I think it’s possible I’m not giving you enough credit.”

“I’d like to understand a few things myself,” she muttered.

“I’m guessing the ‘I want to fuck you’ approach has a high success rate for you.”

Lauren’s face smoothed into unreadable impassivity. “I’m not touching that one, Camila.”

“Okay. You want to figure out what it’s going to take to get me into bed. Is that why you’re here in this club right now? Because of me? And don’t say what you think I want to hear.”

Her gaze was clear and steady. “I’m here for you, yes. I arranged it.”

Suddenly the threads the street hawker had been wearing made sense. We’d been hustled by someone on Cross Industries payroll. “Did you figure that getting me here would get you laid?”

Her mouth twitched with suppressed amusement. “There’s always the hope, but I expected it would take more work than a chance meeting over drinks.”

“You’re right. So why do it? Why not wait until Monday lunch?”

“Because you’re out trolling. I can’t do anything about B.O.B., but I can stop you from picking up some asshole in a bar. You want to score, Camila, I’m right here.”

“I’m not trolling. I’m burning off tension after a stressful day.”

“You’re not the only one.” she fingered one of my silver chandelier earrings. “So you drink and dance when you’re tense. I work on the problem that’s making me tense in the first place.”

Her voice had softened, and it stirred an alarming yearning. “Is that what I am? A problem?”

“Absolutely.” But there was a hint of a smile around her lips.

I knew that was a lot of the appeal for her. Lauren Jauregui wouldn’t be where she was, at such a young age, if she took “no” gracefully. “What’s your definition of dating?”

A frown marred the space between her brows. “Lengthy social time spent with a woman during which we’re not actively fucking.”

“Don’t you enjoy the company of women?”

The frown turned into a scowl. “Sure, as long as there aren’t any exaggerated expectations or excessive demands on my time. I’ve found the best way to steer clear of those is to have mutually exclusive sexual relationships and friendships.”

There were those pesky “exaggerated expectations” again. Clearly, those were a sticking point with her. “So, you do have female friends?”

“Of course.” Her legs tightened around mine, capturing me. “Where are you going with this?”

“You segregate sex from the rest of your life. You separate it from friendship, work…everything.”

“I’ve got good reasons for doing that.”

“I’m sure you do. Okay, here are my thoughts.” It was difficult concentrating when I was so close to Lauren. “I told you I don’t want to date and I don’t. My job is priority number one and my personal life—as a single woman—is a close second. I don’t want to sacrifice any of that time on a relationship and there’s really not enough left over to squeeze in anything steady.”

“I’m right there with you.”

“But I like sex.”

“Good. Have it with me.” Her smile was an erotic invitation.

I shoved her shoulder. “I need a personal connection with the men I sleep with. It doesn’t have to be intense or deep, but sex needs to be more than an emotionless transaction for me.”

“Why?”

I could tell she wasn't being flippant. As bizarre as this conversation must be for her, Lauren was taking it seriously. “Call it one of my quirks, and I’m not saying that lightly. It pisses me off to feel used for sex. I feel devalued.”

“Can’t you look at it as you using me for sex?”

“Not with you.” she was too forceful, too demanding.

A sizzling, predatory glimmer sparked in her eyes as I bared my weakness for her.

“Besides,” I went on quickly, “that’s semantics. I need an equal exchange in my sexual relationships. Or to have the upper hand.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? You said that really quickly considering I’m telling you I need to combine two things you work so hard to avoid putting together.”

“I’m not comfortable with it and I don’t claim to understand, but I’m hearing you—it’s an issue. Tell me how to get around it.”

My breath left me in a rush. I hadn’t expected that. shewas a woman who wanted no complications with her sex and I was a woman who found sex complicated, but shewasn’t giving up. Yet.

“We need to be friendly, Lauren. Not best buds or confidants, but two people who know more about each other than their anatomy. To me, that means we have to spend time together when we’re not actively fucking. And I’m afraid we’ll have to spend time not actively fucking in places where we’re forced to restrain ourselves.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing now?”

“Yes. And see, that’s what I mean. I wasn’t giving you credit for that. You should’ve done it in a less creepy manner”—I covered her lips with my fingers when she tried to cut me off—“but I admit you did try to set up a time to talk and I wasn’t helpful.”

she snipped my fingers with her teeth, making me yelp and yank my hand away.

“Hey. What was that for?”

she lifted my abused hand to her mouth and kissed the hurt, her tongue darting out to soothe. And incite.

In self-defense, I tugged my hand back to my lap. I still wasn’t completely confident that we’d worked things out. “Just so you know there are no exaggerated expectations—when you and I spend time together not actively fucking, I won’t think it’s a date. All right?”

“That covers it.” Lauren smiled and my decision to be with her solidified for me. Her smile was like lightning in the darkness, blinding and beautiful and mysterious, and I wanted her so badly it was physically painful.

Her hands slid down to cup the backs of my thighs. Squeezing gently, she tugged me just a little bit closer. The hem of my short black halter dress slipped almost indecently high and her gaze was riveted to the flesh he’d exposed. Her tongue wet his lips in an action so carnal and suggestive I could almost feel the caress on my skin.

Duffy began begging for mercy, her voice drifting up from the dance floor below. An unwelcome ache developed in my chest and I rubbed at it.

I’d already had enough, but I heard myself saying, “I need another drink.

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smol-and-grumpy · 5 years ago

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Magical Mystery Ride

Re-Post

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Summary: Jensen’s been stood up by Jared but in retrospect, he couldn’t be mad about it.

WC: 2.7k

Warnings: Smut (size difference, deep throating, face riding)

Jensen didn’t really know why he was still there. Jared had coaxed him out to the crowded bar for a guys’ night out, but after an hour, there was still no sign of Jared.

Dude stood him up!

Jensen couldn’t believe how dumb he was to go out after such a long workday, when he’d rather be in bed. Since he was already there, he decided to at least finish his drink then be gone.

It wasn’t his fault that he began to actually enjoy the bar once people started to leave. It gave him more space, more air to breathe and the music wasn’t all that bad. Maybe it was the Whiskey talking, or maybe it was the bartender, who poured him another one without even asking.

He fished out his phone from his pants and noticed a message from Jared.

Dude, I don’t know if I can make it. Gen’s not home yet.

Jensen didn’t reply. Instead he put the phone back in his pocket, rolling his eyes.

He wouldn’t wait for Jared, the jerk. Best to finish his drink and hope that the bartender doesn’t pour him another one. It was hard to say no to a good drink, and it’s not like he had to drive.

When a new song started to play, Jensen looked around the room with a little interest. There was a girl in the back, talking to her friend and smiling in his direction.

He smiled back, even though he didn’t know if the smile was intended to reach him or someone else. Nervously, he doubled checked over his shoulder but he saw no one.

Phew.

Back to the girl, then.

It had been, what… a couple of weeks since Jensen had been out on a date? And even then, it wasn’t a memorable one. At least not in a good way. His date couldn’t stop talking and only used him for her 15 minutes of fame. They didn’t share a kiss, but she went running around, bragging to the tabloid that they did. It needed a couple of sessions with his lawyer to right the wrongs. Jensen learned that he needed to be more cautious.

He dragged the baseball cap further over his brow, shielding himself from wandering eyes. Also, as a way that he could watch her without being called a creep? He saw her out of the corner of his eye, how she eyed him so openly, and his cheeks started to flush.

He knew that he was pretty. There were a lot of people telling him that every day on social media, but it was something he’d never gotten used to hearing or reading. Another downside was also never knowing if the girl was interested in him as a person, or the idea of having him, Jensen Ackles, attractive TV star. Still, he had to try. His people radar was functioning on point, and he’d gotten quite good at figuring out if someone wanted him or their own spot in the limelight.

Two hours had passed, confirming for Jensen that Jared wasn’t going to show. He downed the last gulp of his drink, hissing as the liquid hit the back of his throat, giving him a welcome burning sensation.

“Hey.” The girl was standing next to him. He thought she was greeting him, but the bartender replied with another “hey.”

She sent him a smile, though, and Jensen couldn’t help but smile back. She was petite. If he stood up from his bar stool, he was sure that her face would only reach his chest.

“Never seen you around here,” she drawled, waiting for her drink. This time, her words were directed at Jensen.

“Oh… me?” he muttered, blushing again. “Yeah, it’s my first time here.”

“You like it?” she asked before turning to the bartender and thanking him. They knew each other by name. Jensen took it that she was a regular.

“I… I don’t know. It’s ok, I guess.” Jensen signaled for the bartender to pour him another one. He clearly needed it.

By the end of the evening, they were giggling, laughing, and sneaking shy kisses. While Jensen was not normally a guy to do this, he couldn’t say that he minded. He asked her for her name. She told him simply, never asking him once for his. When he asked if she wanted to know his name, she said she didn’t want to get attached. She didn’t need to know it to have a good time.

Fine by him.

“My friend said she recognized you. You’re famous, apparently?” She giggled. “Not that I care.” And, well, he didn’t either after all the whiskey.

“So…” Y/N was sitting on his lap, her legs folded to the side as she trailed her fingertips along his shoulders. Jensen couldn’t stop the swelling of his cock. He was sure that she felt it too. “What do you say, are you my magical mystery ride tonight?”

“Depends how fast you wanna go, sweetheart,” he replied, trying to sound cheeky, and it must have worked because she giggled softly at his lame joke.

“Well…” Her fingertips trailed along his biceps and down his arm until she was holding his hand in hers “I don’t know what you are looking for, Mr. Green Eyes with Freckles, but I’m looking for a good ride, and I don’t mind if it’s going to be bumpy.”

Jensen groaned out in approval, hoping that it wasn’t too loud. He stood up, then and there, with her still in his arms. He let her down gently and she smiled up at him. “I’ll take my own taxi. Since apparently you’re famous, we need to keep a low profile, don’t we? Here’s my address.” She winked, handed him a piece of paper and was out the door quicker than he could say okay.

He sat back down, wondering how long to wait to chase after her, but he decided a little longer as you never know, and he can’t be careful enough.

Jensen didn’t get a chance to knock before the door flung open and she jumped him, climbing into his arms like he was a damn fucking tree, not that he minded. She hooked her feet behind his back and kissed him like she meant it.

He took her lead, kissing her back, lips parting, tongues dancing together as he walked in then pushed the door closed with his foot.

“Bedroom?” Jensen managed to ask her, whispering the question into her mouth as she swallowed it greedily down her throat.

“Left door,” She panted before she attacked his face again, licking a trail from his cheek to his ear.

Once inside her room, she wriggled herself out of his grip and dropped to her knees, dragging at his plaid shirt on her way down. She shrugged it off, tossing it to the side before he took off his T-shirt while she mouthed at his crotch, the feeling of her touches making his cock twitch. She was a tiny little thing and Jensen was a bit afraid that he’d hurt her.

“Hey, maybe we should take it easy.” He looked down, only to be met by her sassy grin.

With a wink, her fingers dragged down his zipper, “Why, you afraid I’ll break?”

She helped him get out of his jeans and she stepped out of her own dress before running her tongue against his crotch again, making him groan at the feeling.

If it’s already great like this, how perfect would be when he finally feel her skin on his? She took a short break to unhook her bra and step out of her panties. He was salivating at the sight.

She pulled his underwear down and he didn’t even get a chance to step out of them when her small hands wrapped around his cock. It looked ridiculously large in comparison to the tiny hands that were holding it.

She thumbed at his slit, circling her digits around the shaft, spreading the precum around the already purple head of his cock, making him grit his teeth and swallow down a moan. Then she licked her lips greedily before placing a seemingly shy kiss on it first, all the while grinning at him.

Jensen summoned all his willpower, trying not to blow his load right in her face. Her soft small hands stroked his shaft; she could wrap two of her hands around it and it still wouldn’t be covered by them. He’s going to break her, he knew that and he wondered if she knew too.

She held his cock by its base now, slapping his dick against her cheeks with a splashing sound.

Damn that woman.

“Shit… sweetheart.” Jensen bit down on his bottom lip, the feeling flowing through him, mind blowing. “Open up, will ya?” he begged.

She answered him with a grin that said, “duh.”

He could see her concentrating as she gobbled down the first half of his dick. “Nngg…” He choked back a moan because the tip of his dick got squeezed so good. Just when he thought that she couldn’t go any further, she proved him wrong, shaking her head and fitting him in all the way. The pressure on his cock so painful but oh so good. “Fuck, look at you,” he stared down at her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she looked up at him with her big, beautiful, doe eyes.

“So good, sweetheart. Such a good girl,” Jensen praised. Fuck, he didn’t know if she liked to be praised, but if that didn’t deserve a damn gold star, then he didn’t know what would.

Y/N chuckled, pulling her head back, gasping for breath when she came up again and stroked his shaft with one hand.

Jensen couldn’t help himself because he needed to taste her, feel her on him. He bent down, claiming her mouth, the taste of himself strong on her tongue.

“Do that again.” His words were low and it almost came out a plea which was met by a grin. He could see her eyes glistening with tears as she pushed her face into his cock again. Swallowing it inch by glorious inch, her nose hitting his pubic bone, Jensen held up his sac. “Can you try to open your mouth more? Can you fit my balls in here too, baby?”

Y/N looked up at him with so much lust in her eyes as she slacked her jaw. It only opened a couple of inches, but Jensen fed her his balls, trying to squeeze at least one of them inside. When he succeeded, he had to pinch his own leg and think of football statistics to not just come right there. “Oh my god, so good, fuck, you’re incredible.” He breathed out as she again, pulled her head back, a string of saliva still attached to her mouth and his cock as she brushed it away with her hand.

“C’mere,” he rasped, pulling her up and walking the two steps to her bed until he plopped down, moving up so his head was rested against the headboard. “You were looking for a magical mystery ride, weren’t ya?” She nodded with a giggle, turning a pretty shade of pink.

“Then come here, ride my face.” Jensen pulled her up with no problem, making her straddle his face. He groaned against her hot flesh when it touched his tongue.

He splayed his hands across her ass, fingers digging into warm flesh as she bucked her hips and rode him like he told her to. His tongue lapped at the wetness dripping out of her, the tip of his tongue disappearing into her heat every time she rode him at the right angle.

“Oh, fuck,” Y/N cried out above him, her hands holding onto her headboard for leverage, her hips rolling against his nose that dug into her clit, giving her the stimulation she needed to come. “God, I’m coming. Fuck…” One of her hands gripped at his hair, her nails digging into his skull as she pulled him up against her pussy, almost suffocating him as she rode out her orgasm.

“Wow… fuck… Oh, god…” She panted hard, giggling as she moved down and sat on his chest, her wetness coating the way, Jensen not minding one bit. “You’re something else.” She smiled as she kissed him, sucking her juices right from his tongue and his dick twitched in anticipation.

Y/N broke the kiss only to reach over to her bedside drawer, pulling out a condom and tore it out of it’s wrapper before she went further down. Jensen let out a whimper as her wet core slid along his shaft. She put the condom in her mouth and positioned it between her lips. Slowly, oh, so slowly, she rolled the condom down his dick with her tongue and lips, taking him all into her mouth again in the process. The need to come was staggering, almost drowning him.

“How do you want me?” she purred.

“Ride me, sweetheart,” Jensen ordered, and he saw her grinning with a hint of sparkle in her eyes. It was obviously the right answer and he was a little proud of himself.

She positioned herself above his dick, and that damn cock was twitching, chasing the warmth that radiated from her. Y/N slowly sank down, impaling herself on his cock, her eyelids fluttering when he breached her pussy. She paused about two inches in, breathing heavily through gritted teeth. “Need a moment.”

Jensen understood because, he too, was overwhelmed by her tight channel and he welcomed the break as he calmed himself and his dick down.

“Ok, good.” Y/N uttered, sinking a little lower, a frown creeping on her forehead that Jensen wanted to kiss away.

“Fuck… oh, fucking fuck,” she moaned as she managed to sit down all the way. They were flush against each other, skin on skin. “You’re so fucking big. Oh, god…” she whimpered. Jensen smirked proudly, but felt concerned because he didn’t want to hurt her.

“I’m good, wow… fuck, this is good.” She said after she adjusted to his size and slowly began to roll her hips.

“Oh… Jesus!” Jensen moaned out his approval, his hands working up her body, cupping her small but round tits. He twirled her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers as he let her bounce on his cock in her own pace.

She gave him her all, grinding and writhing on his cock so well. Jensen knew, he just knew that if he didn’t come now, he’d fucking implode.

“Sweetheart, I’m coming,” he muttered under his breath, his teeth scraping along his bottom lip as his hands grabbed her arms and pulled her down so that they were chest to chest. He locked his arms around her and she spread her legs for him a little more, her knees resting on either side of him on the mattress as he fucked up into her, bucking his hips in a fast pace, balls slapping against her ass as he molded his lips to hers.

“Ah… Y/N!” Her name rolled off his tongue as he came, hot and heavy, spilling into the condom as she kissed him through it, her small hands cradling his face.

Jensen walked out of her shower with a towel around his hips. She was in bed, covered with a sheet, a beautiful flushing glow on her cheeks.

“I… uh… I need to head out,” he said, blushing while scrambling around for his clothes.

“Sure. I’ll just come and lock the door.” She was out of the bed, still very naked and still looking very delicious. Jensen really didn’t want to go, but he too, didn’t want to get attached.

Y/N walked him to the door, her hand in his. Before opening, he bent down, kissing her, tasting her one last time.

“I’m sorry,” Jensen whispered when they broke the kiss.

“No worries, Freckles,” she winked. “You know where I live. Drop by. Don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t.”

Both of them said the things they know they won’t live up to. It just made it easier, Jensen guessed.

When he was in the taxi, heading to his place, he took out his phone. Jared had called countless times. Jensen wanted to take a selfie and send it to Jared, telling him how he let him down when he noticed a new picture in his gallery.

It was Y/N, smiling and holding up sheet of paper. “In case you need to reach me, Freckles.” was scribbled on it, along with her number.

Well, maybe he should really drop by every now and again.

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen x you #jensen ackles fic #jensen ackles smut #jensen ackles fan fic #jensen ackles fan fiction #nathalie writes

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shield-sheafson · 4 years ago

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Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Teen Titans (Comics), Teen Titans - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Raven/Tara Markov, past Tara Markov/Slade Wilson, Background Dick Grayson/Koriand'r Characters: Tara Markov, Raven (DCU), Donna Troy, Koriand'r (DCU), Slade Wilson Additional Tags: Fluff and Angst, Romance, Past Underage, Past Abuse, Flirting, Weddings, sexually charged lipstick application, Slade doesn’t show up in the present timeline he’s just in the flashbacks, Flashbacks Summary:

Even normal things feel like they’ve been ruined: it’s been years, but sometimes Tara feels like she’s still with Slade. As everybody prepares for Dick and Kory’s wedding, all kinds of miserable feelings begin bubbling up inside of her even as she tries to have fun. To add to the stress, Raven has been acting awfully cute lately…

—

“So what’s the dress situation here?” Tara asks casually. “Donna had bridesmaid dresses picked out by this time. Are you slacking?” To be perfectly fair, Tara had never worn the ruffly monstrosity Donna had given her. She’d been too busy wandering the streets as an amnesiac.

“Tamaranians usually do not have bridesmaids,” Kory says. She’s carefully weaving together circlets of dried flowers. She has a pile of completed ones in the middle of the dining room table. “Everybody participates, not just a few people. I can not pick out matching dresses for the entire Justice League.”

“Just let Gar take care of it.”

“Do you want Gar dressing you?” Kory asks, quirking an eyebrow.

“…Good call. You seem pretty calm about all this. Donna is going crazy.”

“Donna will relax in time. She seems to think I want an Earth wedding. With the DJ.”

“What do you want?”

“On Tamaran, we sing, we dance, and we burn things. That is all I want; it would be nice to have G'larbac feathers and a torba bowl, but I do not need them to be happy. Oh, and Dick is not allowed to speak.”

“…Nice.”

Kory puts down her flowers. “It is not as if I am not participating in the human traditions myself! He is not allowed to look at me and everybody will throw grain. We will do the bouquet and the garter. I respect humans!”

“It’s– I wasn’t saying you didn’t!” Tara isn’t ready to fight. “…Wait, who said you didn’t?”

“I know that it is selfish to want to bring Tamaran to Earth,” Kory says, looking down at the table. “I try to be respectful of human behavior, even when it makes me a little uncomfortable. I do not kiss on the lips to do greeting and I laugh at the sarcasm. But my wedding is special. Earth is my home now, but Tamaran is where I was born. I went to weddings when I was a little girl, and I played at them with my friends. I want to at least have a little of that here.” She keeps her chin high and proud, but there’s a hurt look in her eyes.

Tara isn’t sure what to say. She’s never been any good at comforting people; if anything, she usually makes things worse. Does Kory even need comfort right now? She just nods her head awkwardly.

“That’s fair,” she says. “I don’t think it’s selfish to miss where you grew up. I mean, it’s not like this is someone else’s wedding, so it’s nobody’s business how you do it, right?”

“But the guests will all be human. Dick’s father will be there.”

“He’s rich, he doesn’t care.”

“What does that have to do with…?”

“Shh. He’s rich.”

“I met him, he seemed to think…”

Tara leans forward and puts a finger on Kory’s lips. “Shh. Wealthy.”

Kory seems to accept.

—

“Fast or slow?” Gar asks, resting his chin on his hands and leaning over the table.

“Both,” Donna says.

“Song decade?”

“Well, Kory wants Tamaranian folk music, and Dick wants pop from the ‘70s, so multiple.”

“How many dances are we going to have? Parents’ dances, bridal party dances, anniversary dances?”

“This is complicated enough without all that stuff,” Vic says.

“Aww, embarrassed?” Tara asks. “Scared of the boogie man?”

“That’s lame,” Gar says. “Even I think that’s lame.”

“Kory’s parents can’t make the voyage,” Donna says. “And Dick’s father is single, so the parents’ dance might be awkward. I’m thinking we can arrange it so that Dick and Kory dance first. I’ll hire a choreographer. Then the brides’ and grooms’ parties can go, and then maybe the couple that’s been together the longest, so I’ll check the guest list and–”

Tara coughs. “That’s stupid,” she says, thinking back to her earlier conversation. “Maybe everyone can just dance.”

“She’s one of my best friends, and I want it to be perfect,” Donna says. “She and Dick have helped me so much all these years, so I want to help them back.”

“Still sounds like too much,” Vic says.

“Come on, it sounds fun!” Gar says. He punches Vic in the shoulder with a clanging noise. “We can teach you if you don’t know how.”

“I know how to dance,” Vic says, but his expression says more. He presses his lips tightly together.

“Okay,” Gar says, standing up. “Prove yourself.”

Tara snorts.

“You too,” Donna says, joining Gar. “If we make Vic do it, we all have to.”

Suddenly, it doesn’t seem as funny. While the idea of Vic being a bad dancer is amazing and wonderful, Tara isn’t able to dance either. She’s been coasting. This is karma.

“I’ll pair off with Vic, so it’s you and Gar,” Donna says, switching on the radio on the counter. It’s Lionel Richie.

“Is this okay?” Gar asks quietly as he takes her hand. “I’m not being weird, right?”

Tara rolls her eyes. “We’re not sixteen anymore. I think you’ve got your teen horniness under control.”

“Right.”

Off to the side, Donna and Vic are swaying awkwardly. He looks terrified.

“Okay, do you remember how to do a box step?” Gar asks, nervously resting his hand on Tara’s back.

“Yeah,” she says, even though she’s not sure what a box step is. She carefully mirrors his feet.

“You don’t remember,” Gar says. “Okay, put your right foot back.”

Which foot is the right foot? Tara makes a wild guess. Gar shakes his head sadly.

“Hey, Raven!” Donna calls. Tara looks over Gar’s shoulder and sees Raven shuffling sleepily into the kitchenette with messy hair and her blanket dragging behind her.

Raven looks up groggily. “What are you doing?” she asks.

“Dancing,” Gar says. “Vic’s low self-esteem is getting in the way of his social skills. Tara, you aren’t supposed–”

“Hey!” Vic interjects. “My self-esteem is fine!”

“Join the party!” Donna says. “I think we need to switch up anyway.”

Raven squints at her, takes the kettle off the stove, and pours some hot water into a mug.

“I’m going with Gar next,” Vic says, letting go of Donna and stepping off to the side. “Tara’s gonna be unpartnered.”

“But I’m right–” Donna begins.

“Unpartnered,” Vic repeats, looking meaningfully at Raven. Raven presses her lips together and looks away.

“This is stupid,” she says. “I’m not playing.” Tara feels a twinge of sympathy. She’s not entirely sure what’s going on, but Raven is embarrassed and Vic’s making it worse.

“Donna knows how to lead, right?” Tara asks. “Because I only know how to… The thing that isn’t leading.”

“I’d better know,” Donna says. “If I don’t know how to lead, then Kory’s going to be in trouble, because we’ve been practicing for weeks.”

Weird. Kory always struck Tara as the type who would lead in a dance. Maybe it’s just because she’s tall.

“Wait,” Raven says. “I’ll try.”

“Man, talk about wishy-washy,” Tara says, but Raven, with unprecedented confidence, steps up to her and grabs her hand.

“You’re wishy-washy,” Raven mumbles, resting her hand on Tara’s back (electricity shoots up her spine).

The music changes– something poppy and banal. Raven swallows and moves carefully, and Tara, somehow impressed by her determination, follows as well as she can.

It feels very different from dancing with Gar– when she was younger, Gar excited a kind of nervousness in her that he doesn’t now (even though it wasn’t really a good feeling, it was a tangible one). Being close to Raven is a whole new experience. From the slender fingers that clutch Tara’s hand to the light sway of Raven’s dark hair to the smell of bitter black tea that lingers over her, Tara is oddly entranced.

Step in one direction, reverse, reverse again. It should be so boring. Tara can feel her heart pounding against the inside of her chest, either faster or slower than it should be. She’s sure her hand is sweating.

“We’re going to turn in a circle now,” Raven says stiffly.

“Taking charge, I see. Yay,” Tara says, bracing herself to either step on Raven’s foot or be stepped on.

“You’re doing a good job!” Donna says. Vic shoots her a look just as Tara loses focus and stomps Raven’s slipper, throwing her off balance. They let go of each other, falling backwards a little.

Raven takes a deep breath and turns around. “Sorry!” she says, scurrying away before anybody else can interrupt.

After a few seconds of silence, Gar offers his opinion. “That was kinda weird.”

“Freaky,” Tara says, still catching her breath.

—

“Fashion, fashion,” Gar chants. He has one arm around Raven’s shoulder and one arm around Tara’s.

“It looks like you have a broken leg and we’re carrying you off the battlefield,” Raven says.

“He will have a broken leg if he doesn’t let go,” Tara says.

Gar lets go. “Can I still dress you up?”

“I’m not sure I could forgive you for doing something like that,” Raven says. “You can dress Tara.”

“Hey!”

The consignment store is a small brick building in a strip mall alongside a drugstore and a Vietnamese restaurant. It’s got a worn exterior and a variety of outdated clothes displayed in its streaky front window.

“Chic!” Announces the light-up sign by the glass door. A bell rings as they open it and the sleepy clerk looks up from her counter.

“Welco– oh!” Her droopy eyes widen when she sees Gar. “You’re one of the Titans, right?”

“Guilty as charged,” Gar says. “Any heroes’ discounts available?”

“No,” Raven says before the clerk can answer. “Let’s look at the books.”

“But you don’t even–”

Raven gently steers him away. Tara follows. She gives the clerk a little wave.

Gar stands around inattentively while Raven looks at something thick with a dusty cover.

“Wanna play the romance novel game?” Tara asks. “You look at the ones on display and you count how many man-nipples you can spot.”

“Cowboy,” Gar says, pointing. “Upper-left corner. Two nipples.”

“Kilt guy, bottom middle. One nipple– maybe one and a half.”

“What are you doing?” Raven asks.

“Nothing wrong,” Tara says. “Let’s go to the hats.”

They’re probably going to get lice, honestly. If they just let anybody try on all these cloches, then chances are somebody covered in bugs has tried them on at some point.

“Hey, Gar,” she says.

“Mm?” He looks up from below the brim of a rhinestone-encrusted cowboy hat.

“Do you get lice, or do you get fleas?”

Just as Raven opens her mouth to deliver a scolding, Gar says, “Both.”

“Let’s go somewhere else,” Raven says, gingerly lifting the hat from Gar’s head.

Tara and Gar feel their way through the menswear section (they pet the faux-fur lining of a large and intimidating coat). Gar’s eyes widen in excitement and he pulls out a shabby pink jacket with patches on the elbows. He ducks down and begins covertly putting it on.

“There are dressing rooms,” Raven says.

“I look like a professor,” Gar says, standing. His wrists poke out for a few inches and its bottom is well above his hips.

“Professor of being a bastard,” Tara says.

“It doesn’t fit,” Raven says. “Also, Tara, stop being awful.” Tara shrugs.

“I think it fits.” Gar stretches his arms, pushing his wrists out further. “I’m gonna buy it.”

“I can’t control you,” Raven says.

“You know, that’s a really healthy way to approach your relationships with others,” Gar says thoughtfully as he takes the jacket off. “Time to dress up Tara!” He slaps a hand on her shoulder.

“I never agreed to this! Ask Kory, she knows!” Tara looks pleadingly at Raven, who just blinks at her like a cat.

They make their death march to the women’s section, Gar in high spirits, Tara in poor spirits, and Raven in some sort of spirits. Tara drags behind, carefully examining every pointless thing she spots.

“Let’s get the Teen Bible,” she says. “I really want that plush dragon. Hey, we should…”

A silly, stupid thing. There’s a pair of high-heeled slippers in the discount shoe bin. The puffy feathers on the upper are clumped and ragged, and the color on the insole is worn down.

Tara stops dragging and walks a little faster.

—

A pair of pink mules with puffy faux feathers on the upper. Tara bought them for ten bucks at the costume store (she’d also kind of wanted a Reagan mask, but she had no excuse). She had an awkward, mincing walk when she tried them on. There was no strap around the back, so they were always on the verge of falling off.

They were another part of her grown-up costume. She practiced walking in them in circles around her room for two hours, and hid them carefully when Gar knocked on her door looking for his rubber lizard. She was determined to come off as mature that night.

“What do you think?” she’d asked, pointing to them proudly.

“You look cheap,” Slade said bluntly.

Her stomach plummeted.

“It suits you,” he said.

She laughed.

—

Gar is in the dressing room. He found a blouse, immediately labeled it as “bisexual” and scampered off. Tara is staring at a pair of overalls, twisting the buttons of the left strap again and again. She wants it to come loose, even though Raven will probably make her take responsibility and buy the whole thing.

“What are you doing?” Raven asks from behind her. Tara jumps.

“I’m ruining these overalls,” Tara says, turning to face her. “I’ve almost got the thread worn down, see?”

“No,” Raven says, taking them from her. “You suddenly got quiet and you’re making that face.”

“What face?”

“I know you, Tara.”

—

“I know you better than anyone. Don’t lie to me.” He cradled her face gently as he said it, but all she could think of was how close his hands were to her neck.

—

“No, you don’t,” Tara says, reaching to take the overalls back. “Stop acting like you can read my mind.”

Raven steps back, clutching them to her chest. “You’re upset,” she says.

“I’m not.” Tara’s voice cracks a little. “And even if I am, aren’t I allowed to be?”

Raven opens her mouth as if to say something, but she closes it again. She looks down at the overalls. The button is hanging down awkwardly. “You’re allowed to be upset,” she says. “But I hate it.”

Tara stretches her face into a sarcastic grin. “All better!” she says.

Raven hands back the overalls without making eye contact.

“Come in and have a look!” Gar calls.

#dc #teen titans #raeterra #me writing #tara markov #raven dc

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artyrogue · 4 years ago

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Blind Date Gaming: Konami GB Collection Vol. 3

Boy, I am WIPED after my date last night. It all started out as it usually does -- a quick visit to PRANG for an introduction to my next potential video game suitor. Who could have guessed that I would served up 4 dates! They all came together at once under the guise of Konami GB Collection Vol. 3.

I was greeted at first by an anime schoolgirl with a huge hand and quite possibly a contender for the weirdest hairstyles I've seen in a while. What is that, a grass-inspired mohawk laid over top a normal haircut?

Is this what the cows that make cowlicks eat?

What happened next was an eventful set of speed dates. This onslaught left me with no down time, thus the exhaustion. However, I did end up meeting some nice games. I'll speed through them each quick-like to keep this from being overly long. Luckily each of the games are pretty short (as expected from Game Boy games)!

First up is Gradius II! Now, I've never actually played a Gradius game, so I can't say if this is a port, some reconfigured version of Gradius II, or what. What I CAN say is that it has tight controls, beautiful graphics, interesting bosses, and some fun gameplay.

Looks like a rocky magic 8 ball

You start off hangin' out with what I assume are your dad and mom starships. Aww, family time! Soon, however, someone decks your old man and blasts your momma fulla lasers. Obviously disturbed, you fly forward and get chased by the perpetrator through a buncha rocks until you escape.

Good thing this guy doesn't feel like firing at me for whatever reason

...Except you kind of don't? You end up going through a bunch of planetary landscapes, shootin' dudes and grabbin' powerups that let you fire lasers and stuff. Pew pew! You eventually get captured, break out, and summarily fly through a ship, an asteroid belt, and I think some alien's guts? I'm not sure; I never went to med school for interplanetary digestive systems. Bosses fight you at every turn, and they are so sweet. Like, I don't always know what I'm attacking, but it just looks so cool that I really don't care!

Ever want to fight a kneeling, fanged alien stuck in a wall with detachable mouthy-brains? Yeah, well now you do, obviously!

In the end you find the enemy ship that assassinated your nuclear family with nuclear weapons, commit your own brand of galactic revenge, and I assume go on with your day in a half-arsed way, never addressing the journey you just went through for fear of sparking up some majorly weird PTSD.

Next up is some Castlevania game! It claims to be Castlevania II, but don't think it's Simon's Quest since it doesn't have slow-scrolling text boxes telling me that night is a poor time to explore the world when suffering from a magical adversary's angry sentiments. Instead, you just go about whippin' junk. Alright, I can be a lion tamer for the undead.

Why do cultists always gotta wear hoods? Can't they wear like a polo and some comfy slacks?

So in this installment, you can apparently shoot fireballs from a fully-upgraded whip, so it's instantly MUCH easier than most Castelvania games. The list of enemies is kind of lacking, but it was enough to feel competent. The level design was pretty spot-on, which is par for the course, though for some reason this game has a love affair with ropes? They're EVERYWHERE, but there's enough variation in the levels to give them pass. For example, some areas have auto-directional-pulling ropes, some ropes are spider webs made by enemies, some require quick sliding to avoid obstacles, etc.

You gotta wonder, does the guy living here have to go through all these traps every day just to get his mail? And how does he carry groceries back to his (probably rope-decorated) kitchen?

The boss fights were definitely memorable. Some of their designs were flat-out brilliant, and they were all pretty fun! Your sub-weapons weren't really that useful here, but that's fine. The bosses, too, were made a little easier with the projectile whip, but the designers struck a good balance between fun and hard.

These guys shoot out vertebrae in an arc, transferring them from one head to the other. I don't have a quip here, it was just a stupidly awesome designed boss that I wanted to gush about for a bit!

Well, perhaps I spoke too soon. The bosses were all fun except for the last 3 in the game. Allow me to whine and complain about them for a bit, if you will! The first was a tunneling snake on a forced scrolling screen that made you take damage unless you memorized where he was going to surface next (I HATE memorization-by-death gameplay). The next was a fellow Belmont who would relentlessly whip the crap outta you, throw swords all over the screen, and would probably be nigh impossible if I didn't have Holy Water. The final was Dracula, who I suppose gets a pass for being hard since he was the final boss...but he, too, was pretty much a memorization-by-death fight, too. The dude has 6 orbs revolving around him that spread out, essentially making 85% of the screen unsafe. Unless you know the specific spot to crouch down for the given position he's in, you get hurt, and you get hurt pretty badly. Oh, and you can really only hit him once per attack, so you'd better learn the safe spots for all 8 of his attack spots and hope you can hurt him and get into your safe position before taking damage.

ouch ouch ouch OUCH

In the end, it was overall a pretty fun time. Konami definitely knows how to make a good sidescrolling action game, which is probably why they're half of the name of the 'Metroidvania' genre. Go team Belmont!

Next up: Yie Ar Kung~Fu! What is this? I've never heard of it. It's a simple fighting game where you face off against 5 fighters, each with their own weapons and special moves. You play as a normal weaponless guy who can only kick and punch, because that's fair? Regardless, you must persevere through 4 rounds of these 5 fights, each time with your foes getting slightly harder.

Mmyep, this is fair.

My trademark fighting game strategy of sweeping seems to work for the most part, though as the difficulty ramps up, the other fighters move with ridiculous speed between attacks. Eventually, the game just becomes 100% about approaching a foe with more range than you, which obviously is the main focus of fighting games. What's that? Combos? Pffft, those are lame, just have the enemies fly across the ring like a sugar-high Jack Russel Terrier.

So this guy's power is to propel himself like a missile and look like an absolute goon while doing so

There's also a mini-game where you hit things thrown at you, but like they show up so quickly and your animation speed is so slow that it's impossible to do very well. It was an okay game overall, though, but I can sort of see why it isn't as well-known as Gradius or Castlevania.

Last game: Antarctic Adventure! It's a penguin-based racing game! I think? Does this count as a racing game? Well, you race against the clock, so sure. You gotta move at top speed through an icy wasteland, avoiding sea lions and holes in the ice.

I like how this sea lion looks after getting plastered in the face by a penguin moving at ~120 km/hr. Is he in shock? Is he alive? Should I notify his next of kin?

The lore is actually pretty deep in this game. The world has fallen into ruin due to global warming, and the glacier sheets on Antarctica are slowly melting away. As a penguin trained in espionage and terrorism, you must travel to the different embassies that many countries have propped up in an attempt to stake a claim in possibly the only livable area in the near future.

The french are planning to build replicas of their famous landmarks here, like the Ice-full Tower and Arctic de Triomphe.

You're not exactly racing as much as you are keeping ahead of the authorities pursuing you for planting bombs in the embassies. If you successfully plant your payloads in all of the embassies across all of Antarctica, you destroy their chances of bringing cultural imperialism to the local wildlife. Your customs are at stake! You must cast your empathy aside for the greater good of penguin-kind!

Also, you can sometimes turn into a helicopter? Not sure what that was about.

Okay, okay, yeah, I may have embellished a bit there. No, it's not as cool as that. You just run from one place to the next and heck if I'll ever find out why miscellaneous countries happen to have little castles in a barren arctic wasteland. People's taxes at work, I guess!

Oh right, there's also a fifth option on the main menu. It's Ms. O.C. Anime Girl explaining things about the games to you. I can't read anything she's saying, though, so I can only imagine the shady koala statue in the back has some relevance to her dialogue.

So that ends an exhausting series of dates. Whew! Glad you toughed it out with me. As I've completed all of the games this time, I didn't think another date was warranted. However, Gradius and Castlevania were fun enough to say that sure, I guess, it's worth going on another date in the future. Maybe it'd be better to find the original games, though, instead of this particular port. I can only assume the extra screen real estate, better sound effects, and greater ROM size would only enhance their experiences. And speaking of experiences, grab a Sprite of Passage from the jar over there on your way out! It's mint-flavored and can double as a water purification tab if you're ever stuck somewhere in the wilderness!

Man, I would kill to watch a skeleton ballet

#blinddategaming #gameboy #gradius #castlevania #otherdumbstuff

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flightfoot · 6 years ago

Text

Turning Points

(So I’ve had this idea for awhile and I couldn’t resist. And no I don’t have set up for it, but I’ve had this in my head and I wanna share it.)

Marinette blinked as the world around her, Nino, Adrien, and Alya blurred. Some new akuma had barged into the schoolyard, yelling about how he’d show everyone the turning points in their lives, when things changed forever. How that was supposed to help Hawkmoth get the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous, she didn’t know, but she’d LONG since stopped trying to figure Hawkmoth OR his akumas out. Besides, however the akuma was showing people these turning points, it involved being shot with a weird portal gun thing and a giant metallic-looking bubble appearing around the person and anyone who’d been unfortunate enough to be near the victim, so she didn’t want to take any chances.

Marinette was just about to mumble some excuse to Nino, Adrien, and Alya so she could run off and transform when she was shot, the bubble engulfing herself and her friends.

When it cleared, the four of them were standing in Ms. Bustier’s classroom. Which wouldn’t have been unusual at all if not for versions of all of them (except for Adrien) ALREADY existing in the classroom.

“Nino! Why don’t you have a seat in the front row this year?”

Marinette blinked. Nino sit in the front row? But he’d been sitting in the front row ever since-

Oooooh.

“I think this is the first day of school,” she stated.

Alya looked around, making note of everyone’s positions. “I think you’re right.”

Chloe slammed her hand on past!Marinette’s desk. “ Marinette Dupain-Cheng!”

Past!Marinette looked dejected. “Ugh. Here we go again.”

“That’s my seat,” Chloe declared imperiously.

“But Chloe, this has always been my seat,” Marinette tried to explain.

“Not anymore!” Sabrina interjected. “New school, new year, new seats!”

“So why don't you just go and sit beside that new girl over there?” Chloe said, pointing at past!Alya.

The current Alya laughed a little. “If Chloe knew how much THAT suggestion would screw her over, do you think she’d still have made it?” she asked Marinette.

Marinette laughed.

Alya would still have become friends with her, she was sure, but it might’ve taken a few more days before they’d speak to each other. By Chloe being... Chloe, she’d unintentionally helped spark her friendship with Alya.

“Listen. Adrien's arriving today, and since that's going to be his seat, this is going to be my seat. Get it?” Chloe ordained.

Adrien frowned. “But our seats weren’t assigned at that point.”

Marinette sighed. “Like that would stop Chloe. She probably expected to just declare the seating arrangement and have everyone go along with it.”

Past!Marinette quietly asked, “Who’s Adrien?”

Not knowing who Adrien was was such a foreign idea to Marinette now. She hadn’t even known him for a year, yet she couldn’t imagine life without him. So much had changed with the start of the school year.

Chloe and Sabrina laughed. “Can you believe she doesn't know who Adrien is? What rock have you been living under?”

Sabrina explained excitedly, “He’s only a famous model.”

Chloe finished, “And I am his best friend. He adores me. Go on, move!”

Adrien winced. “No wonder you thought I was helping Chloe that first time we met. I’m sorry, Marinette.”

Marinette shook her head. “It’s Chloe’s fault, Adrien, not yours. I still shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. But thanks.”

Adrien smiled back at her. Marinette was a great friend.

Past!Alya stalked up to Chloe, “Who elected you Queen of Seats?!”

Chloe fired back, “Oh, Look Sabrina! We've got a little do-gooder in our class this year. What are you gonna do, super noobie? Shoot beams at me with your glasses?“

Present Alya snorted. “Really? THAT’S the best she could come up with? Calling me a good person and making fun of my glasses? For someone with so much experience at insulting people, she sure isn’t good at it. I’d forgotten her first attempts at bullying me were THIS lame.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” past!Alya growled. She took Marinette by the arm and tugged her over to the front, accidentally causing Marinette’s macaroons to spill onto the floor.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Marinette mumbled as she rushed to pick up all the cookies.

“Sorry Marinette,” the present Alya apologized. “I shouldn’t have been so rough with you.”

“It’s fine, you were just trying to get me away from Chloe, it was an accident.”

“Has everyone found a seat?” Mrs. Bustier asked. No one answered her.

“Chillax, girl. No biggie,” past Alya reassured her.

“I so wish I can handle Chloé the way you do,” past Marinette said sadly.

“You mean the way Majestia does it,” past Alya said, showing past Marinette a picture of Majestia on her phone. “She says all that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good people do nothing.” Past Alya pointed at Chloe. “Well, that girl over there is evil, and we are the good people. We can't let her get away with it.”

Alya smiled. “Majestia was great, but Ladybug’s WAY cooler.”

“I’m sure Ladybug thinks you’re cool too,” Marinette replied, suppressing a grin.

Alya laughed. “I’m pretty cool, but compared to Ladybug? Nah. I’m just a reporter. Why would she think I was cool?”

Marinette let her grin loose. “Oh I don’t know, I think you’re pretty great.”

“Thanks, girl.”

Past Marinette wasn’t as confident. “Well, that's easier said than done. She likes to make my life miserable.”

Adrien frowned. He knew Chloe could be mean to her other classmates, but seeing the sadness and hopelessness in Marinette’s eyes... he REALLY didn’t like it. Marinette had had to deal with Chloe’s bullying many times over the past year, but she’d never looked this hopeless before. Had Alya made that big a difference over the course of a day, so that Marinette felt confident enough to stand up to him the very next day when she had thought he was bullying her?

Past Alya certainly seemed to be trying. “That's cause you let her, girl! You just need more confidence!”

Past Marinette took the last remaining macaroon and broke it in half, holding one out to past Alya. “Marinette.”

Past Alya took it. “Alya.”

The current Alya blinked, realizing something. “Wait. The akuma said that he was showing us turning points in people’s lives, and he took you back to this moment... oh, girl...”

Marinette looked her in the eye. “I meant what I said. You ARE great. You were the first person I’d seen really stand up to Chloe, and for my sake! You inspired me. And... well... you were the first really close friend I’d had in a long time. This moment meant a lot to me.”

Alya blushed slightly, embarrassed. “Thanks. I couldn’t just leave you to that bully. And it meant a lot to me too.”

The world blurred again, colors zipping around, melting into one another, until they coalesced into a new scene.

Oh crap, I forgot, Marinette thought. I got so caught up in the past, I got distracted from figuring a way out of here!

Then she noticed where - and more importantly, when - they were.

Double crap.

Marinette jumped in front of Alya, Nino, and Adrien, trying to obscure her past self from their gaze.

“We shouldn’t be watching this! It’s made by an akuma, it’s definitely gonna be bad for you guys to see - because... uh... maybe we’ll freeze when it’s done! Or explode!”

Marinette could tell Alya didn’t buy it. “We watched the last bit just fine, and it’s not like we can really STOP watching it, unless we all closed our eyes and stuck our fingers in our ears until it stopped. And then we really WOULD be sitting ducks for an akuma.”

She looked at Marinette suspiciously. “What is this REALLY about?” she gestured to past Marinette, who was watching news footage about Stoneheart while cowering in her chair in her bedroom.

Adrien spoke softly. “It’s okay to have been scared, Marinette. None us knew what was going on, we’re not going to judge you for that. We’re your friends.”

“No, that’s not... ugh,” Marinette glanced back at her past self.

“I hate first days back at school...” her past self said, then glanced down.

There was no time. This was going to happen, whether Marinette liked it or not. She chose ‘not’.

She looked at her friends, trying to project her Ladybug seriousness. “You can’t tell ANYONE about what you’re about to see.”

The three of them looked confused.

Then Marinette’s past self picked up a small, ornate black box.

“What’s this doing here?”

Nino’s, Alya’s, and Adrien’s eyes widened in recognition. Which Marinette thought was weird in Adrien’s case since he wouldn’t have ever seen a box like that, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it.

Past Marinette opened the box.

A bright red light shot out, fading to reveal...

“A kwami?”

Marinette’s three friends looked at each other, realizing they’d all spoken at once.

“Wait, how do you know what a kwami is?” Alya and Nino asked Adrien, and Adrien asked them simultaneously.

As the three of them scrambled to come up with explanations, past Marinette provided a helpful distraction.

She jumped up and yelled, attempting to cower against her desk, “ Ahh! Help! It's a giant bug! A... a mouse! A... a bug-mouse!“

Alya couldn’t help chuckling a little.

But... wait... a bug kwami... who was red with a black spot...

Her eyes widened, Nino and Adrien coming to the same conclusion.

Adrien;s reaction was much more noticeable. He gaped at Marinette, slack-jawed, eyes bugging out of his skull.

“Everything's okay!” the kwami said soothingly. “Don't be scared!”“

This did NOT have the desired effect.

“Ahh! Bug-mouse talks!” past Marinette yelled, throwing anything she could get her hands on at the small creature.

The present Marinette winced. “Sorry, Tikki.”

Adrien got ahold of his mouth, miraculously enough.

“Ladybug?” he asked, sounding strangled, like his mouth still couldn’t quite form the words.

She winced. “Yeah. Sorry for keeping it from all of you. It was too dangerous to tell anyone. Even Chat doesn’t know.”

She groaned. “Oh man, CHAT. He’s gonna be so upset when he finds out that other people found out first.”

“Oh I don’t know,” Adrien said in a high-pitched voice, sounding like he was on the verge of hysterics. “I think he’d understand.”

She frowned at him, a little puzzled at his weird behavior, when Alya came to her senses.

“OH MY GOD! YOU’RE LADYBUG! MY BEST FRIEND IS MY IDOL! MY BLOG IS DEDICATED TO MY BEST FRIEND! LADYBUG IS MY BEST FRIEND!”

Marinette laughed nervously. “Yep.”

Alya calmed down slightly. Slightly. “Wait, so all those times you made up lame excuses to ditch me, all those times you got separated from me while an akuma was around...”

“I needed to get out of sight so I could transform and defeat the akuma.”

“And that interview- OH MY GOD no WONDER you paid me special attention! No wonder you were able to set up that first interview!”

Marinette laughed a little. “Yeah, you’ve got it. I felt bad about deleting that footage you took of me earlier, so I decided to give you something even better.”

Alya teared up a little. “Girl...”

Marinette glanced down at her purse. “Hey Tikki, since they already know, do you want to meet my friends?”

Tikki flew out of her purse. “Hi Nino, Adrien, Alya, nice to meet you officially.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

“Hiya, dude!”

Adrien just made some more strangled sounds. Marinette looked at him worriedly, then glanced back over at the past version of herself and TIkki.

“This has to be some mistake,” past Marinette told TIkki anxiously. “The only superpower I could possibly have is super-awkwardness.”

Marinette’s friends gave her concerned looks. She smiled back reassuringly.

Past Marinette continued, “I know! Alya would know! That's my friend. Well, at least I think she would... She loves superheroes! She'd totally be up for the job! You should totally go see her!”

“Marinette, you’re the Chosen One!” Past TIkki insisted.

Present Alya was stunned once again. “Girl, you... you didn’t think you could be Ladybug? But you’re awesome! You ALWAYS win, no matter the odds! And... you wanted ME to be Ladybug?”

“Before this past year, I’ve never been very confident. I was always kinda a screw-up. But you gave me HOPE, Alya. I meant it when I said that Ladybug thinks you’re cool. You INSPIRED me, Alya.”

Alya hugged her.

Nino spoke. “You were never a screw-up, Marinette. No more than anyone else was. You’ve always been really nice and talented. You just needed a confidence boost, like Alya said.”

“Marinette, you’ve ALWAYS been amazing. Never doubt that,” Adrien spoke, adoration in his eyes.

No, I HAVE to have that wrong, Marinette thought. He only thinks of me as a friend. I can’t get my hopes up.

Past Marinette put on the earrings, ”Okay, so all I have to do is break the object where the whatchama-call-it is hiding?”

Past Tikki replied, “It's called an akuma. Which you must then capture.”

“Got it! Capture it! And what's that charm thing again?”

“Your Lucky Charm. It's your secret superpower!”

”Aww... this is all going too fast, Tikki... I... won't be able to pull this off!”

“Trust yourself, Marinette. Just say ‘Spots on.’”

Adrien smiled. “Tikki’s right. You did fine. Plus you remembered to ask about your powers, which I bet Chat didn’t do.”

Marinette laughed and blushed, not trusting herself to speak.

“Spots on?”

Past Marinette transformed, thoroughly freaked out.”Whoa! What is happening?”

“Whoa... So cool!” Alya squealed. “I just witnessed Ladybug’s first transformation!”

“Ladybug... Marinette is Ladybug...” Adrien mumbled dazedly.

Marinette was REALLY worried now. “You already knew that, Adrien. Are you okay?”

“It’s one thing to hear about it, it’s another to see it,”

Past Ladybug looked at herself in the mirror nervously, “ Aww... how does this thing come off?”

She wandered away from the mirror, calling out to her kwami, “Tikki, if you can hear me, I want my normal clothes back. I'm not going anywhere!-”

Until she noticed the news.

Notably, news footage of Alya riding her bike behind Stoneheart, following him.

Past Ladybug gasped, looking worried. “Alya...?”

She rushed off to the roof, the current versions of herself, Alya, Nino, and Adrien following her.

“Girl, you first left to save Paris... because of me?” Alya asked.

Marinette nodded. “I couldn’t let my new friend get hurt, not when I could help.”

Alya smiled at her. Marinette was an even better friend than she could’ve imagined.

“Ok, I have special powers, and apparently this amazing super yo-yo thingy?”

Past Ladybug threw the yo-yo outwards.

Current Marinette whimpered. “Oh no...”

Alya grinned widely. She was gonna get to see Ladybug swing through the city for the first time!

The line went taut.

Past Ladybug was sent flying off into the distance. “WAAAAaaaaaa...”

Marinette covered her eyes, wishing she could disappear. “Please let this be a bad dream.”

The scene changed slightly. The four of them found themselves on some street in Paris.

“Where’d Ladybug go?” Nino asked.

Marinette pointed upwards as a familiar scream got louder and louder. Then she covered her face again. “...aaaaAAAAAAH”

Nino, Adrien, and Alya watched as past Ladybug collided with the past Chat Noir, wrapping both of them up in her yo-yo and leaving them dangling a few feet from the ground.

“This is so embarrassing,” Marinette muttered.

“THAT’S how you two first met?” Alya asked incredulously.

Marinette nodded, hoping she’d spontaneously melt into the floor. Bad enough Alya and Nino saw this, but Adrien too? He’d think she was a total spaz, worse than he’d already thought!”

“Nice of you to drop in,” past Chat said teasingly.

“I’d forgotten the first thing he said to me was a joke,” Marinette muttered, very much NOT in the mood.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t do it on purpose,” past Ladybug replied.

“ I bet you're the partner my kwami told me about,” past Chat replied, dropping down to the ground. “I'm... Chat Noir. Yeah, Chat Noir. And you?”

“So that’s when he came up with his name,” Alya muttered.

“ I'm Ma... err... Mar... uhh...” Ladybug said as she tugged at her yo-yo. She finally succeeded at getting it loose, accidentally bonking Chat on the head with it.

“Madly Clumsy. I am so clumsy,” she said, embarrassed.

“You almost introduced yourself as Marinette? That’s what that was about?” Adrien asked, eyes wide as saucers. They’d been that way for most of the past few minutes.

“Yeah, I did... wait, what do you mean ‘that’s what that was about?’“

“Errrmmm...” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. Luckily for him, the past provided a distraction.

The street rumbled with the sound of Stoneheart’s footsteps, a tower falling over in the distance.

Past Chat extended his baton, pole-vaulting onto the nearest building. Past Ladybug called out after him, “Hey wait, where are you going?”

“To save Paris, right?” he called back cockily, before turning to chase after Stoneheart.

“Trust yourself, trust yourself...” past Ladybug muttered to herself before throwing her yo-yo again, sending her flying, screaming, to where Chat and Stoneheart would be waiting.

“Kitty’s always been so eager to be a superhero, right from the very beginning,” Marinette said softly, looking at where Chat had been with a fond smile on her face.

Adrien blushed, which Marinette thought was a little strange, but Adrien had been acting strange since he found out she was Ladybug.

Their surroundings changed again, this time taking them to on top of the wall of a stadium.

“Oh! Your first fight!” Alya practically vibrated with excitement. “I remember this! I always wondered why you waited a little bit before joining in. I figured you were watching Stoneheart, planning your strategy, waiting for just the right moment to swoop in and save the day.”

Marinette winced. “Not exactly...”

As Chat attempted to battle Stoneheart, past Ladybug stood nervously on the wall.

“Where are you, partner?” past Chat asked.

“Oh, I can’t, I’m not going to be able to do it,” past Ladybug muttered to herself, covering her face.

“You were scared?” Adrien asked Marinette, as if it was a foreign idea.

“Yeah,” Marinette told him, ashamed. “Chat was all ready to battle supervillains right from the start, but I wasn’t. I was convinced that I was the wrong person for the job. I almost let him down.”

Stoneheart hurled the soccer net at Alya, forcing Chat to sacrifice her baton to save her.

“What are you waiting for, super red bug? The world is watching you!” past Alya shouted up at past Ladybug.

Past Ladybug shut her eyes, screwed up her face, and made a decision. She put on a determined face and jumped into the fray.

The current Alya gaped. “Wait. I was the reason you joined the battle here?”

“Well, partly because of Chat, but yeah. You gave me the last push I needed to get past my fear.”

Alya hugged Marinette. “You’re AWESOME, girl, you know that?” she whispered in her ear.

Marinette hugged back. “Thanks, Alya. You’re pretty awesome yourself.”

“So after this you got past your anxiety and just kicked butt, right?” Alya asked.

Marinette winced. “Not quite. I failed the first time, remember? I took it hard. REALLY hard.”

The four of them flashed forwards, landing in Marinette’s room right as Tikki finished explaining what would happen now that the akuma was free.

“So that means... this is all my fault?” past Marinette asked miserably. “I knew it! See, Tikki? I'm not cut out to be a superhero! I'm only gonna keep messing up.”

“Marinette...” Adrien said softly, wanting to give her a hug. No. Bad Adrien. She’s in love with Luka, she might take it the wrong way.

Tikki attempted to reassure her, comfort her, “ Keep calm. It was your first time. You're going to go back and capture Stoneheart's akuma, and do it successfully!”

“I can't! I told you, I'm clumsy! I create disaster all the time! I'll only make things worse for me, for you and for everyone. Chat Noir will be better off without me. I'm quitting.”

“NO!” Adrien yelled.

Marinette jumped.

Adrien made a strangled sound. “Mi- Marinette, you thought Chat would be better off without you? Because you’re WRONG. He needs you. He can’t DO this without you. You’re partners! You don’t make things worse, you never make things worse. Everyone’s lives are better because you’re in them! My life is better because you’re in it...”

Adrien’s outburst petered out as he finally seemed to realize what he was saying. He blushed crimson red.

The other three stared at him, Marinette gaping, Nino giving him a thumbs up, and Alya grinning like a loon.

Past Marinette couldn’t hear Adrien’s words of encouragement, unfortunately. “ If Chat Noir can't capture the akumas, then... just find another Ladybug. I told you, I'm not cut out to be Ladybug!”

Past Marinette took off the earrings. “I'm sorry Tikki.”

Tikki tried to warn her, “ No, don't do tha-”

And then she was gone.

Past Marinette looked around her. “...TIkki?”

Sadly, past Marinette replaced the earrings in their box and put them in her drawer. She fell to her knees, “I’m really sorry, Tikki...”

Adrien made a high-pitched whining noise.

Alya took over since Adrien’s capacity for coherent speech appeared to have been exhausted. “Ladybug is awesome because she’s YOU. And you ARE cut out to be Ladybug! Everyone makes mistakes, especially their first time doing things! Just try again!”

Alya blinked. “Actually... come to think of it, what DID happen after this? It sure didn’t seem like you’d quit, you showed up again the next day.”

Unfortunately Marinette couldn’t answer since her brainspace was currently dedicated to screaming Adrien just said that his life is better because I’m in it this is the best day of my life he loves me! Wait but what will we tell our kids about how we got together we won’t be able to tell them we’re superheroes and what will we name our hamster?!

Alya waved her hand in front of Marinette’s face, snapping her out of her stupor. Alya smiled at her, amused. “Breathe girl, breathe.”

Marinette took a deep breath and let it out again.

“So, now that you’re back on Earth,” Alya asked, “How DID you go from quitting on this day, to declaring you were gonna save Paris the next day?”

Marinette gave a nervous little giggle. “Well it’s a funny story...”

The world blurred again.

Next Chapter

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #alya cesaire #fanfiction #nino lahiffe #turning points

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writehardwhumpharder · 5 years ago

Text

Carson vs. Low Blood Sugar

Set in the past when Carson was in college and had a class with Daniel which is how they met. They are 22 and 21 here. I basically just wrote this because I’m going to university now so Carson is back at uni too.

When the professor asked them to form groups of four for the upcoming project, Carson naturally partnered up with the only person in the class he'd spoken two words to - Danny. The weird guy that still sits next to him despite all the other open seats and Carson’s obvious discomfort. But Carson was quick to believe the lie that the open seats were farther back and he wouldn't be able to see the board as well. Sure Carson could move, but he was far too stubborn for that.

The room erupted in groans when the teacher announced the group project. Everyone assumed everyone else was just going to slack off and force them to do the work of all four people. Daniel wasn't too sure about being in a group with Carson himself because even though he was studious and had good grades, it was entirely possible he'd sleep through every group session and just shrug it off later.

Two girls who sat in the row in front of them asked to join since it made the most sense. They introduced themselves as Kelsey and Ava and smiled shyly at the two guys.

Carson's interest in them ended at, "Sure, whatever." And Daniel's interest ended at Carson. Unfortunately it didn't seem like they would be spared any of the awkwardness that came with group projects.

"We should exchange numbers, so we can make plans to meet up." Kelsey suggested.

"Yeah and we can meet at the library, there's a cafe there too if anyone wants food or coffee." Ava chimed in.

"Sounds good," Daniel said. Then they passed around their phones sharing info. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't secretly happy to be handed the perfect excuse for getting Carson's number. Daniel had been thinking of asking him for the last few weeks but figured he'd be shut down with something like, "Sorry man, I don't have a phone number" while quickly shoving his iPhone into the pocket of his hoodie. If he wasn't so God damn cute Daniel would have given up already seeing what a piece of work he was. Eventually he'd find out why he was so cold to people.

After each group was formed and picked a topic the professor let them go half an hour early. Carson put in his earbuds and prepared to make a run for it but Daniel subtly blocked his path.

"So what do you think of this project?" He asked.

Carson paused and sighed, "Shouldn't be too hard if everyone has read the assigned reading. You did do the reading right?"

Danny rubbed the back of his neck, "Of course I did." He said unconvincingly.

"Good." With that Carson left.

The group made plans to meet two days later at the group study rooms on the fifth floor of the library.

Saturday was surprisingly beautiful. The weather was nice for Fall and Carson could feel the sun on his skin as soon as he stepped outside. Too bad he'd spend the whole day working on a stupid project about the popularity of tragedies in Shakesperian Era writing.

When he got to the library Danny was standing outside leaning against the building. He pushed off when he saw him and pulled something out of his pocket. Carson reached for the door but stopped cold when a printed copy of a news article was thrust in front of him.

Daniel looked at him excitedly, "Is this you?"

Carson stared down at it and had to quickly restrain his reaction. He recognized it immediately. The article was from his local paper when he was 14, the title read, "Local Boy Defies Physics Stopping Car from Hitting a Child."

Daniel had spent the previous night cyberstalking Carson after he finally finished all the assigned reading. There was absolutely no trace of him on social media but he did find several odd news articles. His name was also listed by the college as a Graduate of Human Biology.

"Yeah that's me, but every word in that article is false. I hope you didn't waste too much time reading it," Carson said dryly. He sidestepped him and walked into the library. It was practically deserted. Not having an actual excuse for the claims in the article, Carson really hoped he could avoid it altogether.

"It says that a car was heading towards an eight year old girl when it suddenly stopped, the front crumpled in like it hit an invisible wall a mere foot away from collision. There's even a picture. The car is stopped in the middle of the road with nothing else around it but it's beat to shit. Then that looks like you, kind of, maybe."

Carson's eyes dulled like this conversation was utterly exhausting. "If you're that curious, the car in the picture swerved to hit another car to protect the child crossing the street. The first car drove away in a hit and run. And if you want the real gossip, I'm pretty sure it was my history teacher." Carson said. Everyone in his town knew what he was and jumped on the chance to blame him as often as they could so he got used to lying on his feet.

"Really? I guess that makes sense. But why does it say that you passed out on the scene and got taken to the hospital. I mean, there was a whole car accident and you were the only person that got hurt?" He laughed.

Carson shot him a murderous glare, "It was very surprising." Daniel looked down at the ground in shame.

"Sorry..."

"Kids came up with a lot of rumors and bullied me until the rest of the town believed them. I bet this isn't only paper you found making crazy accusations."

Once inside Carson headed towards the cafe instead of the group study rooms.

"Well, sorry to hear that. So were you bullied a lot in school then?" He asked curiously. Daniel was determined to figure him out and he couldn't do that without striking a nerve or two.

"You sure ask a lot of questions."

Carson got in line with Daniel following closely behind. He finally went quiet after that last remark. It was already a few minutes past the time they were all supposed to meet but knowing how long they could be working, it was too much of a risk not to get coffee first.

He felt around in his pockets when he got to the register. "Oh shit, I don't think I brought my wallet." Carson said, giving Danny an expectant look. He figured he had him feeling just guilty enough to buy him a cappuccino.

"Ugh, fine," he pulled out his old leather wallet and handed the lady a 5.

Carson laughed, "that's such a dad wallet."

"What does that even mean?"

When they got up to the fifth floor, coffee in hand, the two girls were nowhere to be found. Figures. Daniel used the group chat to ask them where they were. After all it was possible they were simply late.

"We went to the desk but they wouldn't give us a room, so now we're wandering." Daniel relayed the message to Carson who frowned in thought.

"Tell them to come back up. I'll get us a room."

Looking suspicious enough already this was probably a terrible idea but he was impatient and little pissed off to be honest. He quickly turned towards the rooms, hoping to make it to one before this Danny guy so he wouldn't see him open it.

"Wait how are you going to do that? The help desk is that way," he asked, jogging to catch up. Great.

If the desk lady wouldn't give those girls a room then she probably wouldn't give him one either, also he just didn't feel like dealing with that. Daniel made it clear he wouldn't be too easy to shake off, getting rid of his plan to just open the door with magic. Instead he got out his student ID and pretended to swipe the scanner next to the door. The red dot turned green as he did.

"Woah. Do you have special access or something?" Danny asked.

Carson just hummed vaguely and sat down in the first chair he saw. He'd been doing such a good job not doing any magic since he moved out that even a little trick like that was tiring. Carson didn't want his reputation to follow him to university, but now that he was almost done with his Masters degree he found himself caring less and less.

Pulling out his own phone, Carson texted the group chat, "508."

Danny still had that childlike look of amazement on his face when he looked up again and Carson groaned internally.

"Where else can you get into?" He asked excitedly.

"Wherever I want. Wake me up when they get here." Carson pulled his hood up and laid his head down on the table. He wasn't really going to sleep, he just needed a break from talking. God this was going to be a long day.

Carson heard Kelsey and Ava talking long before they made it to the study room. They clearly knew each other before taking this class.

"Hi, how have you been?" Kelsey walked in first, carrying her own coffee cup, she looked at them both, her face pinching in thought, "Daniel and... Carson?" She struggled to put a name to the back of Carson's hood.

Now for the most interesting part of any group project, seeing who would take charge first. Carson finally straightened back up as they sat down on opposite sides of the table, putting Ava next to him.

"So, Tragedy, where do we start?" She asked.

Carson sat back and waited while everyone looked around awkwardly.

"Hey how did you get a room anyway that bitch at the counter made up some policy about needing a professor's permission for these rooms." Kelsey commented.

Daniel's face lit up again, "oh you should have seen it. Carson just swiped his ID and opened the door like magic."

Thank god Carson had just swallowed his coffee because otherwise he'd be choking on it at the mention of "magic".

"This is a library, not a bank. I just opened the door," Carson said lamely. "Anyways, we need to divide up tasks before we do anything else, and come up with a central theme so we're all on the same page. I think we should address the political implications of Tragedies written around that time. They were widely popular but very controversial."

Everyone stopped and stared at him. Either he'd completely lost them or he'd gotten more antisocial than he thought if that was a shocking amount of words to come out of his mouth. Internally Carson was cursing himself for accidentally taking on the role of the leader. He'd have to work even harder to pawn off that responsibility now.

"Right. I think the professor wants us to use quotes from the literature in the project but he also expects us to do a little research and come up with a thesis, not just a word by word analysis of the reading," Ava said. Meanwhile Kelsey was muttering something under her breath about the professor having a stick up his ass.

It looked like they were finally getting on track when Ava stopped suddenly, "hey what happened on the first day of class?" She asked.

Carson's blood turned to angry sludge. He was really tired of explaining himself. "Nothing, happened, I'm just clumsy."

He shot Daniel a look who thankfully tried to smooth things over, "Yeah he just tripped into the desk and it made a lot of noise, they ought to just nail them down." Ava hummed in response, not quite satisfied with that answer but ready to drop it.

After coming up with ideas for their individual parts they did some quiet work. That way they could have an outline done to share before they leave. The longer Carson strained to read the tiny text in his book the more he realized he was getting a headache. Not a migraine, but he didn't feel great. They'd been working on this for hours now, Carson checked his phone to see just how long it had actually been. They got to the library at 3pm and it was now closing in on 8pm. The worst part? He'd woken up late, gotten dressed, then came straight here. Meaning he'd slept through breakfast and forgotten lunch. Typical. You'd think after living alone for a few years a person would learn to take care of themself.

Daniel gave him an odd look, "Did you leave the oven on or something?"

Carson frowned. How the hell was this guy always so good at reading him? "No, it's nothing."

He really, really wished that it was nothing and he could just go back to reading but his body was making itself clear that it would not be neglected so easily. A dizzy feeling flowed through him as the blood rushed through his head. He felt sick.

Low blood sugar, it had it's own unmistakable brand of awful. Carson quickly shoved his hands under the table so it wouldn't so obvious that they were starting to shake. His brain frantically searched for solutions. The cafe? Closed. Snacks? Didn't pack any. Vending Machine? Yes. He had enough change in his jacket to get something from the vending machine he'd spotted near the bathrooms. It would look less suspicious if he waited a few minutes then left casually but a sudden churning in his stomach decided for him. The time to leave is right now, or better yet, five minutes ago.

Carson pushed way from the table clumsily then stepped around it to get to the door. Daniel followed him with his eyes which were now pinched with concern. He wanted to follow him and ask if he was okay, but valuing his life, he decided to just let him go with no further comment.

Carson was visibly unsteady on his feet. He wasn't diabetic so low blood sugar wouldn't kill him but it sure felt like it could. A general numbness spread through his body. Next was the mysterious cold sweat that he could distinctly feel despite knowing his skin was completely dry and the clammy feeling was just in his head. His body had a tendency to wait until the very last second to alert him of a problem which was why all the symptoms seemed to slam into him at once.

"Just make it to the vending machine and get a snack. You just have to make it that far." Carson urged himself as he wove between tall bookshelves. He was starting to feel a bit light headed too. Perfect.

The vending machines came into sight in front of him, tucked into their own little alcove. He was so close, so close, so... nauseous. Gonna throw up. Change of plans. He walked right past the machines and into the men's bathroom, his heart sunk as he did. But throwing up in the hallway was simply not an option. He dove for the furthest stall and just barely got the door locked before dry-heaving over the toilet. After a few unproductive minutes of that he coughed up some the coffee he had earlier and his stomach finally seemed satisfied after rearranging its contents. Carson leaned against the wall heavily, sliding down to sit on the tile. Why am I like this? Oh right it's because I'm forgetful, irresponsible, and stupid he chided himself. Closing his eyes, Carson focused on regaining his strength so he could at least buy some food then come back to this spot. He was finally about to stand up when the door swung open. Carson froze.

"Carson, are you in here?"

It was Danny, of course.

"Yeah," he replied. It would only seem more weird if he didn't respond.

"You've been gone kinda a long time. The girls were starting to get worried." He said tentatively.

"Well I'm fine, so either take a piss or get out, would you?" Carson snapped impatiently. He wished Daniel would just shut the door already so he could suffer in peace.

Daniel rolled his eyes, "It's getting late so everyone wants to wrap up, make sure we all know what to work on, and go home. So are you coming back now?" He asked. Usually his line of questioning would be more like "Are you okay?" "What are you doing in here?" "Do you need any help?" "Are you sick?" but with Carson he'd learned the beat around the bush a little knowing he wouldn't answer any direct questions like that nicely.

Carson tried to push himself to a stand up but ended up tripping over his own feet somehow, ending up on his hands and knees. Guess that answers that question. "No," he said plainly.

"What'll it take to get you out of this bathroom?" Danny sighed, still standing by the door. He'd heard shuffling just now but still didn't really know what Carson was doing in there.

With a grimace Carson swallowed his pride and asked for help, "Um, a bag of crackers would be nice."

Daniel's brows furrowed at the strange request, but even more so at the small voice it was requested in. Crackers? That was really what he wanted right now?

"Okay, wait here."

A moment later he came back in with a small bag of cheezits and bent over looking for Carson's feet to see which stall he was in. He was surprised to see that he was most likely sitting down against the furthest wall. In the back of Daniel's mind he noted that being on the ground was a bad sign.

Meanwhile Carson was cringing with every fiber of his being. He hated being like this. If Daniel had just left he probably could have gotten them himself and avoided all this. But truthfully he still felt a little dizzy and sick.

"Um, so what did you want crackers for? You're not going to eat them in here are you? That's unsanitary." Daniel called out before sliding the bag under the door.

Just seeing the bag ignited a gnawing hunger in him. Whatever half-formed insult he had on the tip of his tongue was quickly forgotten in favor of food. Sweet, sweet sustenance. Carson tore open the bag and threw a few into his mouth, careful not to eat them too quickly.

"You know this is super weird right?" Danny asked.

"Whatever," Carson grumbled. His voice was muffled by the crackers.

"Wait a second," he paused, "were you hiding in here... because you were hungry? Seriously?" Daniel scoffed. As tough as his deskmate liked to act, he was surprisingly childish.

"Well you don't have to be a dick about it. Low blood sugar is a real and serious condition, asshole," Carson muttered. There was no real anger to his words though. He just had a habit of swearing more when being defensive. Daniel stopped laughing.

There was a rapping on the door, "Um, it's Ava. What the hell is taking you guys so long?" She called out.

"We'll be back in a minute," Daniel yelled back.

"That's what you said when you left ten minutes ago," she said impatiently.

Carson scooped out the last of the crumbs from his bag of crackers and got up. He still felt a little off but the threat of throwing up or passing out upon standing was no longer there so that's good. He reluctantly unlocked the door and walked past Danny to get to the sink.

"You look, not-healthy."

Carson scowled and took a look at himself in the mirror before splashing some water on his face. Daniel was right, despite being a lot steadier there was still a sickly paleness to his face.

They walked back to the study room where Kelsey and Ava were already half-packed up and ready to go. Carson sat back down in his seat and glanced at all the papers scattered across the table.

"So here's the plan..." Ava gave a detailed description of everything they'd decided since he left. It was a solid outline. And if anyone had any more questions they could just text between meet-ups.

"Oh look, it's already pretty dark outside. I hadn't even noticed," Kelsey said peeking through the blinds. "Now I'll have to have walk home in the dark."

"College campuses have some the highest rates of sexual assault." Carson said absentmindedly.

"Why would you say that right now?" Kelsey shivered.

Carson looked up at everyone's mildly horrified faces, "What? It's true, it's dangerous out there. People need to be careful." He defended.

"Well now you both have to walk us home, since you kept us here so late doing whatever the hell you were doing." Ava said crossing her arms.

"You say that like I wasn't already going to walk you home," he said. Good job Carson, real smooth. Ava's expression turned blank and confused for a second before going back to it's previous tense, subtle annoyance.

"Fine, let's get going. It would make sense to walk with whoever lives closest to each other. I live off campus."

"Same," Carson added.

Kelsey and Daniel both lived close to the dorms so it made sense for them to go together.

#whump #my OC's #OC fic #college days #prequel #Carson Hall #Daniel Hopkins #headache #low blood sugar #forgetting to eat #dizzy #unsteady #Carson was even crankier back then #Daniel is just a curious puppy #magic use #not edited

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faveficarchive · 5 years ago

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All the Colors of the World: Part 3

The Angelic Contemplation

By Vivian Darkbloom

Pairing: Mel/Janice, Xena/Gabrielle

Rating: Mature

Synopsis: After meeting once again post-Macedonia, Mel and Janice come to terms with their feelings for one another, while also coming to terms with who they are individually.

Her prey was in sight. And upside down at that.

Gabrielle was sprawled on her back in the bed, head lolling over the edge, looking at Xena through a rolled-up scroll; with one eye squeezed shut, the other saw a circled tableau of a sitting warrior. She attempted to lower her voice in a deep, rumbling, lascivious chuckle, not unlike the men on Cecrops' ship who directed similar noises to her during her tenure on the doomed ship. "Bwaaa hah hah..." she began.

The Warrior Princess, stretched out in a chair, wearing leather but sans armor, seemed oblivious to Gabrielle as she pensively studied an unfurled scroll.

"Aye, matey...I spy me a fine warrior wench up ahead...and she's mine, all mine..." Again, another raspy laugh, then, "Aye, 'tis true, and I can see up that little skirt of hers."

A smile curled the warrior's mouth. "Gabrielle..."

"Hmm?" The bard responded in her normal voice.

"Ephiny will be here any minute. Don't you think you should be acting a little more...Queenly?"

"What?" Gabrielle said in mock horror, dropping the scroll. "I'm not being adult enough? She should be thankful I'm dressed...well, that we're both dressed." She grinned at Xena but did not stir from the bed.

"Mmm," Xena murmured in agreement. "True enough." She looked at Gabrielle, who rolled over on her stomach, thus righting both her head and vision. Then she smiled at the bard, who suddenly looked serious. Oh gods...please don't let it be time for some big heavy discussion, she thought. "Is something wrong?" she asked as gently as she could.

"Uh, no, not at all. I guess I just can't believe this has happened to us. At last."

"I know," the warrior replied. She rolled up the scroll she had been reading and placed it on the table next to her.

"Well, I know you hate this...but we need to talk at some point..."

"I know."

"I mean, I don't want to push anything, I just want to know what you're feeling, and what direction we're going in..."

"I know."

"Xena!!" Gabrielle spat in exasperation. She slapped the bed with frustration.

"What?"

"Please say something other than 'I know'!"

"Okay, well, how about 'I love you'?"

"I know you know everything..." the bard began sarcastically. Abruptly she stopped when she realized what had been said. Her hands gripped the blanket underneath her. "Did I hear right?" she whispered.

"Uh, I think so, if you heard me say that I love you." Xena felt her jaw twitch. She bit the inside of her mouth, her only concession to nervousness. When I have I ever said that to anyone? Even my mother?

Gabrielle said nothing, but just stared with slack-jawed awe at her. The silence stretched. The muscle in Xena's jaw threatened to spasm in agony as her teeth clenched.

"Gabrielle," Xena began.

The bard continued to stare at her as if she were lavender-colored minotaur.

"I don't want you to feel obligated to say you feel the same way," the warrior went on, the painful spasm traveling down her neck and anchoring into her shoulder. "But I wanted to be honest with you...and uh, that's where I stand with this." She grabbed her sword, just to have something in her hand, then the whetstone, and began to sharpen the blade. Rather furiously.

Still nothing. Well, now I know what shuts her up, the warrior thought grimly. Gabrielle continued to stare at her. It was very unnerving.

Ephiny stood outside their door, fist poised to knock, when she heard Xena roar, "The gods be damned, will you stop that???" Trouble in paradise, she thought with a sigh. For three days since the party, where warrior was literally swept off her feet by bard (or, more specifically, the bard's guards), Ephiny had been treated to mushy, lovestruck glances (mostly Gabrielle), conspiratorial smiles (mostly Xena), and sudden kisses (the both of them acting in tandem).

Gabrielle jumped out of the bed. "I'm sorry, Xena, I didn't mean to stare, but...wow, you really surprised me. I wondered if I would ever hear that from you." She paused.

Angrily the warrior pointed at her with the sword. "But you did," she affirmed.

"Yes, I know, and—Xena, would you put that thing down?"—the blade was reluctantly lowered—"I want you to know that I feel the same."

The blade was raised. "Don't toy with me, bard."

"What? What makes you think I'm toying with you?" Gabrielle said, outraged. "And I said put that damn sword down! Who d'ya think I am, Ares?"

"Who knows? Maybe he's pretending to be you today!"

From outside the Queen's hut the shouts continued. Solari sidled up to Ephiny. "What's happening?" she whispered to the regent in a gossipy tone. At this juncture they heard Gabrielle shout, "You big stupid idiot, I love you too!!"

"What's happening is that I think our meeting with the Queen should be a little later," Ephiny replied. "C'mon, let's go get a drink."

They were back about a candlemark later, both with the rolling gaits of drinkers who have had just enough to experience a loosening of limbs and a dulling of senses. Approaching the door, neither woman heard a sound from the hut. Solari reared back, fist raised as if she were going to hurdle something into space. Ephiny grabbed her arm, and the dark-haired Amazon lost her balance and crashed into her friend. "Shhh..." Ephiny chastised. "We can't go in now either..."

"Why not?" Solari slurred.

"It's too quiet."

*****

January, 1944

Mel sat, exhausted, in the desolate lounge of her New York hotel. She was waiting to meet Jack Kleinman, the man whom she first met, along with Janice, on that fateful day almost two years ago. That day changed everything for me...just as a night last summer did, Mel thought.

She had not heard from Janice since the night they spent together, over six months ago, when they had consummated their relationship. She had awakened alone in her bed. Her search of the house yielded no Janice, no note, merely her somber housekeeper. "I got here just as she was leaving," Alice had told Mel. "She was waiting outside for the cab to come. She had called for one, she said, to take her to the train station."

"How did she seem?" Mel had asked.

"I'd say she looked a little down, like she didn't want to leave, but she had to."

In her bathrobe, Mel sat there at the kitchen table numbly. "Why?" she whispered to herself.

Alice placed a thin hand on her shoulder. "She did say one more thing, Melinda."

"Eh? What?" she asked softly. The joy she had felt during the night, the sense of completeness, of rightness, broke under the weight of loss.

"She said, 'Tell her I'll be back, when I'm ready to take her on.' "

And what did she mean by that? Am I supposed to wait around to find out? I'm not willing to wait. Her letters to Janice had remained unanswered. She had no phone number for the archaeologist, although, she discovered upon her arrival, the New York phone book had a listing for a J. Covington. So finally, after the holidays ended, she decided it was time to come to New York and track down her friend. Did I scare her off? Was I too intense? I did say "I love you"...she recalled the surprised look on Janice's face when she said it: They laid together in bed, legs entangled. She had been propped on her elbow, looking down at Janice, whose hair was burnished orange in the candlelight. She might not be ready for that. But it's true. God help me, I don't know why.

Mel scanned the drab lobby. The only people in New York seemed to be soldiers. And sailors. In the half-hour that she had waited for Jack, she had been accosted by two soldiers, both of whom wanted to ply her with drinks. She stood up, then bent at the waist to adjust the back of her stockings. Who invented these things? she wondered irritably when she heard a male voice behind her, "Pretty good caboose there, sweetheart."

Indignantly she drew up to her full height and looked down on Jack, who was startled to see that the woman responsible for the nice caboose was Mel. He turned visibly pale. "Uh...hi Melinda," he said sheepishly. "Sorry, I didn't think it was you, I mean, I don't remember you being so...it's been a long time, and...gosh, you look swell!" he concluded lamely. He wore a private's uniform; as he told Mel when she contacted him, he had managed to be placed in the Army Reserves even though initially he had been 4-F.

She raised an eyebrow and noticed his discomfort at that gesture. "Hello, Jack. How are you?"

"Pretty good. The army life, it's a tough one. Uh, even stateside, that is." He nodded toward the bar. "Shall we have a drink?"

"Fine."

Over rum and cokes, he asked her, with all the delicacy he could muster, "Have you heard anything?"

"No," she replied. "You?" She couldn't keep the hope out of her voice, even though she knew his answer.

He snorted. "You kiddin'? If she hasn't contacted you, she sure as heck wouldn't have contacted me."

"There was always a chance, Jack." Mel opened her purse and dug around for the address. "I found a 'J. Covington' in the phone book. Luckily, the only one." She pulled out a scrap of paper. In the times when she had corresponded with Janice, the only address she had was a New York P.O. Box. "It's Cornelia Street...do you know where that is?" she asked tentatively, not sure if she wanted to trust Jack's knowledge of New York.

"Sure, it's in Greenwich Village. Figures Janice would live down there."

Mel frowned. "Why?" she asked.

Jack scrunched his lips together to stop his initial response (Because that's where all the weirdos live) from leaving his mouth, and also to buy time while he thought of something more appropriate. "Well...that's where all the, uh, career girls live."

She seemed less than satisfied with the answer, but nonetheless a determined look crossed her face. "Let's go."

"Now?" he asked with alarm.

"Jack, it's Sunday afternoon, not the middle of the night. You don't have to come with me if you don't want to." Clasping her purse, she stood up and headed for the door.

"Wait!" He scrambled behind her, as she gracefully exited the hotel.

*****

Cornelia Street was narrow and sedate in the late afternoon light. A tiny café was the only sign of life, the windows heavy with steam. Checking the fragment of paper one more time (God, what if I wrote it down wrong? she agonized) Mel and Jack stood in front of a drab, dilapidated brownstone. As they entered the stairwell she noticed that Covington was scrawled on the mailbox of the third-story apartment, along with some other name she couldn’t quite make out. They mounted the bleak staircase. At the door of apartment 3, they heard lazy, swaying big-band music from a radio within. Mel gave a brisk knock, and stared into the peephole, not knowing she wouldn't see a thing.

The door swung wide open. A voluptuous young woman, with dark brown hair and preternaturally gray-blue eyes, stared at them. More specifically, at Mel. She wore nothing but a man's white oxford shirt, which hung down to her knees, causing Jack to blush. She gave Mel a once-over. Then a twice-over.

Mel twitched with discomfort, but put on her best manners. "Excuse me ma'am," she drawled pleasantly, exaggerating her accent for maximum "charm the Yankee" effect, "I'm sorry to disturb you on a Sunday, but my name is Melinda Pappas, and I am looking for Janice Covington..." Before she said anything else, the woman in the doorway started to chuckle.

"What," the woman said, taking in Mel's neat blue suit, eyeglasses, and black hair in a bun, "does she have an overdue library book?" She snorted at her own joke. Jack guffawed as well. Mel silenced him with an icy glare.

"I'm a friend of Janice's. We've done some collaborative work on the Xena scrolls she discovered in Macedonia. I've been trying to get in touch with her for months."

"Oh yeah...the Xena scrolls," she growled. "What a bunch of crap." She walked away from the door. "C'mon in." The woman flung herself in a chair, and gestured to the sofa. "Sit down. Wanna drink?"

The hallway was a good indicator of the apartment's look: it was small, dirty, and bare. Nothing in the room indicated that Janice had ever been there. Mel and Jack exchanged a look of horror before they sat themselves down on the soiled couch, neither one sitting back into the foul cushions. "Er, no thank you," Mel said.

"Who's he?" The woman pointed accusingly at Jack.

"This is Jack Kleinman. He's a friend of Janice's as well," Mel replied.

"Hi," Jack said meekly.

"May I ask your name?" Mel inquired.

The woman took a drink from a glass by her chair. "Mary Jane Velasko." Her eyes lingered on Mel. "Well, I gotta hand it to Jan, she's got good taste. The bitch." She took another drink. "She stuck me here to pay the rent. Just took off."

"Where?" Jack and Mel asked in unison.

"She joined the WACs." Velasko stared into her glass. "Or so she told me."

Mel was too stunned to say anything. Jack watched her with concern, then asked Velasko, "When did she leave?"

"Oh, 'bout three months ago. She put all her stuff in storage. Then boom, she's gone."

"And you haven't heard anything from her since?" Jack continued.

"Not a goddamn thing." Velasko noticed Mel's deathly pale countenance. "Sorry, Scarlett." She paused. "You got it bad for her, don't you?" She looked at Mel with not exactly sympathy, but something in her strange eyes was understanding.

Jack looked confused. Then upset. "Just what are you implying..." he began angrily.

"Let it go, Jack," Mel said hoarsely. Jack frowned, but said nothing else.

"Yeah, I could say the same thing to you, Scarlett," Velasko said. "Forget her. She'll screw you over like she did me."

Mel stood up stiffly. "Thank you for your help," she said in a strained voice. If I don't get out of here I'll throw up, she thought.

"Sure. You know the way out," Velasko said sardonically, not moving. "Oh, and Scarlett?"

Mel, with Jack behind her, paused by the door.

"If you ever do find Janice Covington, tell her I'm going to kill her."

*****

As it turned out, she did throw up, in a trash can outside the apartment building. Jack was too surprised to say anything, but he did offer her a handkerchief. "Thanks," she said softly, dabbing at her mouth. She slumped against the building for support.

"Melinda, you look awful," Jack said with alarm.

"Thanks," she repeated in a daze.

He clapped a hand over her forehead. "You feel clammy," he said.

"Are you sure it's not your hand that's clammy?"

He scrutinized his palm, and tentatively poked it with the other hand.

Mel rolled her eyes. "God, I need a drink," she moaned, more to herself than him.

"Ha! You sound just like Janice." A miserable look crossed her face, and he was instantly sorry he said it.

She looked at him curiously. "Did you see her much? While she was living in New York?"

"What? Naw." Jack's examination of his palm continued; with absentminded nervousness he started to rub it with a thumb. "We went out drinking a couple times...I wish I'd seen her more, but..." Mel studied his hangdog expression; obviously, he'd had a crush on the archaeologist.

"I know how you feel." She'd said it before she realized what she was saying.

He looked at her. "Huh?" he said. Thank God, he didn't understand. Another wave of nausea swept over her; the only thing that prevented her from falling to the ground was the side of the building she was leaning against.

"I've got to get back to the hotel," she said feebly. Wearily she pushed herself away from the building. "I don't feel very well." She started to walk, heading toward Sixth Avenue in hopes of catching a cab, but she didn't get far. The world darkened as she hit the ground, and she heard Jack yelling her name.

*****

July 1944

"Covington!" the voice shouted.

Janice recognized the voice, but decided to ignore it for as long as possible. But she could not ignore the soft yet steady kicks that Blaylock gave the soles of her shoes. She forced her eyes open and looked up blearily into the face of U.S. Army Captain Daniel Blaylock, her commanding officer and friend.

Dressed from head to toe in regulation army khaki--shirt, pants, even her undergarments were khaki-- Janice was stretched out in the spare cot that Blaylock kept in his office. She had arrived in London six months ago, in January, after completing her training at Fort Oglethorpe. The very first day at HQ, as luck would have it, she ran into Blaylock, an old friend from college; he immediately put in a request that Janice be assigned to him as an assistant. Officially she was his driver, but her seemingly unlimited energy compelled Blaylock to give her as much work as she could handle.

Blaylock shared Janice's passion for archaeology, but his field had been the emerging one of Egyptology, which he taught at Dartmouth. Another thing they shared was a romantic past; Blaylock had been the first (and only) man she'd slept with. It wasn't bad, Janice thought in retrospect, but something was missing for me. She didn't know what it was, until one night she and her roommate consumed an inordinate amount of sloe gin and ended up in bed together. And Blaylock found them the following morning. He was terribly hurt, which she regretted immensely; I love you, he had said. And I love you, she had responded, just in a different way. Can you accept that?

He did. Or so it had always seemed.

He stood in front of her with some of the dreadful English coffee from the canteen downstairs. Handing a cup to her, he said, "Thought I'd find you here."

Tentatively she sipped the bubbling hot sludge. "Yeah. I wanted to finish that report."

Luckily Blaylock did not insist on military formality, except in front of other officers.

"You didn't have to," he chastised her. "It would've waited." He smiled, wondering if he should spring the news on her now or later. "But I'm glad you did." He decided he couldn't wait.

Puffing on the coffee, she looked at him suspiciously. "You're being very cheerful, Blaylock. I don't trust it."

"You should. Because I have the news you've been waiting for. In a week we're being sent to Normandy."

She almost dropped the cup, so she sat it down on the table. "We?"

"You got it. If all goes well, a contingent of WACs will be sent to France. Mainly to handle the switchboards and mail, things like that. But they need some drivers too, Janice. Sometimes for ambulances. And you're gonna be one of them. I recommended you myself."

She exhaled slowly, and leaned back against the wall. "Son of a bitch," she mused aloud. "I'll finally be doing something useful." She was too immersed in thought to notice the slightly hurt look on Blaylock's face.

*****

"Influenza," the doctor said to Jack curtly.

"Jesus! How?" Jack replied, mystified. "It's not goin' around, that I know of."

They stood in the hospital corridor at St. Vincent's, where Jack had brought Mel after her collapse.

The MD shrugged. "You're right, there's no epidemic. But there are a lot of folk in the city right now who have been exposed to all sorts of viruses overseas. So it's likely your friend caught some strain that she has no immunity to."

Mel ached dully, tossed between delirium and the tantalizing edge of clarity. But clarity and consciousness, however appealing in their own way, were not as pleasant as the oblivion of the fever. She knew the conscious world contained no Janice. The fever gripped her and for the time being she surrendered to it. The part of her that knew Xena, however, was aware that this fraudulent bliss was temporary. Despite it all, she would survive.

*****

In the Amazon council chambers, Xena stood rigidly behind Gabrielle's seat at the head of the table. Council members, including Ephiny, started trickling in from breakfast. The regent sauntered up to the Warrior Princess. "Are you gonna stand there like that for the whole meeting?"

"Yes," the warrior replied simply. Ephiny groaned and walked to her seat.

"Maybe you should sit down," Gabrielle piped up to Xena.

"No, I'm fine." The reply was terse.

Gabrielle and Ephiny shared a look. "All right, fine, but try not to look so menacing," griped the bard. "Why don't you smile or something?"

"Yeah," Ephiny agreed. "Give us a smile, one of those big old, shit-eating Warrior Princess grins."

Gabrielle collapsed in laughter. "That's it, Eph! That's exactly what they are! The kind that says, 'I just kicked your ass big time!' " Ephiny too laughed.

Xena let a dour look hang on her face as the remaining council members came in, and the gigglefest of the Regent and the Queen died down. After a moment of silence, Ephiny, garnering all seriousness, spoke. "Our scouts on the north ridge have confirmed a large buildup of troops in Herrara."

A murmur went through the group.

"Wait, that's where those brothers live...the ones who helped Solari with my Test of Courage," Gabrielle said.

"Right," Ephiny replied. "Solari?"

Everyone turned their attention to Solari. "Yesterday I had a meeting with Aramis, the village reeve. He's told me that a warlord named Petrus has set up camp outside the town. Basically, Petrus and his troops have taken over. They've demanded tribute from every merchant. Aramis says that the rumors are flying fast and furious."

"What is being said?" asked Gabrielle.

"That he's planning a war with the centaurs. And with us."

More murmurs. Gabrielle turned in her seat to look back at Xena. "Xena, do you know who this Petrus is?"

The warrior's face frowned in thought. "There was a Petrus who was an officer in the Athenian army. Draco had dealings with him. He was rumored to be very corrupt; he dealt in stolen goods and arms trading. Who knows, he may have been drummed out of the corps and decided to lead an army of his own."

"I must meet with him," Gabrielle said.

Xena fought her rising panic. "Yes, you should, but you should get more information about him first."

"I don't know that we have the time for that. If we let this go unchecked any further, we may have a full-scale war on our hands," the Queen responded firmly.

"I agree," added Solari. "We've already lost our informant. Aramis had arranged for one of his servants to join the army and report back to him with information. Unfortunately Petrus caught on. The man was killed; his head was placed on the city wall."

Gabrielle turned to Ephiny. "Send a messenger to Petrus's camp. I want to arrange a meeting with him. And have a treaty drawn up. A nonagression pact, specifying that he is to avoid any act of war against us, the centaurs, or Herrara."

The regent nodded. The Warrior Princess brooded, wondering if a piece of paper would hold back stupidity and ruthlessness. In the old days, if such a message crossed my path, I would've killed the messenger and sent the body back.

*****

"Shit," Janice said.

"No, Janice, ship," Blaylock retorted playfully.

They stood on the dock surveying the huge ship that would take them, and 40 other WACs under Blaylock's joint command with a senior officer, to France. The group also included several intelligence officers and British women recruited as ambulance drivers.

"I'm dead," she moaned. "This will be hell on earth."

Blaylock smiled grimly as he recalled the time when they were in college and he took her aboard his father's yacht. No sooner had it pulled out of the harbor than Janice spewed her breakfast into Cape Cod. "Look, you'll be fine," he assuaged her. She glared at him. Triumphantly he pulled a small vial from his shirt pocket and handed it to her. She questioned him with a look. "The latest thing. Pills that prevent seasickness. The Army doctors recently perfected the formula. It should do the trick."

She glanced skeptically as the bottle, then pocketed it. "Thanks."

"Well," he sighed, "everyone else is aboard, so we should get up there." They picked up their rucksacks. "Ready to deal with a ship full of horny sailors?" he teased.

She smirked into his too-pretty face. "The question is, are you?"

*****

Janice stood alone on the deck of the transit ship. It was, as they say, "spitting rain." An earlier fog had dissipated. They would be in France by daylight tomorrow morning; normally it would not take so long, but report of enemy activity off the coast forced them to go slow and delay their arrival as much as possible.

It was frustrating to her. I've been a coward most of my life, she thought. I ran away from my father because I didn't like the way he did "business," I hurt Daniel because I was too gutless to tell him how I really felt....And I did basically the same thing to Mel. She may hate me by now. But I just couldn't let her love me the way I am. Maybe it's too late now. Maybe this war will kill me. Still, I need to know what I'm made of. If I'm worthy of her. Even though I've probably lost her.

She saw a figure come up from below deck. Her eyes narrowed in increasing disbelief at the figure: tall, wearing a British uniform and a thick leather bomber jacket, with long black hair whipping around her face. Janice squinted. A hand brushed back the dark hair from the woman's face, a face that, even clutching a cigarette between lips, mirrored that of Melinda Pappas.

She could not take her eyes off the woman. It can't be...she thought. Janice knew she was right: Even though she looked exactly like Mel, this woman carried herself differently, even surveyed her surroundings differently than Mel: these blue eyes were narrow as they suspiciously scanned the horizon, as if daring the skies to rain more. She moved awkwardly, as if she never got used to the tall, broad-shouldered body that she inhabited. Her face had a stoic, veiled cast to it, a chip-on-the-shoulder look. And that look was directed at Janice, who, even as the woman angrily glared at her, could not stop looking at this carbon copy of Mel.

The woman unfurled her body from its hunched up position over the railing. She threw the cigarette down on the deck, and in three easy strides was towering over Janice. "What the bloody hell do you think you're lookin' at?" she snarled. Her thick yet pleasing accent was not a London one; north country, perhaps, Janice guessed.

"What? Nothing," Janice stammered. She tried to step back from the woman, but a large strong hand seized her arm, its crushing grip painful.

" 'Nothing,' eh?" the woman retorted mockingly. "You fucking Yanks are all the same. Think you can come over here and act like you run everything."

Ah, a woman who swears more than I do. How refreshing. "Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare at you. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. It's just that you look a lot like someone I knew back home. A really good friend..." Janice trailed off in a whisper. And what if you lost that really good friend by treating her the way you did? Sleeping with her, then abandoning her?

The woman squinted at Janice, reading the archaeologist's face, and decided she was truthful. She relaxed her grip. "I'm a sucker for a sob story, I am," she muttered, more to herself than Janice.

"I truly am sorry," Janice repeated. I hate it when strong, beautiful women are angry at me.

The Englishwoman released Janice's arm. "All right, then. Forget it." Another dark mood crossed her face though, and Janice panicked. "Goddammit!! I threw away my last cigarette!!" she cried. She looked back at the railing where she had stood, but the wind had already swept her cigarette out to sea.

Quickly Janice pulled out a pack of Caporals. In England it was next to impossible to find the cigars she usually smoked. Blaylock, who had some black market connections, kept her supplied with cigarettes instead. She offered one to the woman. "Ta," the woman grunted, unwilling to feel gratitude toward this strange American woman. Janice lit her cigarette with the silver lighter her father had given her years ago. "Nice lighter," the Englishwoman commented.

"Thanks," Janice replied. "I'm Janice Covington," she said, and extended a hand.

The woman enfolded Janice's hand with her larger one. "Meg Edmondson," she said.

*****

It was late in the mess hall, almost midnight. Everyone was in bed except Janice and two of the WACs, Porter and Lang. Porter possessed a large flask of whiskey that her boyfriend, a British intelligence officer back in London, had given her for the trip. They were passing the flask among themselves, and feeling pretty good. Janice felt relaxed for the first time in months as the whiskey coursed through her blood.

They had launched into a giggly, gossipy session about Blaylock when Porter motioned to someone standing in the doorway. "Psst! C'mere!!" she called.

Janice's back was to the door, and Lang, sitting beside her friend, did not recognize who Porter was beckoning to: "Who's that?"

"One of the limey girls. Edmondson, I think."

Janice's head snapped around so fast that she was almost surprised her neck didn't break. Sure enough, Meg strode over to them. "Hiyer," she greeted everyone as she loomed over the table. She seemed more shy around groups of people.

"Sit down, have a drink with us," Porter said.

"Ta," she said, and sat next to Janice.

The warmth Janice felt increased as Meg sat down. It's been a while, hasn't it? You haven't laid a finger on anyone since...well, since last summer. She studied Meg's handsome profile: the riveting blue eyes, the jet black hair, the chiseled cheeks and full, soft lips. Ah, Meg, your name a mere consonant's difference from my beloved's.

This is not the time to indulge in cheap affairs, a voice protested inside her. There is a war going on, after all!

"We were talkin' about Blaylock," said Porter. "Jan said she knew him in college." Janice hated being called Jan, but she let it pass. She had not told the women any more than more than that about Blaylock, did not want to cheapen her relationship with him. Besides, such conversation would inevitably lead to why it ended.

"Really?" Meg asked. She arched an eyebrow at Janice, whose resolve to behave crumbled even faster.

"He's a cutie, isn't he?" threw in Lang.

Meg shrugged. "I suppose so," she said.

"Not your type, eh?" Porter asked with a grin.

"Not quite," Meg said mysteriously. Her blue eyes flickered in Janice's direction. Is that a sign from God? the archaeologist thought hopefully.

The two women continued to wax poetic on Blaylock's looks. Janice took a swig from the flask and handed it to Meg. Here goes nothing, she thought. If she slugs me, hopefully she won't tell them why. She let her hand stray over to Meg's thigh and with a delicate, slow, sensuous stroke ran her fingers along the muscular leg.

Meg sputtered and coughed as she drank from the flask.

"Want some milk instead, honey?" Porter laughed.

Janice grinned. "Well girls, it's been swell, but I should go..." She stood up and indulged in a full body stretch, her eyes catching Meg’s. "I think I'll get some air on deck first, before bed." She hoped the others didn't take it as an invitation to follow her up. They didn't, thankfully, and they bade Janice goodnight.

Once again she was on deck, near the entrance. The night watch was far away, near the stern of the ship, and luckily he wouldn't be back around for another quarter hour.

Ten minutes later, Meg stood in the portal leading up to the deck. Spotting her, or rather her long, shadowy figure, Janice jumped down to greet her. In the dim light she saw the Englishwoman's face, confused and wary. Carefully she cradled the face in her hands and gently brought it down to her own, where their lips met. As the soft kiss expanded over seconds, Janice's hand brushed Meg's face, then her neck, where she felt the woman's erratic, throbbing pulse. With a gasp for air Meg broke the kiss. "Jesus Christ all mighty," she murmured.

Janice left a hand on Meg's cheek. "You've never done this before, have you?" she asked gently.

"No."

"If you don't want to, I'll stop. And I won't bother you again."

The tall woman gulped. "That's what I'm afraid of."

*****

They ended up in a supply room. Groping through the darkness, Janice found a blanket and placed it on the floor; there was just enough room to lie down.

Hours later, the gray light of morning filtered through the room. Janice, awake, was sitting against a wall. She knew they should get back to the barracks area immediately, but Meg still dozed in her arms and was sprawled over the archaeologist's lower body. Her nude form was covered haphazardly with both their coats. It felt good. There was no denying that. She stroked Meg's shoulders, the skin smooth and taut over the muscles. Overall, the Englishwoman was broader, heavier, more muscular than Mel was. Not that Mel had a bad body; no, not at all. You have the lean look of an underfed academic, she had teased the Southern scholar during that night they spent together. Well Janice, if you don't like what you see, you should go. Mel had replied with her aristocratic hauteur. If you do, then I believe you should just shut up and kiss me. Needless to say, Janice had opted for the latter.

This isn't good, to think of Mel while I'm holding another woman, Janice chastised herself. But why else did I sleep with her, other than she looks like the woman I'm in love with? She squeezed her eyes shut upon admitting this truth. Simultaneously she tightened the embrace around the slumbering figure, wishing for all the world that the woman in her desperate grasp was Mel.

*****

In the mess that morning, Blaylock stood in line with Janice for breakfast. "What happened to your finger, Covington?" he asked casually, looking down at the white bandage covering the middle finger of Janice's right hand.

"I caught it in a door, sir, " Janice replied uneasily, since she was, as Mel put it, the world's most inept liar.

"I see you've had it taken of, Covington. Good," Blaylock said perfunctorily. Then, under his breath, he whispered to her, "Why don't I believe that for a minute?"

"Because you know me very well," Janice hissed back. Shaking his head in mock resignation, Blaylock headed for the officers' table, and she toward a table of WACs including the terribly hung-over Porter and Lang. The Brits sat by themselves. As she sat down with her comrades, Janice caught Meg's brilliant blues boring into her, as the Englishwoman sipped tea.

*****

Chaos. They were unloaded off the ship and immediately ushered into trucks; Janice barely had a moment to orient herself. Blaylock and the other officers, however, were stalled, waiting for radio dispatches. The women were restless, and many got out of trucks to stretch their legs, talk, smoke cigarettes, and stare at the jagged cliffs of Normandy.

With a cigarette drooping from her lips, Janice scanned the area for a sign of Meg. She headed toward the truck which carried all the British ambulance drivers. No Meg, she noted, as she nodded greetings to some of the familiar faces. With a sigh she walked away, and past an empty truck. She did not notice Meg jumping out of the back of the truck as she walked by. The large, handsome woman snagged Janice's arm from behind, rough yet friendly, and spun the smaller woman into her arms. She plucked the cigarette from Janice's lips.

Janice started to laugh but was silenced by a kiss, the soft yet imperious lips crushing into her own, her mouth yielding to a gentle warmth. "Wanted to say so long," Meg said, when she withdrew her lips from Janice's.

"Hell of way to say goodbye. Not that I'm complaining."

"Yeah, well, take care of yourself." The laconic Meg paused, at a loss. "Uh, I'm sorry. About your finger." She blushed. Last night in the supply room, as Meg continued to grow louder and louder, Janice had clapped her hand over the woman's mouth at the crucial moment, and Meg savagely bit into a finger. Luckily no stitches were required, so she had sneaked into the infirmary that morning and put disinfectant and a bandage on the wound.

Janice returned the blush. "It was worth it, don't you think?" she said.

*****

Gabrielle was roused out of a light sleep by the shouting and cries outside. She jumped up, grabbed her staff, and went outside. Ephiny was running toward her. "Come quickly," she said tersely. With the regent in the lead, they ran together to the healer's hut. A crowd of Amazons were outside the hut, but made a pathway for Ephiny and their Queen.

Opening the door, Gabrielle saw Xena and Lydia, the healer, standing over the broken and bloodied body of Ilona, one of the scouts, which lay on a table. She had been chosen to deliver the message to Petrus, requesting a meeting.

Gabrielle closed her eyes at the sight. Then opened them. "Is she...?" she asked quietly.

Both Lydia and Xena nodded.

"What happened?"

"The others scouts found her a few miles west of here. Right at our border," Ephiny said.

Xena approached Gabrielle. "This was attached to the body," she said, handing the bard a torn scroll fragment, stained with blood.

Gabrielle read it silently. "It's a declaration of war," she said flatly.

Ephiny exchanged a glance with Xena. And both looked at Gabrielle. "Well, what do we do, Gabrielle?" the regent asked calmly. "This is not a test. It's the real thing."

The Queen's moist eyes lingered on the dead woman before them. "What choice do I possibly have?"

*****

"I'm not a soldier."

"I know."

"This goes against everything I believe in."

"I know."

"I'm not even sure why I'm doing this."

"I know."

"Xena!" The bard raised an angry finger. "You're doing it again..." she growled in a warning tone.

"I...know." The warrior could not help herself. The tension broke, and they grinned at each other.

They were in the hut. A frantic day of preparations had passed: meetings with the centaurs, the villagers in Herrara, discussions of military defense and strategies where, for the most part, Gabrielle felt utterly lost. She did suggest immediate evacuation of children into the mountainside, where, she hoped, they would be safe. They would meet Petrus and his men on the field of battle in two days.

The Queen halted her pacing of the hut, and regarded the warrior, who sat, loose-limbed and slightly tired from the day's exertions, in a chair. My lover, she thought. Earlier in the day she watched Xena, on Argo, gallop past a lineup of warriors, inspecting them, talking to them, inspiring them. How ironic, I pick a true warrior as a mate. She should be leading the Amazons, not me. Although it was true Xena was officially in charge of the Amazon army for this battle.

The warrior noted the thoughtful look of her lover. "What is it?" Xena prompted.

"Nothing...I'm just glad you're on my side."

The most famous blue eyes in the known world held a warmth few had seen. "Gabrielle, I will always be on your side."

*****

June, 1944

Jack sat in Mel's hotel room, watching the tall, elegant woman carefully pack her bag.

"Tell me again," Jack said, "who is this guy?"

Mel drew a deep breath. She had grown fond of Jack in the past several months. He had been enormously kind and caring during her illness; he brought her books, flowers, newspapers while she languished in the hospital, and upon her release in the late spring, proudly told her that he found out where Janice was stationed: in London. But sometimes he was like a giant child, and one had to tell him the same information over and over again, as if it were all some fantastic story to him.

"His name is Anton Frobisher, Jack. He's an old friend of my father's. He's an army colonel running a civilian intelligence unit in London." She had sent a telegram to Frobisher weeks ago, asking if she could stay with him in London, and if he could find work for her. His response came by courier from the Embassy: He had arranged a flight for her to London, lodgings of her own, and a job.

"Okay, right. And you're going to translate stuff for him?"

"Yes, for the military," she amended.

"London's a crazy place to be right now, Melinda." D-Day had transpired only a mere two weeks prior. "The Germans are bombing the hell out of London."

"I know."

"You could get really hurt. Even killed."

"I know."

"And Janice might—" he swallowed.

"Jack!" she cried, a little too sharply. Yes, she might be dead for all I know. She took a moment to regain her composure, and shut the lid of the valise. "I'm sorry," she said sincerely.

"It's okay. Look, it's bad enough I have to worry about Janice being there, but now you..." he sighed.

"I understand, Jack. But believe me, I have no intention of being killed. And I'm sure Janice doesn't either." She paused. Although I wonder sometimes...given the way she left. She shook the thought from her mind.

"Yeah, well it was a stupid thing, her running off like that."

As if he were reading my mind...well, he loves her too, in his way. She smiled. "I won't argue with you on that." She started to pick up her baggage, but Jack jumped up to help her. "Here, lemme..." he started to grab everything at once, then remembered something. "Hey, wait!" He dropped a suitcase, narrowly missing Mel's toes, and pulled something out of his shirtpocket. "I wanted to give you this before I left. Thought you might like to have it." He smiled shyly and handed it to Mel.

It was a photo of her and Janice in Macedonia, taken, in fact, minutes after they had escaped Ares' tomb. Jack, ever the tourist, snapped the photo before either one of them could protest. They both looked like hell; Mel's hair was loose and tangled wildly about her head, her clothes were torn, sweaty, and dirty. And, she remembered, although the photo chopped them off at the waist, that she had been barefoot. Nonetheless she faced the camera, with a feral yet genuinely happy grin. Janice too was dirty and disheveled, her dusty fedora perched on her head. But her gaze was directed not at the camera but at Mel; it was a strange, contemplative smile, as if she were seeing Mel for the first time. It was, Mel thought, a look she had never seen on the moody young woman's face. That's a Mona Lisa smile if I ever saw one, Mel thought. Or rather, it's more like an angel's, a sculpture atop a church doorway. Full of mystery, love, and promise. The smaller woman's arm was around her, and Mel swore she could still remember the sensation of Janice's hand pressing into her back. It was at that moment in Macedonia that everything started to fall into place: why she was so compelled to travel halfway around the world to meet a stranger, why she was fascinated by the Xena scrolls, and why she instantly felt drawn to Janice Covington. It was an ancient bond.

She let herself laugh for the first time in a year. She hugged Jack, who almost seemed to swoon at the contact, and they headed for the airport.

*****

A vast field, which formed the border along the Amazon and centaur territories, served as the arena where the battle would be fought. Petrus's troops were coming in from the north. A line of Amazons and centaurs, united, gathered along the southern slope.

Gabrielle was perched atop Argo. "You are the Queen. You must ride a horse," Xena had insisted earlier in the day; Argo, the one horse with whom Gabrielle was most familiar, was the obvious choice. The Warrior Princess herself had found, in the woods, the untamed horse named Beast that once belonged to Solari. When she had rode the black steed bareback into the village, tied a rope around him, and led him to the stables, Solari's curses knew no bounds.

Now Solari stood with the others, as they all waited. A light breeze tantalized their senses. Gabrielle stroked Argo nervously, shifting under the weight of the sword strapped to her waist ("You must carry a sword, too," the laconic Xena said.) "Perhaps he changed his mind," she said to Xena.

"I think not," the warrior replied grimly.

"How can you be so sure, Xena?"

"I smell them." Within minutes the army had crested the horizon and faced them.

Gabrielle contemplated the group facing them. While it was true that the Amazons and centaurs outnumbered the warriors, Xena's scouting reports indicated that these men were not all rag-tag wannabes. She suspected that many of Petrus's men had followed him when he left the Athenian army (for Xena had correctly identified him).

I have one last chance.

She stretched over the space that separated her mount from Xena's and caught the warrior's lips in a kiss. This sensual bribe did not fool the warrior: Xena's hand gripped her arm. "What are you going to do?" she asked Gabrielle in a low voice.

"Talk to him," the Amazon Queen replied, hoping that calm pervaded her voice. "It's worth a chance, don't you think?"

"Yes, I suppose." Xena scanned the opposing army again, just to give her worried eyes something else to look at.

"You're afraid." Gabrielle said simply, softly.

"Of course."

The bard was rather stunned. "I never thought I'd hear you admit that. About anything."

"I don't want to lose you. Not now." She still pretended to examine her opponents.

"You won't ever lose me, Xena." She paused. "I love you."

The warrior nodded, squeezed her eyes shut for a second. Then opened them. "Go," she said. "Go quickly."

Gabrielle spurred Argo into motion. The butter-colored mare galloped across the field. From the other side, a man on a horse was riding out to meet her halfway.

Slowly he came into view. She had expected him to look larger, more imposing, and purely evil. Instead he was merely another man, another warlord. Average height and build, with a neatly trimmed graying beard. His colorless eyes lacked expression as well, and he regarded her coolly as she slowed Argo to a halt. "You're the little Queen," he said dryly.

"And you're the big bad warlord. Greetings." Damn that annoying tendency to be flippant.

"Have you come to surrender?"

"No, I came to see if you would surrender."

He laughed. "You have guts. And I'll probably see them spilled all over the ground before the day is over."

"I don't think so." She paused for a breath. "I don't want to see anyone's blood on this field. Not mine, not yours, none of my people's. And none of your men's. Take your troops and turn around. Go away from here and leave us in peace."

"You are an admirable woman, my Queen. I expected you to be more foolish." He smiled at her; it was sad and bitter. "But your way is not my way. I want this land. I shall take it."

"You'll take nothing. I have a valuable ally." I might as well play the trump card.

He looked at her expectantly, with amused tolerance, as if he were playing with a child. "Yes?"

"The Warrior Princess."

"Ah, you mean that dark beauty you were kissing?" His lightheartedness, under the circumstances, was nauseating to her.

She was impressed. "You have good eyesight."

"And you have good taste. I envy you, having a woman like Xena in your bed. I hope your goodbyes were satisfying." He placed a hand on his sword hilt. "Now, shall we get on with it?" He drew the blade; before he could aim a blow Argo wisely skittered out of his reach. As the mare nimbly backed away, Gabrielle turned to her troops. She drew the sword at her side, and held it aloft. With that signal given, the battle began.

#xena #xena warrior princess #xena/gabrielle #xena/gabrielle fanfiction #mel/janice #mel/janice fanfiction #author: vivian darkbloom #mature

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dreadhaus-literature · 6 years ago

Text

{Valentine’s Collection} #7

“You’re all I need.”

Monica smiled against the wind whipping around the playground equipment, trusting the wind and her soft hair to hide the tint to her cheeks. The foggy New York night was brisk but not unbearable, and her boyfriend had drilled it into her head so many times to “Wear a jacket, you’re little and it’s cold,” that she’d grabbed her jacket without conscious thought before she’d left their empty apartment. The second she’d stepped out of the building her cell phone had gone off, and she’d known who it was before she even took it out of her pocket to check the text.

« hey, says u left. 😗 where u going? »

Monica didn’t mind that her boyfriend, Peter Parker, was so overprotective and that he insisted she have her phone location on all the time. He was Spider-Man, after all. He knew better than anyone the sort of crime that stalks the city’s streets during the day, much less the nighttime, but Monica also never felt safer than when she realized Peter always had his eye on her. That was how they’d met, and coincidentally that was also where she was heading.

« just going to our spot. 😄 you busy? »

Monica tapped out the message as she expertly dodged the other pedestrians on the sidewalk, knowing Peter could very easily be texting her in the middle of a shoot-out with a group of mob thugs--the three dots appeared immediately, as they always did. Peter put her first and always had.

« never 2 busy 4 my favorite girl. 😘 gimme 2 mins. »

Monica would have been fine to give him the rest of the night; she didn’t feel threatened by his job as Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man, even if she did like to poke fun at him by swapping that title out for Menace every now and again. Peter never made her feel like anything was more important than she was, not even helping do his part to keep New York safe--even that, he’d told her numerous times, had a lot to do with her. It made him sleep better at night knowing the six muggers he’d taken off the street the night before wouldn’t be there to terrorize her when she hit the sidewalk the next morning. Monica truthfully didn’t understand how the women in Peter’s life before her, namely Mary Jane something or other, could have a problem with what he did. It was selfless, a risk to his life every single night, and as far as she was concerned it seemed like the most selfish way to think about it would be for her to stake her feelings against what he felt responsible to do. Peter still took her out on dates multiple times a week, he checked in multiple times a night either by texting or calling, and Monica knew if she asked, Peter would drop whatever he was doing and come home to her. It made her proud, honestly, to see so many people smiling up at him every time Spider-Man thwipped by her on the sidewalk during the day--no one else knew, but she knew that was Peter checking on her, making sure she was okay. It was something he did often, and that was why she didn’t care that he spent so much time saving others. She was his #1 and he never made her question that.

There was little telling how much crime was taking place at this very moment--really, Peter couldn’t say. He’d turned his scanner off, because there was just something about this moment that felt...right, and he didn’t want anything to ruin it. The park playground was completely empty, and they were deep enough that the traffic was likely silent for Monica’s hearing--Peter could pick it up if he wanted to but he tuned it out. He was suspended upside down, hanging from a tensile web directly above Monica sitting on a swing, and if he were to lower himself much further he’d be facing her. As it was, he was content, knowing she was safe here with him.

“You know that, right?” Peter continued, drawing attention back to his previous admission. “I really don’t need anything or anyone else but you.”

“I heard you, b-but I don’t get why you’re telling me this,” Monica teased, peeking out from behind her hair up at him, her playful smile turning his heart over. “You get so sentimental after you’ve been crime-fighting.”

“Oh, are we going to pretend like I’m the only one of us who has feelings, again?” Peter took one hand off his web, placing it to his chest. “Pardon me, ma’am, I seem to have spilled some feelings. Please, don’t slip in your haste to avoid them.”

“I hope you fall on your head.”

“No you don’t, and if I fall it’ll just be in your lap,” Peter lowered his long arm, tapping the top of Monica’s head. “And you love me too much to push me off onto the mulch.”

“Do I?” Monica teased, bringing her hand up in a side to side motion. “Jury’s still out on that.”

“I don’t think it is.” Peter shook his masked head, his grin clearly visible beneath the red and black web. “I see how worried you get when I come home a little worse for wear.”

Monica slid her gaze to the side, pursing her lips. “You’re a menace.”

Peter lowered himself a few inches, so his eyes were level with hers. “I’m your menace.”

That was one reason Peter knew Monica was the love of his life. It wasn’t just that she was always the one to wait up for him, every night, worried for his safety but so proud of him for all the hard work he did. It wasn’t just because she helped remind him to pay their rent (yay for no more evictions!) and it wasn’t just because she remembered to go shopping so he had food waiting for him at home when he was too exhausted to move. It wasn’t just because she loved him as Peter and not just as Spider-Man, and it wasn’t just because she kept him grounded, kept him sane, when the world was a little too big and crime a little too prevalent. It was because she turned every aspect of his life positive. J. Jonah Jameson had been a thorn in his side for decades, calling him every name under the sun but menace seemed to be the one that stuck, the one that dug a little deeper beneath his skin like a thorn he couldn’t get his fingers on to extract. It was what his critics went to, hurled at him like rocks when he thwipped by. “Menace! You’re a menace, Spider-Man!” And when he used to crawl into his dark apartment at night, ribs crushed to dust, arm broken, ankle twisted, nose busted and bleeding down his chest...he’d pull his mask off and pretend it didn’t hurt. Physical injuries would heal, but the fact that there were people who hated him for what he did--that was an ever-open wound. Couldn’t they see he was doing his best? He was trying, trying to make the city better for himself and for them, because he felt a responsibility to do it and he felt they deserved it...even if they hated him for it.

Menace was a word Peter thought would haunt him for the rest of his life, so that he flinched when he heard it, but the first time Monica called him a menace he’d smiled a little goofily at her. The wound had closed just a little bit, just like that. She’d said it as a joke, though it had taken him a second to see the smile behind her fierce, fiery green eyes. He’d rescued her from a cabbie who wasn’t paying attention, driving up and onto the sidewalk, and he’d thwipped her to safety--something she was appreciative of, but he’d been so struck by her beauty he hadn’t had the presence of mind to put her down. He’d held her so long she’d pushed at his chest to do so, and only when he set her down did she jokingly toss at him, “Geez, you really are a menace, aren’t you?” It was the first time anyone had thought, had cared, to joke with him about such a tender, sore spot and it worked. Peter was used to covering his insecurities, his fears, with humor but he’d never thought to try with his critics. Standing there on the sidewalk in the middle of a bustling New York day, Peter Parker had his heart stolen by a girl with a sense of humor even better than his own.

That was the day he stopped being New York’s menace and became Monica’s; she was the only one he listened to when that word was brought up and it was now a term of endearment only she could call him.

“Yeah, you’re my menace, only because no one else would take you,” Monica teased, bringing her hand up to poke Peter on his masked nose.

“I’ll have you know plenty of villains want to take me.” Peter countered. “It’s to my grave, but still, I mean, it counts.”

“Does it count? Are you counting that?” Monica scrunched up her nose with a grin. “Maybe I should let them do that.”

“If you did that, who would eat more than half of the pizza you order? Or fall asleep halfway through our Netflix binging because he’s been out fighting crime for sixteen hours straight? Or forget not to wash his red suit with your clothes and turn your shirts pink? Who, I ask you, who.” Peter released his webbing with both hands to gesture...and also to show off that he was suspended on the web using just his feet. Monica may already be his girlfriend but it never hurt to keep her interested, right?

Monica rocked a little back and forth on her swing, pretending not to notice Peter’s grace and flexibility, or the way his muscles rippled when he moved. That suit really left nothing to her imagination, especially when she knew the physique that was beneath it. “I’m pretty sure Deadpool could do all of that.”

“Deadpool can get fuc--” Peter cut himself off, biting back his black jealousy and a string of curse words that would surely disappoint Captain America. “...Deadpool’s lame. He’s totally lame. You’re dating a super cool superhero, why would you want to downgrade?”

“I’m dating a slacking superhero at the moment. Aren’t you supposed to be patrolling?”

“How can I patrol when you’re out here looking like a supermodel modeling playground equipment for nocturnal millennials?” Peter countered, his grin widening as it earned him a laugh.

“Get lost, Parker.” Monica gestured with a wave of her hand. “Go save the day for some old lady out buying groceries.”

“At 3AM? Sweetheart, you’ve got a lot to learn about the life of a superhero, which lucky for you, I can teach you.”

“Why do I need to learn about it?”

“It’s important to learn about the life you’re marrying into, right?”

Monica paused, blinking up at Peter, and it was then she noticed he was holding something--just waiting for her to look at him. It glittered off the nearby park lamp, and as she met his gaze he held it out for her.

“I-It isn’t much, but I saved up like eight months of freelancing to get it for you, and I had to ask Aunt May about the cut of diamonds because, what the hell do I know about diamonds? Nothing, I don’t know anything, but I know this princess cut is really good for you and not just because you’re a princess--which you are, by the way--”

“Peter...”

Peter cut himself off rambling. “Y-Yeah?”

“Are you proposing to me?”

Beneath his mask, Peter worried his lower lip with his teeth before he nodded. “I am, and I’m proposing to you like only Spider-Man can--upside down, instead of on one knee, in the middle of a dark park in New York city. I don’t care what’s going on around us right now, I don’t care how many crimes I’m missing or who needs my help, because right now all that matters is you and that you know I love you. I owe you...so much more than I could ever possibly give you. I could be Tony Stark and I still wouldn’t have enough money to give you what you deserve.”

Peter reached for her left hand with his free hand. “It’s probably really selfish of me to ask you to marry me, to marry a superhero who comes close to dying at least five times a month. You sacrifice so much in order for this thing between us to work but sweetheart I promise I don’t take you for granted. You’re what gets me through my days and my nights. You’re why I get back up after the punch, the hit, the bullet, that should end it all. Because I know I’m the luckiest man in the world to have you waiting for me at home.”

Monica put her hand in Peter’s, and there was no shying away from what he was telling her. There was no hiding from the raw emotion in his tone, or the truth of what he was saying. Peter loved her, and she loved him, too.

“Please tell me you’ll be Mrs. Peter B. Parker. I promise to do whatever you need to make you happy, doesn’t matter what it is,” Peter hesitated with the ring by her finger. “Will...Will you marry me, Monica?”

Monica inhaled deeply, bringing her free hand to her cheek with a nod. “Y-Yes, Peter. I will.”

The ring Peter slipped on Monica’s finger wouldn’t be anything anyone else would gawk at; it wasn’t a rock, it wasn’t some celebrity-sized wedding ring but it was everything Peter had to give and that made it all the more special. The diamond was small but it was real, and it was set beautifully, cut just so that it caught whatever light was nearby and the petite weight of it upon her finger felt just right.

Peter’s heart was full to bursting at her acceptance; that ring had been burning a hole in his pocket since he bought it months ago and he couldn’t wait to tell Aunt May the news--after all, she’d been the one to tell him he was the biggest fool on the face of this planet if he let Monica get away. How could he ever? She was his everything, and as she sat forward on the swing, gingerly easing his mask off his lips, he was already leaning forward to meet her kiss with an eagerness that would never wane. Peter Parker, Spider-Man, was a lot of things; he was a superhero, a vigilante, a crime fighter and a menace--

But the most important thing he would ever be, was Monica’s.

#{theme} : for monica #{collection} : 14 days of valentine's #{character} : peter parker #{ this was smoother than butter to write }#{ and i wasn't going to update tonight but had time }#{ paid off really }#{ oh! happy halfway point! }#{ we're halfway done with this collection officially }

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