#i have gone through too many tampons today | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

readyplayerhobi · 5 years ago

Text

Flower | 29

; Hoseok x Reader

;Genre: Fluff, slight angst

; Warnings: Discussions of periods and contraception

; Word Count: 4.6k

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: I know it’s taking a long time for me to update this but I hope you enjoy it :D Please reblog if you do and let me know what you think my commenting on this or sending me an ask!

; Flower Masterpost

“Hey, meeps,” You hear Hoseok’s voice calling to you from the end of the aisle, his new nickname for you now gaining its own nickname as well. “If sunflower oil is made from sunflowers, and coconut oil is made from coconuts...then baby oil…”

He trails off, raising his eyebrows and giving you a scandalous look as he holds up a bottle of baby oil. For a moment, you just stare at him blankly before sighing and rolling your eyes in amusement. Taking the bottle from him, you place it back down onto the shelf before linking your arm through his.

Thankfully, he lets you direct him back to the little section they have in this makeup and skincare store that’s fully dedicated to Korean beauty. This is one of those strange stores where they have tons of products that are basically on sale yet also have branded stuff alongside it. Not that you cared though; it had the Korean brands you swore by for your skin and you were more than tempted to try out the Japanese beauty stand next to it.

For someone who isn’t particularly bothered about the whole concept of skincare, though you had managed to convince him to at least improve his routine, Hoseok was being a pretty good boyfriend right now. He hadn’t complained about the half an hour you’d spent perusing the makeup to find new stuff to put into your collection and he still wasn’t complaining as you filled your basket with face masks.

If anything, he’d managed to entertain himself quite well.

But you think he was being good purely because you’d gone with him to a concert last night. It had been for one of his favourite bands, Metallica, and he’d ended up with a spare ticket as Jungkook had ended up ill with food poisoning. He had been about to go on his own, but you hadn’t liked the thought of him being lonely so you’d gone with him.

You’d recognised some of the songs they’d played from whenever Hoseok played them in the car or the house but it hadn’t been your scene. Still, it had been fun enough and you’d more than enjoyed seeing Hoseok happy as he’d rocked out to his beloved band.

It did mean that you were exceptionally tired today though as the two of you hadn’t gotten home from the stadium they’d performed in until after 2 am. That had been the closest performance apparently and you’d been shattered, sleeping until well after 11 am. Hoseok had promised you a day of relaxation, which you’d jumped on by asking him to do a full Korean skincare routine with you tonight.

He’d agreed, and you’d eagerly dragged him out to this store to replenish your supplies. The makeup was just because it was there and you couldn’t resist it. Already you were coming up with ideas for looks in your head that you could create and then put onto your Instagram. Moving places had meant that you hadn’t done many looks lately and you were eager to change that.

Especially now that you had a yard to take nice photos in. Hoseok and you had both been working hard on the weekends and evenings to transform the yard from the overgrown mess it had been into something nice. Nothing too amazing or expensive as it wasn’t your own house but nice enough that it made from some pretty aesthetic photos.

Placing a final bottle of moisturiser in your basket, you smile at Hoseok and hold it up proudly. He just looks at you in amusement for a second before smiling back.

“All done! We can go to pay now.” While you pay for all your new stuff, he goes and waits outside for you. Which you discover means he intently window shops at the video game store, getting that look on his face when he wants to do something.

Feeling that your bladder is a little too full right now, you glance over to where the public restrooms are and move over to Hoseok. “You can go in if you want, I’m going to the restroom so I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He takes your bag for you like the gentleman he is before disappearing inside, immediately making a beeline for the Playstation 4 section. You have a feeling he might be about to drop some money given how interested he’d been in some of the new games that have been released in the last few months.

Any thoughts of games are wiped from your mind very quickly though when you’re on the toilet. The sight of red staining your underwear has your eyes widening in horror as you realise that your period has decided to make an early appearance. For a moment you simply stare, brow creasing before you reach for your bag and grab your phone.

The period app you use says that you shouldn’t have started for another four days and you curse your body for doing whatever it likes. Scowling at the stain, you attempt to clean it before sighing in defeat, acknowledging that at least you were wearing black jeans today.

Another rummage in your bag causes you to find another problem, this one sending ice water running through your veins. Grabbing it and placing it onto your knees, you visually scan through every space and almost pull out the entire contents before letting out a small sound of despair.

You had no tampons.

Cursing to yourself quietly, you finish up and make do with an almost ridiculously large amount of toilet paper. Rushing out, you wash your hands before moving over to the machine that always had condoms, sanitary pads and tampons.

Only to see the ‘sold out’ sign on both the buttons you need. Groaning quietly, you do a little dance of frustration as you realise there are not even any other women in the restroom for you to ask. Not that you would. As if your social anxiety would allow for that!

So instead you have to slink outside and into the game shop, lip jutting out in a slight pout as you become hyper-aware of yourself. Can other people smell the blood? What if you leak through all the toilet paper and it does somehow show through your jeans?! What if you leak through onto a chair!

Hoseok wanted to get something to eat after this and you were dreading having to sit there for ages. Playing with your fingers nervously, you move over to where he’s crouched in front of the PS4 stand. He already has two game cases in his hand and is reading the back of another one, your bag of goodies on the floor between his feet.

Glancing up at you, he grins brightly before showing the cover of one of the cases he’s got.

“Look! The Spider-Man game is on sale! You want to play this, right?” Absentmindedly, you nod. The back of your mind takes in the fact that he’s also got Divinity: Original Sin 2 in his ‘buy’ hand and the other case he’s considering is the Doom remake. You wish that you could let him browse more but the drug store wasn’t close by and you didn’t want to just abandon him suddenly.

Still, the thought of what was going on down below was overwhelming and you found yourself shaking his shoulder slightly.

“Hey, are you done? Can we go?” Reaching down, you take your bag back and stand back as he rises, the crease between his brows letting you know he’s a little confused as to why you’re suddenly rushing him. He knows full well that there’s nothing important you need to do.

Still, though, he doesn’t question it and instead nods slowly. While he goes and pays for the games he’s buying, you go to wait by the entrance. Wrapping your arms around your waist, you realise that the low ache in your back that you’d had for a day or so was one of those early symptoms you got of your period.

Only you hadn’t thought anything about it. Not when you’d spent a few hours last night stood up. You’d just thought it was because you’d done a lot of work in the yard combined with the concert. Apparently not.

You’re pretty much already walking in the direction of the drug store by the time Hoseok comes out, causing him to have to jog to catch up with you. All you can think about is whether or not walking faster or slower would make things worse.

“Woah, hey, where are we going?” Hoseok asks, matching his speed to yours. You’re just thankful that there are not too many people out shopping today because it would only increase your stress levels if there was a big queue that you had to wait in or something.

“Just, to this store.” Admittedly, you’re not being very open and honest right now. But you’re embarrassed. Hoseok is fully aware of your periods and that they’re very much a thing that happens. They’d become a little more irregular recently as you’d had a copper IUD put in around a month before moving in with him.

Nothing drastic or anything, but then again they were also sometimes longer and a little heavier than you were used to when you were on the pill. It wasn’t exactly something you enjoyed talking about with anyone though; Soyeon and Chungha were pretty open about this kind of stuff but you had always mostly stayed quiet whenever they talked about it.

Which was silly. They were women who fully understood what you were going through and Hoseok understood that it was a monthly event. So it wasn’t like he’d be shocked to find out or anything. If anything, you’d probably done a bit of a bad job in explaining some things to him as you’d always got too shy whenever he’d asked things.

That was bad, you were well aware. But you’d only really got comfortable talking about sexual things with him. You knew that there were guys who thought it was gross that women bled for a week or so. Hoseok had never made those kinds of comments, but still. You were a work in progress.

“We’ve already been in here, why are you dragging me like Jason Voorhees is running after us with a knife?” He whines when you enter the store. You’re not surprised he’s confused because he’s right, you had come in here earlier and picked up what you needed. Still, though, he follows close by.

“I thought we didn’t need anything else.” Comes from him next, his lip pouting and you get the sense that he wanted to spend more time in the game store. A rush of guilt and shame washes over you, causing you to grip his hand even tighter as you shuffle awkwardly in place for a moment.

Finally in the store though, you realise just how silly you’re being with him. It’s not like he’s going to get outraged or upset. And you’re sure he’d have been much more willing to come along if he hadn’t been dragged along half the street with no idea what was happening.

Leaning into him, you cough slightly before swallowing as you feel yourself go hot with anxiety.

“My period started.” You whisper, keeping the words quiet enough so that he can hear them without having anyone else overhear. Though the rational part of your mind knew that you shouldn’t give a flying fuck what anyone else thought. It was a natural, bodily function and all that.

Your mind has never quite done things rationally though.

Hoseok has heard you though, you can tell by the way his head tilts to the side ever so slightly. But his expression is blank for a moment before his brow creases in obvious confusion, lips pursing as he contemplates what you’ve just told him.

“Okay...so why are we here?” Annnnd there it is. That famed male obliviousness to female problems. You couldn’t get annoyed at him though, not when he was good with you on everything else. He was cute.

“It’s early? And I have nothing to use. So I need to buy some.” His face changes immediately when he understands finally, mouth curving into an ‘o’ shape as he lets out a noise of recognition. It then contorts into worry for you, his eyes glancing down to your crotch area with wide eyes.

“Wait, so that means you’re...just…” He creates a rushing gesture with his hands, imitating a waterfall as he makes a ‘whoosh’ noise with his mouth. It’s a little too loud for your liking and you hiss at him, poking at his stomach before quickly pulling him over to the menstrual health aisle.

“I’ve used some toilet paper but it probably won’t last. It’s come on pretty hard and fast today. Please don’t laugh.” You beg him and his face sobers immediately, eyes darting over your own as he takes in your distressed appearance. Licking at his lips, he inhales deeply before nodding.

“Okay, you use tampons, right? So like...which ones? You never keep the box.” Automatically he starts to look over all the boxes of tampons; staring at the brands, types and absorption levels like he’s reading signs in Mandarin or something. It makes you want to laugh, despite the situation.

You appreciate his eagerness to help though, even when he points at random boxes with absolutely zero knowledge of what it was.

“What’s the difference in the brands? Is there a difference? Or is it like...when you buy those store brand biscuits and realise they taste the same as the branded biscuits only to find out that they’re made in the same factory and just relabelled?” That makes you snort with amusement, particularly as he’s now holding up a box of Tampax and a store brand to try and see the difference.

He’s not finished yet though, and even though you still feel the urgency to just grab some and run, you can’t help but let him entertain you. Because that’s what he’s doing. You’re not oblivious, you’ve realised over time that if you’re feeling anxious or uncomfortable or shy, Hoseok will often use humour to distract you away from your negativity.

It’s nice, which is why you let him carry on for a minute or so more.

“What are the drops for? And what’s the difference between regular and super? I mean, I think you’re pretty super but is this like...super big or something? Wait, is this plastic?! How does it absorb blood if it’s plastic?” Rolling your eyes at him, you bite your lip to stop the laughter that wants to escape before reaching past him to grab the box you usually buy.

Lifting it, you decide for a quick crash course in tampons. As your boyfriend, you never know when you might need him to run out to the store for some and the last thing you need is him bringing the entirely wrong type back.

“I use Tampax, purely cos it’s just the brand I’ve always used and I’m familiar with it. Super and regular are like the absorption so you’d use a super for the first few days when a period is heaviest. Hence why I’m getting these. The drops are the absorption rating too basically and it’s not plastic, that’s just the applicator that makes it easier to insert.” You say it all pretty quickly, but quietly enough that only he hears.

Not that there’s any need, the store is loud enough that your conversation can’t be overheard and on top of that, there’s no one in this aisle anyway. But Hoseok nods thoughtfully, scanning the front of the box carefully.

“When we get home, I think I need a crash course in periods because I’m feeling pretty useless and dumb right now.” Laughing, you lean up to kiss his cheek quickly before heading in the direction of the cashiers.

“We can do that for you. It’s better to be educated after all. This is where I find out that you have this bizarre knowledge that is unbelievably wrong and I cringe.” Hoseok doesn’t answer back to that, causing you to look back and chuckle at his meek shrug and wince.

“What can I say? I’ve never had a girlfriend long enough to learn and education in high school was terrible. I’m not even gonna try to defend myself.” Humming lightly, you grin at him as you pay before heading out of the store. Looking in the direction of the toilets, you twist your lips as you consider your options.

“You want to eat at that place, right?” You ask, nodding your head towards the Japanese place that was down the opposite end of the street. Hoseok looks that way and nods, confirming his desire to you. Already you can feel your stomach rumble as you imagine the delicious food.

“Okay, we’ll just go there and I’ll go straight to the restroom in there. Come on.” Reaching you, you take his hand and smile up at him, your walk not so hurried now compared to before. Not that you aren’t completely aware of the fact that you’re free bleeding from your vagina right now, but walking faster might just aggravate it more.

You had what you needed, so now you could relax a little more.

“Why are there so many steps in this? Don’t you get bored?” Hoseok mumbles, his words a little slurred due to the fact you’re rubbing serum into his cheeks. He’s already been here for ages in the bathroom as you’d used a cleanser to clean his face before exfoliating and then using toner on some cotton pads.

You could tell that he was amused by the whole situation, even though he’d seen you do this many times before. But it was different experiencing it for himself you supposed. Still, he looked so adorable and you cooed to him, squishing his cheeks even more in amusement.

“No. It’s relaxing. You’re supposed to relax.” That makes him scowl, the expression not nearly as intense as he was going for given you’ve got his lips in the cutest pout. Still, you’re finished with that part so you let him go, laughing as he runs his fingers over his skin.

“I’m not relaxed. More...manhandled.” Scoffing, you roll your eyes as you get to work rubbing the serum you need into your skin, focusing on your eyes. The dark circles beneath them were far too...well dark for your liking.

“Okay, how’s your skin lately? Dry? Oily?” Frowning at you, he twists his lips as he considers your question. He’s been taking better care of his skin than he had been before dating you, but you knew that he still didn’t care that much. Surprisingly though, he has an answer for you.

“Dry?” Nodding to yourself, you reach through your box of face masks and pull out a moisturising one. Handing it over to him, you take your own and rip it open, pulling out the mask and carefully putting it on. Hoseok watches you intently before opening up his mask, his face immediately twisting into a cringe.

“Ewwww, oh my god. Why is it so slimy?!” He whines, holding it over the sink like it’s some monster that might kill him. With the mask on your face, you can’t laugh properly like you want to.

“Stop being a baby and put it on.” With a little more whining, he does so, lining it up and putting it onto his face. What follows is then complaints that it’s also cold and feels weird, causing you to roll your eyes at him once more as you help to smooth out any creases in it.

“Right, we’ve got to keep this on for twenty minutes so let’s go watch some Netflix,” Looking over him, you take in how he still manages to look handsome even with a white sheet mask on. “It’s not fair that you always look so good. Honestly.”

Hoseok just shrugs before licking his lips, his reaction immediate as he registers the foul taste. “Oh fuck me, what the fuck. This tastes fucking vile!”

“...you’re not meant to eat it, babe, they don’t make it for the taste.” He washes his hands in the sink to get rid of the remaining residue before following you out to the couch in the living room, Netflix still paused on the large television screen. Kasumi is curled up on her cat tree, fluffy body small as she sleeps quietly.

For around ten minutes, neither of you speak as you continue to watch Warrior Nun. It’s surprisingly got both your attention hooked, so you’re a little surprised when Hoseok suddenly speaks up and distracts you.

“Hey...I know this is a weird time to talk about this but after your whole period thing today it reminded me. So, I’ve been thinking lately. You definitely don’t want kids...right?” He looks at you and you get the impression he would raise his brow if he could. When you nod in response, he blows out a breath slowly.

“Okay...how would you feel if I said I wanted to get a vasectomy? I mean, I know you’ve said you don’t want kids but there’s always a chance that you might and a vasectomy is pretty final. Despite what people say.” Now it’s your for your expression to be mostly hidden by your face mask, your eyes widening until your eyelashes are uncomfortably touching the edges of the holes.

“You want that? I thought guys normally got all weirded out at that prospect. And I don’t want kids, ever. Full stop. Are you sure?” Of all the things you were going to be discussing tonight, you did not expect it to be this. It’s almost amusing that Hoseok has decided right now is the time for something so serious, when you both look so silly.

“I do. I just...I don’t want to risk a pregnancy and I know you’re scared of that too. Also, it’d put less stress on you, I know most birth control is usually aimed at women except for condoms and it’s a lot easier for me to get a vasectomy than for you to get anything done.” That makes you snort in acknowledgement, shifting on the couch until you pull your leg up and wrap your arms around it.

“Yeah, because god forbid a woman not want to fulfil her natural duty and pop out a kid, right?”

“I’ve been looking into it, I’m pretty sure I could get one. If not, I’ll just talk the doctor’s ear off until they let me. Because it’s gonna happen. It’s way easier and less stressful than anything you have to do.” His dual concern for not wanting to cause an accidental pregnancy that neither of you wanted along with not wanting the burden to fall too heavily on you warms you, causing you to reach out and grasp his hand tightly as you squeeze at it.

“Is it easy? Or quick?”

“Apparently. Some guys say it doesn’t hurt at all, others said it hurts. But...I’m pretty sure I want it. I just wanted to check with you that you’d be okay with the idea too. As I said, it’s final.” Hoseok smiles at you as best he can, causing you to shuffle a little closer to him. You’d like to rest your head against his shoulder but you’d just get it covered in face mask gunk.

“I mean, it’s your body. It doesn’t have anything to do with me.” Pointing this out to him, you look up and tilt your head, your statement almost a question.

It makes him sigh and focus on your hands, shifting them until he could interlink his fingers with your own. You let him do so, figuring he should probably be taking the lead in this conversation. It is about him after all.

“We’re in a relationship. A serious relationship and this decision would affect both of us. It’s cutting off the chance for biological kids, despite people saying you might be able to reverse it. I feel you should have a say too.” Nodding slowly, you hum lightly as you consider his words carefully.

“Well, if you want it then I’ll support you completely. I never want children so you don’t have to worry about that. It’s your decision, but I just want to make sure you think it over properly and do research, okay? Don’t go rushing into it.” That makes him snort in amusement.

“Meeps, if there’s one thing you should know by now; it’s that men do not take decisions regarding their dick and balls lightly. You can be damn sure I’m going to be 100% in my decision if I’m going to let someone come near my balls with a scalpel or somet.” The way he says this is so matter of fact that you can’t help but laugh, the sound not as big or bright as you’d like it to be given you still had your mask on.

“Man, I can’t believe I’m talking about someone knifing my balls while I’m sitting here looking like a dollar store Michael Myers.” Hoseok points at himself, his bemusement clearly obvious despite his poor Halloween costume and you giggle softly.

Reaching out, you run your fingers through his hair that’s currently being held back by a bandana and smile at him softly. “Come on, let’s go get these off and start looking human again.”

Hoseok follows you immediately, already peeling the face mask off and making casual comments about how the mask isn’t as slimy as it had once been. You take off your own and drop it into the small bin in the bathroom, making sure that he does the same.

“Okay, rub it in and pat it dry. Make sure you get the excess to go on your throat and stuff, it’s good for your skin there too.” Hoseok looks in the mirror, his face shining obscenely from the residue leftover and grimaces.

“Ew, this feels...gross,” One hand presses to his skin, rubbing it in and cringing. “Is this what it feels like when I cum on your face?”

The comment is so random that you pause for a moment, all thoughts disappearing as you comprehend what he’s just said. A glance at him makes you realise he’s being completely serious, his expression focused on rubbing his face as you’d told him. It’s moments like this that make you love him even more, the blasé comments he makes that are so funny and yet also x-rated.

“No...not really. That’s more...well it’s not all over, you know? And it’s thicker than this. And I don’t know why I’m explaining this to you. You know what your cum feels like.” A snort from him gives away his bemusement.

“Yeah, but I’ve never smeared it all over my face before.”

“Maybe you should. Experience it for yourself for once. It’s not all that good for you by the way, despite what people say. It has protein but it’s not enough to make it worthwhile or anything, so don’t think I’m going to be asking you for your special facials anytime soon.” Looking away from him, you grab the next item on your routine before looking at him with a smirk.

“Damn, there goes my plan to be self-sufficient. Could’ve made a whole organic spa thing out of it.”

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jensengirl83 · 5 years ago

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Unexpected Situation

Dean x reader

Word count-4105

Warnings- Angst, unplanned pregnancy, fluff

Summary-The reader has been sick, thinking it was just a virus, Her and Dean get a shock to the actual cause.

The sunlight streaming through the curtains, bright and offending, is letting me know it’s time to get up. I groan wanting to just stay in bed all day, but we are heading back to the bunker today. This hunt has been absolute hell, just a simple witch hunt, turning into a four-day fiasco. On top of that, I am not feeling well, this stupid stomach virus is kicking my ass. Dean, being an overprotective ass, tried to make me stay in the hotel the whole trip. Thank Chuck I did not listen, or they would still be hunting that damn witch. I want to go home to the bunker, in my own bed, my own shower. I stretch my aching muscles, normally not this tired and groggy, on my way to make our coffee. That is one thing Dean and I have in common, our love for coffee.

“Morning sweetheart, feeling any better?” Dean leans down to kiss my temple, rubbing circles on the small of my back. Not many people get to see this side of Dean. To the hunter world, he is Dean Winchester, one of the best, a hard ass no one wants to cross. At home though, he is so sweet, caring, gentle, my big teddy bear.

“Morning babe. I’m feeling a little better, still not back to myself.” I lay my head back on his chest, his arms circling my waist. We stand there in silence waiting on the coffee to finish brewing, enjoying our quiet peaceful moment before Sam gets back from his morning run. Dean moves to get his cup and fill it up, turning to fill mine as well.

“I hope you feel better soon baby. I don’t like when you are sick, there’s really nothing I can do.”

“I know you do Dean. You know it’s not your job to take care of everyone all the time, right?” He rolls his eyes at me and I can’t help but giggle. He smiles down at me, his big bright smile, the one that reaches his eyes, the smile that lets me know he is genuinely happy.

“I’ll always take care of my girl.” He leans in to place a kiss to my lips, soft and sweet, beginning to grow in intensity. He licks my bottom lip asking for entrance, our tongues moving slowly together. I can taste the coffee he has been drinking, the taste instantly making my stomach turn. I break the kiss and run for the hotel bathroom, dropping to my knees to empty what little contents I have in my stomach.

“Oh sweetheart….” Dean is behind me in an instant, sweeping my hair out of my face, placing a cold washcloth on my neck. I haven’t been this sick in years, the muscles in my abdomen twitching from all the dry heaving.

“Want me to call Sammy and have him pick you up some medicine?” Dean says as he is running more cold water on the washcloth. I nod my head, afraid if I open my mouth to speak, I will be sick again. I lay my head on the toilet seat, too weak to even care. Dean is back with the cloth patting it on my face and neck, being very gentle as to not jostle me, in hopes I don’t throw up again.

“You think you’re done for now and can make it back to the bed?” I sigh laying there for a moment longer, praying this sick spell is finally over.

“I think I’m ok now Dean, help me up?” I just want to lie down. I honestly believe this virus is going to be the death of me.

“Of course, darling.” He puts his hand under my arms to steady me as I stand, my legs weak and shaky. Once I am on my feet, he swoops his arm under my legs, picking me up to carry me to the bed.

“I can walk Dean. I’m sick, my legs aren’t broken.” Another Dean eye roll.

“How about you be quiet and let me take care of you please?” I’m to weak to argue, letting him continue carrying me towards the bed. He lays me down gently, sitting beside me, running his hand over my head. I am almost asleep again when the hotel door swings open.

“Damn short stack, you look awful.” Nice choice of words Sam.

“You sure know how to make a girl feel good Sam.” I say with a roll of my eyes.

“I didn’t mean it like that Y/n. You look like you feel horrible.” The blush on Sam’s face makes me smile.

“I know you didn’t Gigantor, throwing up your spleen has a way of making you look pretty rough though.” Both boys curling their noses up in disgust like they were picturing me actually throwing up my spleen.

“Nice visual sweetheart, a little dramatic wouldn’t you say?” Dean chuckles leaning down to place his lips on my forehead.

“I don’t have a fever Winchester.” I know what he is doing, the worry wart.

“What are you talking about? I wasn’t checking you for a fever.”

“Whatever you say Dean.” I close my eyes again hoping to just rest for a minute, the nausea finally easing. I have never been this tired in my life, this virus must be a doozy, I think to myself as I drift off to sleep.

I open my eyes just a little as I roll to get more comfortable. I don’t remember the hotel bed being this comfy, the thought making me open my eyes a little wider. I look around to see I am back in our bed in the bunker.

“Hello there sleeping beauty.” I turn my head to see Dean lying beside me, arms under his head like he has been there awhile watching me.

“How long have I been asleep?” I say with a yawn as I sit up, arms over my head stretching my aching muscles.

“A little over 8 hours. I was starting to worry you weren’t going to wake back up.” The look of worry written all over that handsome face. I must admit, I am starting to worry myself. I am not one to sleep like this. “If this doesn’t go away soon please go see a doctor sweetheart.”

“I will Dean, I promise.” I lean to press a kiss to his forehead, feeling bad for making him worry so much.

“Jody called, she needs me and Sam to help on a case.” I know he doesn’t want to go, but he can’t neglect Jody just because I don’t feel well.

“Go help Jody Dean. I’m just going to take it easy and hydrate myself, nothing you can really do for me.”

“You sure? I don’t like being away from you when you might need me.” I intertwine my fingers with his, bringing them up to kiss the top of his hand.

“I’m sure babe.” I put on the biggest smile I can muster, hoping he will buy it and not be too distracted helping Jody.

“We will be back tomorrow evening baby, promise.” Dean grabs the back of my neck pulling me down to place a sweet but passionate kiss to my lips “You call me if you need anything. I mean it Y/n.”

“I promise, now get out of here.” I laugh while pushing him out of the bed. He finally stands and grabs his duffle, making his way to the door, turning to look at me once more. I smile letting him know I will be ok, reassuring him that I understand he has to go. It works, he smiles that beautiful smile, winking at me as he closes the door. I lie back down thinking of what I can get done while they are gone. My brain still seems like it is in a fog, my stomach is doing better, but I still feel tired. My mind ponders on what could possibly be making me feel this way, nothing comes to mind as fall back into a deep sleep.

I wake up with a start, a shrill ringing filling my ears. I look to my clock to see that I have slept through the night. What the hell, this is starting to freak me out. It dawns on me that the shrill sound is my phone, grabbing to see who’s calling, Dean’s picture lighting up my screen. I answer hoping he can’t tell I just woke up.

“Hey babe, how’s it going?” I say as cheerful as I can.

“It’s good sweetheart. I was calling to let you know the hunt is over and we should be back this afternoon. How are feeling?” His voice is even, not being able to tell if he suspects anything.

“Better, my stomach is still weak but not as bad as it was.”

“Good. I love you sweetheart. We’re getting ready to hit the road.” I have a few hours to get myself together.

“I love you babe. Be safe.” We end the call and I jump out of bed. I need to get my ass in the shower and get some stuff done so he doesn’t know I have slept the whole time. I grab my clothes and make my way to the shower, turning on the water and hopping in to quickly get clean. I wash my hair, my body and shave in record time. I dry off quickly, thinking I should paint my toenails. It has been awhile, and they definitely need it. I throw on one of Dean’s shirts I stole a long time ago and my sweats, squatting down to get my nail polish from under the sink. I see the box and my heart stops, my tampons, staring me in the face. I fall back to the floor and my mind goes into overdrive, trying to remember my last period. Oh my god, it has been almost two months! I reach to the back for the pregnancy test I put back there from when we had a scare last year. I stand, ripping the test open and yanking my pants to my ankles, the urgency to know sending me into a frenzy.

I lay the test on the sink as I wash my hands, praying that it is stress causing me to skip my periods. We have been hunting nonstop for months. That is it, it has to be. Me and Dean have never really discussed kids. Our scare last year not really bringing up a conversation, so I assume it’s not what he wants. What am I going to do if I am pregnant, what will Dean think? The timer on my phone bringing me back to reality. I flip the test over but keep my eyes on the wall, wanting to know but then again not. I take a deep breath and look down to the stick in my hand, trying not to cry. Positive. I grab the edge of the sink to keep myself from falling, my knees trying to buckle beneath me. Steadying myself, I walk out to our room and lay the test on the table beside the bed, not knowing what else to do with it.

I make my way to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, my mouth being dry from the realization of the impending arrival of the small human in my body. I need to go sit down, all this so overwhelming. Reaching the library, I don’t sit, I just keep moving.

I could not help but to pace around, the boys were on their way home, due back at any time. The anxiousness of the talk I need to have with Dean churning in my belly. How did we end up in this situation? This is going to be one of the scariest conversations I have ever had. I just hope Dean will take the news better than I am expecting him to. I instinctively reach down to place my hand on my stomach, my baby, our baby, the thought has my eyes brimming with tears. I never thought I would want to be a mother, now I can’t imagine our unexpected bundle not being here. I pray to whoever is listening that Dean will accept this, not panic and push us away. Raising a child in this life will not be easy, but he/she is a part of us, isn’t that worth the extra effort? I want this for Dean, I know he doesn’t believe it, but he would be such a good father. Loving and protecting, doing everything he could to make sure his child has better than he did. What if he doesn’t want this though? There is no other option for me but to have and love this baby with everything I am. If Dean will not accept it, I will have to leave, that’s not what I want, but this child is my priority now. Just the thought of having to leave has tears streaming down my face. In my onslaught of the worst-case scenarios, I didn’t hear the bunker door open.

“Honey I’m home! I love saying that.” I can hear the happiness in his voice, boy am I about to rip that away.

“You’re such an idiot Dean.” Sam is laughing as they make their way down the bunker’s staircase. I am trying to wipe the tears from my face and hope they don’t notice.

“There’s my girl! How ya feeling sweetheart?” Dean is right behind me wrapping his arms around my waist. I stay silent, afraid my emotions will be heard in my voice, not ready for this conversation. “Y/n, honey, you ok?” He turns me to face him, no need in trying to stop it. His face drops seeing me in the state I am in.

“Y/n what’s wrong? Talk to me.” Looking up to see those beautiful green eyes, so full of love and concern, has me breaking down, the thought that this may be the last time he looks at me this way, more than I can take.

“I’m so sorry Dean! I didn’t mean for it to happen, it just happened. Please baby don’t push me away. I love you. I don’t want to do this on my own.” My body is wracked with sobs, his arms the only thing holding me up.

“I need you to calm down honey. Take a deep breath, whatever it is we can fix it.” Dean is trying to be comforting but I can hear the worry in his voice.

“There is no fixing it Dean! It’s happening whether you want it to or not!” I know I’m not making sense, which is not helping at all.

“Mind giving us a minute Sammy?” I look over to Sam who has a look of confusion, but also compassion, on his face.

“Sure man, I’ll be in my room if you need me.” Sam pats Dean on the back and places a kiss to the top of my head on his way out.

“C’mere, sit down and talk to me Y/n. I can’t help you figure out what to do if you don’t talk to me.” Dean is leading me over to one of the chairs, his arms wrapped around me like he is scared I’ll run if he let’s go. “What happened baby? You were fine when I called this morning? Is this about you being sick?”

“It’s about why I have been so sick, Dean.” My voice is barely above a whisper.

“You know why you have been sick?” I just nod my head. “What is it sweetheart?” The fear in voice is breaking my heart.

“I…I’m….” I can’t say the words, my breath caught in my throat as I begin to cry again. Dean’s arms are around me pulling me into his lap.

“Please tell me Y/n. You’re scaring me.” His eyes are brimming with tears, always thinking the worst. I have to just say it, not let him keep thinking it is something really bad.

“I’m pregnant Dean.” I feel his body tense beneath me. My worst fears realized. He doesn’t want this.

“How Y/n? Aren’t you still on your birth control?” I take his question as an accusation, my frazzled mind not thinking of it any other way. I jump to my feet and turn to face him, my hands in the air.

“Of course, I’m still on my birth control Dean! Why would you think I wasn’t? You think I did this on purpose?!” I’m yelling, my fear fueling the anger I now feel. “I didn’t plan on this any more than you did Dean, but here I am, pregnant.” He just stares, a look on his face I can’t quite make out. I take that as my cue to keep going.

“I know this is not what you want Dean! I didn’t think I wanted it either, but now I do. I want this baby more than anything! If you want me to leave I will, but I am keeping it Dean. I know it will be hard raising a child in this life, but I am willing to put in the effort, quit hunting, whatever I have to do. Why aren’t we worth it to you for a little extra effort Dean? Why would you not want this with me?” I can’t keep going, the tears and the thought of doing this alone, bringing me to my knees.

“Whoa sweetheart, be careful!” Dean is in the floor pulling me to him as soon as my knees touch the ground. He is rubbing his hand down my back and peppering kisses to my hair, forehead, cheeks.

“What makes you think I want you to leave Y/n? I have never said I was against having a baby with you.” His tears finally making their way down his face. “I love you baby. I don’t want you going anywhere.”

“When we thought I was pregnant last year, and it was negative, you didn’t have anything to say. I figured you were glad it wasn’t going to happen.” I am so confused. If he wanted a baby, would he not have said so?

“I didn’t say anything because you seemed to be relieved Y/n. Of course, I want this with you. I didn’t want to say something and make you feel obligated to have a child if that isn’t what you wanted. I know it’s going to be hard, but with you by my side we can do anything.” His words are shocking me speechless. He really wants this, to be a father to our baby.

“Really Dean? You want to have this baby with me?” His smile is breathtaking, reaching his eyes, so green and bright. A look of pure joy on his face. He cups my face in his hands and crashes his lips to mine in a bruising and passionate kiss. We pull apart, the need to breath becoming to much. He places his forehead to mine, still pecking my lips. A full body laugh erupting from his chest makes me jump back. He falls over, laying in the floor, still in a fit of laughter. Well fuck, I broke my boyfriend.

“What is so funny Dean?” I look at him like he has finally lost his mind, but not being able to keep my laugh in. He jumps to is feet, dragging me up with him.

“I’m really going to be a father. We’re going to have a baby Y/n!” His excitement is the most adorable thing I have ever see. To think, an hour ago, I thought I would be doing this on my own.

“Yes Dean, we’re having a baby.” I can’t contain my excitement anymore, laughing as he wraps his arms around me. Before I can comprehend what’s happening, he is spinning me in circles.

“Dean!” I scream, a little louder than I meant to, the surprise of being flung around the room startling me. He finally puts me back on my feet, dropping to his knees, his hands on my waist. He starts placing kisses on my belly, making me giggle.

“Hey in there, this is your Daddy. You need to give your mom a break and stop making her so sick.” I laugh, running my fingers through his hair. I look down at him with a look of awe. This big strong hunter already wrapped around his son or daughter’s finger. “I love you so much peanut. I will always be here to protect you, make sure you and your mom have everything you need, make sure you’re both happy.”

“Dean! Y/n!” Sam yells as he skids around the corner, gun drawn. Dean and I jump, never expecting Sam to run in, guns blazing.

“What the hell Sam? Put the gun down before you hurt somebody!” Dean is on his feet, putting his body between me and Sam.

“I heard Y/n yell for you! I thought something had happened.” Sam looks to the two of us, a puzzling look on his face. I can’t imagine what we looked like when he burst into the room. Dean on his knees in front of me, tears in both our eyes. It must have been a sight. The thought causes me to bust out in a fit of giggles.

“What is going on in here?” Sam is looking at me and Dean waiting on an explanation.

“Calm down Uncle Sammy. We’re good.” Dean says with a smirk, waiting to see if his brother catches on to what he just said.

“I’m glad. The situation looked dire earlier. I was….Wait! Did you just call me Uncle Sammy?!” He is whipping his back and forth between me and Dean. His eyes as big as saucers, with a look between hopeful and confused.

“He did Sam. We’re having a baby.” The proud look on Dean’s face makes my heart swell. I so hope this baby looks like him.

“Oh my God! I’m so happy for you guys!” Sam rushes to wrap both his arms around me and his brother.

“Is that why you were crying earlier short stack?” Sam asks as he releases ne from his hug, looking down at me.

“Yes. I was letting my anxiety get the best of me, thinking Dean wouldn’t want a baby, but it’s all ok now Sam.” I smile up at the giant of a man.

“Y/n, he would be an idiot to not want this. If he didn’t, I would have to kick his ass.” We both bust out laughing at the look on Dean’s face.

“Well thanks a lot Sammy.” Dean huffs faking a pout.

“Alright boys. I am exhausted and going to bed. See you in the morning Sam.” I lean up to give him a kiss on the cheek, turning to head to mine and Dean’s room.

“I still can’t believe I am going to be a dad Sammy. It is still so surreal, but I have never been so happy.” Dean is looking at me with so much love. Like I just gave him the world.

“Some of the most unexpected situations turn out to be the ones we never knew we wanted. Night guys.” Sam heads back to his room with a smile. I hold my hand out for Dean to take, wanting him to follow me to bed. He takes the invitation, intertwining his fingers with mine as we make our way to our room. I head straight for the bed, laying down and getting comfortable as Dean turns out the light, and stripping down to his boxers, climbing in behind me.

“How did I get so lucky? I have the most beautiful woman in the world, giving me the most precious gift I could ever receive. I feel like I won the lottery Y/n.” Dean whispers in my ear while placing soft kisses in my hair.

“We’re both lucky Dean. This little bean is a gift for the both of us.”

“I love you so much sweetheart.” His words soft and sweet, his hand moving to protectively lay across my belly.

“I love you Dean.” I smile as we both start to drift off to sleep. If you would have told me a month ago, I would be laying here, pregnant with Dean’s baby, both of us this happy, I would have never believed it. Here we are, the two of us getting ready to embark in one of nature’s most beautiful but scariest adventures, parenthood. Who knew that such an unexpected situation could bring so much joy? A joy that will last a lifetime.

Tags: @flamencodiva @waywardbeanie @sorenmarie87 @foxyjwls007 @emoryhemsworth

#dean x reader #dean winchester #supernatural family #supernatural #spn fanfiction #angst #pregnancy #fluff #reader insert #spn famdom

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causeimthesupernovaa · 4 years ago

Text

Warm and Cozy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

• Zuho + Female Reader

• Genre: Fluff

• Words: 1.4k

Summary: a sick you is taken care of by your brother’s best friend.

Your socks are soaked inside the sneakers, and it is the worst feeling ever. You are an idiot for sure. You've thought "I'll be back in a second, won't even need to put on any boots."

Right.

As if exclusively to laugh at your face, the sky had darkened and snow had started falling in abundance, both on your way going and returning. The three whole blocks.

You shake the green bag to get rid of the excess snow and enter the house, almost immediately dying of a heart attack.

"Goodness!" your hands go to you chest. "Juho, what are you doing over there in the dark?"

"Oh, hi, Y/N," he stands from the couch. "I know the door password, you know... I was waiting for your brother, but went in because of the snow. The power went out like five minutes ago."

"Oh," you stay still, not knowing exactly what to do. Embarrassingly, your body decides to cough at this moment. "So... make yourself at home."

You turn and start going up the stairs.

"You went out in those sneakers?"

You turn around slowly. Did he really have to continue the dialog? It was hard for you to look him straight in the eyes.

"I did."

Juho's forehead frowns.

"These days have been snowy. You could've got yourself a cold. Still can, actually."

An uncomfortable silence falls between you.

"I wasn't gone for long. I had to go to... buy some stuff," you weren't really going to explain to him you've gone out on a desperate mission to get some tampons.

You cough.

"Hmm."

Another silence. As you are kind of a coward, you take the opportunity and just start going up the stairs again.

You cough once more and enter your room.

Once again, you cough. You are looking through the window, seeing the snow coming down nonstop from the grey sky.

"Y/N," you hear Juho's voice from the corridor.

"Come in."

"Your brother said all the roads are closed due to the blizzard, so he won't be able to come home any soon," he says while opening the door. "So I'll be waiting he... Y/N, are you alright?"

You cough.

"Why do you ask?"

"You... look pale."

"I have a little headache, nothing more."

The older boy takes one step further and to your surprise, rests his hand on your forehead. You can feel chills from his touch.

"You're burning up," he looks at you serious. "Burning up."

"Eh... it's nothing," an inconvenient cough gets in the way of your argumentation.

"Right. You're coughing since you got home. You shouldn't have gone out in sneakers."

"I was already coughing yesterday though" you mumble, trying to defend yourself.

Juho sighs.

"Lay down."

"What?" you ask.

"Lay down on your bed. You need to have some rest."

You cross your arms stubbornly.

"I won't lay down. I don't need it."

He makes a frown.

"Come on, it'll be better for you."

You sigh, tired of arguing.

"Just fifteen minutes."

"Alright," he nods. "Fifteen minutes."

You open your eyes confused and the first thing you see is that familiar pair of beautiful sharp eyes.

"Feeling better?" Juho asks.

You sit yourself up slowly.

"No. I think... worse."

The boy presses his lips together for a moment and then lays you down again gently over the bed. He puts his hand over your forehead.

"I think you really have a fever."

You felt like hitting him. Did he really have to be so close? Your disillusioned younger sister's heart who have fallen for her brother's best friend was pounding hard.

"I guess so," you don't know what to say.

Juho sighs.

"I'll get you some medicine downstairs. Oh, and just so you know, you've slept for almost an hour."

"But..."

The boy leaves the room. Why didn't he wake you up? It was supposed to be only fifteen minutes...

You contort under the covers. You were feeling so cold.

"I'm back," Juho enters the room and comes up to you with a pink pill and a glass of water in his hands. He kneels down next to your bed. "Can you sit up?"

You sit with a bit of a struggle.

"Here."

He offers you the objects and you swallow the pill. Your body was shivering.

"How long will it take to work?" you ask.

"Well... I think some forty minutes."

"Forty?" you repeat horrified.

Juho stares at you.

"Are you in much pain?"

"I am, but... I'm very cold," you say quietly.

The boy nods.

"Do you want me to get you more blankets?"

"There are no more. They're all in the laundry."

You lay yourself down again embraced by the covers. It was still freezing and you were trembling.

"You...," Juho pauses. "Do you want me to warm you up?"

You blink, not sure of what you've heard.

"What?"

"You don't need to if you don't want to," he says rubbing the back of his neck. He had turned his eyes away.

"Won't it bother you?"

"No... won't it bother you?"

"Oh," you close your eyes for a few seconds. "You can... can come up."

He shakes his head in agreement and climbs into the bed. Your body proceeds to freeze, and in the other meaning.

Juho lays down and wraps himself around you, holding your body with his warmth. The fear your heart could be heard all the way from Antarctica right now was very real.

He speaks suddenly.

"Do you want me to leave?" the boy asks in a worried voice.

"There's no need," you force yourself not to stutter. "It's nice..."

There was a hand.

It was caressing your hair in a very pleasant way. It was slow, but far from being lazy. You hold the body next to you a little tighter.

Wait.

Wait a minute!

You open your eyes carefully and see the black color of Juho's cardigan. Were you holding him while you slept?!

"Are you awake?"

You get startled and look up to his face. There's a little smile in there. You take a little too many seconds to answer the question because of it.

"Yeah," you simply say.

"Are you feeling better?"

"I a-am."

Juho resumes caressing your hair. Unconsciously, you adjust yourself onto his chest. You then realize what you were doing and immediately move away. Why were you like that?

"Don't be embarrassed," you lift your head and see a gentle smile on Juho's lips. "I'll take care of you today."

"Why... why are you doing all of this for me?" you ask.

"Isn't it the right thing to do?"

"It... well, it isn't really your style."

"I—" he starts and doesn't finish, and your eyes go wide. Were you really seeing that? The distant and introverted Baek Juho was... blushing? "I really like you, Y/N," he pauses, and you can't believe the words leaving his mouth. "You don't need to feel the same nor are you obligated to do anything... but for now, can I take care of you? I want you to get better soon."

If your eyes were wide before, they are now almost jumping out of your face.

"That's not true. You're lying."

"Why would I lie?" he asks. "If it was like that, I wouldn't have said anything in the first place."

"But... but... you've never looked at me."

Juho gives you a small smile.

"Because I was trying my best not to look. I'm not... very good at romantic relationships. I didn't want you to end up finding out on accident. But as I said, you don't have to do anything, don't worry."

You stare at him intensely, not knowing what to say. He looks away, his red cheeks adorable at your eyes.

You impulsively turn his chin to you and give his lips a little peck.

"Oh!" you blurt out, realizing what you've just done. "I'm so sorry, I forgot I was sick!"

Juho laughs. He laughs a sweet and delicious laughter.

You look at him a little confused.

"It's okay. Let's not kiss for now," he pulls you back into his arms, holding you firmly. "Don't worry," his smile is dazzling. "We'll have plenty of time to kiss later."

You return his hug and rest your head on his chest, blushing like crazy.

"You can take care of me," you look into his eyes shyly, but surely. "And not just for today."

Juho smiles, and as they say, the rest is history.

#fantasylibrary #sf9 #zuho #i wrote this a long time ago so the writing may be bad #zuho imagine #zuho scenario #zuho au #sf9 fluff #sf9 imagines #sf9 scenarios #self-indulgent

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cherryyharryy · 5 years ago

Text

Burning Words

Chapter Five: Regrets

WC: 7.9k

Previous Chapter

Songs for this chapter

Extra piece in Harry’s POV (I suggest reading this first)

I have to say my intuition is pretty decent. The only time it’s failed me, is when I’ve chosen to ignore it. There’s a fine line though, between me wanting to listen to myself, and the nagging feeling in my gut. I’m an easy person to dismiss.

So when I spent all of last week brushing off the insistent aura of regret from my shoulders, I didn’t expect it to manifest itself in such a tame manner. My life is the embodiment of ‘when it rains, it pours,’ and I’m constantly trying to find a place to feel good within my own existence.

And right now, I really regret being such a pushover. If there’s one moment I could do over again, it would be earlier today when I turned down the overtime my boss offered. Because Jessie is sick. She isn’t, but she says she is; I’ve known her for too long now. We’ve survived a lot together:

That’s three drunken nights, five catcallers, one early morning jog right after the New Year when we said we’d get healthy. Two fake Instagram accounts to spot a cheater, six tampons thrown over bathroom stalls, eight missed calls—then a hurried drive down Park Street to find yours truly in the midst of a panic attack. And now, nine minutes for me to figure out that she’s not ill. That’s like, 75 in women years. No wonder we’re so tired all the time.

I’d put money on a phone call from Anthony. She says she’s never had phone sex, but she does so with a smile, and I’m not an idiot. She’s not ashamed; I don’t think Jessie could ever feel embarrassed with the confidence she has. This only twists the ropes surrounding my organs, pulling tighter and tighter until…

I hope to have secrets with someone one day, and then I can tell Jessie a sweet lie about how I’ve never gone skinny dipping, or Russian kissed, and she’d be content with my fib and cherry smile, because she’s my best friend.

And because I’m her best friend, I’m zipping up the back of my black dress with a hanger, praying it doesn’t pop when I exhale.

“I promise, I’ll owe you,” Jessie whines.

“No you don’t. Just tell me I don’t look terrible.”

“You’re gorgeous as always, babe.”

She’s curled up in her bed, such an actress, with a heating blanket wrapped around her shoulders and a phony stuffed nose that makes her words gel together in a tight knot. I thank her anyway.

“Don’t forget the book.”

“I know, I know.” I push off the threshold of her room to gather my things: a winter coat that looks somewhat classy, my purse, and Beowulf. I button up to my neck and yell my goodbye as I cross the apartment.

We have a small mirror that hangs against a brick wall when you first enter our home. I’ve watched Jessie nudge at her lashes and scrape tiny bits of strawberry lipstick off her teeth before we leave, dozens of times. I usually pass by her while she’s doing her last touch-ups, but now I’m alone, and I have to make the quick decision to look or not. I hope Jessie’s right, that I don’t look terrible, because I close my eyes until I’m locking the door.

***

The theater is frigid, and nearly empty when I arrive. I guess the majority of Jessie’s class isn’t as desperate to watch a reenactment of a book for extra points as she is. Tickets are five dollars, and the water I bought is warm. I am overdressed, and take out my diamond earrings after a girl in sweatpants sits at the end of my row.

At intermission I debate whether or not I should leave. I can hide in my room all night and finish Jessie’s assignment, in my pajamas, with a glass of gas station wine in hand. But I guess Jessie is in love, so instead, I wobble up to the concession in her borrowed heels to buy more junk food that can promise me a breakout by morning.

“Y/n?”

Like an eruption; his voice triggers more physiological responses in my body than a lab rat. My senses have never crossed borders with each other, and yet I stand here, hunger clawing its way up my ribs, past my larynx, banging on the back of my eyes so I’ll open them.

“Hey.” My voice is filled with saliva, and I pray he doesn’t notice.

“Are you here for the extra credit, or to watch a bunch of middle aged call-backs try their hand at acting?”

My laugh is airy and sore. “Uh, Jessie. It’s her class. She’s sick, so I’m saving her.”

“Ah,” he nods. “I’m a life jacket too, tonight. Elliot’s visiting his cousin or something.”

The lights flicker above us, and he blushes like a cherry. “I uh, I guess we’d better head back.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you, would you like to sit together?” He holds up his copy of the book. “Compare notes?”

I nod. I respond, but I’m not exactly sure what comes out of my mouth. All I know is that he has me lead the way, and deciding where to sit becomes an insurmountable task, as if my seating choice is the determinate in how he will see me in the forthcoming days, weeks. Does he like to sit in the front? The back? Close to the aisle? Where had he been this whole time? Had he noticed me when I had my mouth stuffed with gummy bears?

“If you don’t mind,” he answers the questions in my head, “I don’t care for sitting close to the front.”

“The middle then? I think I read that, two-thirds back was the best seating or something.”

“Perfect.”

We settle into our seats, the theater now nearly vacant other than the two of us, and a few people tucked away in the back.

It’s a bizarre group of words to use—the two of us—in reference to Harry and I. Technically, it’s sound. There are two in a pairing. I think it’s the us that plays my heartstrings like a violin. The vibrating in my chest escalates, echoing off the hollow of my bones, wrapping around the fibers of my muscles, weakening my nervous system like a dying light bulb.

He flips through my copy of the book where I haven’t made as many notes as I should have, nodding along to my scribbles which outline the differences between the original story and this live adaptation. “We’ve got a lot of the same.” He’s smiling big when he hands my book back. “Guess we’re doing something right then.”

I feel his energy for the rest of the play. Every move he makes is somehow worthy of interest. The grip he holds on his knee, the tilt of his head, roll of his lips, bounce of his foot. He clears his throat at one point, and I turn back towards the actors as if they are the disturbance. Each time he flips through the book to scribble a note, the pages brush against his thumb, sometimes catching on his ring. When he pricks his skin on the edge of a page, he drives it straight into his mouth. I have to remind my heart to keep beating.

“Y/n?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you hear me? Do you need a ride home?”

When had we walked outside? When did the sun disappear? When did his hair become such a mess?

“Um, no. That’s alright. Thank you though.”

“How did you get here?” His lenses are a pink champagne color, and I hope the filter makes me aesthetically appealing, as I never have been before.

“The bus.”

“The b—you’re going to take this bus? But it’s late?”

I study his face, his eyes through the tinted glass, the lines across his forehead with his brows pushing them up towards his hairline. My intelligence is working overtime.

“I’ve taken the bus at night before. I’ll be fine.” I shrug and he frowns.

“But, I—if I give you my number, will you text me when you get home? Just, I mean, I just need to know you make it back. It’s nearly eleven. And it’s the bus.”

I stand there too long, contemplating the actions he wishes to pursue. His number, in my phone. He says my name.

“Uh, yeah, I can do that I guess.”

Vertigo and an imposture buzz seize my nerves. My hands shake; I always spend so much time waiting for things to end, so I can just live in the memory. Things are easier that way.

And I’m more vulnerable under moonlight, so I hand him my phone.

“You won’t forget?”

“No. no. I won’t.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Good.” He passes my phone back, clearing his throat. “Um, I enjoyed this. Tonight I mean. Was pretty pissed at Elliot when he asked me to go for him, but...guess things worked out okay after all.”

“Yeah, not bad.”

“You um, you look...you look very pretty.”

“Oh,” I’m caught off guard, and have to take a second to scrape the word liar off my tongue. “Thanks. Thank you. You, so do you.”

He snickers, but it’s lighthearted, like a feather was tickling his chin. “Thank you, love.”

“Yeah…”

“So um, there’s something I wanted to ask you.”

“O—okay.”

His lashes flutter against his glasses, and his tongue darts out to swipe over his lips. “Uh, I—do you—are you sure you don’t need a ride home?”

I nod. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” he sighs like he’s relieved, but there’s pent up nervous energy leaking out, that contradicts the lax drop of his shoulders and the fidgety hand scratching the back of his neck. “Well I’ll see you later then?”

“Okay.”

His lips are twitching when we say goodbye. He goes one way and I the other. He goes to his car, and I go towards the bus stop. My phone weighs heavy in my bag. How did I end up looking forward to admiring a sequence of numbers? I run through my options of what exactly I will text when I get home. What punctuation I will use, if I am warranted in picking an emoji, what he might respond with.

The bus driver gives me a funny look when the doors close behind me. I can’t find anything inside me to care enough though, as I normally would, and find a seat in the back. I’d give me a funny look too, if I was smiling so big at nothing in particular.

***

I almost forget to lock our door when I hurry into the apartment. I’m out of my coat and shoes by the time I reach my room, flopping down on my bed with my phone in hand.

Seeing Harry’s name at the top of the screen slows down my movements, making the moment more serious. My fingers hover over the keyboard, and I’m stifled on picking how I want to word my text.

I made it back alive

I’m home, no need to worry

I’m here:)

I consider not texting him at all, but brush the intrusive thought that he was just being nice for show, as far away into the corner of my mind as I can manage.

I’m home now

My teeth sink further and further into my lip, the skin stretching and pulling with the corners of my mouth playing tug of war. The three little dots of his incoming text seems to last forever.

How many stops did you have to make? You know how to make a man worry. I’m happy you’re home safe xx

Without much thought, because I know I’d change my mind, I send a smiley face and lock my phone, then quickly make my way to Jessie’s room. Part of me wants to gush to her about tonight, about how he asked to sit together, and how he gave me his number.

But I also have no reason to be so...giddy. His actions are easily explained if you look at them from a different angle. He didn’t want to sit by himself, that’s all. I’m a familiar face. And any decent person would offer a ride home to their...student.

I freeze in the space between our rooms, trying to pick a lane for my mind to travel down. I know myself well enough to know that my first reaction is to dismiss the entire evening, and my brain is pulling on the reins in that direction. But a selfish part of me just wants to relish in tonight’s events. He didn’t have to sit by me, and no one made him give me his number. I need to stop assuming that my presence is so revolting

When I knock on Jessie’s door she hacks a dramatic cough, and mumbles for me to come in.

“How are you feelin’?”

“Oh I’m better, yeah, so uh, how was your night? Did you like it? Did you have fun?” The covers are pulled up to her nose, her big eyes wide and shining right above them. “You look happy? Why’s that?”

“It was good,” I sigh, leaning against the door frame. “I’ll type up your notes in the morning.”

“I’ll probably feel up to it tomorrow,” she nods and I roll my eyes. “So uh, what did you like about it?”

“Oh...just...it was a good play. Really good.”

“Yeah? That’s it?”

I shrug. “What were you expecting?”

“Nothing, you just came in here with a big smile on your face, thought maybe…”

“Maybe what?”

She clicks her tongue and shakes her head, sighing. “Nothin’, nothin’.”

“Alright, well, m’gonna go to bed then.”

“Okay...thanks for saving me tonight. Glad you enjoyed it.”

My lips twitch, but I manage to reign in a smile. “Yeah, I did.”

***

I’ll be at the Library this afternoon, so you can stop by. 4-ish.

I read over his text and check the time again. It’s four o’clock now, but I feel early. Fashionably late, that’s a thing, right…that I should have done? He said ish. Does ish mean early or late? My poor brain.

I slip the continuing rewrite of my report from my bag, as if to say when I walk in: I’m here for help with school, that’s all, no assumptions, please. It’s cool outside, and when I walk in there is no relief, and yet my hands sweat. I swipe them over the back pockets of my jeans.

“Hi!” Harry’s not in his work clothes, not in his school clothes either. Faded, light-washed jeans are not something I like, but this day is starting to feel weird, so I might as well throw that out the window too. They’re nice. The t-shirt is nice too. How is he not cold? “You made it.”

“Are you sure this is a good time?”

“I’m free all afternoon,” he chirps.

“Okay.”

He’s at the same table we worked at last time. When I sit down, he adjusts his glasses, and I notice his nails are painted black again. It’s just a color. Black. And yet he makes it look brand new, like he discovered it.

“So what questions did you have?”

How do you always look so good? “Um, I don’t like Henry Miller.”

He chuckles. Everything about me is porous, and I absorb him. I can count his teeth, brow hairs, the depth of his dimple; weird how the lines deepening around his eyes are so divinely explicit. He laughs again. “Me too, love.”

When you laugh like that I wanna pass out. “But I don’t know how to write about him like that. Everything I come up with sounds...childish.”

“I think one of the best things you can do is provide examples. Scour the text—believe me, there’s plenty to choose from—that display his character. The whole book is his autobiography with a fictional twist.”

“Okay. Thanks.” I stay in my head, and he waits for me to speak. I feel like he is always waiting for me to talk. “Um, and then the issue of feminism.” I pause and he nods. “One of the things I kept seeing online is that, um, well people were saying that the book upheld women because the man, Henry, he uh…um...”

“Couldn’t get it up?”

It’s not cold in here anymore, oh God. “Uh, yeah...that part.”

“Okay then. Tell me why.”

“What!?”

“How does that make you feel when you read it?”

I shake my head. What I feel? “It’s...shit. A man not, um, performing, does not and should never, be attributed to the value of a woman. Um, some people think this scene gives her...some kind of power or hierarchy. Or that she is this automatic winner. He doesn’t get to...y’know...and all of a sudden there’s a shift. He fails as a man, so by default she wins as a woman. And that’s how she earns her value. That’s gross.”

“Write that down,” Harry says.

“What?”

“That’s very well put. You took reference of the source, gathered your feelings, and produced a well thought-out conclusion. You can clean it up later, but go ahead and write that down before you forget it.”

***

Our conversation veers off the path once the questions I came with are answered, my report pushed aside. I’m much more calm now, and at times forget that we’ve only known each other for a couple months.

We talk about high school and then books and food. And he’s easy to talk to, I’m reminded. He laughs a lot and blushes a lot.

At one point he jumps up like a child on Christmas morning, urging me to follow him through the aisles so he can show me a book he just finished reading. There’s something very boy-like about him...very cute and sweet and cuddly. I consider making up questions about my report just to see this again...see him again.

Soon the sun starts dipping down, casting globes of shadows over the first floor. Ms. Bortnick flicks the lamps on and the room lights up, although there’s still a dark glow of evening around us. I’m busy flipping through Dickenson, looking for a poem I read years ago to show Harry. Once I find it and peer up, I’m frozen.

He’s standing right below a window, weight leaning on one leg, while he slowly turns the pages of a book. It rests in his open palm, fingers splayed out across the spine and both covers. I gulp. His hands are huge. There’s peace in his reddened cheeks, an artistic contrast to the crease between his brows. Lips are in a content line, and I’m buzzed with the thought that I now know the different looks of his lips. How to others he may appear annoyed or disturbed, but I can tell he’s quite happy.

He is serene, golden; a lighthouse beckoning me towards him. He picks up stray beams of light and swallows them whole, right before my eyes, without moving a muscle. Strikingly bizarre, his features. He’s one of those you don’t want to stop looking at. So I don’t, until he notices me and smiles, nodding back to our table.

I keep my finger in place of the page I’m on, but close the book when I sit down. He follows suit after me.

“D’you find it?”

“Mhmm.” I flip the cover open and spin the book around to face him.

“Read it.”

It’s a gentle request, soft, with the hint of a question mark at the end. I clear my throat as quietly as possible.

““Hope” is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune without the words,

And never stops at all.

And sweetest in the Gale is heard;

And sore must be the storm

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm.

I’ve heard it in the chillest land

And on the strangest Sea;

Yet, never, in Extremity,

It asked a crumb of me.”

My heart beats wildly in my chest, and I have to take a moment before looking up at him. He stayed foggy in my peripheral while I recited, mouthing along with his hand lazily hung over his lips, pretending not to know the words.

“I love that one,” he croons, “haven’t heard it in a while.” He slides the book across the table and starts flipping through the pages.

I watch his nails dance, and after a minute I have to clear my throat and look away, like I’m watching something I’m not supposed to, and don’t wanna get caught.

“Ah, here.” His face grows serious, lips sewn together.

My heart somersaults, because I know I’m about to be gifted with strings of moments filled with his voice. I straighten in my seat and hold my breath.

“Remorse is a memory awake,

Her companies astir, —

A presence of departed acts

At window and at door.

It’s past set down before the soul,

And lighted with a match,

Perusal to facilitate

Of its condensed dispatch.

Remorse is cureless, — the disease

Not even God can heal;

For ‘t is his institution, —

The complement of hell.”

“I remember that one,” I whisper. There’s something about myself that I suddenly don’t like, and it’s how attractive I find sadness dripping off his tongue. In a much different way than his nails.

“Yeah,” he sighs, lost in his head. I can practically see the gears turning behind his eyes. “How about something more...upbeat?”

***

We share more poems, and get back to a place where we’re smiling. Although, with each passing moment, Harry grows more and more fidgety. His hands can’t seem to stay still, traveling from his mouth to his neck to his rings. He’s the one who keeps starting new conversation topics, in between finding books, but I’m scared it’s me that’s got him anxious.

“I uh,” he starts, after he closes one of Edward Lear's books of limericks. His voice has softened like butter. Smooth like whiskey when it’s 2 am. I forget what time it actually is when he looks at me, his eyes watery, and suddenly, I wish I was drunk. “Um. Can I—is it alright if we—” he shakes his head, eyes tired, tongue-tied. “I—”

“There you are!”

We both jump when a tall, thin guy runs up to our table, out of breath and frantic, he starts tugging on Harry’s arm.

“C’mon, we’ve got a gig. Last minute. Been tryin’ to call you for an hour. Let’s go.”

Harry’s stuttering, looking between me and who I assume is a friend of some sorts, while he eventually complies with the man’s actions and rises from his seat.

“I uh, I’m so sorry...turned my phone off…” I can’t tell who he’s talking to, all I know is that he looks devastated for some reason.

“It’s okay, Harry,” I urge, gathering my things. “We were finished anyway. Thank you for helping me. Again.”

The friend, now standing by the front door, calls Harry’s name repeatedly. Harry’s clearly reluctant in moving towards him, offering up more apologies.

“It’s fine, really.” I push down the disappointment filling me up, and force a smile on my lips. “Go...do whatever you’ve got to do.”

“Right, right, uh—”

“Let’s go!”

“Well, if you need any more help, just let me know. Just text me whenever. Whenever you want.”

“Harold!”

“I will.”

“Okay. Yeah, I’ll see you then?”

“You’d better go,” I laugh, “he’s about to pop.”

“So am I,” Harry mumbles, and trudges off towards his impatient friend.

***

Pickles. Pickles are everywhere. All over our counters, in the sink, the table, the chairs. Jars of pickles. On the couch, the floor, the window sill.

Jessie broke up with Anthony.

When she broke up with Charles, it was sour kraut. Devin was jello. Kaiden was black licorice. Brian was pomegranate. She should make a scrapbook.

“One to ten?” I ask, opening a jar of kosher dill. My mouth waters when the salt hits my nose.

“Five.”

“That’s better than yesterday.” The corners of my jaw tingle unnecessarily when I bite into the green spear. I twitch and wait for it to pass.

She didn’t go into detail about what happened, or even who broke up with who. I came home from my evening with Harry at the library, to find her amongst a storm of soiled tissues on our couch.

There isn’t much to a Jessie breakup. She cries, swallows her feelings emotionally, and whatever random food—physically, calls the guy on the phone to tell him he’s a bastard, and then starts looking for someone new.

In the meantime, I pretty much steer clear of her. With Anthony living so far away, I never had to worry about coming home to them undressing in the living room, or shoving my head under the pillow while I tried to fall asleep. But I’m sure it won’t be long until she’s gushing about someone again, so I need to enjoy my boy-free apartment while I can.

“Y’know, he really pisses me off,” Jessie thinks aloud. She’s sprawled out in the armchair—my chair by the window, where I haven’t sat in a week—with her legs dangling over the side. She bites a pickle in half, and speaks through her chewing. “I mean, here I am, basically just waiting on him every day to call or text or send me a picture...like I really thought he was happy. He got a relationship without all the bells and whistles. Guys dream of that, right?”

I shrug. How the hell should I know?

“Bastard. I’m gonna call him.”

She caps the jar and springs from the chair, slamming the door to her room behind her.

I just hope the next guy has his own place.

***

I don’t know how long I’ve been here. New York, I mean. Sometimes it feels like forever, but then I remember my childhood existed elsewhere, high school sucked, and traffic had nothing to do with it. I’m pretty sure each time I leave and go back home, I’ve aged an extra ten years, like I’ve traveled to space and back. I keep finding traces of this city, in every nook and cranny of my life.

Mom was worried about me when I left. But moms worry about everything. I worry about everything, too. So her not so restrained fears, that she kind of pushed out of her mouth with a hiss, like she wasn’t sure if I was capable of absorbing the truth, didn’t really help me.

It’s a biiiig city. You’re not used to that. I just don’t want you to get swallowed up.

She was right. Sort of. Because you don’t move to New York. New York moves into you. It has its own heart and bones and skin, separate from the rest of the country. And soon your own body starts to wrap around this. Your heart becomes more tolerable to grease-soaked dinners at three in the morning. Your bones strengthen like cement so you can stand still through a harsh stop by a train. Your skin grows so thick, any number of insults bounce right off until they hit the pavement.

What New York hasn’t prepared me for, in the however long I’ve been here time-frame, is Harry Styles in my home. Using the words Harry and home in the same sentence makes me feel like I’ve jumped right into one of the chalk drawings from Mary Poppins.

Right now he’s standing at the big window, in the exact spot where I like to stand, running his hand over his stubble. He adjusts his glasses, and then I think he sees me in the reflection of the glass because he smirks. I duck my head back down and continue on the dishes.

It’s an odd string of events that places him here. Odd for other people—not so much me. Jessie apparently badgered Elliot while they were in class, complaining about her breakup, to the point where she convinced him to go out drinking. And then because Elliot doesn’t drink, and Jessie found that reason enough to drink more, I was awoken at midnight to Elliot banging on our door and Jessie singing her own version of The Way You Make Me Feel. And standing behind the two of them, after I swung the door open in my pajamas, while taking my retainer out, and swiping acne cream off my chin, stood Harry.

Harry was not in his pajamas, and he didn’t have a string of spit connecting his mouth to a piece of plastic, and he didn’t have a giant volcano ready to erupt on his face.

After Elliot dragged Jessie inside, he was left standing there, a quirky smile on his face while he did a kind of half-wave, short and dry in front of his body, and whispered out a soft hey.

Now it’s one am. I’m doing dishes because I’m nervous with this man in my space. Nervous that he’s going to pick up on details about me that I haven’t given permission to be leant out just yet. We can hear Jessie’s drinks making their way into the toilet, and Elliot encouraging her like she’s in a race. I didn’t know what to do with my hands or my mouth, so I filled the silence and busied my limbs with everything that had piled up in the sink the past few days. If they don’t leave soon, I may have to start washing clean forks and knives.

“This is a nice view.”

“Yeah,” the word drifts off, mixing and popping with the bubbles in front of my face.

“I like your apartment.”

“Thanks...most of it’s Jessie’s stuff.”

He nods. “Here, let me…” His face is stern, like he’s preparing to start working on a car engine, and not sliding the dish towel off the counter. He tosses it over his shoulder and starts rolling the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. I forget where I’m at and what I’m doing and even my name.

“Oh you don’t have to…” Dear God his nails are still painted.

“No, no, it’s the least I can do.”

The tendons in his hands pulse, rippling, like when you skip a stone into a calm pond as he dries the first plate. His fingers are long, and there’s generous space between his thumb and the rest of his digits that, for whatever absurd reason, I find attractive.

We work in relative silence, only the slight sloshing of water and the clinks of his rings on the dishes. I regret not turning the tv on at least, and I can feel us both sorting out conversation topics in our heads.

“Is that your report?”

When I look at him, he’s pinching his glasses in his hand, and using a free finger to swipe a few suds that had found their way to the side of his nose. He nods to the coffee table where all of my school works lays in a mess.

“Yeah, among other things.”

“Mind if I have a look? Have you worked on it since we last talked?”

“I haven’t done much...but go ahead. You may have to dig a little to find it.”

He dries his hands and strides around the counter, sitting on the edge of the couch. His sleeves are still rolled up—a blood orange sweater, and charcoal slacks that rise up to reveal matching socks. He picks through piles of paper and folders and flash cards until he finds what he’s looking for. A few of his curls fall and I can only see the bottom half of his face.

I finish washing before he’s done reading. And on a random act of impulse—there’s that New York in me—I dry my hands and make my way over to Harry.

“The quote you added, on the third page,” he sweeps his hair off his forehead when I sit down in the chair beside the couch, “brilliant.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, you did an excellent job. And honestly, the entire thing, it’s incredible. It’s easy to talk about your opinion, but it’s difficult to actually back it up. You make it look easy.”

“I can assure you it’s not.”

He laughs without looking up. When he finishes and sets my paper down, he starts sifting through all the other work laid out before him. “How’s your chemistry class going? Didn’t you say you were having trouble?”

“Oh that was at the beginning of the semester. I think I was just overwhelmed.” I swallow and push my brows together. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

“Well, yeah,” he laughs bashfully. His elbow rests on his knee, cradling his face in his hand with his mouth hidden by the heel of his palm. He blinks slowly, and his Adam’s apple bobs. “How about the homework for our class, the analysis on Slaughterhouse Five?”

“I finished that this morning, uh, I squint down at the table until I remember, “oh it’s in my bag.” I point to the space beside him where my school bag lays on the floor. “It’s right in there. You can look over it if you want.”

He slides my bag over and props it up on his lap, and I keep a hurdle of curses from leaving my mouth when my phone ringing beside the sink startles me. I hurry over to the kitchen only to see it’s just a voicemail from school, reminding me to register for next semester. On my way back, Harry’s face is set into a frown.

“Are you—did you find it? I thought I put it in there?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he holds up a piece of paper, “I got it.”

When I sit back down it takes him a moment to drag his eyes off me, clearing his throat and straightening his glasses, then reading over the one page we were supposed to write.

“Very good, well thought out,” he nods along to his comments, “I like your comparison to Ubick...you made really insightful connections.”

“So...I’ll get an A, right?”

“Yeah,” he laughs, slipping the page back into my bag. After he zips it up, we’re sitting in silence again, but not for long. “So, I’ve been wanting to ask you,” Harry clears his throat, and shifts on the couch to better face me, “would you—”

“Oh my God, don’t ever let me drink again.” Jessie hobbles through the bathroom door, Elliot right behind her as he helps her to her room.

“What were you saying?” I ask once they’re gone.

“I—”

“That was intense. Horrific, actually.” Elliot bounds into the living room, plopping down beside Harry with a dramatic sigh. “And she only had like, four drinks!”

“Yeah she’s a lightweight. She doesn’t think she is, but I’ve spent many long nights holding her hair back for hours because of a shot or two.”

“Do you want me to stay?” Elliot asks.

“No I’ve got her from here. Thank you for getting her home, Elliot.”

“Anytime,” he chirps. “Okay, well,” he pats Harry’s thigh, “we’ll get out of your hair.”

“Uh, yeah,” Harry adds, pushing up from the couch with his friend. “I’ll see you in class Monday, y/n.

“I’m sorry you spent your night drying dishes.”

“What are you talking about? It’s basically a hobby of mine.” The words are cool when they slip out, but it takes me a second to register the joke before I laugh.

“Thanks again,” I say while opening the front door.

“No problem,” Elliot assures me. “Hey, tell Jessie I like her tattoo.”

“She showed you her tattoo?”

“She showed the whole bar her tattoo.”

All I can do is shake my head and laugh.

“I’ll see you.” Harry’s movements are much more collected than Elliot’s. When I look past the threshold of the apartment, to the pair of them standing there, I have to hold back a smile that I don’t want to have to explain. It seems like Harry and Elliot are just...altered versions of me and Jessie. A bit opposite—Harry’s hands are stuffed in his pockets while he rocks on his feet, and Elliot pulls a miniature Rubik’s cube from his jacket.

“Bye, Harry.”

When he nods his dimple grows, and I know he’s fighting a smile.

***

The bell over the door jingles, and I force my eyes to stay focused on the menu hanging over the counter, and not acknowledge the attention I’ve drawn to myself. In a few strides, I’m across the room and waiting behind a short, bald man to order a sandwich.

My foot taps impatiently on the sticky floor, and I second guess my decision in coming here. It’s a little everything shop on the street corner by my dentist. And by everything, I’m including the line of ants crawling up the wall. It’s one of those places where layers of paint and wallpaper disguise the previous month’s investor. A seafood diner, an El Salvadoran bakery, pawn shop, and most recently—and with a wash of baker-miller pink slapped on—Don’s Place.

It’s eerie and unnerving inside, but cheap, and I didn’t want to eat all day before my teeth cleaning, so I’m kind of desperate at the moment. Light chatter fills the space, until someone starts coughing, and the strident atmosphere this place held disappears. When it’s ready, my order is nearly tossed to me over the counter. I grab the once frozen sandwich and fries before they hit the floor, and find a cramped two-seater booth in the corner of this place. I’m right below an air vent, so I keep my jacket on.

I pick the lettuce, that I asked not to have, off before taking a bite, and it doesn’t take long, now that I’m settled and still, for my mind to drift to Harry. He’s really set up camp in my brain—but I’m not complaining. My daydreams are stirring, a little less innocent than I’m used to, and at times I have to catch myself from drifting too far off. Even when he’s right in front of me in class, I wander, practically drowning in my own imagination, getting washed away in him. And I think he notices...I’m not sure if he knows what I’m thinking about, but judging by the smirk he gives when he calls my name, I think he might

Jessie keeps teasing me too, and it’s getting harder to keep my composure. All she has to do is stare at me for a few seconds after I come back from class, and I break. I’ll tell her what he was wearing, what words sounded particularly better from his accent, what questions he asks me in class. I don’t ever answer, just mumble out a come back to me, which spares me until the next class.

I’m rapidly finding a reason for addiction in every minuscule movement he makes. How domestication and carnal activity fuse together under his touch. Pushing his glasses up his nose is both endearing and erotic. The way his tongue hovers over his teeth when deciding his words is hypnotic and wholesome Quickly, he is turning into an adoration. He’s really almost too good to be true, and not the arrogant son of a bitch I pegged him as when we first met.

“Hey.”

I jump. This time his voice is not in my head. I force the bite down my throat and smile. “H—hi.”

“I uh,” Harry starts, eyes glistening, “saw you come in. Just thought I’d say hi.”

“Oh—yeah, hi, um—”

“Can I sit?”

“Yeah, sure,” I squeak.

He sits himself across from me, and I notice the flush creeping up his chest. His fingers dance all around each other, and his energy alone makes me nervous.

He gulps in a breath and smiles awkwardly. “How are you?” He asks.

“I’m good, just,” I nudge my half-eaten sandwich, “stopped for lunch.”

“That’s good, uh, there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you.”

“Okay…”

“You—I mean I—” he clears his throat. “Would you like to go out sometime? Just...nothing fancy, the two of us? Not school related? Is that something you would like?”

If I’m being honest, I have many regrets in life. Too many to count. Most too personal to share. If there’s one moment I could do over again, it is this one. I don’t know it yet, though.

I don’t know it as I scramble out of the booth, as I blurt out something about how I have to go, as I weave through this disgusting place, my feet sticking to the floor, plowing through the door.

I run all the way home. He only calls me twice, and when a third never shows up on my phone, I start to cry.

It’s such a weird place to be in. When you know you’re right in the middle of a mistake.

If there’s one moment I could do over again, it would be the night he came into the bookstore.

*******************************************************************************************

Thank you for beta reading for me!!! @cosmospy @aileenacoustic @afterstylesmadeit

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pandawritespoorly · 5 years ago

Text

With Time: Chapter 29 - Lila’s Plan

Author’s Note: Ooh! Bonus chapter! With a bonus scene I quick wrote at end while editing because I couldn't help myself.

Stay tuned for the summary of the next chapter at the bottom!

Chapter Summary: Where was Lila in chapters 27 & 28?

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She’s honestly disappointed in herself that it took so long for her to think of this. Lila had been hoping to find Marinette’s new school ever since the girl had left Dupont, and now Lila had finally realized she’d had the answer since December.

Felix Voclain.

He’d been one of the ones to assist Marinette at the Louvre that day, so it made sense to guess that the two attended the same school.

Already knowing where the boy went, Lila didn’t hesitate to go to the school ‘for a tour’. The class is under the impression she’s in South America or something like that.

She doesn’t really care - the morons can believe whatever they want.

Today is about finding Marinette.

Once in the office, she’s told her student guide will be arriving momentarily.

“Ah, here he is! Claude De Rosier! Claude, this is Lila, you’ll be showing her around today.”

The boy and girl stare at each other blankly. Lila isn’t sure what to think, because she’s sure she’s met him before - twice - but he’d insisted it had only been once, with legitimate proof to back up his claims.

The boy grins, sticking his hand out for her to shake, “Welcome to my school, Lila! I’m so excited to show you around!”

She isn’t sure what to make of his strange emphasis. It’s so slight, she isn’t sure if she imagined it or not.

As they shake, she smiles easily, “Thank you so much! I’m sure you’ll be a great guide!”

“The best!” he winks at her.

As they exit, Lila swears it looks like Claude wipes his hand on his leg. He rubs fingers against his palm a few times - confused - before subtly sniffing it, and frowning slightly. When he notices her glancing his way, he smiles reassuringly and leads her onward.

“Well, if you’re interested in transferring here, I can assure you this is a very welcoming school! There really wasn’t any need to rush out the door!” he takes some hand sanitizer from a dispenser on the wall - a lot more than what would be considered normal. Lila wipes her hand on her leg nervously as she responds.

“What do you mean?” She’d spent extra time on her appearance today. Being attractive helps sell a story more.

“Oh, well I just-” he pauses, looking over her slightly, “It’s nothing! Nevermind! Uh, here’s the math wing…” he hurriedly moves on to describe the current area of the school, commenting on teachers and the different subjects taught.

He is going over the locker arrangements - grade-wise - when he interrupts himself to say, “You know, my locker is close by. I’ve got a hairbrush you can borrow if you want…”

“I- uh- What?” Lila touches her hair self-consciously. It seems fine to her, but she can’t see all of it, “Is there something wrong with my hair?”

“Oh no! I just- nevermind! It’s fine!” he rushes to reassure her, but she can tell he isn’t being entirely truthful. Before she can ask for that hairbrush, he hurriedly moves onto another aspect of the school.

Lila keeps touching her hair, glancing in any reflective surface she could find, but none of them seemed to show her what was off about her.

“Oh! This is the theatre department! I can introduce you to some of my friends.”

The taller boy pushes through a door, holding it open just long enough that she had to catch it as she entered. He runs ahead, seemingly unaware.

“Amy! Victor! I was just showing a student around, and was wondering if we could talk to you!”

Claude has attracted the attention of two students, clearly a few grades above them. They turn to the boy welcomingly, agreeing as they turn to face the touring student.

She could have sworn that she saw recognition - and disgust - flash across their faces, but it’s gone before she gets a good look.

“I told her about that trip the three of us - and some of the other theatre kids - took to England! In December.”

Amy and Victor glance at each other. They went on the trip, as did many others, but Claude? Claude did not. There had been a running joke that ‘Claude was always with them’ to the point that one of the group had jokingly photoshopped Claude into several pictures, but Claude hadn’t actually gone.

He’d stayed home in Paris, especially since one of his friends - Marinette, sweet girl, a shame about the bullying they’d heard about - was going through a rough time. That wasn’t the only reason Cladue had stayed of course, but still. The point stands.

“Oh it really was a blast! We’re a really close group here!”

“Mhm! One big family! London was so fun!”

The pair may not know what’s going on, but they can play along. Amy and Victor both vaguely recognized the girl as someone they disliked, so they don’t have a problem screwing with her.

Lila grows uncomfortable as the boy keeps glancing at her head before correcting himself to make proper eye-contact. The girl seemed startled by some aspect of Lila’s appearance and frowned slightly before covering it up with a too-big smile.

“Oh, I forgot to introduce her! This is Lila Rossi.”

Oh, they most certainly know her. Most people in the school are familiar enough with her. She’s the one that was rumored to have done something to Marinette.

No one is quite sure of any details, but there’s a silent agreement among the school that the only ones allowed to bring up that girl around Marinette are her close friends. All others pretend she doesn’t exist.

Marinette doesn’t seem to have realized she joined a popular friend group. The former-quartet (now quintet?) had been known for being kind people who were fun to hang out with. Marinette had been adopted so quickly, and her nature seemed to be just as good-hearted, which made her just as popular. Not that she seemed to realize it.

When rumors started about bullying people were horrified. Then a name came up.

Lila Rossi.

The girl who is apparently currently standing in front of them.

Claude’s actions make so much sense now.

“I’m really not much of an actor! I haven’t been able to do much work since the accident…” she trails off, playing melancholy and waiting for the usual sympathy. It never hurts to pull her tricks in a new place.

It doesn’t come. Each person before her seems fixated on whatever they’d been looking at on her earlier.

“Oh! I’m sorry, did you say something?” Amy looks at her apologetically and the others break from their staring to make eye contact, though the older girl has to nudge Victor a little to get his attention.

Lila is really starting to wonder what’s wrong, but she’ll never admit to it. Repeating herself won’t do any good so she changes topics, “I just, uh, was saying that fashion is more my thing! My, uh, friend Marinette might have transferred here I was wondering if you knew her?”

“Nope! I don’t know any Marinettes!” Claude shakes his head regretfully.

Victor shakes his head as well, but Amy speaks up, “There is Marinette Pontbriand, but she’s in the musical arts department, and she’s not a recent transfer…”

“Uh, no. That’s not her. I must have gotten the school name mixed up…”

“Well, it was nice meeting you! We do have to get back to work now though.” Victor says, then he leans in, patting her hand comfortingly and speaking softly, “You’re so brave. It’ll get better I’m sure.”

He turns, and Amy waves. The taller girl pauses and turns back to Lila, similarly leaning in and speaking softly, “We all have those days.” the girl looks over Lila sympathetically, then digs in her bag to subtly hand her a pad and tampon. Amy hurries to join Victor.

What the-?

“Anyways, we should get back to our very important tour!” Claude breaks her out of her confused stupor.

“Y-Yes! Let’s!” She stuffs the period products into her bag and follows the boy.

---

By the end of the one hour tour, Lila feels shaky and confused. Everyone they spoke to seems to know something she didn’t - and that something had to do with her.

She’s never felt so self-conscious before. It’s driving her crazy, because she has no idea what’s going on. What do they all see?!

She smiles at Claude weakly as she heads out the door.

Lila turns to go home, deciding to not bother with school for the day.

Once home, she spends hours in front of the mirror, studying herself.

By the end of the day she’s taken 5 showers, washed her hair 3 times, tried ten new makeup routines, washed her clothes twice, and considered three different outfits for school tomorrow.

---

Bonus:

Kid Mime: so

Kid Mime: remember how i was suposed to be leeding a new studnt arownd 2day?

The Mom Friend: yeah? is somthin wrong? r they ok?

Kid Mime: i sure hope not

Kid Mime: it was liela

Melodie: Excuse me?! She has the nerve to come here?? Does she think we’re stupid?? That little brat had better count her lucky stars that I didn’t see her.

The Mom Friend: o goodness wat did u do

Kid Mime: i pretended that there was something wrong with her

Kid Mime: u no

Kid Mime: besides everything else about her

Kid Mime: i had to shake her hand and i made sure she saw me wiping my hand on my leg and using a ridiculus amont of sanitizer

Felix: As you should, after being in contact with her.

Kid Mime: of corse

Kid Mime: anyways i kept suggesting somethign about her lookd weird

Melodie: Besides the sausage hair?

Kid Mime: bsides the sasage hair

Kid Mime: i had her catch every door

Kid Mime: it was almst as satisfin as slaming 1 in her face

Kid Mime: uh

Kid Mime: o!

Kid Mime: teh best part is that as soon as i introducd her to peaple as liela evry1 messed w/ her 2

Kid Mime: i think amy gave her a tampon

The Mom Friend: well mari is a sweetheart

The Mom Friend: the scool is gunna protect there own

Felix: She has certainly made an impression here. I cannot think of anyone that does not like her.

Melodie: I’m so proud of her. Like, remember when we first met her Claude? She tripped over one of us or something and seemed to think we were going to yell at her, poor baby.

The Mom Friend: 2020 hindsite tho that makes a lot of sense

Kid Mime: she was so quietttttttt

Kid Mime: an it took like a month b4 she actualy hung out w/ us outside of scool

Kid Mime: :((((((

Melodie: She’s doing a lot better.

Felix: Speaking of, how is she now?

The Mom Friend: asleep

Melodie: Rest well, honey!!

---

Author’s Note: Lila, Lila, Lila. You are no match for my baby boy. I really do enjoy this chapter. Showing off my baby boy in a 'fox' v fox chapter.

Anyways, I know why you all stuck around. You want the chapter summary. Well, just so you know, the reason I'm giving it early is because I just love worrying you guys. Here it is: Ladybug goes down during a battle and Adrien can't find a pulse. 💕💕💕

Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave any thoughts, theories, constructive criticism, or anything really in my ask box, in replies or through reblogs. I love seeing what you think!

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#miraculous ladybug #with time #fanfic #lila rossi #Claude #marinette dupain cheng #quantic kids #allan #allegra #ml Felix #bonus chapter #text interactions #foxes #everyone loves marinette and protects this baby with their life

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entomancy · 4 years ago

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(Fic) Daywalkin’ in Vegas

...let’s be honest, this ‘short backstory fics’ thing has done what my writing tends to do, and Escalted. So let’s escalate.

Title: Daywalkin’ in Vegas (Wattpad) Setting: Increasingly not even serial-numbers-off-VTM. VTM infact exists in-world as a gaming system, which really annoys Fancy Vampires. Warnings: Gore; depictions of violence/ death against a child. Words: 6537 Summary: A failed siring gets the attention of two very different parts of Vegas Below; and a young blooded nosferatu puts herself in the centre of a dangerous balance.

Beep.

Twenty-eight forty.

Beep.

Thirty-one seventy.

Beep.

Nox watched the till display tick up, comparing the total to her mental tally. She had enough; she knew she did. It might have been in tattered bills, tarnished coin rolls and bits of change so old they were chipped like gears around the edges, but she was always real careful to plan these trips down to the grubby dime. In and out, as unobtrusive as possible.

Beep.

A final bag passed, the green-yellow numbers flickering one final time. The cashier smiled in customer service plastic as she read out the total, then followed it with a look of awkward concern.

“That’s all for you? We - er – we have some good specials,” she said hesitantly, nodding towards the little stack of brightly-labelled packages beside the register. It was mostly sweets and tampons, and Nox bit back on a grin at the sight. Nice thought, but that hadn’t been her ‘bloody’ problem for a while now.

“That’s it,” she replied, adding: “Thanks, though.” Sure, it was an upsell, but a kind one. The girl even managed to keep back any disgust at the state of some of the cash; it had been cleaned up, but people didn’t tend to drop crisp ones into a cup on the sidewalk.

Nox carried everything out to the repurposed shopping cart that she’d left just inside the little bodega’s doors. The thing was unbalanced and took corners like a drunk, but it was better than playing pack mule herself. The new bags settled down on top of the day’s earlier buys: bulk discount batches of toilet roll, bleach and superglue, along with cheap fabric for bandages. Plus, now, thirty-eight dollars and eighty-six cents’ worth of the cheapest mince and frozen shrimp available within a four-mile radius.

There had been a time when she’d had to worry about dietary fibre. Or vitamins.

The cart’s wheels creaked and rasped on sidewalk dirt as she headed it away, hunching down over the handle as she pushed; partly for more control, mostly to keep her face in shade. Her battered baseball cap and hoodie did a pretty good job – accompanied by garish plastic sunglasses and a stained bike mask – but every little helped. It also added to the overall ‘bag lady out on an afternoon shuffle’ aesthetic she was going for. The trick was to inspire just enough awkward pity to be invisible, but not enough to be a target.

Apparently, her act was off today. She’d just turned a laborious corner, distracted by trying to keep the bags all stacked, when she felt a hand clamp down onto the top of her head and yank hard. She didn’t move, but the hood pulled away and she heard a yelp of disgust even before she swivelled around. Two young men stood behind her, gawking in revulsion at the revealed state of Nox’s scalp, in all its piebald, peeling, erratically-thickened glory. A thin braid slithered down her face, torn too-easily free along with the hood.

She gave the scene one more heartbeat to really settle in, before grinning widely. Faced with a mouthful of teeth like broken ivory, the youths managed to look even more horrified.

“Aye, that’s how I caught it too!” Nox cackled theatrically, before snatching the hat back from now-unresisting fingers and jamming it back into place. “Don’t go scratching yerself anywhere pretty fer a bit, eh?”

The lad – and his already-retreating backup – hesitated, then let out a string of bravado-born obscenities. Freak – gross – blah blah blah I-have-a-tiny-dick blah. He kicked at the cart as he started follow his friend, and Nox let just enough spill out to sate the petty spite.

Once they had gone, she picked up the packets again and began to fix her hood. The exposed skin was stinging and smarting already, a poison-ivy prickle that calamine wouldn’t touch. At least it was late enough in the afternoon that she probably wouldn’t blister from the exposure. More annoying was the missing chunk of hair, and she probed at it gingerly. No deep wound, thankfully; which probably meant that the straggly braid had been almost ready to fall out anyway. She tended to keep about half a head of hair going, on average; so it’d grow back.

The lads were long gone by the time she was ready to set off again. With any luck she’d be nothing more than an awkward moment in a day of shoving their weight around; quickly forgotten. Being gross in the eyes of idiots wasn’t a Breech, after all.

The rest of the trip back was uneventful. Streets gave way to alleys, sidewalks to cracked paving, to rotting asphalt, and even the graffiti began to wane as she got closer to home. The main occupants of this ass-end of nowhere – a ghetto’s dumpster of a place – didn’t exactly make it their business to advertise where they were. Those that needed to know; knew. Those that knew, generally didn’t care – which was honestly a hell of a lot better than the alternative. Nox had heard the stories of what it had been like only twenty years ago. It was strange to feel that there was any sort of luck to her history, but six years wasn’t twenty.

Reaching a gap in an otherwise unremarkable wall, she glanced around quickly, making sure that no one was watching. Then she straightened up, gripped either side of the overloaded cart, and hefted it up through the broken brickwork in one smooth movement. She vaulted in after it, dropping down into cool shade, and let out a sigh of relief as the accepting touch of Karloff’s Invitation washed across her. The sense was like a door opening in welcome; like taking the first familiar turn towards home after a long day’s drive. It also meant no more unwanted attention – without that explicit permission, you’d never be able to recognise the entrance, or even keep your attention on what you were looking for. She was as invisible now to all other turned-aside eyes as everything else within the Invitation’s borders.

A few more rattling corners later, Nox finally turned into the Homestead grounds. The whole area had once been a crammed-in mess of squat apartment blocks, copy-paste civic solutions built without charm to fill the need for cheap rooms. The Homestead was the only one of its kin still standing, now surrounded by an opened-out area of recent amateur demolition and scrap-built fencing. Bright splashes of street art cut across sagging concrete and the blacked-out eyes of the windows, although the tags and themes chosen indicated the difference between these creators and the more standard ones of the world outside. Most of this had been painted at night, for example, with rather more variety on the theme of ‘hands’ grasping the tins.

There was a lot more inside, and below, but she felt a particular warmth at these murals. Out here, on the surface. Bright in sunshine that most of them could never see. The Nosferatu might be Vegas Below’s crusty little secret, but they were damn well there.

Bits of cracked paving clicked and skittered beneath the cart’s wheels as Nox made her way through the fences and to the big, bolted main doors. There was a rough porch built around the frame, mostly to give extra shadows, and she looked up at the tiny glints of watchful glass sunk into the surrounding wall. She waved.

“Dimestore-Blade’s grocery delivery,” she announced, and listened to the familiar rattle of bolts start on the other side of the door. A few moments later it swung open and a hunched figure peered out, wincing back from even the thick porch shade. This was Max; an older woman than Nox in both kinds of age, who managed her marks via a combination of extensive bandaging and even more extensive needlepoint. Watery black eyes looked past her, squinting through a gap in the heavily-embroidered scarf wrapped around her head.

“All okay?”

Nox nodded and lifted the trolley over the threshold.

“Fine.” She didn’t mention the youths. Didn’t seem a lot of point. “Let’s get this lot into the freezer before it can walk on its own, yeah?”

Safely inside the slightly-fetid gloom of the entrance, Nox took the opportunity shed her bag-lady layers. True, she couldn’t actually overheat, even on a Nevada afternoon, but being swathed in that many layers was still claustrophobic. Beneath the mismatched fabric strata was an increasingly-threadbare pair of yoga pants and a dark vest, and Nox gave a small sigh of relief as she folded up the rest of her daylight-drag, shoving it onto a shelf nearby.

“Right,” she muttered, as much to fill the air as anything else, and turned back to the trolley. Max had already transferred much of it into precarious piles in her own arms. Her scarf had slipped down, revealing a hairless head webbed with splitting skin; much of it made whole again with patterned patches of colourful thread. The fabric discoloured over time, of course, but it reduced the leaking.

Balancing their burdens, the pair made their way further into the Homestead. Closest to the entrance was the most decrepit part, occupied mostly by shelves and old furniture crammed full of clothes and patched umbrellas for venturing out, and with years of dumped debris building up in corners. Rooms with windows – even those as thoroughly blacked out or bricked up as these were – mostly housed the rat runs or storage, because no one wanted to spend a lot of time somewhere where crap mortar could result in dayburns. Similarly, the roof and most of the top floor was given over to pigeon roosts and No avoided them whenever possible. She’d never much liked pigeons before this, and she still held that even their vitae tasted of garbage, somehow. Still, they were much dumber than rats, and they did lay eggs, so that helped.

The really lived-in part of the Homestead was underground. Everybody knew Nosferatu lived in the sewers, right? Okay, so Nox would admit she hadn’t much understood the difference between ‘sewer’ and ‘storm drain’ before her life had taken its scabby turn, but she sure did now. Vegas had extensive storm drains – large concrete tunnels that lay under much of the city, designed to quickly shift heavy rain away from the tarmacked surface above – and they were ideal: underground, dark, not monitored.

And not actually full of shit.

The arrangement used to be… messier, Karloff had told her. When they hadn’t been so organised; when they’d lived closer together with others who had slipped through the cracks Above. Some of the Family had started off as those same ‘unfortunates’ after all; those who were aftermath-sired in a broken frenzy, or from the bloody jaunt of some fuckfang cutting through the ranks of those who wouldn’t be missed. Splitting their claimed tunnels off from the main circuit and establishing the Homestead proper had happened later, after the Vegas Accord had given the Nosferatu a Clan-status, and hunting them for sport stopped being an acceptable weekend activity.

Six years sure ain’t twenty.

Max chatted away as they walked; an idle litany of gossip, social media tidbits and reports from watchers all over the city, woven together into what Nox tended to think of as ‘Radio Max’. Spying on people was apparently another nos stereotype; but honestly when you didn’t really sleep, were functionally invisible to large portions of society, and had worked out how to divert half-decent broadband from badly-secured leisure networks overhead, it wasn’t difficult to get ahead on current events.

Plus the rats, of course.

Information was power, and they had precious little of any other. Although Nox sometimes wondered how much of those scant threads of power that Karloff put such value on would diminish if Clanpires in general figured out how to just Google things.

They had reached what she thought of as ‘mainstreet’ of the Homestead tunnels – a long space with concrete pillars linking floor to ceiling every thirty feet or so, quite cheerfully lit by a mishmash web of light fittings rigged up overhead – when yelling broke out further down. Nox and Max shared a look of alarm at the commotion, but it was when her name became suddenly clear in the shouts that Nox’s stomach dropped.

“Get this stuff away, will you?” she muttered, carefully setting her packages down beside Max, and turned to meet the oncoming figures. Even wrapped in a heavy coat and thick gloves, she knew the loping form of Skaad instantly.

With features which sagged so violently that his bruise-yellow skin frequently tore at the edges, and a mouth like a lipless sharps bucket, Skaad was nonetheless gifted with some of the keenest senses in the clan, plus a damn-near eidetic memory. Which meant he spent most of his time skulking in hidden places, listening to things he shouldn’t, and following people who thought they were alone in their secret business. Having him sprinting towards you, so fast his eyelids were visibly flapping, wasn’t a great sign.

Back in the world Above – before her life had gone to hell in a weirdly specific way – Nox had been a paramedic. It was useful in the day-to-day, being the closest thing this bunch of ragged immortals had to a resident doctor, but there was only really one sort of actual emergency left down here.

Skaad skidded to a halt, and grabbed her arm with a worrying urgency.

“Got a phresh one. Get yer kit!”

Fuck. A fresh one meant one thing: someone had found a dumped fledgeling, one who’d been showing signs of the Change going wrong and been tossed aside by their disgusted sire. Intervening quickly could help, particularly getting a pigeon smoothie down them fast, but the panic on Skaad’s drooping face didn’t line up with -

“What’s so – ?” she started, but he shook his head, steering her towards the plastic-covered tunnel they used as a makeshift clinic. He leaned in to shove her again, but lowered his voice and muttered just before he did – and the words sent ice down her spine.

“It’sh a kid.”

Oh no.

Oh fuck.

You didn’t turn kids.

When your working knowledge of vampires had been a general pop-culture miasma and some blurry memories of teenage Buffy marathons, finding yourself on the other side of the supernatural coin came as a shock in various ways. One of which was the weird sensation that you should have studied it all harder, somehow. Nox had certainly felt stupid, in her early days, as a man with a face like a charred wasps’ nest listened to her stutter her way through half-remembered fiction and worse-remembered reality. But she’d apparently got a few things right, and somewhere in that muddle had been the idea that you shouldn’t turn kids.

There were all kinds of theories as to why – from the debauched to the practical – but she found that in many ways it didn’t matter. Whatever fucked-up intention you had, it wouldn’t work. Too young just… didn’t take. And when a siring didn’t work, there was every chance the result would end up on her table.

She scrabbled through the assortment of old drawers and boxes that stored her gear, pulling out anything she thought might work. Bandages, thread, craft superglue, repurposed bottles of hard spirits that would do in a pinch for sterilising. The best-case scenario things. And the rest. Old herb pots of fine powders; thrift-store silver cutlery hammered and polished and changed into a very different set of tools. Sharpie-labelled bottles of liquids that moved weirdly in the light, and a range of refillable lighters that definitely didn’t contain hydrocarbons anymore. All the things she’d picked up in the last six years that fitted in with other sort of medicine.

The plastic curtain behind her was yanked back and a sound she had been trying not to hear finally demanded her attention. It wasn’t even a scream, and Nox hated, hated hated hated that she recognised the cadence there perfectly: raw, animal agony of sound torn from a throat that was violently reforming around it. She turned to see Skaad forcing flailing limbs down, looping thick restraints around rippling flesh, and finally allowed her full attention to turn down to the spasming form.

Gore looked different through vampire eyes. It was hard to describe exactly how – partly because wordsmithery had never been one of her strong points, but more because trying to compare feelings from now and then was always going to have a huge fucking hurdle of shifted species in the way. She’d still probably seen more human blood in nine years on the ambulances than during the half-dozen in and out of Vegas’ shadows, and but everything afterwards had been… different. Displaced. Detached. Just didn’t seem as visceral as it used to do.

But this did.

Acid tightened in Nox’s throat as she stared down at the shuddering mess in front of her. Blanched skin bubbled and writhed, tearing as it pulled away from the muscles beneath; themselves little more than contorting ropes of livid tissue that pulsed under dying heartbeats and spilled black fluid from ever-widening rents. The throat was gone, now a bubbling pit of desperate breaths, sucked past exposed tendons that wriggled like furious worms. Half-clotted ichor was pooling from gashes along the arms, down the stomach and further: the marks of peri-sire wounds, those that had been still fresh as the invading blood forced itself into collapsing veins. The eyes were side-to-side a sickly crimson-yellow, bloating out from a face that was collapsing in on itself, and throughout it all, the kid screamed.

It was revolting. Nox had to bite down on the vicious spikes of fight-flight that were going off in her mind, so violently she could feel her hands trembling from the horror and her disgust at her own reaction. It was an instinct, an unbidden response to a failing siring – she knew that – but understanding it didn’t make it easier. Everyone down here had ‘gone nozz’ during their own Turn. Hell, a few of those brought to her were walking around now, not seeming any weirder than any of them, but she’d still felt that awful surge of fundamental wrongness about them before they stabilised.

Nox gritted – all of – her teeth, and slammed her kit down on the table.

Instincts can fucking blow me.

“Let’s see what we can do.”

It turned out what they could do, wasn’t much. Cleaning, sewing, cutting, sealing – nothing held. Stitches fell from uncertain skin, or tore great new holes as fresh spasms pulled at the edges. Wet rags soon littered the floor, sodden with black and yellow fluids that turned the rough concrete into a slippery, stinking mess. The bleeding wasn’t slowing, even as the body seemed to be crumpling in on itself, gradually liquefying around the bones.

The sound had gone quieter, if not softer, and Nox didn’t have much hope it would stop soon. It might be days yet, before the final sparks of vitae or life or cruel continuation finally went out.

Too young. The kid – the girl, most likely, going by anatomy – had been just… too young.

They had to have known that.

“I’m outa tricks,” she said, although the words felt thick and sharp in her mouth. She wanted to keep going. She wanted to, so fucking much. But somebody had done this. Somebody who knew this would happen.

“I’m gonna make her comfy,” she continued, then hesitated even as she pulled out the frankly-horrific cocktail of morphine and street drugs that might make a dent in a system caught somewhere between undead and alive. Skaad looked at her, and held out a clawed hand.

“Want me…?”

“Nah.” Nox shook her head, and swallowed. “You can get the others outta upstairs, though. I need to – to make a call.”

Skaad stiffened, his jaundiced eyes flicking between her and the table for a moment, before he let out a low hiss and ducked away through the curtain. Nox administered the mix and tried to convince herself it would have any sort of palliative effect. Then she went back to the drawers and rummaged again, right at the back, until her fingers closed on the ridged plastic of an old nokia.

There weren’t many numbers in the phone, but it was the first one she selected, under B.

- SUMFCK SIRED KID. ITS BAD -

She threw the phone back into the drawer and hurried out, past the plastic sheet and into the tunnels, leaving sticky footprints in her wake. Not a great look, but everyone would already know what was happening. Nosferatu gossiped like – well, like a society of insomniac, semi-immortal shut-ins.

Overhead, an erratic cluster of repurposed pipes trailed down through the domed roof, emanating from the rat runs above. Drainpipes, corrugated plastic, bits of plumbing, and all of them shaking slightly with the constant pass of tiny feet within. They opened out onto tiny highways of shelving that lined the walls, all heading in the same direction as she was. Pairs of black-beady eyes glanced at her as they passed, and with so many concentrated here, she could feel the faintest flick of Attention in each one. They were all headed to a squat metal door at the end of an offshoot passageway. The rats passed freely back and forth narrow holes punched in either side of the door; but Nox knocked. She knew she was already expected and entered after a respectful moment.

Karloff’s chamber was bigger than it looked like it would be from the doorway. Nox wasn’t sure what the space had originally been – some kind of maintenance room? – but it was now dark, and warm, and smelled less of rats than might be expected given the constant rodent tide. Shelves lined the walls, full of books and occasional pieces of recycled pet furniture. One floor-ceiling tower was filled entirely with old radios, police scanners, walkie talkies and the like.

The old man himself lay where he usually did, propped up in a nest of pillows and blankets in a box-like bed in the centre of the room. He presented an impossibly gaunt figure: papery-brown skin layered like peeling paint across sharp bones, with eyes so thickly clouded they sat like grey-milk marbles in unclosing sockets. His face looked scorched, blackened at the edges of the old dry wounds that had taken his nose, torn away most of his lips, and presumably shattered the broken fangs that jutted from his mouth. There was – as usual – a huge white rat lazing across his chest, nearly the size of a terrier and wearing a dark silken ribbon, and its sharp crimson eyes fixed on Nox as she entered.

She bowed her head, and tried not to leave bloody footprints on the rug.

“I need a temporary Invitation,” she said. It was blunt, but there was no point in dancing around it. He’d already know anyway. As she spoke, the huge rat sat up. It’s pale paws were clasped in front of it, folded in a strangely human-like gesture, but Karloff himself turned his head only slightly.

“’Belton,” he said softly, in the throat-based hush of his voice, and Nox nodded. Her fingers twitched into fists, and she felt the sticky remnants of gore slide between them.

“I… I’m running out of options, and she – ” the words were sticker than her fingers, getting caught on her lips “ – she’s real bad.”

The rat cocked its head and Karloff drew a slow breath.

“You will not do it?” he asked. Nox’ throat tightened.

“If I gotta. But I want him to see her, cos I – I could do this, but I ain’t got a snowball’s chance of doing anything about it.”

Karloff’s head turned further, and the clouded eyes passed over her with an intensity that Nox could feel, as if they skipped sight entirely and went right into her heart instead. There was another stretched moment of silence, then the pressure dropped and the rat turned away, curling itself neatly under its master’s chin.

“It is done,” Karloff said. The long fingers on one hand twitched slightly, and the faintest hint of a frown dug into his face. “...take care with the old death. You have seen little of him.”

“Yeah, I know. Thank you,” Nox added before she headed out again; first to check that the cocktail of drugs had at least calmed the kid’s screams, then back into the upper house. A few rats followed her as she slid into the squeaking, busy dimness of the runs to use the sink that still stood in one corner, using brownish water to at least scrub some of the stains from her hands. Then she set to wait, pacing with nervous energy.

No one joined her. By now, everybody would know what was happening, and no one wanted to be around when he came calling.

The problem – okay, so one of the problems, in a dreadful, tangled ball of ever-more layered problems – was that it was very, very difficult to kill a fledgeling in any way that could be considered humane. A body already in the process of tearing itself apart was resistant to most damage for the same reasons that you couldn’t punch a fog. Getting any kind of drug to land in an even-partly vampiric system was difficult enough at the best of times, and this…

Well, there was sunlight, but everything about Nox’s very being baulked at the idea of using that method. She knew with personal, hellish intimacy that the agony from that would get through even a Change. Torturing someone to death with one of the few things worse than what they were going through was really not the point.

Plus, there was a tiny, tiny part of her mind that hoped she was wrong. She’d only been dealing with this stuff for a handful of years, and while rumours varied widely about how old Belton actually was, he’d seen a lot of shit. Maybe she’d missed something. Just maybe…

It seemed to take an eternity before the roar of an engine outside broke through Nox’ whirling thoughts. She hurried to the door, took a careful breath, and peered out through the little viewing slot. Not that anyone else would have been able to ride a motorcycle up to the Homestead without the permission of Karloff’s Invitation, but it never hurt to keep caution.

A huge bike was settled just beside the front steps. It was black, but in the way a magpie’s wings were black, with oil-slick iridescence hinting around the edges. The rider – dressed to match, in that seamless continuity of clothing that Nox had started to think of as ‘vampire sunscreen’ – had already dismounted and was stood beside his bike, the raven-sheen of his helmet turned towards the door. There was no visible gaze to meet, but the weight of his attention was like ice down her spine, and she opened the door as deliberately as she could.

“She’s downstairs,” she said, as the figure came up the steps. The sun was already going down, barely spilling dying light over the surrounding wall of buildings, and the porch shadow was very deep there. It only got deeper as the big man stepped into it – and then paused, right on the edge of the frame.

“May I enter?” His voice was never as heavy as she expected, with a melodic edge that absolutely did not match what she knew lay under that helmet. Nox rolled her eyes.

“I texted you, and you’re here, right?”

He was always so… old fashioned about this. It wasn’t like it was a general requirement. Nox stepped back, gesturing inwards.

“Come in already,” she added. The man might have been big – although ‘fucking enormous’ would be a better description, needing to visibly turn and duck to get through the doorframe – but he moved deceptively fast, and was well inside the hallway, starting to remove his helmet before she had had time to shut the door. She turned to look, not even pretending not to stare as he unclipped all the security bits and lifted it smoothly free. The dramatic effect was only slightly spoiled by the oddly-bulging balaclava he had on underneath – but Nox supposed that if her ears could meet at the back, she’d want to keep them restrained inside a helmet too.

Belton looked… well, he looked like Belton. There just plain wasn’t anyone else like that. The best description she had ever been able to come up with was that he looked like someone had tried very hard to make a bat in the character creation screen of a pro-wrestling computer game. It was as if the underlying architecture that should have made a human skull had been stretched and tweaked and twisted into something approaching Chiroptera from the other side.

It probably said something worrying about her own psyche that – somewhere in the mess of emotions that Belton inspired – a part of her really, really wanted to see an xray of his head.

No time for this.

“C’mon,” she nodded him to follow her back down the Homestead’s passageways. The rats watched them from every surface; their skittering highways unusually still as the majority of glinting little eyes were fixed on the visitor. They were the only visible watchers, and Nox tried not to notice how empty every space they passed through was. It added another level of eeriness, with the just-abandoned debris of life seeming like some extremely localised Rapture. Even Nox’ rapid explanation of the situation fell muted around them; for his part, Belton just listened and nodded every now and then. He didn’t look around.

How familiar was he, with this place? He’d come a few times since she’d been here – and of course, that first time meant he’d sure known where it was. Nox’ gaze slid sideways. Belton had removed his gloves by now, and the hands revealed couldn’t even remotely be thought of as human; the fingers were too long, bone and tendons standing stark beneath mottled grey skin; capped by black claws that curled from the nailbeds, polished to an obsidian gleam.

How many times had those hands run across the outer walls of the Homestead; at Karloff’s limits; searching for a way in? How many times had those claws torn into sagging flesh, or crushed furry watchers into broken blindness?

How many times had he come before he had brought her here; a crispy mess of fledgeling coated in sand and gravel and gore, spat out by the desert and into hands that immortals feared…?

The plastic curtain seemed to rise up like an exclamation, a cold shot of right now breaking her thoughts, and Nox came to a sharp halt. There was still sound from inside: a bubbling, slurred collage of moans that had made it past the drugs, and her hand froze halfway to the curtain. The swell of renewed, visceral revulsion felt like she’d choke on her own fucking hypocrisy, and she couldn’t suppress a slight hiss.

“It’s – ” she started, through gritted teeth, but cut out as Belton gently touched her shoulder.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Nox’ fingers twitched, then she turned away, moving until she could lean heavily against the nearest concrete pillar and rested her forehead against the pitted surface. The groan might as well have been coming out of the air. It pressed down around her and her skin crawled.

She hated this, and she hated that she hated it like this. Some depraved motherfucker had dragged a fucking child into very literal hell and she’d tried, she’d tried with every stupid, macguivered bullshit tool she’d put together out of garbage; she’d tried everything and it was never going to have meant a damn thing and all she could focus on, really really focus on right now was how fundamentally disgusting that fucking sound was –

And then it stopped.

Nox physically sagged against the pillar, relief and nausea chasing each other through a stomach that was dropping into her boots. There was only one reason for the sudden silence, and she let her eyes slide closed, muttering the same half-wordless prayer she’d always used when a case went bad, or a patient flatlined in the ambulance. Whatever that meant now, she’d never been sure, but it still sort of fit.

She’d known. She’d known when she picked up that damn phone.

But fuck me if hope isn’t a bitch.

It wasn’t long before there was the faint brush of plastic again and Nox opened her eyes to see Belton smoothing the curtain back behind him, covering the sudden stillness. There was a long moment of silence before he turned to her. His eyes were the most human-looking part of his face, and the grey gaze sought hers.

“I’ll be on my way, then.”

Nox nodded numbly. They went out the way they came; still alone, still watched at every step by a hundred rodent stares. Back up, back to the door and out into the thickening dusk of the evening – and it wasn’t until the porch steps were creaking under his boots that Nox’s nerve rose again.

“Hey – Belton?” she managed, and the big figure paused. He looked back at her and one curled brow raised, moving an ear with it. Nox pulled the Homestead door shut behind her as she sought the right words. “This… ain’t your job, right?”

“I don’t have a real tight specification,” he replied, then shrugged. “But broadly? No. To be honest with you, my boss couldn’t give a rat’s twat what happens with the Nosferatu.”

“So why’d you come?” Those words came fast, but Nox didn’t try to stop them. Belton paused again, then hung his helmet and balaclava over the big bike’s handlebars. He sat down on the steps, hunching a little in that strange shape his back took when he wasn’t standing, and Nox slid down beside him at the unspoken invitation.

Belton shook his head, what might have been a wry smile tugging at the edges of his too-wide lips. Glints of needle teeth flashed in the dusk.

“It’s a question of perspective, see,” he said quietly. “For someone like you? This’ll ruin your whole year. Getting all Lady Macbeth with the inevitable. But for me?” He held up a hand and slowly flexed the clawed fingers. Once; twice; and Nox couldn’t draw her gaze away from the mottled skin as it shifted over his bones. Belton sighed. It was an old sound, so old that any hint of what it might contain had worn away like stone under rain.

“What’s one drop in an ocean? Don’t get me wrong – ” he added, with the edge of smile falling away again “ – I’ll feel bad about it; but I’m not losing myself any sleep.”

She should have been angry. She wanted to be angry, at the casual way this bat-faced bastard just said it; as the so-recent feel of the kid’s crumbling flesh slammed against her thoughts and ghosted under her fingers, and bile she wasn’t even sure she had anymore swirled at the back of her throat. She should be angry.

“...thank you.”

“No need for that,” he replied – but Nox shook her head.

“Nah; there is. Things need saying.” She fidgeted with the hem of her pants for a silent moment, before continuing. “Don’t believe you actually sleep, though.”

This time there was no mistaking that Belton grinned; and the resulting expression was exactly as unpleasant as it sounded.

“No? Not even if I say I’ve got little bats on my pyjamas?”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Now that there’s uncalled for.”

Nox grinned, and even as she did she could almost hear Karloff’s voice in her head. Be wary of the old death.

And yet…

There was another long silence, although this one felt less tense.

…fuck it. When am I gonna get this chance again?

“They found her in the desert,” she said carefully, scuffing dust across the steps with one toe as she spoke; an idle motion to distract herself from the nerves inside. Belton nodded.

“Aye. Letting lady sun do the dirty work. It’s an almost foolproof method, really.”

Nox looked down at her own hands; where the patchwork of thickened tissue traced patterns like dry riverbeds over her pallid brown skin. The sun burned bits went blistered red, then dark and crackly, then sickly pale when that peeled; slowly edging back to her default. It sure as hell wasn’t pleasant; but it wasn’t the chemical-melting collapse of flesh that she’d seen on others.

“So, that make me a fool or an outlier?”

“I said almost.” Belton leaned back a little, looking up into the dark expanse of sky. “Always going to take a risk when you don’t stay to watch. Although I’ll admit it takes some big balls to stick around for that sort of disposal. What with the deeply ingrained phytophobia of your classic vampire, and everything.”

Nox raised her most intact eyebrow.

“This is more about your junk than I want to know.”

Belton laughed. Really laughed; the kind of melodic tone that bordered on a snatch of song and that was so very out of place coming from within that face.

“Oh, I’m not claiming that kind of testicular fortitude. Sunlight scares the piss out of me as much as it ever did. Don’t think it’s the kind of thing you can get over. Built-in, you know?”

“You ride about in the day,” Nox pointed out, and Belton waved a hand back towards his helmet.

“I’ve got some really bespoke protective gear, see. Amazing what’s been done with polymers in the last thirty years.”

Nox blinked.

“��you’ve got bike pleathers?”

“Technically I’ve got an integrated neo-polymer baselayer,” Belton stopped and his nose crinkled – which was quite an extensive expression. “…ah fuck, that sounds like I’ve got plastic pants, doesn’t it? Keep that one to yourself, will you?”

“Sure.” Nox’s shoulders sagged again as reality dropped back suddenly. She decided to just go for blunt. “With… the kid. Someone did that, and before that they – ” her words choked again, at the thought of where some of those peri-sire wounds had been.

“I know.” The amusement had gone from Belton’s voice as he stood up, heading back to his bike rather abruptly. The engine roared into life as he swung himself astride it, folding his ears into their cover, and Nox had to shout to be heard above the rumble.

“Do they… just get away with this?”

“There’s plenty that think they should,” he replied calmly; oddly easy to hear over the din, as he slid the helmet into place. “It was like that for a long time.”

Nox’s lips drew back, almost of their own accord, working to some defiant instinct she only had partial control over.

“And you?”

“Me? I’m a monster on a chain that I put there.” Belton looked up, and just before the visor snapped closed, there was a flicker of crimson in his eyes.

“But I’ll see what I can do.”

#Entofic #Vampire Nonsense #urban fantasy #The Vegas Masqerade #Nosferatu grocery shopping #terrible daywalkers #this WWE-manbat-looking mofo #I'm not warning for 'blood' on a vampire setting #help the plot keeps happening

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visander · 5 years ago

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Digital Paradise | Read on ao3

Read part one | Ao3, tumblr.

Alec knew his boyfriend made music. He just didn’t know other people knew Magnus made music.

Or, how Alec Lightwood finally figured out that his boyfriend is famous and how he started a storm on twitter in the process.

In hindsight, Magnus being famous made a lot of sense.

Magnus and Alec didn’t really go out for dates. The couple of times they had, Magnus had taken Alec to a fancy restaurant where he’d made reservations beforehand. They were always sat somewhere in the back, somewhere private. At the time, Alec had just thought Magnus was trying to impress him. He’d also thought maybe Magnus was hoping they’d get up to something in the back of the restaurant but Alec wasn’t comfortable enough kissing in public to ever make a move.

He was happy he hadn’t now. He doubted Magnus would have been upset but Alec would have been a little embarrassed knowing that wasn’t what he had been trying to insinuate with the private location. They also didn’t go out in public much at all, even for simple things. When they went to get coffee in the morning, Alec would run in alone or they’d go to the drive through.

Alec had written that off as Magnus not wanting to get dressed in the morning. Which was fair but it was other things too. Magnus didn’t go grocery shopping with him. The one time he had, it had been so late and he kept his sunglasses on the whole time they were inside. Alec thought it was weird but still, he hadn’t asked.

It wasn’t that Magnus had been lying to him or trying to hide anything. Alec had just been so oblivious. Magnus even told him once when Alec asked why he didn’t want to come inside when they were ordering food. He said, ‘I don’t want anyone to recognize me right now.’

That should have been the day Alec put it together. That should have been the day he realized Magnus was famous and asked more questions. Instead, Alec had thought maybe he knew someone who worked inside. Maybe an ex, he remembered assuming. He hadn’t wanted to press for more details. He just went and got their food.

Now, Magnus wasn’t innocent either. Magnus admitted that he knew Alec didn’t understand how famous he was and he’d never gone out of his way to try and explain it. Weeks after Alec had outed them on twitter, they sat curled together getting drunk off wine while Magnus explained, laughing, ‘I just thought you didn’t understand how famous I was. I didn’t realize you didn’t know I was famous at all.’

Magnus insisted he’d have explained it to him, had he known. It was a big decision, deciding to be public with someone who was as famous as Magnus was and Alec had made that decision completely unknowingly. Alec’s life was different now, just because he was Magnus’ partner.

Magnus had been scared he would regret it but Alec never did. It was nice to understand Magnus’ life more and it was kind of nice that so many people Alec didn’t know knew he was Magnus’ boyfriend. Even if Alec was never remembered as anything else, ‘Magnus’ boyfriend’ wasn’t a bad thing to be known for.

For a while, Alec’s interaction with Magnus’ fame had been limited to online. Alec used twitter now, or he tried to remember to. He had never been great with social media but he posted pictures of his cat sometimes. He posted one of Magnus and Church, which everyone had really liked. He also asked questions about internet things he didn’t understand. All of Magnus’ fans were more than willing to explain stuff to him.

Then, Magnus’ fans had bled into Alec’s real life. The first time it happened, Alec had been running to the store for Izzy. It was late. Alec had been working all day. It was one of the rare days where he hadn’t gotten dressed and straightened out his hair before he went to his desk.

In other words, Alec didn’t look too hot when he ran into the store. His hair was a mess. He’d thrown on pants but he was wearing a loose almost dirty t-shirt. He’d just been running in because Izzy asked him to buy her some tampons.

He hadn’t expected anyone to recognize him at the store. So, of course someone had. He’d been cradling a box of tampons, a pint of ice cream, a bag of jelly beans and a little chocolate rose Alec had found when suddenly, someone next to him had almost screeched.

“You’re Magnus Bane’s boyfriend!”

Alec had spun and the look on his face was so bewildered that the person who’d spoken, a girl about Izzy’s age, looked a little apologetic.

“Sorry!” She continued, pulling out her phone as she kept speaking. “I’m just a huge fan of Magnus. You guys are so sweet.” She held up her phone questioningly and Alec blinked at it, not understanding what she was possibly indicating. “Could I have a picture?” She asked finally.

Oh. For a moment, Alec was still confused. He understood that Magnus was famous. He got why people would want to take photos with him but he was no one. He was just Magnus’ boyfriend. Why would anyone want to take a photo with him? “Okay.” Alec said, frowning a little.

The girl was clearly put off by Alec’s expression. He was about to reassure her again that it was okay if she really wanted a picture but she lowered her phone a little and then spoke less excitedly. “It’s okay if you don’t want to.” She said rather politely.

“No.” Alec shook his head, his eyes widening a little. “I’ve just-” Alec fumbled with his words for a second, shifting the stuff he was holding in his hands so he wouldn't drop them. The last thing he needed was tampons covering the floor. “No one had ever asked me that before.” He explained finally, attempting a smile that probably came off a little more chaotic than he had planned.

This time, it was the girls turn to look surprised. “Oh.” Her expression brightened into a smile once again as she laughed. “Well, I’m honored to be the first to ask.”

Alec practically sighed with relief as she spoke. He hadn’t upset her.

Before Alec could even contemplate how he must look right now, she held up her phone, giving Alec just enough time to try to smile before she took the picture, thanked him and darted away. Alec found himself left standing in the center of the isle, still clutching all his things.

Alec raced to check out. He jittered in line until he could put all his stuff down, ask the clerk how she was, pay and then race outside. The second he reached his car, he tossed his stuff into the passenger’s seat and he called Magnus.

Magnus was away (working on a new album, Alec now understood). Alec had told him before he’d gone in the store that he’d call him when he got home, so when Magnus answered he was understandably a little caught off guard.

“Hello, Darling.” He’d cooed in that tone that normally made Alec feel like he was melting inside. “You’re home already?”

“No, I’m in my car.” Alec spit out and before Magnus could process that sentence, he kept speaking. “I met someone in the store who likes you. I was shopping for Izzy and I was holding a bunch of stuff. I didn’t do my hair today and I didn’t change my shirt. You’d have hated the shirt I was wearing.” He was pretty sure Magnus had said so the last time he’d seen him wearing it and that was before it was due for a wash. “Then this girl asked if she could take a picture with me and I think I upset her for a second but then she took the picture and she seemed happy and she ran away.” Alec took a deep breath he didn’t realize he hadn’t paused to take the whole time he’d been rambling.

On the other end of the line, Magnus also stayed silent as he assumably tried to process everything Alec had said. “Okay…” He said slowly. “So, you met a fan and took a picture?” He summarized.

“Yes.”

“And this…” Magnus trailed off for a second as he audibly tried to piece together Alec’s frantic nature. “-this upset you?” He questioned finally.

“No.” Alec exclaimed instantly. After he said it, he paused and questioned himself. “Well, if I had known someone would want to take a picture with me I’d have tried to look better. I was holding a bunch of stuff and I was dirty and my hair wasn’t done-”

On the other end of the phone, Alec heard Magnus laugh. “Darling, your bedhead is a sight to behold. I’m sure you looked absolutely adorable.”

Alone in his car, Alec blushed. Quietly, he asked. “You’re not upset I made you look bad?”

Magnus’ answer was instant. “Of course not.”

Alec took another grounding breath and all at once, he felt better. “Okay…” Peering around his car, Alec caught sight of the pint of ice cream that was probably completely melted in the New York summer heat. “Oh god, I forgot I bought Izzy ice cream. I have to go.”

“Alright.” Magnus responded, sounding as relieved as Alec did that he was no longer stressed out about this. “Get Izzy her ice cream. Call me when you get home.”

Alec sat the ice cream up, hoping nothing would leak out onto his seats. He turned his car on and cranked the AC before he reached to end the call. “I will. I-” Alec cut himself off before he kept speaking, realizing last second that he almost said something that he’d only thought in his head before. “I miss you.” He amended. “I'll call you soon.”

Alec hung up before Magnus could respond and then he groaned. It was far too earlier for him to almost slip up and say something like that to Magnus. Far far too early. Alec put his car into drive and started heading towards Izzy’s, gnawing at his lip all the while.

“You almost said you love him?” Izzy asked with wide eyes. She was sitting up on the couch, eating the mostly melted pint of ice cream while Alec tried to melt into the chair he was in. “Alec!”

“I know!” Alec groaned and buried his face in his hands.

“How long have you been dating?” She asked, even though Alec knew she knew the answer. She was far too invested in Alec’s love life to not remember how long they had been together.

“Three months.” Alec mumbled anyway.

“Alec!” She snapped again. “Oh god, you’re going to be one of those guys to say it for the first time during sex.”

“I am not!” Alec rebutted instantly even though he wasn’t quite sure it was true. Now that he had almost said it once, he was scared when it would try to slip out next. “I wouldn't want to say it then! He’d think I only said it because we were having sex.”

“You almost said it because you were distracted that a fan spoke to you.”

Groaning louder, Alec sunk a little further in his seat until he was almost comically sprawled over. “I know. I’m screwed. I’m going to say it and I’m going to scare him off.”

Izzy thought about it for a moment as she ate the ice cream soup Alec had bought. “Well-” She said, gesturing with her spoon. “He has to feel strongly about you to be okay with everyone knowing you’re dating. That’s a big deal, Alec. If he didn’t think he was going to stay with you, he probably would have been upset when everyone found out.”

That was true but Izzy was forgetting that Magnus hadn’t decided to tell everyone about them. “I did that though.” Alec insisted instantly. “It was too late to take it back when Magnus found out. I had already posted it. I didn’t even ask him-”

“You didn’t know.” Izzy pointed out calmly.

Alec ignored her. “Maybe he was upset about it and he just didn’t say.”

“Magnus did choose to retweet it and tell everyone it was true. He could have retweeted it and just said you were some random guy, if he really wanted to.”

Frowning, Alec nodded. “Yeah, I guess. That doesn’t mean he’s ready for me to tell him I love him.”

“So…” Alec could hear the smile in Izzy’s tone before she even finished her sentence. “You meant it? You love him?”

Groaning, Alec stood up. “I told Magnus I’d call him when I got home. I have to go.” He said quickly, not meeting her eyes as he snatched his jacket up and started moving towards the door.

“Right.” She said, mockingly. “Just don't tell him that you love him.”

“Yes, thank you for the reminder Izzy.” Alec mumbled as he shoved her front door open and walked through it. He was such a good brother. He went to the store for Izzy. He got her whatever he wanted and all he got in return was mocked.

“Thank you big brother!” She yelled after the closing door.

Alec did not say ‘you’re welcome’ but then in the car, he felt a little bad. ‘I’ll call you later.’ He texted her. ‘Sorry the ice cream was melted.’

He also noticed that he had a notification from Magnus. Izzy had shown Alec how to manage his notifications, so he wasn’t overwhelmed with everyone and he could just focus on the ones that mattered- aka, the ones from Magnus.

‘I knew you looked adorable.’ Magnus had written above the photo of Alec and the girl that had somehow made it onto twitter and already gotten a lot of attention in such a short amount of time. Alec looked down to the photo and grimaced. He looked less than adorable but he scrolled up and read Magnus’ words again instead of looking at the photo any longer.

As long as Magnus somehow thought he was cute, that was all that mattered. Alec hearted it.

For a couple of days, it seemed like all was well. Alec didn’t slip up and tell Magnus he loved him, even though he was exceptionally worried about it. Magnus had been away all week though. The real test would be that night, when Magnus was coming back to New York and more specifically, coming back to Alec’s apartment.

If there was anytime Alec would slip up and say it, it would be to Magnus’ face. It was hard to think straight around Magnus, let alone try to censor any thoughts that tried to come out of his mouth. Alec had said such stupid things to Magnus before. ‘I love your face.’ He’d said once because obviously that was smooth as hell.

A couple of hours before Magnus was due to land, Alec distracted himself by making dinner. There was never a more romantic time to accidentally and completely inappropriately blurt out ‘I love you’ then over a homemade dinner. At least maybe Magnus would be distracted by the good food.

That was Alec’s thought but then he overcooked the chicken, so the only thing Magnus would be distracted by was the bad homemade food.

Alec had timed it so that dinner would be done right around when Magnus would be getting there but then, Magnus’ flight was delayed so Alec had an hour to kill while his overcooked chicken got cold. Reasonably, he decided to go through his twitter notifications.

He got so many that he couldn’t go through and talk to everyone but he tried, especially if someone in particular was being really nice. He felt bad ignoring people even though Magnus told him he didn’t have to.

Alec went through and hearted a few comments people had left on his last post and then, his eyes started to catch something else he was being tagged in. Alec frowned before he clicked on one of the notifications randomly. Instantly, he was greeted with that horrible photo of himself that Magnus had thought was ‘adorable’.

Alec scrolled until he could see all the replies people had left on it. Instantly, Alec was frowning a little deeper. There were normal comments, some talking about Alec’s messy hair and how sweet he looked (none about his shirt, thankfully) but then, Alec noticed that there were a lot of comments about what he was holding.

The tampons, the ice cream, the candy and the chocolate rose he’d got Izzy. Alec hasn’t had a place to put them down or time to really think about if he should. The girl had just asked for a photo and she’d taken it. Alec had been more concerned with his appearance than what he was buying but now, as Alec read what people were saying, he realized for the first time that it did look a little odd.

Magnus’ fans knew he was away for the week. He’d been posting about it and putting videos on snapchat (another app Alec hadn’t even attempted to use). It was also clear Alec had not gone with him. So, for a photo to surface of Alec holding rather… feminine supplies along with a romantic looking chocolate rose.

Alec groaned loudly. Of course, it looked like Alec had been going to see a woman. He had been but that woman had been his sister. Magnus’ fans clearly didn’t know that. Alec was aggravated at first but as he kept reading through the comments, his aggravated bled into something else.

Before Alec knew it, he had frustrated tears in his eyes. He and Magnus had been dating for nearly three months. Alec had only been publicly dating Magnus for a little over a month and already, he’d messed up. Already, he’d made trouble.

Alec knew Magnus wouldn’t actually think he was going to see some mystery woman. Magnus knew he was buying all that for Izzy but Magnus’ fans still thought he hadn’t been. Magnus’ fans still saw that photo and thought Alec had been sneaking around Magnus’ back, only to be caught when someone happened to recognize him and ask for a photo.

Some people had even started commenting on all those crying faces they normally put when Alec did something nice (Magnus said they were nice crying because Alec was sweet. Alec didn't get it), lamenting on how they had thought Alec was so nice. Key word, thought.

By the time Magnus’ flight landed and he texted Alec that he was on the way, Alec was brushing away tears as he texted him back.

Alec didn’t cry easily. He wasn’t a baby. He wasn’t exceptionally emotional either but the thought of all of Magnus’ fans thinking he’d cheat on Magnus broke his heart. He’d never cheat on Magnus and to even think people would think he would-

Alec brushed another stray tear aside. It wasn’t good for Magnus either, for everyone to think his boyfriend was an asshole. He was probably getting so many messages about it. Everyone was going to focus on that and not on the music Magnus was making. He was probably going to lose money.

Alec’s plan had been to compose himself before Magnus got there but he’d been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hadn’t even noticed how much time had gone by until he heard the knock on his door. Alec shoved his phone into his pocket and tried frantically to brush his tears away before he darted towards the door.

He might have taken a second to try to compose himself a little further, if he realized quite how bad he looked but the only thing he’d been thinking about was that he couldn’t make Magnus wait in the hallway after an eight hour flight.

Alec pulled the door open and tried to smile at the sight of his boyfriend on the other side.

Magnus was grinning. He darted forward before he really seemed to take in Alec’s face and wrapped his arms around his neck as he dropped his bags. “Alexander.”

Alec melted into the touch instantly. A soft sigh left his lips and he tilted his head into the curve of Magnus’ neck. “Hey.” He murmured, trying to sound a little more casual than he felt.

It was either his weak ‘hey’ or the fact that Alec didn’t let go to let Magnus come inside that seemed to tip Magnus off that something was wrong. Magnus hugged him a little tighter and Alec felt one of his hands gently rub his back. “Is something wrong?” Magnus asked, finally pulling away to look at Alec’s face.

Alec wasn’t crying anymore but when Magnus asked, Alec’s face crumpled. “No, I just-” Alec moved quickly, hoping maybe Magnus wouldn’t see the look on his face. It was obvious Magnus had. “Come inside, let me get your bags.” Alec said, already turning to grab them.

Magnus stepped inside and let Alec grab his bags without a word but Alec could tell by the way that Magnus hovered there that he hadn’t bought Alec’s casual facade.

Alec moved and put his bags inside before closing the door. He faced the doorway for a few moments longer then was probably normal, hoping he could somehow get his expression under control.

“What’s wrong, Alec?” Magnus asked, moving to touch Alec’s back again. Magnus knew Alec loved it when Magnus touched his back.

“People think I cheated on you.” Alec blurted out without turning. “-because of what I was holding in that photo with that girl. They think I’m cheating on you and that I was going to see someone.” His voice was riddled with guilt as he spoke and he sounded like he was on the verge of tears again.

Instantly, Magnus chuckled. It was a soft sound, like he was trying to stifle it and be respectful of Alec’s feelings but it was a chuckle nonetheless. “That’s what you’re all upset about?” He asked, moving forward to wrap his arms completely around Alec’s waist and nuzzle into the side of his neck.

Alec took in a deep shaky breath, almost sighing at the scent of Magnus’ cologne.

“People are always going to assume a lot of things.” Magnus murmured against Alec’s neck. “That’s just what happens when you’re in the public eye. I posted a photo a few months ago and I was wearing red lipstick, so everyone assumed Camille and I were back together.” Magnus pressed a quick abrupt kiss against Alec’s neck. “People assume things all the time. It’s just what happens.”

Magnus pulled away and grabbed Alec’s arm to spin him, so they were facing each other again. “Now, why did that upset you so much?” He asked, moving to kiss Alec on the tip of his nose.

Alec wanted a real kiss but Magnus seemed to want an answer before he’d be willing to give it to him. “I just don’t like people thinking I’d do that to you.” Alec said finally, clutching Magnus’ hand as he looked down to the floor. “I don’t like upsetting the people that like you and support you.”

Magnus hummed and raised an eyebrow. “Would it make you feel better if I posted something and explained you were going to see your sister?”

Slowly, Alec nodded. “I guess so.”

“Okay then.” Magnus smiled like everything was okay again and Alec supposed it almost was. Finally, Magnus moved forward to kiss him and when he pulled away, he pressed his hand against the side of Alec’s face, cupping his smile. “Feel better now?”

Alec nodded, a little embarrassed now that he’d been upset at all.

“Good.” Magnus let go of him and moved to kick off his shoes and shrug off his jacket. “Whatever you made smells heavenly.” He said, instantly moving towards the kitchen.

“I overcooked the chicken.” Alec said, following after him. He was less upset about his poor job cooking of the chicken too. It was just easier to be less upset about stuff when Magnus was around.

“I’m sure it’s far better than what I ate on the plane.” Magnus said, already moving to lift the pan cover and snatch a piece of chicken out of it to put in his mouth. Instantly, he moaned like it was the most heavenly thing he’d ever put in his mouth.

Alec rolled his eyes. He knew it wasn’t that good and it was lukewarm by now anyway. “You’re being dramatic.” He accused him as he moved to heat it up again.

“I’m never dramatic about your cooking.” Magnus responded instantly.

Alec smiled wordlessly, leaving the pan on the stove to warm up as he turned to watch his boyfriend. Magnus moved and settled at the kitchen counter, leaning over on his hands as he stared back at him. “We could eat it cold, you know. I wouldn’t mind.”

Instantly, Alec’s face scrunched up. “I would mind.”

This time, it was Magnus’ turn to roll his eyes.

Alec wasn’t exactly sure why he decided it was okay in that moment. It was like the people on twitter or the food he’d overcooked. When Magnus wasn’t around, it was easy to over think everything until he drove himself insane but when Magnus was there, it was like everything was so much simpler. Everything just felt right.

“I love you.” He said simply, like it hadn’t been an internal struggle for days not to accidentally say it to him.

Magnus blinked. It seemed like it took him a moment to even process what Alec said but when he did, he looked shocked.

It wasn’t really the best time for Alec to say it for the first time. He could have chosen a time that was a little more romantic but it just felt right to say it now and Alec didn’t even regret it. It was true. Why shouldn’t he say it?

“I love you too.” Magnus said finally.

They stared at each other for a long tender moment before Alec smiled. “Good.” He said, nodding to himself as it would cover his stupid happy grin. Alec turned to stir the food so it wouldn’t burn but he knew that behind him, Magnus was grinning too.

“I’ll get the plates.” Magnus said after a moment had passed and then Alec heard him moving to pull the plates out. He didn’t even have to ask where they were. He knew by now.

Alec wondered for a moment how it would work, if they decided to move in together. He wondered if they’d find someplace new. Alec thought his apartment might be a little too small for both of them and Magnus’ penthouse was never really a comfortable space for either of them. It was pre-decorate, very nice and fancy admittedly but nothing like a home. He wondered if Magnus would even want to move in with him and then, he chastised himself.

He shouldn't be thinking about it right now. He didn’t want Magnus to think he was moving too fast.

#Malec #fluff #shadowhunters #Famous Magnus AU #my writing

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kyberphilosopher · 5 years ago

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Seven: Chapter Eleven

ChA^pT3r Eleve^n

“You look absolutely ridiculous.”

I glance down at my feet, focusing on one specific scuff of dirt on my black boots. They’re the same boots I wore to the stakeout, because it’s the same outfit I’ve been wearing for the past few days. Cops around the precinct have noticed, but they’ve gotten used to it by now. One woman came to report a crime and actually thought I was human for a second. I knew she would stop being nice once she found out about what I really was, so I just stayed polite and didn’t dare correct her.

Celeste Amora, however, has been anything but nice or polite to me.

All day, she’s gone out of her way to inconvenience me. It’s ironic in a way, because she’s probably inconvenienced herself more than anyone.

At 9:15am, she threw two paper balls at my head in the morning meeting. Even Captain Ericson rolled his eyes at it. At 11:17am, Celeste deprived everyone of coffee by putting the grounds in her bag, just so I wouldn’t be able to give any to Cal. It was ok though, because I found a ten dollar bill on the floor not too long after and I gave it to him to buy coffee for himself. By 12:31pm, Celeste emptied the contents of my stakeout bag, which included my jacket and uniform. Honestly, it’s not a big deal, because Icarus will just send me another one through Captain Ericson. Celeste struck again at 1:28pm, when she left sticky orange liquid on my desk. Again, this was no big deal, because I identified it as orange soda and looked up the best way to clean it.

Now, at 2:53pm, our perpetrator makes another attack. I swear, she must be following me around all day to know when and where to strike. It’s almost… saddening?

I’m in the locker room. Not an actual locker room, just a sort of hallway by the evidence room lined with white lockers. Cal packed me a bag of clothes and toiletries for our trip, and left them in his unit for me to grab before we go. He seemed really proud of himself for remembering to put the toiletries in, because apparently he has a habit of forgetting to pack them, even for himself. I didn’t have the lack of manners to tell him I probably don’t need them. Tooth paste? I don’t need to brush my teeth- they’re always white. Pads and tampons? I don’t get periods unless I press a button. A pack of tissues? I’m incapable of sneezing, but I appreciate the sentiment.

So, that’s the scene for you. I- the Android- am reaching into a stark white locker to obtain a pack of a road trip. Celeste Amora- the officer who can’t do her job- is behind me, leaning against the wall talking to Blaise Shovelman- an officer who gets nervous around me but remains kind enough. In the corner, guarding the evidence room, is Officer Blackwell. Both Shovelman and Blackwell are entirely uncomfortable and nervous with what’s about to go down.

So, cut back to Celeste Amora saying, “you look absolutely ridiculous”.

I sigh to myself softly, disappointed that this was unavoidable. I tug the duffle bag out of the locker, and push it closed.

“Hello, Officer Amora,” I greet as I turn around. It’s satisfying to watch her twitch with anger every time I say that.

“What’s with the bag?” she says, glancing down. “I could cuff you right now for it.”

“No you can’t,” I frown. “Officers can only arrest if they have witnessed a crime, and you haven’t witnessed a crime- I assure you. You also do not have probable cause that I have committed a crime, or a warrant from a judge. Therefor you cannot arrest me.”

Oh, she looks so angry. Shovelman is trying not to laugh, and Blackwell’s lips are pulled inside his mouth to keep from smiling. “And the bag is for my road trip with Detective Kennedy.”

“A road trip?” Celeste mocks.

“We’re going to see his father and brother for his birthday,” I explain diplomatically.

Celeste scoffs. “And he invited you?”

“Yes.”

She is so unequivocally frustrated and full of rage that it’s funny. Shovelman knows this, Blackwell knows this, I know this. I’m sure back in the bullpin, Cal knows it too. Everybody in the entire universe might know it.

“You still look homeless in that outfit,” she seethes, and everybody knows it’s because she can’t think of anything else to say to me to mock me. She’s just defaulting back to an insult that doesn’t make much sense for plenty of reasons.

“You wore prostitution clothes for the stakeout, and I didn’t say anything.”

Blaise Shovelman spits out a sharp laugh. Quickly, his hands fly to his mouth to cover it up as a cough, but the damage is done. Celeste glares at him.

“Can we please be done, Officer Amora?” I ask, still determined to be as diplomatic as my Social Relations program is begging me to. “I need to join Detective Kennedy before we leave at 3pm. We’re taking a half day.”

“You have-”

I don’t bother for her to finish her sentiment before I start to walk away. I can hear some muffled words the farther I get, but I don’t actually care enough to register them.

Cal is sitting on his desk, on his phone. It makes me excited to see his keys in his hand. I’m actually going to be spending time with him outside of work, which could help improve our relationship and thus the chances of us solving cases. I’m also excited because apparently he actually got his car cleaned, and it’s going to smell just like a new one.

“Ready?” he asks without looking up.

“Yes,” I say. “Just Officer Amora giving me some trouble.”

“Feel free to run to my car and hide, Tin Fuck. I’ll be hiding right there with you.”

A slight smile graces my features, because when Detective Kennedy jokes like this, he makes me feel at ease. He has that effect on me, just be being his sarcastic self. I don’t think he even realizes it, but I admire how brave he is when it comes to social norms and just being social in general. He has no ‘Social Relations Program’. Or maybe he does, and he just chooses to ignore it every day. He talks back to Captain Ericson constantly, openly tells people he does not want to talk to them, and doesn’t even attempt to hide his rolling eyes and clever, biting words in conversations. It doesn’t matter how polite or kind you are to him- he is going to cuss or blow smoke in your face.

“This bag weighs approximately 16 pounds, what’s inside of it?” I question, hefting the bag in my right hand.

“Clothes,” Cal says mysteriously, still not looking up from his phone.

“How many clothes? We’re only staying for two nights.”

“I’ve packed the clothes I’ve packed. Go out to the car before I beat your ass.”

“Okey-Dokey,” I say cheerily. I get a better grip on the straps of the bag and carry it out to Cal’s car. While tomorrow is still scheduled to have Cal’s favorite type of weather, today is simply dry and cold and flat. There is a slight wind, but nothing overly harsh in the air. A few of the Seattle citizens have decided to wear their coats today, and I see three different women wearing the same one. They were most likely taking this as an opportunity to show off their new clothing.

I’ve never had to do that, though I guess I could do so on this trip. I don’t know what kind of clothes Cal has brought for me. An outfit for dinner and a set of pajamas maybe? I’m uncertain. My only choice is to trust Cal’s taste in fashion for me.

I open up the trunk and am immediately met with a variety of different smells. Some I find pleasant, others not so much. Still, the trunk of Cal’s car is clean and empty. I put the bag inside and close the latch. The door is locked, so I don’t have much other option than to stand at the ready for Cal to come out.

I don’t have to wait for too long, because he’s walking out of the building at 3:01. Still looking at his phone, he shoulders into someone entering the building. The man whips around, staring at Cal and waiting for an apology. And Cal, being my hero, just keeps walking and staring at his phone. It’s a glorious sight.

I hurry over to the trunk and open it again for him. Cal sticks his phone in his pocket and hefts his pack into the trunk. The shading of the outside makes the circles under his eyes more prominent, almost maroon or ash brown.

“You ready to go?” he says as he closes the trunk of his car.

“Correct.” I mirror Detective Kennedy in going to the car doors and waiting for the little click to show they’re unlocked. I in the passengers seat, he in the drivers, we close the doors. “You should put on your seatbelt,” I advise him.

The car begins to drive in reverse as we pull away from the parking lot. “And you should stop being so goofy looking, but you don’t hear me saying anything.”

Cal sighs as I look down, trying to stifle a smile. It’s not in my Social Relations Program to do this, it’s just something that’s coming naturally on my mechanical face. It must be because I’m spending so much time with humans and I’m adapting to their nature. I look away out the window as the corner of my lips fall into a soft upturn- one that not even Detective Kennedy could detect.

“Is there anything you’d like to talk about?” I ask. I turn back around to watch Cal, whose one hand is steady on the wheel while the other rests nonchalantly.

“Why would I want to talk about anything?”

“The drive to Spokane is around four hours,” I explain. “I thought maybe we could do something to pass the time?”

“You mean like just waiting for it to pass?” Cal quips sassily as he looks at me sharply. “What could an Android possibly have to talk about?”

My led goes yellow. I have over 9,000 topics to discuss in my memory.

“Are you excited for your birthday?” I ask cheerily.

Cal shrugs his shoulders. “Not really.” I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. Luckily, Cal picks up on this and quickly adds to his words. “As you get older it just becomes less of a big deal, I guess.”

I process the information. “I’ve never had a birthday.”

“Really?” Cal questions. I can tell he means it when he glances over at me.

“Yes. What’s it like?”

“Well it’s… it’s like-” he cuts himself off as he struggles to find the words. The hand on the wheel clutches it tighter. “It changes each year, I guess.”

“What did you do last year?”

Cal’s expression darkens slightly. “Same as this year. Dinner with my father.”

I want to ask more, but something other than my social program tells me not to. I close my mouth and turn my attention back in front of me, out the windshield. We’re already at the edge of our district, and luckily scheduled for no traffic since it’s during the work day for most people.

I wonder what it’s like to have people worry about you.

Adelicia is my handler, of sorts. In truth, I am not even fully sure what she is to me or to Icarus. She has an affiliation with them, but for whatever reason her criminal record and occupation is blocked off from me. I only know that she appears in a virtual reality with me, and that she is more powerful than I and I answer to her.

But she doesn’t worry about me. And why would she? I’m a machine. Nothing more.

“What’s with the frown?” Cal questions next to me.

I don’t even realize it until he’s brought it up. “Sorry,” I say quickly.

Cal Kennedy glances at me. Eyebrows slightly creased together, lips parted- he’s concerned, maybe. High probability of thinking of me or something relating to me. “Hey, there should be something under your seat. Can you get it?”

“Alright,” I say. I double over in my seat and reach my right hand under my chair. I feel around for four seconds before my fingers graze against something. I grip it and pull it out. I turn it over in my hands, observing the object in my hand.

It’s a disk case. Square and plastic, the front of it is covered in a dark background with purple words printed onto it. ‘BLACK SABBATH, MASTERS OF REALITY’ never looked so solid to me.

Analyzing…

Title: Black Sabbath: Masters of Reality

Band: Black Sabbath

Genre: Rock, Metal, other

Length: 34:29

Label: Vertigo

Release Date: July 21st, 1971

“This came out approximately 43 years before you were born,” I say aloud, my eyes glued to the case.

“Yeah, best album. Put it in.”

I turn the album over in my hand a few times before opening it. Watching the iridescent lines swirl against the disk, I lean forward to stick it in the player next to the radio. Not many cars have that anymore.

We only have to wait 10 seconds before the first song starts to play. The electric guitar rings out throughout the car and Ozzy Osbourne calls out ‘Alright, yeah!’. Cal nods his head to the beat merrily.

Song: Sweet Leaf

He looks happy. I turn my head out the window while Cal sings along. He knows all the lyrics to the 5 minute song. I replay every little hum of his voice, every thrum that falls from his lips. I’ll keep it in my memory forever.

Software InStability ^

After 3 songs, Cal leans forward and turns the volume down a few notches. “So, you’ve listened to it now,” he says. I swear, he’s actually smiling naturally. “What do you think?”

My led goes yellow. “I think so,” I say. “It’s full of this… enjoyable energy.”

“I’m glad,” Cal grins. He turns the volume back up and we continue on our ride.

I watch him while the rest of the album plays on. He never misses a beat or a lyric. His sharp jaw compliments the smirk on his lips, the spark of charisma in his eyes. He’s almost unrecognizable. He’s so happy, moving, and alive in contrast to the exhausted, rough, and grump detective I know. Most people have come to hate him around the precinct in what they describe as a ‘record time’. But the air around him seems brighter when he sings and weaves along to the music. It’s like I’m being exposed to an entirely different being. I think I like it. It gives Cal more… what’s the word? Depth.

“What’re you looking at me for?” he asked after a while of my staring. He’s still smiling, so I know he’s in a good mood at least.

“Nothing,” I told him, still transfixed on his demeanor.

But the album ends eventually, and Cal takes the disk out of the player. It’s so sad to watch him do, because I know now he’ll go back to being so distant. I want him to be warm again. Not for me, but for himself.

We make polite conversation the rest of the ride, broken by long bouts of silence. It’s not uncomfortable- it’s normal between us. I ask Cal if there’s anything I should know about his father.

“He’s…” Cal’s grip on the wheel tightens so much, his knuckles pale. His heartrate increases and his pupils dilate momentarily. “A man.”

Very descriptive.

“What’re we going to do about your led, anyway?” Cal asks shortly after.

“I can hide it under my skin when we get there,” I explain.

“I didn’t know you could do that.”

“It’s an added feature that helps with being disguised. I’m the only model that can do it.”

Cal grunts in response.

“What about your brother?”

“Hm?”

I swallow, even though I don’t have to. “Your brother. You were very elusive about your father, so I’m asking if there’s anything I should know about your brother.”

“He’s an idiot.”

After that, I mostly pay attention to the driving. We drive through a road guided by large trees overhead. The autumn leaves fall in confetti pieces of auburn and tangerine around us. Mountains stand in the distance eerily. Depending on the way I face, I can see buildings and skyscrapers. And while I don’t think I enjoy the looming silence between Cal and I, it’s peaceful and calm.

Soon, the fall trees turn into highways. The highways turn into suburban neighborhoods. The neighborhoods turn into a house.

As we near 7 o’clock, Cal pulls the car over in front of one of the houses. It’s white and two stories tall, with a decorative wreath on the door. I can see little porcelain rabbits by the door on the porch, most likely covering a spare key. All the windows are covered by curtains that look vintage or something of the sort. Even from the outside, it still looks cozy.

“Stay here,” Cal orders while he turns off the engine.

“Where are you going?” I ask curiously.

I know Cal heard me, he just doesn’t answer. He opens the door, removes himself, and closes it. I watch him come around the side and saunter to front. He knocks, and a man opens the door after a moment.

The man resembles Cal somewhat. His figure is slightly obscured from where I sit, but I can make out that much at least. It’s something about the face shape. Despite that, the man is shorter than Cal, but far grumpier looking. Name: Arthur Kennedy

Date of Birth: August 2nd, 1980- Age 61

height: 5’8

Weight: 173 lbs

Race: European American

Birthplace: Detroit, Michigan

Occupation: Naval Officer, Accountant[Retired]

Family: Caroline Kennedy, Wife (Age 58, Deceased) James Kennedy, Son (Age 23), Callan Kennedy, Son (Age 26)

Finding Related Articles… Articles Found. Searching ‘Kennedy, Arthur’…

The exchange between the two doesn’t last long. There’s a few head nods, and then the door closes. I am not expecting this.

The pair didn’t even smile to each other. They didn’t hug or shake hands. It was like they were strangers instead of father and son.

“What did you do?” I ask when Cal hops back in his seat.

“Just told my dad we’re here.” He twists the key in the ignition and the car starts up again.

“We aren’t staying here?”

Cal scoffs. “God no.”

After that, he drives us to a hotel. It’s about 33 minutes away and the color of cream. It stands out against the black ink color of the sky, freckled with faint little stars.

However, it is not until we walk into the place that something in my circuits twitch. The man at the counter catches a glimpse of my led from under my cap. Cal asks him to make an exception, but the man refuses with malice. Cal flashes his badge at him. Cue the man hurrying to apologize and sending us on our way.

As Cal opens the door with the key, I feel happy that I came.

Software Instability ^

Taglist: @omg-we-really-doo

[I hope you’re having a good day, S]

#detroit become human #detroit: become human #detroit become human fanfiction #detroit: become human fanfiction #dbh #dbh fanfiction #fanfiction #story #android #androids #technology

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omgokiguess · 4 years ago

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wow guys i just got out of rehab today

first of all. it was so terrible except for some of the people there. but also a couple of the people there really sucked too.

the staff was TERRIBLE. they were literally so mean and power hungry. i was friends with basically every patient (except for the few shitty ones) and was really nice to them.... like i took in this innocent 20yo girl who started calling me her big sister and i helped this 21yo girl so much with her anxiety..... like i took care of everyone that i could and i stuck up for everyone that the staff treated like shit. and the staff was so fucking rude to me. the whole staff said so many times “we have no problem giving you extra phone time/computer time to take care of things like work, aftercare, legal problems, financial problems, etc” but literally every single time i asked to call work or call my lawyer or anything i got a no. it literally took me two full weeks to get things straightened out with exelon and i literally got let go from anthro because they would just not let me get on the phone so that’s cool. i never once was able to speak to my lawyer or my pre-trial officer. neat. also i got in a pretty heated fight with this one bitch employee who told me i was disrespectful because i asked her superior to open the laundry room for me because i had my period and needed new underwear out of the dryer. we were like screaming at each other and she ended up being sent home for four days. two guys actually ended up leaving randomly and left all their shit including their phones and wallets. that’s how bad the staff was.

the doctor was really good and knowledgeable and helpful and i really liked him. he was really chill. but i do have to say he really was pushing meds on not just me but everyone. i didn’t get on any meds though, and honestly one of the nurses congratulated me for not getting on meds when i left. i thought it was fucked up that i was the only person not on meds. we’re just alcoholics.... there’s no way we’re all fucking psychotic or something. nobody was on less than 2 meds besides me and i would say the average number of different meds was about 4 for somebody my age.

the staff just really frustrated me. it’s rehab so obviously there are a lot of rules for the sake of having rules and i honestly did not have a problem with the rules even though a lot of them were very silly. like you would not find me complaining about the unhealthy food, the fact that they said the gym would be open certain hours but was actually never open because they were “understaffed,” that our bathrooms were locked from 7:30am - 9:30pm and 25 people had to share two toilets, that there were essentially no covid-19 precautions, that somebody checked where i was every 15 minutes, that smoking a pack of cigarettes a day is okay but the juul is not, that i had to get the actual doctor to approve me using contact solution or allergy medication, or any other stupid thing they enforced. i literally only complained about the fact that i couldn’t talk to my employer(s), couldn’t talk to my lawyer, couldn’t talk to my pre-trial officer, couldn’t figure out my aftercare, couldn’t call my therapist, and that the staff spoke to me like i was either an idiot, a delinquent, or like i was a bitch.

i did put up one little stink though. this bitch that worked there, if we were in our rooms, when she checked on us she didn’t knock she just fucking opened up the door, so i decided to just chill in my room and read in the nude one day cause i knew she would just open the door without knocking... and wouldn’t it be fun for her to have to deal with the sight of my entire bush..... so i went for it lmao. she told the entire staff that she walked in on me LOL and the “director of operations” (this woman is truly a dumb cunt) asked my roommate, who was a 45 year old MD from lake forest, if she wanted to switch roommates (???) and dr. nancy my hero was like “um no i actually lucked out with erin and also diana should learn to knock.”

anyway, nancy and brittany my two fave people, left on the same day which really sucked but whatever. then sam left which also whatever... i loved her too. and then..... oh god i hate to admit this so much.... but then michael came in. he made it in 3-ish days before i left.

i literally have NO IDEA why this would be, but okay the protocol is before you go to rehab you go through alcohol detox in the hospital, so i was an inpatient in the hospital for 5 days. i slept through most of that because they put me on valium for those 5 days so that I wouldn’t experience the hells of alcohol withdrawal. i’m glad i was asleep for most of it though because there was nothing at all to do, they had like 3 different crossword puzzles and no TV but as it turns out..... i wasn’t in the alcohol detox section of the hospital.... for some reason they put me in the psychotic wing..... there were only 6 patients total in that wing and i was the only person living in reality. one woman escaped the hospital because she thought her husband was telling her to leave, and the other 4 men were handcuffed to their beds. i was the only person in there with any sense of reality, and i had gotten there in the middle of the night so i was unaware of other wings in the hospital. on my last night there, they moved me to “2 north” aka the normal alcohol detox wing, which probably had 100 people in it. so in the morning we all had breakfast together and i was like WHAT THE HELL..... I COULD HAVE MADE FRIENDS HERE.... and that’s when i met michael. i knew him for like a full 90 minutes total in inpatient but we were literally instant best friends. we met because some old men were telling me jokes trying to get me to laugh and he was sitting nearby and he was like “so how old are you like 35?” and i was like “you’ve got to be kidding me fuck you....” and he was like “yeah lol i’m kidding” and i was like playing back, like “so how old are you like 45?” cause he looked about 30 and he was like “yes” and i was like okay bullshit so he showed me his hospital band and it said 45..... and i was like okay this is ridiculous. anyway he had been to the rehab i was going to before so he told me about it and he gave me a note for sam and i just thought he was really cool. he was getting ECT treatments which is “a treatment most commonly used in patients with severe major depression or bipolar disorder that have not responded to other treatments. ECT involves a brief electrical stimulation of the brain while the patient is under anesthesia.” aka it’s literally where they put those diodes on your brain and shock you. he got 16 treatments. i thought he might end up back in rehab with me. but he spent like 2 full months in inpatient which is super abnormal, almost everyone is there for exactly 5 days like me. anyways

so michael shows up right before i leave and the big question is WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME...... i spent like 3 days with him nonstop and we can probably all see where this is going but.... this dumbass of course falls for him....???? there were some cuties in rehab and i had NO INTEREST in any of them but idk michael is just kind of.... the personality i’ve been looking for.

couple problems. 1. i have a boyfriend. 2. michael is 5′6″ .... (???) .... 3. i cannot get his fucking stupid smile out of my head and i’m hoping i was just sexually deprived for weeks and this is just a dumb thing BUT

idk my boyfriend like made all these promises of things he was going to do for me while i was in rehab and he kind of didn’t follow through on any of them. i really basically only told him and my sister that i’m going to rehab and my sister lives in boston and so i kind of assumed he would do the things he promised he would do, which clearly was stupid on my part. i can’t rely on him. i should have learned that by now... if i want something done i have to do it myself. i didn’t even ask very much of him. he basically promised four things. 1. he would take care of my guinea pigs. 2. he would check on my car to be sure it doesn’t get impounded 3. he would clean my room before i get back and 4. he would bring me the stuff i need (contact lenses to fucking see, hairbrush, tampons, other necessities) since they wouldn’t let me leave hospital care between detox and rehab. the only one of those he did was take care of my guinea pigs, which is essentially nothing because he goes to whole foods every day and his MAID cleaned their cage.

and idk, we were allowed 10 minutes of combined computer and phone time a day (which is literally nothing), and i always called him and ignored the computer because i thought he would want to hear from me and i would want to hear from him too, but at least 30% of the time i left phone time upset and crying. i mean i was turning my whole entire life around and it took him 13 days just to check to see that my car wasn’t impounded, and he had the audacity to complain that he was overwhelmed with all the stuff he had to deal with on my behalf even though it was literally just feeding my guinea pigs and then he had his own work shit. i suspect he’s taking more adderall than he should again. but i can’t even complain. his dad found the lawyer that may end up saving my life.

and anyway. he never ended up cleaning my room (he wasn’t even gonna clean it himself, he was going to hire someone to clean it and he couldn’t even do that even though he promised. i don’t need it i just kind of thought he was gonna keep his promise), and it took him 5 days to bring me the stuff i need. i kept in one pair of dailies for 5 days (i wore my last pair over from detox) and went blind for 2 days. my rehab was only 20 minutes from his house, a straight shot on the never-crowded 294. i left him with all of my debit cards and pins too, and bank logins so that he wouldn’t have to pay for anything i needed.

and idk then when i talked to him, whenever i complained about rehab he would just kind of be like “this is why you should have gone to PSI” which is where he went to rehab for marijuana.... which costs and arm and a leg because his dad will pay for anything for him and he doesn’t understand that i’m paying for this myself. and i didn’t want some cushy rehab. i mean yeah i didn’t want the staff to be such a load of cunts but i didn’t want his cushy frilly rehab experience. i would have really liked my program if there had just been better people working there. and he wanted to talk about my sobriety so much and like.... i don’t want to talk about it with him. idk in his head i think he thinks i’m taking his exact same journey and like i’m NOT. like it’s not even the same drug. he acts like he totally understands and it’s like... yes there is a lot he understands but there’s a lot that’s different and there’s no way ANY two patients ever went through the exact same thing, ESPECIALLY when it’s different drugs!!!!

and i’ve been with him since about 1p today (he was late to pick me up, it was supposed to be noon, which he promised he wouldn’t be late, and him being late was also something i brought up a lot in rehab because it caused me so much stress..... i just KNEW he was gonna be late and it caused me a lot of anxiety and i told him this so much and he was still late) (and anyway the point here is).... i’ve been with him since 1 and he just keeps saying weird stuff about alcohol. which is EXACTLY why i didn’t want anybody to know i was going to rehab. like after eating hospital food for weeks i wanted to go to a nice restaurant and most nice restaurants serve alcohol.... which is FINE like i was not gonna drink.... but he kept saying things like “we probably shouldn’t go to a pub” or “lake forest food and wine hmm better not go there” and it’s like..... i’m fucking HUNGRY i purposely didn’t eat the hospital food because i wanted to eat good food and it took us till 2:30pm to get somewhere because he felt the need to beat around the alcohol bush.... and every time alcohol came up in conversation (which just HAPPENS because that is how life is....) he’d be like oh sorry shouldn’t mention that and it’s like I CAN HANDLE IT..... i literally finally said to him “wow I’m so glad I didn’t tell anyone i went to rehab because if everybody talked to me the way you’re talking to me that would make me want to drink”

and also right before i went to rehab i told him i was afraid i wasn’t going to like him anymore if i was sober. and boy was i right. and adding michael in did not fucking help. i told myself i would never like somebody fucking shorter than me but i can’t fucking help it. i’ve never liked people for their looks anyway and his personality is just fucking perfect. i can’t get his voice and his smile out of my head. and i trust him to be sober. i really do. this was his first relapse in five years, and he only spent one month drinking before getting help. and i think we could be sober together.

idk maybe i was just so sex deprived that i was just horny or something. i don’t know.

i start online intensive outpatient tomorrow at noon. this week i have it wednesday thursday and friday but it’s gonna be different every week and somebody is going to at least speak with me every day. i’m doing it through derek’s practice and i told him to make sure i have a lot of homework.

i’m not sure how or when i’m going to get back to work. i don’t even really care though. i can always get another job. and after talking to my sister and working through some therapy at rehab, i almost think it’s best to move anyway. i think it would really help me to get away from my parents.

idk. my life is just so in limbo right now. i can stay on FMLA leave for 3 months and on my upcoming court date, that will mark one month. i think it might be wise to use the whole three months. it also might not be wise though because i need things to do. maybe if i could just get back to anthro.....

anthro terminated me in the weirdest way and i think my lawyer can get my job at anthro back for me with a simple letter. that might be the best thing for me right now.

not to mention.... i haven’t been back to my apartment yet but.... the gold coast has been destroyed. i don’t know what i’m going back to at this point. this is really sad sad sad to say but i don’t think i will be living downtown chicago anymore, once i find some other solution or once this lease expires, i’m leaving. maybe i’ll stay in chicagoland but probably not. if i do stay in chicagoland i’m gonna be living in the suburbs. but i think it only makes sense to get out of here. i think it makes sense to go to the southeast. florida or atlanta or north carolina or virginia. california is always on the mind too but to move there i think i need to be really really confident in my sobriety.

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cilldaracailin · 5 years ago

Text

A Kind Of Magic

And here is the next part. Only two left for this story! :)

“Love is the easiest thing there is. It's the layers of doubt, fear, and expectation that make it complicated.”

“So, I have to bake this whole pie by myself?” Asked Taron as Robyn sat on a stool on the opposite side of the island.

“Yep.”

“Robyn!” He whined. “You know I am going to fuck this up.”

“You actually cannot fuck it up Taron. It is limes and biscuits.”

“Please will you help me?” He asked as he looked at the ingredients, she had laid out for him.

“Nope. You owe me.”

“I owe you? I got that ball for you yesterday.”

Robyn laughed before she stopped suddenly becoming very serious. “Yes, because that will pay me back for what you did today.”

When Robyn got in from work that afternoon, Taron had been sitting on the floor having a tea party with all of her bears. He had taken them out from under her bed again and laid them all out and given as many of them as he could a plate and cup from her kitchen, his with a slice of toast on it and a cup of tea beside him.

“A tea party?” She had questioned but when he gave her a gorgeous grin, she just couldn’t be annoyed at him.

Robyn had gone to take a quick shower after she walked away from Taron and his tea party to find in her closet that he had taken all off her work clothes from her rail and replaced them with all of his clothes from his duffle and when she walked into the bathroom, on the floor were her all of her toiletries set up in a maze of organised mess, including the wrappings and packaging from the feminine products which he had routed out from her cabinet.

“Taron!” She yelled and he walked in looking at her. “Do I even want to know what this is supposed to be?”

“It’s art.” He answered simply.

“Art?” She questioned.

“Tampons are not fun.” He replied to her question.

“Excuse you?” She asked folding her arms over her chest.

“Not fun at all.”

“Should I even ask.”

“They really soak up a lot of liquid, don’t they?” Robyn ran her hands over her face, leaving her hands on her cheeks. “I wanted to fill the bath and put them all in but that would have been way too much water so then I tried the sink but I didn’t want to block the sink. I didn’t realise how much soakage they actually have. I understand better now why you used pads for my arm in the 7/11.”

“Taron please tell me you have not wasted all my tampons and pads on testing their soaking abilities.”

“I will replace them for you.” He said as he walked out of the bathroom. “I mean you are good for another three weeks, right? Enjoy your shower.”

“TARON!” She shouted after him but he closed the bathroom door as he left her alone to shower. “Clean up the bears!” She yelled through the closed door before turning to look at her bathroom floor. “I might just kill you before this week is out.” She muttered to herself and she started to clean up the bottles from the floor.

Robyn could easily forgive him for pulling her whole bathroom apart and his curiosity of products he would never have to use and she knew she could trust him with her bears. She already had snuck his blue Hawaiian shirt into her underwear drawer to keep as payback for switching her clothes around but it was the glitter in her body wash, that would take longer for her to forgive.

She marched out to him wrapped in a towel, her wet hair dripping down her back. “I am going to murder you.”

“Rob… Robyn.” Taron jumped up from the couch when she appeared in front of him, her skin still dripping from her shower.

“You are so dead. Where did you find the glitter?” She demanded.

After the shock is seeing her in a towel, he grinned. “I found a box in the shed.”

“You are in big trouble mister.” She said as she took a step closer to him, poking him in his chest.

She had used her body wash as normal, the bubbles frothing immediately but when she washed the suds off, her skin was extremely sparkly in the light of the bathroom. She was very confused when she looked at her arms and legs, wondering how on earth she was covered in a fine layer of silver and gold glitter and then it came to her. One Welsh man who had nothing better to do with his time during the day.

“Oh shit Robyn. I didn’t think it was going to be that bad.”

“That bad Taron? That bad? I am like a fucking glitter troll! And I think it’s in my hair!” She wailed. Taron tried to hold back his laugher but it was very hard when she pouted at him. “Taron!”

“Oh shit I am sorry! I am really sorry Robyn.” He took her arm by the elbow, her skin shimmering every time he moved her arm. “I am so fucking sorry. It’ll wash off.”

“Do you remember that conversation you and me had in the garden about glitter and how water and glitter doesn’t mix? Taron, I have a really important meeting with a parent tomorrow!” Robyn started to jump up and down with frustration. “Ugh I am bringing you to work with me tomorrow or I am going to leave you with my parents so they can babysit you!” Robyn brushed her hands up and down her arm, smoothing out wet water droplets on her skin but the glitter remained stuck firm. “It’s not going to come off! Taron…” She moaned.

“Oh sweetheart.” Despite her state of dress, just being in a towel, Taron took her in for a hug, not caring that her hair left his arms wet. It was the first time he had seen Robyn act, well like a girl, where she was frustrated beyond belief with how she looked, almost having a fit with the glitter he had put in her body wash. He really didn’t think he had put that much in but as he looked down to her bare shoulders, her wet skin sparkled and as he eyes travelled down her back, he could see the same twinkle on the back of her legs. “I will google how to get rid of glitter for you.”

“I hate you.” She said into her shoulder.

“I know darling, I know.”

Robyn spent twenty minutes in the shower trying to scrub the glitter from her body with a body scrub brush and her skin was red raw afterwards. Taron had shouted into her that make up remover would help get rid of the glitter and she spent another twenty using cotton wool and her precious clinque make up remover to rub the remaining glitter off. She had to call Taron in so get her back once she was half dressed because she couldn’t reach.

“I am really sorry.” He repeated when he saw how red her skin was after she had scrubbed it. “Really sorry.” He said again as she gave him some body lotion to rub in once he was done with the glitter removal, taking his time as he massaged her lower back working his way up to her neck and shoulders. He felt awful for his little trick, not realising how far it was going to go and wanted to really show her he meant his apology.

“Please tell me you are finished snooping now.” She asked as she rolled her neck as Taron’s thumbs worked lovingly into her skin.

“I am finished. Definitely finished.”

“No more routing through drawers and boxes?”

“Nope. I will sit on the couch and read through scripts instead.”

She turned her whole body to look at him, keeping a tight hold of the blue checked shirt against the front of her body. “You could have been reading scripts instead of doing this?” She asked him as he placed his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs now rubbing in easy circles there instead of her neck.

“Maybe.”

“You are a tosspot.” She said as she turned away from him and moved her hands to her back so she could close the strap of her bra and pull the shoulder straps up, before pulling her shirt on over her head, turning back to him as she buttoned the middle buttons. “I would watch my back Egerton. Not this week because I know you are still hurt but in the future, my payback will be mighty and deserved.”

“I will bring you to a movie premier.” He tried again knowing what her answer was going to be.

“Oh Taron, I would be worried if I was you. Everybody loves an Irish girl, but you should never, ever mess with one.”

Robyn turned and left him standing in the bathroom, a smirk deep in his features but it turned to a frown quickly when he realised that she wasn’t joking about getting him back. So, when he was staring at all the ingredients for the key lime pie Robyn was making him bake all by himself fifteen minutes later, he thought this might have been her payback but as she raised one eyebrow at him, he knew it wasn’t.

“I would roll my sleeves up of I were you Taron. You have a lot of work to do.”

“I will fuck this up.”

“And I will have photo evidence of it all.” She said as she held her phone to him.

Sighing, Taron rolled up the sleeves of his navy shirt. “Right so what do I do first?” He asked.

“Put the biscuits in the zip lock bag and use the rolling pin to crush them.”

Doing as Robyn instructed him, Taron started to crush the biscuits while Robyn snapped a photo of him. He stopped mid crush and looked at her. “Can I ask you a question?”

“I am still not helping you.”

“Would you have kissed me if Pearl hadn’t of interrupted us?”

The photo Robyn had taken captured a beautiful forlorn look on his face, his eyes wide and curious, his left eye brow raised and matched the same look on Robyn’s face.

“Yes.” She answered without hesitation. “Would you?” She returned quickly.

“Yes.” His answer made Robyn look down to the island before slowing gazing back up at Taron, who was still looking at her but his whole face changed from a slight small smile to a grimace. “Fuck Robyn.”

“Maybe not just yet.” She answered as she hopped off the stool and walked around to Taron who was furiously running his hands through his hair and down his face.

“What a mess, huh?” He said and he leaned his hip against the island and looked to her.

“I wouldn’t call it a mess at all. Me and you, our relationship has been fast and furious. I know you have felt it and I have definitely felt it, this spark we have and last night just showed how intense it is. There is no denying the connection we have but it has been built because of the life-threatening situation we found ourselves in and because we were literally thrown together.”

“You saved my life Robyn.”

“I know Taron but we have only known each other two weeks and I don’t know how you feel but I don’t think a relationship can be built on such extreme circumstances, despite how easy we get on and how much we have in common. Emotions will always run high between me and you, always and last night emotions were on overload for us.”

“Might be an understatement.” Replied Taron. “I agree though. CPR is probably not the best start for a budding relationship.” He took a long breath in and out. “What I do know though, is that I love you, very much and I always will.”

“I absolutely love you too.” Robyn reached over and placed her hand on his. “And I will always be here for you and at the end of a phone too whenever you need me. You and me, what we have is something no one will ever understand. Jesus Taron even I don’t understand it but what I do know and hate to say it but I would rather have you as a friend above anything else. As much as I wish Pearl hadn’t interrupted us last night, maybe it was for the best.”

“Just a few more seconds.” He said quietly. Taron agreed completely with everything Robyn had said but he couldn’t help but wonder what it would have felt like to have a little kiss from her. “I need you as a friend too and I wouldn’t want anything to ruin what we have.”

Robyn heard the change in his voice and saw his head tilt a little towards his chin, realising he was disappointed that Pearl had disturbed them. “We have kind of kissed.” She said.

“I don’t remember it. I think I might have been unconscious at the time.” He smiled her way. “We already know that we are friends for life and I know I owe you more than I can ever give you, even more so after these last two weeks. I just don’t know what I am going to do with this fucking spark though.”

Robyn moved closer to him and placed two hands on his cheeks, Taron looking at her confused. She stood on her toes and looked at him directly in his eyes, before closing hers and placed a soft kiss on his lips, nose and then his forehead. “Me either.” She whispered against his cheek as she placed one last kiss there. “I will do nothing to risk our friendship Taron. It means so much to me and now you can remember the kiss.”

A little grin filled his face. “I thought I got two?” He said with a small wink. “Two breathes?” He loved seeing her smile and blush and he took full advantage of her silence and bending his head, brushed another quick kiss to her lips before pulling her in for a hug. “This doesn’t change anything between us, right?”

“Never.”

“Good. I can still have my head massages?” He asked as he rubbed her back, enjoying how she gently slapped his. “What about the spark?”

“Let’s keep it ignited. It’s a friendship spark and I know I am always going to feel it.”

“Me too.”

Taron absolutely adored his hugs with Robyn. She fitted so neatly into him and every time he could feel nothing but love from her. He also knew she was right about their emotions and connections. Everything between them was heightened because of their circumstances but without a doubt he wanted and definitely needed Robyn as a friend, even if her tiny kiss made his heart flutter. It was a gesture he would keep close to his heart forever.

“Want some help?”

He heard her ask. “With what chicken?” He replied laughing a little as she groaned into him.

“I am going to have to get used that bloody nickname, amn’t I?”

“Yes you are and help with what chicken?”

“The baking.”

“You will help me?” He asked as he let her go. “Thought I owed you?”

“You do but I want to help you.”

It was another easy baking activity between the two, Robyn giving Taron full credit when they finished the key lime pie and he placed it in the fridge to fully set.

“Think you can make one for your mam?” She asked as she dried the dishes while Taron washed them.

“I should be able to pull it together but I may need you to write the recipe down for me and I am definitely going to need the one for the rainbow cake. I will not get in the door at home before Mari and Rosie ask me to help them make one.”

“Of course I will.”

“Thanks chicken.”

Nothing had changed between them after their talk, if anything their friendship was further stamped with approval, both taking their spots on the couch that evening, with their legs thrown up onto the poof as they lazily and happily watch some television together.

When Robyn came on from work on Wednesday, she walked into the apartment with her eyes closed. “Do I need to be worried?” She asked as she blindly walked to the couch.

“It is safe to open your eyes.”

When she did, Taron was sitting on the couch with her laptop on his knees and his glasses on his face. “I have been reading scripts. I fucking hate reading scripts but I did it for you.”

Robyn sat down beside him. “You did it so you have some work when you are finished Kingman in the new year.”

“I did it to stop me from snooping.”

“No you did it to save yourself from more payback.”

“Well that too. Me and cwtch have been very good.” Robyn looked at him. “Promise. We have been sitting quietly.”

“And taking an Instagram picture.” She said smiling at him. “Did cwtch agree to his sudden fame?”

“He talked me into it.”

Robyn got a notification on her phone in her office that afternoon that Taron had posted a picture on Instagram and she was immediately curious to see what on earth he was posting. When the picture loaded, it was one of him half hiding behind the blue dinosaur, only the left side of his face visible as the plush took up the rest of picture. He had captioned it ‘Found a new friend to keep me company while I follow doctor’s orders.’ Of course, the picture had taken the attention of all his followers, again the comments wishing him well and even Richard had left his own reply. ‘You ditched your other friend already?’ he replied with a winky smiley face.

“I am sure the stuffed blue glitter dinosaur and you had a long argument about taking a picture.”

“He was against it at first.”

“Hmm sure he was.” She grinned. “It’s a real cute photo.”

“Just keeping things alive.” He said as he closed the laptop down and pulled his glasses off. “Easing back into things, right?”

“Right.”

After dinner, Taron asked if he could go to choir with Robyn before she had even got the chance to ask him. He had even asked if he could join in with the group of tenors.

“You sure? Last week you were hiding behind your hat. This week you want to take part?”

“If you think it would be ok?”

“Of course it would. Are you sure Taron?”

“Yeah. I trust you and I know I will get home and be kicking myself for not joining in and it has been so long since I sang in a choir and we’re easing back into life, right?”

The two walked into the church an hour later, Taron without his trusty hat and Robyn properly introduced him to Maddie. He had stepped into the tenor section with great encouragement from Maddie, announcing him to the choir as Robyn’s friend from last week, Taron taking a small bow. Robyn loved watching Taron sing so much so she forgot to sing along with her part and had to be nudged by her choir friends to pay attention. Maddie was teaching a new song and by the end of the hour and half, the choir had learnt the majority of the song of and easily sang it in four-part harmony as their rehearsal ended. Taron moved over to Robyn, when they were finished, as she spoke to some of her friends in the choir, standing beside her.

“She is our Freddy.” One said to Taron.

“Oh I know that. I have seen her sing that Queen song on DVD.”

Everyone laughed as Maddie walked over. “Taron you are more than welcome to come and sing with us whenever you want. Nice job on the harmonies.”

“You make learning them very easy. I know why this one loves it here.” Said Taron as he put his hands-on Robyn’s shoulders. He felt completely comfortable around everyone and no one had yet to ask him any questions about him, his movies or why he was visiting Robyn and he left the church with a spring in his step, feeling a lot better about being around people who weren’t Robyn and although he was nervous about the press and media, he didn’t feel his stomach drop every time now.

Whatever it was about Wednesday nights in Robyn’s home, Taron could not sleep again and found himself up long before her at five am sitting on her couch in his boxers and a t-shirt with a cup of coffee as he scrolled through his phone. Robyn wandered into him in her own pj bottoms and tank top at six.

“What are you doing up?” She asked sleepily as she sat on the poof stretching out.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Again?”

“No idea, Robyn. No idea.” He took a sip from his cup. “Think it will be a cuddly kind of day again today.”

“They are the best days.”

Robyn got ready for work while Taron stayed on the couch for a few minutes before getting up and making some breakfast for them.

“Go back to bed Taron.” Suggested Robyn as she picked up her car keys, getting ready to leave, a long yawn coming from Taron as she pulled on her converse. “I know we are not talking about it but you only have a few days left here and you really should take advantage of the peace and quiet before it gets mental for you again.” She started to walk away from him but stopped. “Take cwtch with you.” She grinned.

“I might just do that.” He replied.

Robyn came home for lunch just after one, a little later then she had planned as she got caught up in paperwork and when she walked into the house, she called for Taron but got no answer. She dropped her keys, phone and purse onto the breakfast bar and walled over the couch expecting to see him laying down, wrapped in the teddy bear throw but he wasn’t there. “Taron?” She called again and turned to the island in the kitchen to see it set up with two plates, a sandwich on each plate along with a cup of coffee and glass of milk. “Taron.” She said softly smiling at what she knew was meant to be lunch for her when she came in from work but she got held up and hadn’t arrived on time for lunch with him. She made her way into the bedroom and walked back to the kitchen to grab her phone.

Quietly she strolled back into the bedroom and opening the camera on her phone, walked around to her side of the bed and leaning down, took a photo of Taron as he slept soundly on his left side on top of the duvet, still in the clothes he wore to bed, the blue dinosaur cuddled tight in his arms, his nose buried into the plushes soft head.

“One for the memories Taron.” She said to herself.

“And one for me?” Robyn jumped when she heard his voice and looked to him, his eyes open but he still lay in a neat little ball on the bed. “I made you some lunch.”

Robyn climbed up onto the bed and moved over to him. “I know. I saw. Thank you. I am sorry I am late.” She said as sat up against the pillows beside him. “I got caught up in paper work.”

“It’s ok. I said I would lay down and wait for you but I guess I fell asleep.”

“And brought dino with you.”

“He was lonely without me.”

“I have a feeling you are going to stuff this dinosaur into your duffle to bring home.”

“Can I?” He asked looking up to her.

“You are very attached to it aren’t you.”

“I am just worried he is going to be thrown back under the bed when I leave.”

“You can bring him home Taron if you want and even if you don’t, cwtch will be staying on the couch. It’s his corner now too. I don’t think I will be able to sit on the corner any more.”

Taron moved up on the bed so he was sitting beside Robyn. ��Why not?”

“Because it’s your corner.” She replied a little sadly.

Taron immediately sensed the sadness and handed the dinosaur to her. “It’s cwtch’s corner now.” He said. “I think he should stay with you because if my sisters see him, he’s a goner and he’s good for cuddles.”

Robyn gave the dinosaur a long squeeze. “Not as good as some though.” She could feel Taron looking at her. “You, you tosspot!” She laughed as she hit him with the dinosaur.

“You still haven’t told me what a tosspot is Robyn.” Replied Taron as he chuckled.

“It’s just what you are.”

“Is it a good thing or a bad thing.”

“Depends on the situation.” She chuckled.

“Great ‘cos that clears it up for me.” He took a stretch, stopping so he didn’t over stretch his side. Over the last week the pain in his side was much more bearable but he knew he still had to take his movements slow and easy. “You want to have lunch now?” He asked. “I can make another coffee and get you some fresh milk.”

“Can we just stay here for my lunch instead?” She asked.

“You don’t want to have some food?” He asked her.

“I think I would like to just sit here with you if that’s ok.”

Without words, Taron moved closer to her. “That is always ok with me.” He draped his left arm around her shoulders, loving how now she just automatically leant into him.

It was a subject both had been avoiding but again as it was with them, words were not needed. They knew their time together was growing shorter and every minute they had together was precious. It wasn’t that they would never see each other again but after Saturday every thing was going to change for them, their perfect bubble bursting.

Robyn reluctantly got up fifty minutes later, handing the dinosaur back to Taron. “You sleep.” She said to him.

“I won’t sleep tonight if I sleep any more.”

“Sure you will.” She said as she walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

“Maybe I will go back to reading scripts.” He shouted her way. “Or I will keep them for later on this evening. I will read them and fall asleep afterwards.”

Robyn came out of the bathroom. “Maybe you and cwtch could find another photo to take of your adventures.” She suggested.

“That is not a bad idea at all. I will make some dinner for us.”

“And I will actually turn up on time for it.” She went to walk out the door but came back when Taron called her name. “Yep.”

“Would you like to go for dinner tomorrow evening?” He asked her.

“Are you asking me on a friendship date?” She asked, a shy smile on her face.

“Maybe?” He replied, a matching smile on his.

“I would love that.”

“Ok great but can you recommend somewhere for us to go because I have no idea of what is around here.”

“There’s a nice place in the next town called The Stone Hearth. You can google the number.”

“Thanks Robyn.”

“Thanks for the invite. I am already looking forward to it.”

After dinner that evening, they were sitting on the couch when Taron pulled out two face masks from the back pocket of his jeans.

“I thought you said you did not do any more snooping.” She said as she snatched the two face masks from his hands. “And how long have these been in your pockets. Taron they are warm!” She started to laugh hard, deep chuckles coming from her.

“I didn’t snoop.” He replied. “I found them on Tuesday but figured after the glitter incident I thought it better not even suggest them so have kept both and not in my pockets Robyn!” He groaned. “I put them in there before dinner.”

“So, you have been sitting on my very expensive face masks.” She said.

“Just warming them up.” He replied smirking. “I thought it would be something nice for us to do, if you want.” He added.

“I want.” She agreed. “This is a fantastic idea. Give me two seconds to grab some things.”

“It’s a face mask, what else do you need?” He asked as he watched her walk into the bathroom through the laundry room. Taron had been waiting for the perfect timing to suggest the face masks to Robyn, hiding them under his clothes, which Robyn had moved from her rail back to the shelf she had been putting his clean clothes on. After choir last night there was no time and tomorrow, he had booked a table for two at the restaurant Robyn had suggested for them for eight o clock so knew tomorrow night was out and Saturday, well he didn’t want to think about Saturday so as they chilled on the couch now, it seemed the perfect moment to bring them out.

“We need these.” Robyn came back to him and sat beside him, holding up two head bands and what looked like two paintbrushes.

He took a headband from her. “Really?” He asked.

“Maybe not for you, but I need one. Hair stuck in face masks in not fun.” She pulled her hair up in a quick messy bun, pulling the other black hairband over her forehead and onto her head to keep her hair out of the way.

“Hairband it is then,” He said, copying Robyn, making her smile. She fixed it so it was a little further back on his forehead. “And these are?” He asked holding up the brush.

“For face masks and don’t ask me ok. I haven’t a clue but Claire got them for me for my birthday. You are supposed to use them to ‘paint’ the mask on so you are not using your fingers. When it comes to Claire and her gadgets, I just do what she says.”

“Paintbrushes for face masks.” He confirmed.

Robyn held up the packets. “Which one do you want? Sea mud or sea clay?”

“Aren’t they the same thing?” He asked.

She shrugged. “Haven’t a clue. One is in a dark blue packet and one is light blue packet. One is full of anti-oxidants and the other is for a youthful glow.”

“I shall take the youthful glow.” Said Taron taking the dark blue packet from her. “Definitely could do with some of that.” He went to tear open the packet but Robyn took it from him. “Hey!”

“Oh Taron, chicken. Do you really think you are doing it yourself?” She grinned at him. “I don’t think so.” She waved her make up brush at him. “I get to do it.”

“So, then I get to put yours on.”

“Well duh. Thought that was kind of obvious and seeing as how you need this youthful glow, lets get yours on first.” Robyn shook the packet a little, while Taron settled himself crossed legged opposite her and she carefully tore it open, putting the ripped package top onto a newspaper on the poof beside them. “I won’t go near the cuts and scratches Taron or your forehead.”

“I know Robyn. I trust you. I am actually a little excited about this.”

“Of course you are.” Robyn squeezed some of the mask onto the brush and placed the packet on the newspaper too. She placed her left hand on his right jaw and started to brush the grey mask onto his left cheek, working her way up towards his forehead and down his nose. She went over his cheek again, spreading the mask evenly over his skin.

“It’s a little warm.” He said as he opened his closed eyes.

“It was in your back-pocket Taron and you were sitting on it with your bum. I’d expect it to be a little warm.” She moved her hand around to the back of his neck and carefully swept the mask onto his right cheek, taking extra time to make sure she didn’t cover any of the injuries his face still held, avoiding the right side of his forehead completely. She put some more of the mask onto the brush and moved around either side of his jaw and then covered his chin and above his lips, using the remaining mask in the packet to go over his whole face again. “And you are beautiful!” She said putting the used make up brush and empty packet on the newspaper.

“Now its your turn.” He uncrossed his legs while Robyn crossed hers. “So just paint it on, right?” He asked as he ripped the packet open.

“Pretty much.”

“Ok I got this.” In the same way that Robyn had held his face, Taron did the same for her, and he gently brushed the mask onto her cheek and forehead and down the other side.

“You are enjoying this too much.” Said Robyn as she heard him humming as he put some more mask onto the brush.

“I have been waiting to do this since Tuesday.” He replied, sweeping the mask down her nose. “Bye bye freckles.” He said as he did it again, Robyn’s lips twitching up but she said nothing and closed her eyes, letting him continue on. She could feel how careful he was being and also how thorough he was as he brushed her face three more times before he stopped. “And volá.” He put his brush and empty mask on the newspaper where Robyn had left the other one.

“Now we sit and wait.” Robyn sat back on the couch, Taron sitting beside her.

“And take photos.” He said as he pulled his phone from his pocket. “These are good memories to add.” Taron sent the photos he had taken to Robyn and dropping his phone on the couch, sat back on the couch, a satisfied sigh leaving his lips. “Best two weeks ever.” He whispered.

Robyn heard him and smiled. “I agree with that.” She said quietly, slipping her hand into his. After twenty minutes of sitting, Robyn gave his hand another squeeze. “Let’s see how youthful you look.”

They walked into the bathroom and washed the masks off. “Good call for the headband.” Said Taron as he used a towel to pat his face dry.

“Sometimes I have good ideas.” Agreed Robyn as she pulled her headband off and her hair out of the bun. “And look at you. That’s taken about ten years off you!” She smiled. “Thanks Taron. Nice little treat after dinner.”

“Thought you would like it. Even if I did sit on them.” Robyn took a step forward and gave him a hug. “Robyn?”

“Just ‘cos I can.” She explained. “And ‘cos I want to.”

Taron understood exactly what she meant. His time was counting down very quickly and he felt his eyes start to water when he thought of what was coming but he swallowed back the tears. He kept telling himself to think of the time they had together rather than all the time they would spend apart. He would treasure his time with Robyn and hugged her a little closer.

#Taron Egerton #Taron Egerton Fanfiction #Taron Egerton Fanfic #Taron Fanfic #Messing #Love #Friendship #Singing #Music #Laughter #Joy #Key Lime Pie #Friends before lovers #Trust #Feelings

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hookedontaronfics · 5 years ago

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Honky Dancer series - Chapter 6

Chapter title: Hideouts and Hangups Read the previous installments here: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 Rating: M Pairing: Taron x OC Warnings: Smut A/N: You’ve been asking for it, and I have delivered, but don’t be fooled. This series promised you drama, and there’s so much more to give. I hope you soak up every sweet moment of this chapter! Enjoy! X

Two weeks flew by without me having much chance to do anything about the boy situation. Between my roster of classes, Rocketman rehearsals, and screen tests, with actual filming coming up far too soon, I couldn’t find enough time in my schedule to sit down with Markus and tell him how I was feeling. I refused to let him down in an off-hand manner at the end of rehearsal - he at least deserved more than that from me. I also felt suspended in a weird sort of juxtaposition, considering I was talking to Taron on the phone every night before bed but still had this weird emotional hangup because Markus was still attached to my life. I couldn’t fully move forward if I was still holding back. The more I thought about it, the clearer it became how I was feeling about the two men.

“Alright, hold still, honey,” a costume assistant said through a mouthful of pins clenched between her lips. I was used to costume fittings at this point in my life, having gone through many of them for the stage too, but I wasn’t used to Taron just walking in the dressing room in nothing but a robe and his skivvies, cup of coffee in his hand. I jerked in surprise, got stabbed by a pin, yelped “ouch!” and nearly toppled off the dais I was standing on. Taron, for his part, only pulled the edges of his robe around himself and grinned at me, but it was far too late; I’d already seen the hair lightly splayed across his chest, the taut muscles of his stomach, and those thighs that could make anyone melt.

“Good afternoon, Juliette,” he said as I tried not to blush but I could feel the redness creeping up from my neck.

“Taron, h-hi,” I stumbled slightly.

“T, your costume is set up in the other room. If you need any help Brigette will be back shortly,” my assistant said, still dutifully pinning away as I tried to remember how to breathe.

“Ahh yeah, thanks, I think I’ve got it,” he said, giving me a small wave and disappearing into the other room. Did he really just walk around set like that? I wondered. Not that he had anything remotely to be ashamed of. I knew Taron was obviously busy with scenes us dancers weren’t a part of, and nothing was ever shot in order. But his apparent lack of self-consciousness had also taken me by surprise.

“You’re all done, sweetie. Let’s get you out of this and on your way,” the assistant said to me. I quickly shimmied out of the pink outfit and handed it off so it could be finished and then slipped back into my regular clothes, which really just included a leotard and sweatpants. I never claimed to be fashionable. The assistant hurried off to go do something and so, having a moment of courage, I knocked on the door of Taron’s dressing room and then slipped inside.

“Well this is a pleasant surprise,” Taron said as soon as I had the door closed behind me. I turned around and spied him sitting on the couch, sipping his coffee still but dressed in a pair of red pants and a white button-down shirt.

“I… I missed you,” I said quietly, a bit unsure of myself.

“Come here, love,” he smiled, opening his arms for me and I gladly walked into his embrace, hugging him tightly for a long moment before laying my head on his shoulder.

“I’m not used to seeing you with long hair,” I smirked, teasing my fingers through the ends of the wig lightly.

“It takes some getting used to,” he grinned. “But I can handle the wigs much better than what they’re going to have to do to my hair later. Unspeakable things,” he said with a shudder.

“It’s fine, Taron, I’ll still find you cute,” I joked lightly, making him grin and pull me in for a kiss. These were the kind of moments we had lately, stolen bits of time between rehearsals and call times. I spied a blue plaid jacket hanging on the edge of a chair. “So what scene is it today?” I asked curiously.

“Me and Kiki Dee, or the ever lovely Rachel Muldoon,” he grinned. “It’s the ‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart’ scene,” Taron replied. “Which Richard Madden interrupts whole-heartedly,” he said with a cute grin; I loved how much he adored his friend and co-worker.

“So, you should show me more of your costumes,” I giggled, just teasing him really but he instantly hopped up off the couch and pulled me up with him.

“Why not, love!” he grinned, pulling the door to the dressing room open and then peeking out to see if anyone was nearby, but we were mostly alone in the costume department. He sweetly took my hand and led me to where the rows upon rows of costumes were hung. “Holy shit,” I said under my breath, a little overwhelmed by the sheer amount of sparkle.

“It’s a bit full on, innit?” he grinned, as I carefully ran my hand over the fabrics.

“Yeah, just a bit. I know you haven’t had a chance to wear all these yet, but do you have a favorite?” I asked.

“Oh, I do. And it’s the craziest one of them all!” He chuckled, showing off a bright orange neoprene number with rhinestones (I’d later be corrected that they were real Swarovski crystals) and devil horns and massive feathered wings.

“You’re going to be wearing that,” I said, staring agape at Taron slightly.

“Didn’t you say you’d find me cute anyhow?” He teased lightly, ruffling my hair until I slapped his hand away playfully.

“It’s just a bit intense is all. And really orange,” I smirked, pulling a feather boa off a rack and wrapping it around myself playfully. “I couldn’t imagine dressing like this every day,” I giggled, picking a pair of sunglasses and carefully placing them on my face as well.

“Well look at you,” he grinned, wrapping his arms around me from behind and resting his chin on my shoulder as his green eyes met my own blue ones in the mirror’s reflection.

“Have you managed to talk to Markus yet?” he asked gently, knowing it was a bit of a touchy subject with me.

“Haven’t had a single chance, Taron. I’ve barely seen you, you know,” I sighed, turning to him. “I’ll do it, I promise.”

“I know, I know,” he said, sweeping my hair back off my shoulders. “I’ve just found I don’t like sharing all that much after all,” he said, his voice reaching a deeper timbre as he leaned in and kissed me, taking my breath away as he always did. His hands drifted down to my waist as I kissed him back, getting lost in the feel of those soft, needy lips against mine. He walked me back until my butt hit the edge of a table, then hoisted me up on it so I was sitting and melting a bit into the racks of costumes behind me.

As our kisses heated up, Taron knocked the glasses I was still wearing askew on my face but I could care less as he slowly slipped the shoulder straps of my leotard down my arms, leaving his trail of kisses along my jaw, down my neck and scattering them across my collar bones. I couldn’t help the tiny moan that escaped, Taron pressed against me between my legs. I felt his lips working their way across the skin of my chest, drawing lines of fire across my skin as I let my head drop back, and when he groaned slightly himself I instantly felt the throbbing response in my groin.

But then he pulled back, panting and looking slightly unnerved and quite obviously turned on, as my eyes drifted below the belt. “Why did you stop?” I asked, trying to sound anything but the desperation I felt in the moment.

“I’m not going to fuck you in a costume closet,” he said, running his fingers through his wig with frustration. “You mean more to me than that. I shouldn’t have gotten carried away,” he tried to apologize as I awkwardly hiked my leotard straps back into place.

“It’s...um… fine, T,” I said, clearing my throat and hopping off the table.

“I want to, believe me,” he said, turning his intense gaze on me, his eyes full of lust still. “But this is not how I carry myself. And not what you should accept either,” he added, though he couldn’t resist stealing another kiss from me before we finally had company.

“Oh, Taron dear, there you are. They’re asking for you,” a brisk woman said as we nearly jumped away from each other and Taron tried to hide his obvious bulge.

“I’ll be right there, Brigette,” he replied in an oddly strangled voice, and whether Brigette thought anything about what we were up to or not she didn’t let on. I quickly returned the glasses and boa to where they had been and brushed a feather or two off my leotard, still feeling turned on and awkward.

“I’ll see you later then?” I asked, and Taron sighed and nodded.

“Yes, of course. We’ll figure out dinner soon, promise,” he said, giving me one of his signature adorable grins. I was often the subject of such sweet smiles that always made me melt a little inside. We parted ways and I swung into the bathroom first before returning to rehearsals, trying to calm my body down but that was difficult with thoughts of Taron still racing through my mind. While I was washing my hands, another girl bounced in and seemed thankful to see me there. “Oh please tell me you have a tampon on you,” she pleaded. “Having a bit of an emergency.”

“Mmmm, yeah, I think so,” I said, digging one out of my purse and handing it to her.

“Thank you so much! You’re a lifesaver!” she said, disappearing into one of the stalls as I stood frozen to the spot with the sudden realization that I was overdue for my own. By a week. Oh fuck, I breathed out slightly, my stomach clenching uncomfortably as I tried to think back. But I couldn’t think my way around it; I was regular without exception and I was a week late. Maybe, I thought, reaching for any straw, maybe because I’d been dancing so much more now my body was thrown off and having to adjust. That could totally be it, I thought, desperate for a way to not freak out about this possible scenario. I had to force myself to go back to rehearsals and try to focus on the routine.

I fairly fled the studios when we were done, running to the nearest convenience store and trying to not hate myself as I pulled a couple of different tests from the shelf. I stared at the floor as I was rung up, the girl behind the register exceptionally chatty. I bounced impatiently, nearly leaving my change at the counter just so I could get out of there faster, shoving the bag deep in my purse before taking the tube across town to pick up my daughter from my mum’s. After homework, dinner, cartoons and lights out, I finally had a moment to shut myself away in the bathroom, my bladder screaming at me as I’d been holding it the past hour.

I stared at the tests in my hand for a long moment before chickening out, not sure I was ready to know that answer yet. I peed and shoved the unopened boxes in the bathroom cabinet, sighing to myself and feeling things I couldn’t identify; fear, probably, anxiety, sadness, but also a little bit of hope and maybe even joy. But how this could potentially affect my life, if it were real, I wasn’t ready to face just yet, and so I tucked myself into bed and tried not to think, ignoring both Markus’ and Taron’s texts.

It took me a week before I could face that reality, another week where my period had yet to make its arrival, another week of anxiety and worry. I’d finally managed to nail down another dinner date with Markus for the following evening, and I needed to know this answer before I faced him again. But almost as if my prayers had been answered, when I went to use the bathroom at the studio knowing full well what awaited me at home, I wiped and there was blood and I screeched “yesssss!” out loud and heard an answering giggle in the next stall over. “Sorry, don’t mind me,” I said, crying slightly out of relief. Thank god, I thought, not even caring that I’d slightly bled through onto my underwear and leotard. I wasn’t pregnant, and that’s all that mattered.

I practically floated through rehearsal and the rest of my day, texting rather steamy things with Taron long into the night and then slightly regretting that when I woke up exhausted the next morning. I slogged through work at my studio and got ready for my date with Markus, repeating in my head what I had decided to say to try and let him down gently but firmly. I needed to make it clear my heart was very much elsewhere.

But damn if he didn’t look fantastic that evening, in a blue-checked button-down and grey jeans and his signature beanie. We ended up actually having a fantastic dinner together, laughing so much my sides hurt and I somehow forgot I was supposed to be breaking up with him. We went back to his place to watch a movie and cuddle a bit, and my moment not only came but passed me by as well. Because instead of breaking up with him, I ended up making out with him instead. Which led to us sleeping together (and yes, he wore protection this time, no question) and me waking up in the morning naked next to his sleeping form, and feeling a mix of things but not one of them regret.

What the hell has happened to me? I wondered, watching Markus sleeping. He was more my type, and we understood each other. He didn’t light the fire in my chest, certainly, but I liked him and I belonged with him, more than I would ever belong to Taron. I knew that intrinsically as I reached over and gently ran my fingers through Markus’ curls. He woke up and captured my hand in his, lifting it to his lips and kissing my fingers sweetly.

“Morning,” he smiled at me beatifically, tugging at my heart a bit. This is the person I should be with, I thought, but somehow there was a sadness that crushed me. I still did my best to muster up the good feelings I had with Markus and had an enjoyable breakfast with him before heading home, my tail figuratively tucked between my legs. I had failed my mission miserably, and I’d have to find a way to admit that to Taron too.

Once I was home I called Madison and begged her to come over and help me sort the mess of my life, and she was all too happy to oblige, bringing over tacos and chips and salsa which we gorged on as we talked, our legs tucked up under us on the couch.

“So let me get this straight. You went on this date to break up with Markus, and you slept with him instead?” she said, shaking her head and trying to hide her smile behind her fake sternness.

“For lack of a better explanation, yeah,” I said weakly. “He’s not a bad guy, Mads, and I can’t make him into one. He was so sweet and fucking handsome too and we just clicked really. One thing led to another and, well, you know.”

“Mmm, yeah, I don’t really but… Why be with a guy you don’t have feelings for?” she asked.

“But I do like him, and he gets me,” I said. “And he’s more on my level,” I added, and Madison rolled her eyes at me.

“But he doesn’t make your little heart pitter-patter like Taron does. You’ve told me that yourself,” she smirked around a bite of taco, half of the filling dropping back into the wrapper when she took a bite but she seemed none too bothered. Troy, however, lifted his head up from where he’d been laying on the floor and licked his chops, eyeing her food carefully.

“Yeah but maybe that’s just lust, I don’t know. Just because I want to jump his adorable little Welsh bones at every second doesn’t mean we’re in love,” I sighed. “I’ve made wrong decisions in the past, you know.”

“Oh, I know, Juliette. I’ve scraped you out of a few of those. But the thing is, you just really need to sleep with the guy and get that out of the way and then make your decision from there,” she said, making my jaw drop as I stared at her.

“Did you, innocent little Madison, just advocate for me to sleep with Taron?” I asked as she giggled.

“Well, you’re on unequal footing here. You’ve already done the deed with Markus. How can you compare the two when you haven’t had sexy times with your actor boyfriend?” she giggled. “Give him a little something,” she smirked, shimmying at me slightly until I threw a balled-up napkin at her.

“You’re the actual worst,” I laughed, and she just grinned.

“I’m invested in this now! I need to know what he’s packing!” she teased, making me blush hard.

“Shit, Mads, I’m not going to survive this,” I laughed, almost nervously.

“I have a feeling it will make your decision incredibly easy, that’s all,” she said, scooping up her taco fillings with a chip and shoving it all in her mouth.

“Let’s hope so, Mads,” I sighed. “I need a sign from the Gods.”

*********

The next week flew by in a bit of a blur, as we got ready for actual filming of the Honky Cat scenes. We did a few screen tests with our costumes and the lighting and sets, and I unfortunately managed to see myself on that screen test. When they say the camera adds at least 15 pounds they aren’t lying; I couldn’t stop staring at how chunky I looked in that bubblegum pink outfit. I needed to lay off the takeout and start eating more restrictively, that was for sure.

Even if Taron had whispered in my ear the sorts of things he wanted to do to me in that costume, and even if the other snotty girls still called me twiggy bitch when they knew I could hear them, I couldn’t help feeling a bit insecure. I’d be immortalized on film now, and the last thing I wanted was to forever hate how I looked.

Letting myself go had never been intentional, and I stood in front of the mirror in my unders and bra, scrutinizing myself extra hard that night, poking at my stomach and my thighs and my hip bones. Places I wished Taron would touch me, of course. Almost as if I had summoned him with that thought, my phone rang and I nearly tripped over my discarded jeans to get to my phone. “Heeey!” I answered, flopping on my bed unceremoniously.

“Tomorrow. You and me. It’s happening,” he said, and I gasped slightly before my brain caught up and I realized he just meant dinner. “I’ve weaseled my way out of night shoots because I can’t stand not having time with you for weeks on end. I was thinking we could have a nice dinner at Circolo Popolare if that suited you. I mean, if you had someone to watch Clara, of course,” he added in haste.

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” I said a bit faintly, still reeling from the thoughts I’d just been having. “I miss you too, Taron, but you shouldn’t take time off on my behalf.”

“Nonsense, you’re my girl,” he replied, making me squeal internally to hear those words. “I’m also bloody exhausted. Dex could tell, so this was an easy decision. So after we finish Honky Cat tomorrow I’m free.”

“It’s the big tap sequence tomorrow. You sure you’re ready?” I teased lightly.

“I’ll smash it. After all I had the best mentor ever,” he said with a grin. I could just imagine the way his eyes crinkled up when he did that.

“Not going to lie, it will be nice to move on to something else. I randomly hum the lyrics all the time now, in the grocery, on the tube. It’s driving me and everyone else around me mad!” I laughed.

“Well then you’ll just get the next thing stuck in your head, but is it really a bad thing when it’s Elton?” he chuckled.

We chatted a bit longer but soon I was tucked away in bed, trying to fall asleep but too excited over my impending dinner with Taron - and what might happen after. The inevitability of it felt both intimidating and exhilarating at the same time. My period had been shorter than normal, only a few days and not so awful, but I figured that had to do with my sudden increase in physical activity, which made sense. Some elite dancers circumvented their cycles entirely for years until they finally slowed down, so it wasn’t an uncommon phenomenon. Either way, I was just happy to have that out of the way now and be able to fully enjoy my evening with Taron, whatever that entailed.

The next day of filming went as smoothly as possible but also felt excruciatingly slow. How Taron managed to keep up his energy through take after take after take was beyond me. But seeing him play off Richard and seemingly having the time of his life felt like a special thing to witness. Even when he tripped up their stairs he laughed at himself good-naturedly. I could see why all of his co-workers always spoke so highly of him. He kept everyone at ease and laughing between takes and was just truly a professional about the whole thing.

When Dexter called the final cut, all of us, actors and dancers, were none too happy to hang up our platform shoes. “See you in a bit, pick you up at 7?” Taron smiled at me, but I could see the exhaustion in the tight lines of his face. He trusted me enough to let me see him that way, beyond the performer he was to everyone else.

“I’m looking forward to it,” I grinned back, our fingers linking briefly when no one was looking before he wandered off to go talk to Dexter about something.

I hurried home and showered quickly, needing to rid myself of as much dancer sweat as possible and shaving every inch it was possible to shave, half-wondering if Taron even cared about that. I had a quick phone call with my daughter, who was safely stowed away for the night with my mum after Zayn had picked her up at school. I was seriously shocked at my ex’s newfound level of responsibility, even asking me for more time with Clara after having missed out on so many years of her life.

Once my hair was somewhat dry, I quickly tousled in some product to make my waves stand out and not look like such a frizzy mess, quickly did my makeup and changed my outfit about 13 times, figuring I was being completely silly because Taron had already seen me slouching around in leos and sweatpants. If he could think I was cute then, did it really matter what I wore to dinner? The place he’d chosen was mostly casual, so I finally decided on a pretty flowered blouse I loved and a cardigan and skinny jeans, and pulled those on over my lacy underthings just in time for the doorbell to ring and Troy to sound the alarm.

I grabbed my purse and managed to hold Troy back from attacking Taron when I opened the door. He looked simply beautiful in a fitted burgundy blazer, white tee and the tightest jeans known to man. They were probably skinnier than my own pair, and the thought made me giggle. “Hello beautiful,” he greeted me with a kiss on the cheek before patting Troy quickly. He offered his arm for the simple walk to his car, and I couldn’t help enjoying every little thing he did to make me feel special.

We made our way across town, arriving at the packed restaurant but Taron had wisely called ahead and made a reservation. The vibrant place was a sensory overload - There was a bank of windows that let plenty of the fading evening light in, but other walls were covered floor to ceiling in bottles of wine in every shape, size and color, while greenery, flowers and lights hung down from the ceiling. It was beautiful and overwhelming all at once. The food was much the same, the Sicilian fare both mouth-wateringly good and incredibly indulgent. I’d have to start my diet tomorrow, I thought, as Taron and I both tucked into carbonara pasta, burrata pizza and tiramisu. And oh the wines, though I was careful this time; no too-drunk rejections for me this time.

The company wasn’t half-bad either; I could stare at Taron all damn day if I was given license. We laughed and he was affectionate, touching my knee or my arm, leaning in to steal a kiss every so often, and generally being attentive and sweet. I was having a hard time understanding why I had ever given Markus a chance when I was with Taron. But there was still always a part of me that felt like I was an interloper in his world; like I was the lucky fan who had won a date on some reality show. I was borrowing my time with him and some day I’d wake up and find this was all too good to be true.

“Something troubles you?” Taron asked, breaking into my thoughts; I must have been frowning or something.

“Oh, no, I was just thinking,” I shrugged. “Not sure about what,” I said, as he gave me a measured stare.

“I have a feeling you know exactly and don’t want to divulge,” he said quietly, so I could barely hear him over the din of the restaurant. “I don’t want secrets between us, Juliette. You can tell me literally anything.”

“I know, Taron, and I’m grateful for that,” I smiled over at him. “We could take this somewhere else though,” I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking with sudden nerves.

“Sure, we could go back to my place for a small nightcap if you wish,” he offered, but I shook my head.

“I can’t forget about Troy, he’ll be needing let out,” I replied, and Taron playfully smacked his forehead as if to say “I forgot.”

“Of course, we’ll swing back around to your place then,” he said, and with that decided, he paid the tab and we headed out. We made small talk on the way back to my place, and I was relieved once we were distracted momentarily with my dog, tossing a ball and letting him eagerly fetch it in the back garden. The porch light deepened the shadows on Taron’s face and I couldn’t read his expression. Once Troy was done with his doggy business, we retired inside, as it was still cold in the late evenings. I found us some wine, which neither of us drank much of, and we settled in on the couch to talk.

“You didn’t end things with Markus,” Taron asked, interpreting my silence as such, and I cringed slightly.

“I was going to, but I chickened out of it, and I don’t know why, and I’m sorry. Because I thought you’d be mad at me. I know how you feel about him,” I started to explain.

“I’m not mad. If anything, he got to you before I did, really, but I am jealous. I don’t understand why someone else gets your heart,” he admitted.

“But that’s the thing, Taron, he doesn’t, not really. When I’m with you it feels so easy and so simple. But there’s a part of me that still doesn’t believe I belong with you. Like somehow the world will figure out I’m just an imposter by your side,” I said, biting the inside of my lip until I tasted blood.

“No one else gets to decide that for me. I rather like to think I decide who belongs in my life. I don’t understand why you think you’re not good enough. You could be a janitor or burger flipper for all I cared about what you do. It’s your soul that I admire, your spirit that you keep hidden from the world but that you let me see. It’s the way I feel safe with you to just let down the defenses, to stop being the performer. You bring peace to my soul in a way no one else has.” I gazed at him, my heart tripping through every possible emotion at lightspeed. How did he manage to make me feel more in a single sentence than I’d spent a lifetime trying to feel?

“Taron, I…” I tried to say, but my brain utterly failed me in that moment.

“You let me see into you, but all I see are walls. I want to be let past them, and I’m trying. I’ve been trying. I get glimpses through the cracks and I only want more. Open up to me, trust me, and I’ll give you everything I am, Juliette. You can have it, it’s all for your taking. I don’t ask for much but please just let me in.” He leaned in, cupping my face with his hands, brushing the fingertips over my cheeks, gazing so deeply into my soul I felt undone. “Please,” he pleaded with me again.

All the past pain and mistrust, the hurt and mistakes, the being left behind and completely invalidated, the fear of trying again, rushed to the surface, but Taron was none of those things. He’d only ever sought to support me, and be kind to me, never asked for more than I could truly give, and put my needs before his own. The way he felt about me was purer than anything I had ever experienced; I knew without a doubt that he was sincere in every word he said to me. He wore his heart on his sleeve and now he was extending it to me. Take it, Juliette, I thought. What was there left to fear but the fear itself?

“Okay.” It was one simple word that would change the course of my life forever. Because it was then that I finally discovered what it was to truly find someone who couldn’t get enough of you, who complemented your soul in every way, who filled in the cracks and made you shine again.

When he brought our lips together, it was simple and sweet. He was still cupping my face as our breaths mingled, our eyes gazing into each other’s for that one moment that felt frozen in time. I could kiss Taron forever, and get lost in the feel of his lips against mine, and the way he looked at me like I was truly the only person in the world he saw.

I nudged his nose playfully with mine before kissing him back, a little more purposefully, my hands finding their way to the soft hair at the nape of his neck and he gasped slightly at that. We both wanted more from each other and it certainly hung in the tension between us as we deepened the kisses once again, his hands finding their way under the hem of my blouse and gently whispering over my skin. We weren’t going to stop this time, and there was no reason to now.

“May I?” he asked, tugging at the hem, and I nodded as he pulled the blouse up and over my head and set it aside gently. His gaze lingered for a long moment on my breasts in their lacy bra, and he had to take a steadying breath before going back to kissing me, nipping at my lower lip slightly before traveling his kisses along my neck again, right in the spots he had discovered I liked best, his fingers never leaving my skin either as he slowly leaned me back on the couch. He rid himself of his own shirt and though I’d seen his bare chest before, it wasn’t in this capacity, and I couldn’t resist reaching out and splaying my hands over his skin, a slight sheen of sweat already present and it only made him sexier to me.

He dropped his kisses lower, over the lace of the cups, making me gasp slightly before he reached around and unhooked my bra, sliding it down off my arms and tossing it unceremoniously somewhere. He heard it land and then Troy’s nails skittering across the floor and both of us had to laugh at that. “I think you startled my dog,” I giggled lightly before Taron shut me up completely by taking one of my nipples in his mouth, rolling it about with his tongue. I’d never felt that sensation before, and I moaned loudly despite myself. Holy shit, I was well and truly losing myself to him.

“Bedroom, now,” he said, pulling me up and holding my hand as we fairly raced to my room, half-naked and desperate for each other, knocking into the walls a few times as we tried to steal kisses from each other. He pulled me into more heated kisses as we both clumsily rid ourselves of our pants before falling into the bed together, his weight settling over me, pressing me into the mattress as he buried his face against my neck for a long moment.

“No turning back now, love,” he said softly, his teeth grazing along the shell of my ear and sending shivers along my spine.

“I want you, I’ve been wanting you. I have no doubts about this now,” I whispered. He looked at me, his eyes searching mine for a second but found no trace of doubt there.

His hand slid down my body, over the curves of my hips, before dipping below the waistband of my lacy panties and between my legs. I gasped at the same time he groaned, feeling how wet and ready I was for him. He captured my lips in another kiss before pulling those panties off me entirely, and then his boxers followed quickly after. I couldn’t help but stare, his erection springing up against his stomach, already glistening. “Bedside drawer,” I managed to choke out, as he reached over and fished out a condom and wasted no time in rolling it on.

He nudged my legs apart and settled himself between them, his thick cock nestled against my thigh. I keened softly in anticipation; he was so careful with me, so caring, as he lined his hips up with mine, slowly pressing his way inside me, letting me adjust, but oh the sensation was delicious. I wanted nothing more than to feel him filling me up completely, and I moaned out my pleasure as he joined out bodies together, his eyes dark with lust as he gazed down adoringly at me.

“Fuck, love,” he said roughly, holding himself up over me and looking about as undone as I felt before he started to move those glorious hips of his. There was no pain with him, only pleasure, and more than I’d ever really felt before. But there was something else happening, something in my heart unlocking, as we brought ourselves higher and higher. There was having sex, and there was making love, and now I finally understood the difference. Because Taron didn’t just want the physical act, he wanted to connect in a more meaningful way.

Even as his hips snapped powerfully against mine, as he hit every delicious spot inside me and drove me wild, he also touched something deep inside my soul. Our climaxes built and we lost control with each other, our moans and grunts and groans ricocheting through the empty halls of my house as my orgasm rocketed into and through me first, and Taron not far behind. He collapsed on top of me, and I could feel his heart hammering away in his chest as we laid there, trying to come down from our highs. I gently ran my fingers through his hair, tears in my eyes, having experienced something I didn’t even have words to describe.

“You amaze me,” he finally whispered after long moments of us trying to catch our breaths.

“Not so bad yourself,” I teased him softly, as we shifted slightly on the bed so we were laying face-to-face, pulling the covers around us thanks to the chill in the air despite my heater being on.

“Juliette, I… I love you,” he said softly, caressing my cheek and looking like he was about to cry, which got to me slightly. “I knew it before but you’re the most incredible woman I have ever met in my life. I love everything you are,” he said, nuzzling his nose against mine sweetly, such a deep look of vulnerability in his expression tearing at my soul.

“I love you too, Taron,” I said, knowing it was 100 percent true. I didn’t have to worry over that feeling for days; it was bursting open in my heart right there. I wanted to spend every last minute I had with him, and give him everything; maybe even marry him someday. He loved me, he loved Clara, he loved my life and wanted to be a part of it; I could see it all spelled out so clearly in front of me. The corners of his mouth twitched up in a sleepy smile. He kissed me a few times, soft and slow and sweet. I felt loved and adored by him in everything I was.

We laid like that for a while before he slipped into sleep; he was so exhausted, I hoped he was resting well. I managed to not wake him as I got out of bed to take care of the house quickly, picking up our discarded clothes, putting the wine away, making sure Troy was settled and the house locked up tight, before slipping back under the covers with him. Even in his sleep he turned to me and wrapped an arm around my body, making me feel secure in that embrace. I loved him, the words and thoughts and feelings rolling through me in waves of light and color. I hadn’t believed it could be this way, but now I had experienced it. How had I ever thought settling for just okay was good enough?

I watched Taron’s sleeping face for as long as I could keep my eyes open, wanting to take it all in, the vulnerability and sweetness of his sleeping expression. I never thought I’d be one of those lucky women who had the privilege of seeing this but here I was now, skin to skin with him, his body heat keeping me warm, his tiny little snore endearing to me too. As I drifted off to sleep, I could only think how truly, madly, deeply I had fallen for Taron Egerton.

Will Juliette truly be able to move forward with Taron? Or will her secrets tear them apart? Keep reading to find out in Chapter 7 HERE!

#taron imagine #taron egerton #taron smut #rocketman fanfiction #taron x reader

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writethehousedown · 5 years ago

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mittens. [Ninex] - meggie

A/N: Remember that teachers AU I was going to write and then didn’t? I’m visiting it in Ficmas. In a few different ways. (Trixya, Witney, Branjie, Shalaska, and Crameron are coming eventually.)

This is the first, a stupidly sweet Ninex piece that involves car duty, knitting, and pining. So my life. (Meggie inserting herself into Nina West to write out some feelings? It can’t be so.) Enjoy.

Thank you, Mia (my sun and stars), for making me (and my writing) better than I am every single day. And for everything else. I love you most of all.

It’s the first really cold day they’ve had all year.

The wind is blowing ice pellets around the dry ground and whipping the tree limbs back and forth as Nina takes her place in the circle drive pick up line.

She doesn’t mind the cold, not really, prefers it to the sweltering heat of August and September. Would rather lose feeling in her toes and fingers than have rivers of sweat running down her back for the next hour.

But she’s lost her mittens. Somewhere in the shuffle of moving to her new (much bigger, much nicer) history room after the ancient tenured department head had retired at the end of last year, Nina’s thick woolen mittens with the hole at the wrist had disappeared.

And of course she’s only just now noticing it when it’s subarctic outside and her hands have gone instantly numb.

Still, there’s no time to fret about it now. She waves the cars into place with as brave a face as she can muster, watches as Brooke directs traffic in the two pick up lines, smiles at Vanjie trying to pretend she isn’t distracted by the students when she’s supposed to be calling names and reminding them to stay off the ramp, Timothy! It’s covered in ice!

But there’s Monét, who’s controlling the traffic in the front line, standing just beside Brooke. She’s wearing a puzzled expression and keeps glancing over at Nina.

Nina tries not to let it bother her. She and Monét have struck up a friendship (their rooms are right across the hall from each other), and she’s sure Monet’s puzzlement has nothing to do with her.

Theirs is a good duty team. Everyone says so. Brooke is quick and efficient. The kids adore Vanessa, so they listen to her. Monét is friendly, but imposing, and Nina’s been doing this for so long she thinks she could do it in her sleep. They have the fastest times out of anyone in the school (not that Nina keeps track of that sort of thing with a little sense of pride), and they work well together. So the last thing Nina wants to do is ask Monét uncomfortable questions and throw off that balance. They just gel. Just click. It just works.

When the last car pulls away for the day, Monét holds the back door open for all of them. Brooke and Vanessa go in first, Brooke chuckling at a joke meant just for her. Nina rolls her eyes. It’s so obvious to everyone but them.

“Where are your gloves, Nina West?” Monét asks incredulously as Nina ducks under her outstretched arm and steps into the warmth of the building.

Nina shivers as she sheds her ice-covered coat. Her fingers are shriveled and pink, numb and stiff.

“Lost them in the move,” she says with a shrug. “Have to pick up a new pair the next time I’m out.”

Monét strips off her own mittens (which look thick and woolen and extremely cozy, Nina notes), grabs Nina’s hands in her own, and rubs them between hers.

The purpose, she knows, is to warm Nina’s hands, which it does, but it also lights a fire in her chest, speeds up her heart, just all kinds of inappropriate things to be happening at school of all places.

She’s known there were feelings for her coworker simmering slowly under the surface. She’s known. But she’s done her best to stay professional, to stay secretive. She doesn’t even know if Monét likes women or not, and besides, there are enough couples at the school already without adding one more to the list.

Which is why she hasn’t said a word to anyone—not even Brooke—about this tiny, little, fledgling crush she has on Monét.

But here they are, standing in the middle of the back hallway, practically holding hands in front of god and everyone, and Nina’s heart is racing and her knees are weak, and she could just tiptoe up and lean forward and—

She’s definitely been watching too many Hallmark movies. Cool it, girl.

Monét rubs her hands until she’s satisfied with their appearance (and feeling, Nina guesses), then turns them loose.

“Good as new. Can’t have our history teacher with no hands.” She winks. “That would be a tragedy.“

Nina swallows thickly. “Right. Thanks.” She immediately wants to die. Because that wink? Was that flirting? Was that just Monét being Monét? Either way, she’s gone and fucked it up by being awkward (what else is new).

They walk back to their classrooms in awkward silence and Nina slumps at her desk to finish grading the stack of quizzes she needs to enter before she can leave for the day. She’d put it off until Monday, but it’s not like she has anyone waiting for her at home.

Monét pokes her head in around five o’clock. “You staying all night?”

Nina shrugs. “Just until I finish these.” She motions to the stack of quizzes. She guesses she’s about halfway through; it’s maybe another thirty minutes of work if she had to guess. “You’re here late.”

“Essays,” Monét says with a roll of her eyes and she sashays across Nina’s room and perches herself right there on the corner of Nina’s desk. Like she’s comfortable there. Like she belongs. “I said I’d mark one class per day. I finished first period, so now I’m going home to have some wine and takeout and maybe a hot soak in my tub.”

Nina’s breath catches in her throat at the idea of Monét’s long body spread out in a bathtub, so she coughs softly. “That sounds lovely.”

“Don’t stay too long,” Monét says, pushing herself off the edge of Nina’s desk. “It’s Friday. Have some wine. Take a bath. Do something that makes you happy.”

Nina leaves half the quizzes ungraded on her desk (she’ll finish them Monday), grabs some pasta and a salad from her favorite Italian place, and opens a bottle of wine she’s been saving for a special occasion.

She draws herself the hottest, bubbliest bath she can stand, lights every candle she owns and places them around her bathroom, drinks the entire bottle of wine, and touches herself until she comes with Monét’s name on her lips.

The package is tied up in mint green tissue paper and secured with a purple ribbon. It’s sitting in Nina’s mailbox when she goes into the lounge to deposit her lunch and check her mail on Monday morning.

Brooke is with her, sipping her coffee and complaining about her students’ test scores from the week before, and she barely notices the incredulous look on Nina’s face when she removes the gift from her box.

“What’s that?” Brooke asks.

Nina shrugs. “I don’t… I’m not sure. Probably not meant for me.”

Brooke turns over the tag attached to the top of the ribbon. “Nope. Nina West. Says so right there. No sender name, though.”

Nina just stares at it in her hand. It’s not heavy at all, it doesn’t rattle or shake. And no one’s ever put a gift in her mailbox before.

Brooke rolls her eyes. “Are you going to open it?”

“No one knows that mint and eggplant are my two favorite colors. No one but you.”

“Don’t look at me,” Brooke counters, holding up her hands. “I didn’t put it in your mailbox. I’d just hand it to you. And I sure as hell wouldn’t wrap it. I’m not that thoughtful.”

Nina smiles, but the joke does little to assuage the anxiety she has over this gift. It’s a prank. A joke. Has to be. She’ll ignore it.

“Aren’t you going to open it?”

But there’s the matter of Brooke standing right there. Brooke, who’ll never let her live this down. Who’ll never let her just pretend like it didn’t happen. The blonde’s green eyes are wide and expectant as Nina pulls the ribbon from its perfect bow.

“It’s too early for shit like this,” she mumbles as she unties the ribbon, fully expecting to see gift-wrapped cotton swabs or gauze pads or tampons (Why is she like this? No one’s picked on her in years. She’s well-liked at school, by the students and faculty. Old wounds cut deep.)

She takes in a deep breath. There, sitting in the mint green tissue paper, is the most gorgeous set of mittens she’s ever seen. They’re cream-colored, thick, and woolen, and there’s a tiny hand-sewn tag on the inside of the left cuff that reads, “hand knit with love for you.”

“Whoa.” Brooke’s jaw drops. “Looks like someone’s got it bad for Miss West.”

Nina shakes her head. “No, it’s not… Come on.”

“Hand-knit mittens?” Brooke tsks. “Sounds a lot like love. But you already have some. I’ll take these.” She grabs for them playfully, probably just to gauge Nina’s reaction, and damn it all to hell, Nina pulls them to her shoulder protectively.

“I lost mine,” Nina explains, “when I moved rooms this summer, but no one knows that except—“

Monét.

Monét knows that she lost her mittens in her move.

And suddenly the moment between them in the hallway, Nina’s frozen hands clasped between Monét’s warm ones, the thick cobalt blue gloves she’d pulled off before taking Nina’s fingers in her own. The wink. It’s all - just - a lot for her to deal with.

“I have to go,” Nina says quietly, folding the tissue paper back over the mittens and clasping them tightly in her hand.

Nina ignores Brooke’s raised eyebrows and wry grin as she leaves the lounge. No time to deal with her today.

Nina marches down the hallway (she thinks she’s marching; she’s probably stumbling, to be honest, tripping over her own love-sick feet) and stops at Monét’s door.

The woman is bent over her laptop, reading glasses on, blonde finger waves perfectly styled, and red lips painted on precisely just like every morning. Like every day that Nina’s seen her and fallen just a little harder.

“Ms. Change,” she chokes out through her thick mouth, clinging to the door frame for support. “Monét…” She tries again, a little softer, and it’s that one that gets the English teacher’s attention.

Monét looks up, spots the mittens in Nina’s hand, and her cheeks darken under her blush. “Uhh. You found it. How did you—”

“You’re the only one who knew I lost mine,” Nina says simply.

Monét stands and they meet in the middle of the room and it feels like the world is spinning spinning spinning—

“Thank you. They’re gorgeous.”

Monét shrugs. “Can’t have a hands-less history teacher. Especially not one that I…” She chuckles, tugs on the pearl earring in her lobe. “Well, one that I’d very much like to take to dinner on Friday night. If you’re willing?”

There’s a pause in Nina’s heartbeat. Monét’s usually confident exterior falters for a moment, but her brown eyes are so wide and bright that Nina can’t look away.

“I’d love that,” she rasps out. And they smile together, and Monét reaches out and grasps Nina’s wrist, and Nina bites her lip and wants so badly for Monét to kiss her.

“Friday,” Monét says, like they won’t see each other every day until then, like they haven’t been building this up since August when Monét came to lunch on that first day of professional development and sat across the table from Nina and stole her breath away.

Nina nods. “Can’t wait.”

Monét squeezes Nina’s wrist, brings it tentatively to her lips and presses a feather-light kiss to the pulse point there. Nina feels like she might just faint if it weren’t for Monét anchoring her to the ground. Then she lets go, drops her hand just as the first period bell sounds. Nina cradles it to her chest.

“Take care of those hands, Miss West,” Monét says with a wink. “I have plans for them.”

And sure, she might mean holding or romantic palm line tracing, but Nina hopes (wishes) that it’s a little more brazen than that.

If Monét can warm her hands up that quickly with friction, she’s excited to see what Monét can do with the rest of her.

#rpdr fanfiction #ninex #nina west #monet x change #meggie #teachers au #lesbian au #ficmas #day 14: mittens #submission

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buckysforeverprincess · 6 years ago

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Switch -Part 2

Bucky Barnes x Reader, Avengers

Words: 2097

Warnings: Language, female presenting nipples, sexual situations

A/N: I decided to make this a 3 part thing, because part 2 was extremely long and I wanted this to have it’s own moment. The smut comes in part 3. Enjoy.

No one knew what to say. Everything screamed Y/N! The voice, the body all of it. Nothing outwardly had changed. Steve and Sam just thought Y/N had gone crazy, and Wanda and Nat both crossed their arms and smirked. You decided to take a seat on the counter and wait for the fireworks to really begin.

“Morning all-what the hell, Y/N?!” Tony has finally made his way to the common area to join everyone for breakfast. He missed the initial scream but is now here for the show that is the now ‘The Winter Soldier: Body Snatcher’. “Have too much fun with the playboy last night and forget your clothes?!” The genius goes straight for the coffee maker deciding he needed more of it before having to deal with the events unfolding in the kitchen.

“Morning Barnes!” Tony gives a casual nod to you sitting on the counter. You take a sip of the liquid in the cup, and immediately Tony notices something is off.

“Since when do you drink coffee, ice king...and in Y/N’s cup, no less?”

The only thing you can do is shrug and wait for the others to catch on.

“You!” Bucky turns his direction to the Scarlet Witch, “you did this to me, didn't you?!” Bucky's in her face at this point, but it's not as intimidating as it would be if he was in his super soldier body. She can't help but laugh at his efforts.

“I have no idea what you're talking about!” Wanda laughs in his face, repeating the same words he has said to her many times after playing one of his jokes on her.

“Don't lie to me you witch! This is payback for yesterday isn't it?”

“Wait…” Sam stops Wanda from answering, having questions of his own, “Y/N...what could she have possibly done to you? I mean...did she make you hotter? Because damn girl! That ass though!!”

“Did you just fucking objectify my girlfriends body?” Bucky moves and is now in Sam’s face pointing a finger at him.

“I mean-you are, ya know wearing a thong and I'm a man that loves ass dimples!”

Steve has now started laughing hysterically and has doubled over from laughing so hard. Tony makes his way from the coffee to check out the look Bucky is sporting so he's not left out.

“Those are really nice. Perfect for hand placement-”

“Don't fucking finish that thought, tin man, so help me God!” Bucky has directed his finger Tony’s way.

The whole group is laughing sans Bucky. He's getting more and more pissed off with each passing moment, and you're just sitting there…on the counter, enjoying your coffee. No need to get involved quite yet. This is way too much fun.

“Someone needs to explain what the hell is going on!” Bucky demands, crossing his arms to his chest and covering your exposed breasts, standing like a petulant child. Thank god you don't have issues with your body, because this could've become awkward real fast.

“Y/N…why don't you tell us what it is you remember.” Nat says very calmly, not giving away how much she already knows.

Bucky scans the room taking in all the faces looking at him obviously thinking he was crazy, before he starts to recant what he can recall. “I remember going to bed with Y/N, in my body! James Buchanan Barnes, aka Winter Soldier, me! This morning, I wake up and I'm her! This is not my body!” He pointing to himself trying to emphasize the point.

“Definitely a nice ass body!” Sam says, and Steve gives him an elbow to the gut.

“So, someone switched your body?” Steve questions, not sure if he believes what he's hearing.

They've been pranked by Bucky too many times to count, so this could be just another of one his tricks having his girlfriend in on it. There's going to have to be a lot more convincing than just his word.

“Ugh! I don't understand how I'm in a room full of people who continually save the world, but all of you are way too fucking stupid to see what's in front of you!”

You bust out laughing like a damn hyena from the counter. Everyone has now directed their looks to you and Wanda does a faceplant with her hand. Everything had been going so well.

“Baby, do you realize what you just said?” You say in between laughs. “You're what's in front of them...you! They can clearly see you!”

If looks could kill, you'd be dead. James/you is glaring hard at you/him. He has your face so bunched up, you're pretty sure he's going to give you permanent wrinkles on your forehead.

Bucky stalks up to you, paying no mind to everyone else in the room. “You're being unsarcastically hyper nonverbal!” He yells at you with fire in his eyes. “What is it that you know?”

This is where the fun begins, and payback becomes the worst bitch imaginable. You hop off the counter and stand over Bucky. You can see what it looks like when roles are reversed and he's towering over you. Let the games commence.

“Well, I know that right now…your tits are showing because you chose to wear that ridiculous quarter of a shirt to bed. I'm also aware of the fact that Sam had begun sexualizing you since the moment he saw you in that thong. How did you seriously let me buy that for you, you hate thongs?! But I will agree with him...that ASS though! The suddenness of the amount of crazy you've displayed here this morning can only mean one thing…...you're due to start your period any second now. I'm sorry sweetie, I'll make sure I run out and get your favorite kind of ice cream. Other than that,…good morning my love. Coffee?” You give him a grin, but this just upsets him even more.

Bucky laughs at you, but there's an intense amount of anger in his eyes. You watch him continue to laugh as he walks over to Wanda and gets back in her face.

“I don't know what you did, but it somehow involved my girlfriend over there!” Bucky’s pointing at you now. “I will find out the truth…but for now...I really have to go pee!”

Bucky turns and stomps back to your room.

“Sweetheart!” You yell out before he makes it through the threshold, making him stop and look over his shoulder waiting for you to speak. “Always overnight or extra heavy? Oh, how about tampons this time, I can get those?”

Bucky inhales a deep breath and throws up a middle finger at you without even batting an eye, and continues into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

“So, spill ice age...what'd you do to our sweet Y/N?” Tony’s grabbed a bagel and is spreading cream cheese on it.

“I really have no idea what's going on!” You're trying to look as puzzled as possible to avoid further questioning.

“I hate to admit this, but I have to go with Tony on this one…,” Sam has made his way into the center of the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of juice, “you're both acting crazy this morning. Did something happen between you two?”

The door to the bedroom opens and once again Bucky/you comes out, but this time he's managed to find your extremely short black mini skirt, and blue midriff shirt. Oh, looks like he found a bra…but what about...oh you dirty asshole!

“Baby?” Bucky walks over and places his/your ass right up against the shorts he slept in last night and rubs himself up and down the front of you. “I'm so sorry for the way I behaved.” His movements becoming hotter by the second. “I didn't mean to cause a scene. I promise to do better daddy!”

The last words were all it took, and you were now fully turned on, Bucky's cock standing at attention. How in the fuck did that happen? God damn him for being an expert in kinky fuckery!

“Oh daddy…did I do that?!” Bucky turns around and faces you, taking his hand and rubbing the hard member through your shorts.

“Fuck…” It comes out as a whisper, but Bucky hears it and keeps rubbing you with his hands.

No one was moving. They're all stuck in place watching what's happening between the two of you. Normally, you guys would disappear at this point, so no one was traumatized by your actions, but today Bucky didn't care and everyone else was fully intent on watching the show Bucky was attempting to put on. Well played, asshole…well played.

“Let me take care of you…”

Bucky reaches into the shorts and starts rubbing your hand on his cock. You close your eyes and a shiver runs through your body. The hand on what is now your dick feels so fucking good. You’re pretty sure Bucky’s trying to get you to come in front of everyone, and that has your brain come back to reality.

“Sweetie, what are you doing? This is bedroom activity, you know that.”

Bucky stops suddenly and begins glaring at you. He lets out a huff and removes his hand from your shorts. Bucky starts to walk away again but stops right at the threshold of your room just like before. This time, Bucky/you turns around and faces the entire group. He looks directly at you and gives you a huge smirk.

“Should’ve known you wouldn't cave that easy. I know you’re aware what’s going on, so….” Bucky pauses and lifts the midriff over his head and undoes the bra, exposing your breasts to every single person in the room.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. Record this!” Tony demands of the A.I., while Steve covers his eyes, and Sam crosses his arms and nods in approval.

“Take a good hard look!” You watch him grab at your nipples, pinching at them hard and moaning something loud and pornographic. “You now have to live with the fact that every single one of them have seen your perfect breasts and watched me touch your perky tight nipples. Once you see, you can't unsee!” Bucky blows you one last kiss and enters your bedroom shutting the door.

“You're fucked!” Nat looks over at you with an amused smile and begins to laugh at what just took place.

“This ain't over, darlin’…I got all day!” Your run your hands through the long brown hair, figuring out your next step.

“Buck, what did you do?” Steve walks over to the island and gives you his best Captain America stance.

“I woke up, Steve. I woke up.”

Tony continues to look at the door of the bedroom Bucky and you occupy, waiting for another show. When he realizes it's not happening he decides it’s time for real talk. “For some reason, ice capades, I don't believe you. She just let us see her boobs….and you're ok with it? I mean, I'm all for it, she has a great rack…but any other time you'd beat the living hell out of us for even thinking about looking. What's up?” You remain silent as you shrug your shoulders at Tony, not knowing what to say.

“I'm calling bull shit as well…” Sam starts to chime in “I've seen her in more and you've threatened to rearrange my face via that arm! What gives?”

Jesus, they're calling you out. They know something’s not right, and you have no idea how to get yourself out of this one.

“Hold on everyone!” Nat speaks up, coming to your defense. “Y/N is my best friend. I'd be the first to know if something was wrong. Trust me…that's normal Y/N when she's about to go on a mission. She's just never let you see that side of her.”

Tony starts shaking his head, “nope, don't buy it! Boobs, Nat! Boobs!” Tony exclaims, and Steve palms his face.

“Can we not point out one of my best friends boobs to the world?” Cap asks while rubbing his face.

“Why? I mean-you can't not look.”

Wanda rolls her eyes at your comment and shakes her head. “You should go get dressed Bucky. Go talk to your girlfriend.” She gives you a stern look and you sigh heavily, accepting defeat and make your way to the bedroom door.

You pause before entry, taking one last look at your friends trying to commit their faces to memory before walking in to face a very pissed off Bucky Barnes/you. They all wave to you, and you give a two-finger salute before opening the door and walking into certain death.

#bucky #bucky barnes #winter soldier #james barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #james bucky barnes x reader #james barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes x reader

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polygamyff · 6 years ago

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Wiping the sweat with the towel, grabbing my bottle of water from the running machine. I always can do with a nice run and some gym work to get that pent up anger out of me, not like having sex with Naomi helped at all. All she does is pick out positions that will get her pregnant, we have been doing this year after year and nothing. My family don’t know but we have been going to see a specialist and been trying like crazy, it’s got to a point where I don’t care for it anymore, she had the nerve to blame me so today we find out if it is me. She got me so angry on this, I was heated. Walking up the steps of my home, seeing as it is Kellen’ wedding I am staying put for this, I have to actually interact with family. I am still doing work of course, I am just working on the go. Business is business, shit needs to go on. Placing my towel over my shoulder “here she goes again” I said to myself, she playing Toni Braxton again, that stupid song. If she is that unhappy the door is there but no, she won’t let me be free. I need her to leave me, it’s annoying but I then feel bad because I have become accustomed to her, she knows business comes first. She doesn’t whine about if I need to go, but I can only assume she doesn’t whine but my mom telling me a whole different story. Pushing the double doors open to my bedroom, staring Naomi singing he wasn’t a man enough for me, is she on her cheating vibe again. Kissing my teeth walking towards the bathroom, let me leave her to it.

Locking the car door as we walked towards the clinic, this shit is so expensive for her to not be pregnant. Feeling Naomi latch onto my hand ever so quickly, affection. Something I really lack, I have grown up very loveless because I never witnessed it, I think it broke my heart when my dad sold me off like this but yet chose the woman he wanted. Even though my mom is like twenty years younger than his old ass, he is a pervert “I am nervous Maurice, we will work through this won’t we?” pushing the door open “as we do Naomi, what else” it’s rather shameful in many ways that she can’t have a baby, people are awaiting. I am turning thirty and married for five years. Not a single baby at all, shit is wrong with her not me. She is deep down hiding things about her fertility, this is the second appointment I have come too “hi, Naomi Davenport” my wife said to the receptionist, clenching my jaw feeling heartless in a way. I am turning into my dad “please take a seat, she will be with you” I wish Naomi would leave my hand alone.

Checking my emails, there is always shit going on. Making these hotels run, making sure we are always developing. I have set my eyes on Dubai, my dad has gave me his word and said this is all on me. In a way I feel this is a test, he is waiting for me to break but I won’t let that happen. I won’t let him break me, I will ride this through until he dies and I am done. I am sure he will be dead soon “great news” I said to myself “what is?” Naomi said bringing her head closer to mine “oh just the Dubai deal, it came through. You know when you assumed I was cheating as you do everyday, I was doing this” Naomi scoffed moving back from me “it’s not that, you go to these business events and I saw pictures of you with women, I got jealous. Sue me, you didn’t even invite me, your wife” looking back at my phone “you was with daddy, remember” she is funny, ain’t shit either “Mrs and Mr Davenport, please come through” looking up at the nurse, locking my phone as I got up. The nurse dead ass checked me out but she don’t want me.

Who wants to see a doctor, I hate them. I hate coming to them because they always tell you everything that is wrong with you. Nothing is ever good for you “Mr Davenport. Your results came back” still gets me angry, acting like I am firing blanks. I know my babies can swim, fuck everyone “good, so they good?” I said so confidentially “well yes, your sperm count is fine. We can now rule this out now, this was the last thing to come about. With Mr Davenport being busy” Naomi shot up, she ran out of the room and I am guess in tears. Staring at the doctor, I don’t know what is happening “why is she upset?” I asked, the doctors stuttered as if she did not want to say a word about it “it’s my wife, so please. I want to know before I leave this room” I said in a very stern tone “Mr Davenport, we have been seeing Naomi for years. This is the second time we have met, you was the last thing and I am sorry. I know it’s something she does not want to know, she may have had a miscarriage but she got lucky with that baby” licking my lips frowning “she knows this already, I am shocked she never said. I think maybe the miscarriage has made her think things, we have done everything. She can’t have babies” I froze staring at this unknown woman knowing more about my wife than me “wait” I pointed at her “hold up, what do you mean she knew?” shaking my head in shock “she knew for years she couldn’t have babies, the miscarry gave hope and” the doctor sighed heavily “she demanded we test you” so all these years, she knew it and lied to me constantly.

I am not sure how to feel, I am angry, hurt. There is so many feelings in this, like why did you lie “you waited” she closed the doctor’s office door “well we ain’t about to leave, you hiding shit away from me” stuffing my hands in my pockets, the doctor has let us use the room to speak but I am angry right now “like what?” now she wants to act stupid “please don’t do this, you made the doctor take my sperm to test when you fucking couldn’t have kids! You fucking knew all these years but you made me think you could, who fucking knows? Who knows you can’t? This is fucking crazy, so you never had periods? I bought you tampons, this was all lies. Are you kidding me?” I am trying to keep my cool, Naomi placed her hands together as she cried to me “what? Speak up, I want to hear this” a sob left her lips “I assumed why, you really didn’t want me to come anyways. Not like I cared but you didn’t want me to come, and now I know why” Naomi ran towards me, gripping my tee “you can’t tell anyone this, my dad don’t know. My mom does, please! He already thinks I am useless, I knew for years I couldn’t but I was scared, I didn’t want to lose you. I already feel I have, this will top it off, please I beg you, don’t use this to divorce me. I will kill myself” yanking her arms away from me “you know how fucking crazy you sound? You acting like what you just told me is minor? I have my family on my case for a fucking baby! And you can’t even have it” I am so angry “we can adopt, make out like it is ours. Use your sperm and impregnate a woman in secret, just please. Don’t leave me” gripping Naomi by the throat “lies after lies after lies, this. You fucked my life up knowing you couldn’t, you don’t understand and never will” pushing her back by the throat.

I don’t even want her to be in the car but here she is “does this change a lot?” I live with a mental woman, she is mental and I have decided “a fucking lot, you lied about having a baby? Wow, you got married and made me assume you could? Why? You fucked my life up as well as yours” she is crazy fucking stupid “Maurice please listen to me, I have always liked you. I really do love you, if you leave me and they all find out I can’t have a baby. I will be a nobody, I am the only child. I will kill myself over you, remember that” clenching my jaw, hitting the steering wheel “don’t fucking touch me!” snatching my arm away “don’t, I need space ok” this is all so much for me, it’s like she is stuck in this delusion. Even now, she is making up bullshit about getting a kid still. The fuck is she playing at, I truly believe she would kill herself too. I am so fucking angry, her mother knows this the stupid bitch left me with her. I don’t know what to do now, I am stuck.

Naomi has truly ruined this whole night with my cousin, I can’t even think straight. I just want to drink it away, I am just staying by the bar so I can keep getting refills. I mean it all adds up but they knew, if I tell my family I mean this is my ticket out but maybe it won’t be. I can imagine the sick mind of them, they will make me stay and then also keep it a secret. Probably adopt some random to be mine, if that bitch kills herself that will be my fault too. I can’t fucking win, slamming the glass down on the bar top “I thought you was coming over?” Shawn sat by me at the bar “I said I was, leave me alone bro” looking over at bartender, I want another drink “look, we said that this was going to be a good night. Fuck the family and everything, our nigga getting married” slight jealously hit me, he gets to marry a girl he dated. God forbid I did, have to think of the family line “I wish I wasn’t the eldest” holding the empty glass in my hand “Kellen is funny, he marries who he wants. While his daddy is living on the money we make. I suffer, now I am totally stuck” I couldn’t help myself, throwing the glass across the the bar in front of me getting up “shit, Maurice. We will pay” walking off, I need to leave because I am not in the right mind.

Flicking the cigarette to the ground “calm now?” Shawn followed me, I don’t need him or anybody else “I keep telling you to just leave” shaking my head laughing “leave? I wish it was that easy, I am not upset about the set up. I don’t give a fuck anymore, I don’t have heart to care but I am angry at this” looking around us “so that bitch, we went to the appointment. You know the shit I don’t go too but she always says that is fine, remember I said to you it’s weird, it takes two. I thought she needed my sperm to do it, well guess. It’s all been a joke, she never could get pregnant. I am not even sure the miscarry was real now, she knew for years. She has just gone crazy in the mind, creating scenarios. I have the gate way out but she said she will kill herself” Shawn turned around placing his hands over his face “no way!” he half shouted “so” he turned back to me “all this time of trying, there really is no heir. You’re stuck in this for nothing, now I know that crazy bitch will do it. You stuck” my life is not mine, it’s crazy “she wants to stay married to you, what makes you think you can’t have a second life. She ain’t stopped you, get your own heir” shaking my head laughing “I will be one broke person, the will be heir to nothing. My dad needs to die, then I can have it. Divorce her and be gone with it” Shawn stared at me dumbfounded “do this shit now! Leave her” he doesn’t understand it “while my dad is alive he still has the rights to take it off me, he needs to be dead. Once he is dead, I get the things and she is gone. The one thing I am worried about is this heir shit, they putting pressure on this. I get it’s a family name that needs to last” Shawn has been my nigga since day one “let Malik take it” I swallowed hard “leave this for what Shawn? I am better off here, dead marriage and a business. I will deal, I will get over it” I will do what I usually do, go back to work after this little event “I wish shit was different for you, there is too many twists in your story” Shawn is just watching it but imagine living the nightmare.

Walking to Kellen, I need to be nice and happy for him “you calm now?” he shouted over the music “yes I am, I am always calm” Kellen got his hand out to me, grabbing his hand and hugging him “you know I respect you, you’re the main guy. The main busy cousin, I just want you to stay” moving back a little “what makes you think I won’t stay?” Kellen shrugged knowing I would run, wish I did that on my wedding “for you I will stay, lets turn up and have fun. Tomorrow your life will start for you” catching Malik’ glare, we used to be so close. I mean we still are but because I run away from the family then I don’t stay close to him, I think deep down my brother knows my hate towards everything but I will let it go. Do what I need to do, like a robot I guess.

#chrianna #chrianna ff #fanfiction #fanfic

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