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moonchildstyles · 1 year ago

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sage

rosemary part three: harry knew the past would catch up one day. he just hoped it wouldn't be today

wordcount: 11.5k+

—————

Harry forgot his books at home.

He and (Y/N) were set to go to the library today, and he forgot his books under his bed. And, he didn't even realize until he was already parked and waiting for her outside the bakery. Because of course that would happen; of course it took seeing her smiling face coming out of the building and heading towards his car to remember each edition he still had stashed under his bed. He knew he was forgetting something when he left, but he hadn't wanted to be late or wait any longer to see her.

(Y/N) waved at him through the window as she approached, her Flour Pot t-shirt big on her form with the ends of her favorite peach bow fluttering behind her. She rounded the front of his car until she reached the passenger side, Harry already having unlocked the handle to allow her to slip inside.

"Hi, Harry," she chirped, brightening the melancholic space.

"Hi," he greeted her, his disposition decidedly less sunny than hers.

His tone had her brows pinching together in the middle, a frown turning her lips. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

Bringing his knuckle up to brush the tip of his nose, he sighed. "I forgot m'books at m'apartment. I didn't even realize until I saw you, 'm so sorry."

"Oh, okay. That's okay," she told him earnestly, brows still cinched, "Why are you upset?"

His own brow furrowed at her question. Why wasn't she upset?

"I feel bad. I ruined our plans."

Canting her head, (Y/N)'s features relaxed even as she kept that frown on her lips. "You didn't ruin anything," she told him, her words a croon in the cab of his car, "We can just go back to your place and grab them, I don't mind. I don't have anywhere else to be, so."

She was being too nice to him. He made these plans and now he was the reason that they would have to wait another half an hour at least before they could actually execute them. He could only shake his head, his protest to her words feeling sticky in his throat.

In a tentative move, (Y/N) reached out, brushing her fingers against his forearm. The skin was bare of tattoos but littered with scars. If not for the warmth of her touch, goosebumps would have erupted on his skin. "I promise everything is okay. Don't be so hard on yourself." He could hear the soft smile on her face in the lilt of her voice. "Do you want to grab your books from your apartment?"

"You're sure?" he croaked, looking at her through the fan of his lashes.

"Of course!" she beamed, "We can head over there super quick then get to the library."

It took an effort to ease the self-made pressure he was feeling off of his shoulders. Years ago he never would have reacted like that; a confidence used to follow him that allowed him to stay guarded and strong, even if only as a facade. (Y/N) was poking holes in that defense more than he even realized.

"Okay," he settled on, "Thank you, (Y/N)."

Once Harry pulled away from the curb and (Y/N) started happily chatting about her day at the bakery, a new thought struck him. He'd never had to bring anyone to his crash pad before. No one had ever seen the kinds of places he made into his temporary homes. Of course the first would be (Y/N).

There wasn't anything inherently bad with it, he knew that. It was within his budget (and allowed a certain lack of paperwork and under the table cash payments), and he had things there that were easy to be packed up or let go of. It was a place that worked for him, even if it wasn't perfect for anyone else. He'd never had the opportunity before to be ashamed or embarrassed of his temporary homes before, but he figured that was the feeling that was brewing in his stomach.

Maybe he could convince her to sit in his car while he popped inside.

It was moments like this, with his mind rushing, that he was more than grateful for the fact that she was of the talkative type. It was a welcome distraction. She didn't make him feel like he needed to do anything more than listen to her. It was an easy job she gave him.

Outside the windows, the town shifted by. The gingerbread neighbourhoods were replaced with buildings that looked like they could have fit in in their prime but were now left to the wayside. The old town square was vacant, crumbling sidewalks and signs about trespassing and no solicitation. It was hard to reconcile the fact that this place was even a part of the same town that had a bakery called The Flour Pot and a quaint library.

That churning in his stomach returned then. Someone like (Y/N) with her gingerbread house and ribboned hair shouldn't be out here. His hands tightened on the steering wheel as the turn to his complex came up.

With a signaled turn, Harry's apartment building came into view. Only two stories with rusted stairs and wobbling hand railing along the outside hallway. The paint was a dirty eggshell, dingy and crumbling in places. Harry's was the one with the broken number plate and burnt out lightbulb above his door.

Parking as close as he could to the stairway, Harry unbuckled his seatbelt with his eyes on his hands. "Y'can stay in here, yeah? I'll be back in a second, but I'll leave m'phone for you to play music or whatever y'want."

It wasn't until he had his hand on the latch that she spoke up: "I can't come with you?"

Turning to look at her, he raised his hand to the back of his neck, nails scratching at the skin in a nervous habit. "I shouldn't take very long, so I figured..."

"Oh, okay," (Y/N) sounded, flicking her gaze out to the apartment building in front of her, "I can stay out here."

Following her gaze, he tried to see what she might. This place wasn't very different from the other buildings he'd lived in before. Honestly, it was on the nicer side, especially with the lack of nosy neighbors. But, to (Y/N), he might see the side of the city she had been warned about. The kind of place a woman like her would need to be extra careful in, for no other reason than the fact she was a woman. A pretty one, too. And he would be leaving her alone.

Those instincts he tried to bury flared to life. "Nevermind," he gruffly said, "Y'can come with me."

She looked to him with wide eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, c'mon," he said just as he pulled the latch on his door.

He waited at the bonnet of his car for her to follow him. No one was out, anyway, but he wasn't going to chance anything now that those worst case scenarios were beginning to reenter his mind. (He hadn't completely abandoned that Dracula theory, it would appear, as his neighbours suddenly had piercing fangs embedded in their gums, awaiting a moment he would look away so they could snatch her up).

They were quiet as they scaled the rusted steps, some of the planks groaning under their feet. Harry only spoke when he warned her to watch her step, his hand instinctively reaching to settle on the small of her back until he stopped himself short. He kept her a step in front of him, his shoulders squared and features hardened as if he could scare off a threat before it even arrived.

Harry stopped her in front of his door, a small touch to her arm getting her to halt her steps by the unnumbered door. He took in a deep breath as he pulled out the key, feeling her eyes on him as he fiddled with the sticky lock.

"'S not anything special," he preambled, feeling restless, "But, I promise I'll grab everything fast, and we can go."

(Y/N) didn't have a chance to respond before Harry had peeled the door open, stepping aside to allow her in first. With her back to him, he couldn't help but the wince that tightened his muscles as she stepped over the stained carpet and creaking floorboards underneath. He rushed in behind her, wanting to get this experience over as fast as he could.

It took a hard shove against the wood for the door to replace itself against the jamb, the lock sliding in with a twist of the deadbolt. Flicking on the lights, the rest of his studio apartment was revealed as (Y/N) lingered close behind him.

"Sorry," he murmured as he maneuvered around her, "They're jus' under m'bed."

"You don't have to apologize, Harry. You're not doing anything wrong." She spoke to him as he dropped to his knees to dig underneath his bed, this week's editions sitting father back than he remembered putting them.

He didn't bother to answer as he pulled one of the books out. Now he only needed the other two.

Behind him, he could hear the floorboards under the carpet creaking as she walked through the space. While there wasn't much for her to see in the first place, the sound made him quicken his search.

Just as his fingers brushed the third and final book he was scrambling for, (Y/N) piped up: "Is this your mom and sister?"

His fingers tensed over the cover of the book, the plastic crackling. He almost forgot about that photo; it was hard for him to look at half the time, anyway. Looking over his shoulder, he found her standing in front of the tiny shelf he had been able to pick up for free at a garage sale when he first moved in. On top was nothing more than his favorite book and a photo of his mother and sister he was able to swipe in the rush to leave all those years ago. It was at his sister's university graduation, the two women with matching smiles and their arms thrown around each other. Harry hadn't been able to make it that day, but he was still so proud of Gemma. She'd come a long way.

He swallowed around his dry throat. "Yeah."

She looked at him with an adoring smile. "They're beautiful," she told him, sincerity painting her tone, "You look just like your mom."

Gathering all of his books, he stood to his full height. His chest felt heavy when he glanced at the photo. "Yeah. Everyone always said me and my sister could have been her siblings."

"All gorgeous, that's for sure," she beamed, looking back at the photo while Harry's eyes stuck to her profile.

It wasn't as if he thought her to be the kind of person to spit on him for where he lived, to run away vomiting once she was welcomed into the pocket of his world, but he can't say he expected this kind of gentle reaction. She didn't stand stiffly in the corner, careful not to touch a single thing or keep her eyes to herself. She moved comfortably, taking in the few parts of him that were on display.

This wasn't like her gingerbread house with a picket fence and a welcome mat, but that difference had no effect on her. It was as if she didn't even know that she was too good for him.

"Thank you," he murmured, allowing a daring glance to he photo of his family.

He wondered what they looked like now. Back then, Gemma was fond of coloring her hair in all different kinds of shades. His mother preferred to keep her hair long, even if every few months she debated cutting her tresses short. He wondered if she'd ever gone through with it in the years since he saw them. He hoped they still smiled like that.

"Got your books?" (Y/N) asked, pulling Harry from that corner of his brain he rarely dared to touch.

"Um, yeah," he said, blinking the film from his eyes, "Sorry. We can go."

(Y/N) followed after him as he stepped back towards his door. "What did you think of this week's batch?"

His heart lightened at the change of subject. There was that grace she gave him—the kind he wasn't even sure she knew she was giving to him. She had no reason to be so good to him.

As he escorted her back down to his car, he gave her mumbled explanations of his latest reads. (Y/N) looked at him with those wide eyes, listening to him just as intently as someone as kind as her would do without thinking.

In that same dark corner of his mind, Harry wondered if she would still act the same if she knew what he'd done.

—————

"Harryyy."

Looking up at the sound of his name, Harry found the owner of that lilting voice coming to him with an artfully plated croissant. This one was tall with its layers arching up high, and a glossy, golden brown shell gleaming in the sunlight. Tiny purple flowers and micro greens were placed around the negative space surrounding the pastry. (Y/N) walked carefully with the plate cradled on her forearms, a bright smile on her face.

She wanted something, that much he knew from the way she sang his name.

The bakery was rather quiet now that the Sunday brunch rush had ended, only a short line two deep was heading to the register with the case properly stocked for the time being. The vacancy allowed Harry to huddle up in the back table that was now beginning to be branded as his with the way he stuck to the spot every chance he could when visiting (Y/N).

"Yes?" he answered her call, bookmarking his page and setting his book off to the side.

She stopped by his table, her croissant plate close to her chest as she looked at him with a pleading grin. "Could you possibly do me a favor?"

Her hair was a mess, pulled back as best she could manage with a crooked bow, flour and sugar almost coating her top with the fragrance of jammed fruits sticking to her. She had a busy morning, he knew that.

"Maybe," he said as if he had any other choice but to help her.

Letting out a sigh, he carefully set the plate on his table, pushing it towards him slowly to ensure not a single petal fell out of place. She pulled out her phone then, her eyes pleading when she flicked them up to match his, "Would you mind possibly modeling for a picture I was wanting to post on the bakery Instagram?"

That had Harry recoiling some, falling silent at her request. Social media was a huge no-go for the life he was leading. Posting anything or having any kind of presence online would be the fastest way to find himself caught. Even before leaving, he refrained from creating any profiles for himself. There was too much pressure in his life already , he didn't want to worry about an electronic one too. Now, though, the lack of records was a survival tactic.

(Y/N) picked up on his hesitancy right away, waving her hands out in surrender as she tried to explain. "It would just be your hands, not your face or anything! I just want it to be like an artsy, Pinterest kind of shot," she rambled out, her brows raised in earnest, "I thought you'd be good for the picture since your hands are..." She trailed off then, her gaze dropping to where his hands were folded on the table in front of them, his fading cross tattoo on display along with the scars on his knuckles and the rough skin on his fingers. Blinking, she took her gaze from his hands and back to his face, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. "They'd just look really nice in the picture, I think."

That kind of praise settled in his chest as something warm. He hadn't thought about his hands being something "nice" ever really, especially not now with the hairline scars and the rough texture on his palms. A handful of years ago, he used to paint his nails even, but he'd stopped doing that a long time ago. It drew too much attention, took too much time he didn't have, and was something that made him feel a lot nicer than he knew he deserved. But, if she thought his hands were nice, was he really going to argue with her over the finer details?

"Not m'face or anything?" he asked, flicking his gaze up from his hands to see her still looking at him with her pleading eyes.

"No, no, not your face! Just your hands. I'm also putting together a few different slides, so I could put yours in the middle or something, if you wanted. I'm trying to make a post about 'customer plates' and all, so I just need some help."

While he didn't really understand what she was talking about given the fact he hadn't used the app since he was a teenager, all Harry knew was that she needed him. It was something small, somewhat insignificant in her life, but she chose him to ask. He hadn't been—or felt—needed in years, especially not for something so innocent.

"Please, Harry?" she tried one more time, her smile brightening with a pleading flutter of her lashes.

His relenting didn't take a second thought before he was nodding his head. "Jus' tell me how to pose."

Bounding in her spot, the flutter of her hair bow being seen from behind her, (Y/N)'s grin widened. "Thank you so much! This is the last picture I need before I can post it and never think about it again," she cheered, tapping away at her phone once more. With the right app up, she angled the camera towards the plate, "Act natural, like keep your hands relaxed but still try to hold the plate, you know?

(Y/N) went on to give him directions on how to pose his fingers, snapping photos as she went. Every minor adjustment had another shot being taken, different angles used and small directions for Harry to follow to ensure she got the right look. Feeling her eyes on him made Harry hyper aware of the way he posed and moved, her eyes trailing the length of his fingers and the stretch of his palm as he adjusted himself to whatever whim she had.

It wasn't until she was reviewing a handful of her previous photos that he flexed out his hands, trying to make himself less stiff and more natural like she was looking for. (Y/N)'s tapping and swiping stopped then, the static of her gaze felt again on his skin. It took a glimpse in her direction to see her phone being ignored in favor of the live specimen in front of her. Flexing his fingers out, he saw the way she watched intently, eyes rounding.

A short twitch had the corner of his lips curling just for a moment at her reaction. Interesting.

Like that, she seemed to break out of whatever train of thought had entered her mind. She was back to flicking through her phone, a heavy hand pushing stray baby hairs out of her face. "Okay, I think I got one," she told him, looking up from her phone with a flutter of her lashes, "Do you want to see?"

Pulling his hands back into his lap, Harry shook his head. "Whatever y'want, 's fine with me."

Harry saw as she swallowed around her words, her smile a bit different this time when it bloomed across her features. "Thank you, again," she told him, voice decidedly more chipper than her demeanor, "You can have that, by the way. Payment for modeling for me."

His eyes stayed stuck on her even when she peeked down at the croissant. He liked seeing her a little flustered; it was different than the bubbly, excitable girl she usually showed him. It was a trip thinking about the fact he could draw that kind of reaction from her.

"Thank you," he told her.

She left with that shy smile on her face, Harry's eyes stuck on the bow in her hair as she went back to her kitchen.

—————

A white nail polished hand was wrapped around Harry's, the pad of a delicate thumb running along the scars on his knuckles. Under the bundle of hands was the grassy knoll he was sat on, wildflowers dotting the green with a pair of legs folded away just out of the corner of his vision. A pastel toned ribbon fluttered into his line of sight. A soft focus filter seemed to be placed on the moment, everything airbrushed as if painted with a cloud and soft like velvet.

Just barely, he could hear a voice. She was speaking to him, Harry knew that, but he couldn't hear what she was saying. The words were too muddled, floating away with the clouds before they could reach his ears. He strained his ears as if that would help him catch what she was saying. Tugging on her hand in his, Harry tried to get closer to her.

He just wanted to know what she was saying.

The second he did just that, more of her body coming into view with her voice muddling through whatever film he was hearing through, everything stopped.

Swimming to the surface of his consciousness, Harry found the grassy knoll under him was now replaced with the thin sheets of his bed. His hand was wrapped in the fabric of his comforter, his fingers tight around the folds as if it were the hand he had been dreaming of.

Harry didn't bother to open his eyes, allowing himself to stay steeped in that inbetween land where he felt the remnants of his dream. He knew that if he unwrapped his hand from the bedding, his fingers would ache from how tightly he was clutching the fabric. It had been (Y/N)'s hand he was dreaming of, he knew that.

And, god, he missed her.

She was all he could think about. How badly he had wanted to be closer to her in his dream, how badly he wished it was her hand he was holding and not his threadbare comforter, how badly he wanted to open his eyes and still see her there in front of him with that ribbon in her hair.

That wasn't ever part of the plan—this infatuation he was beginning to feel for her.

Dreams of her weren't supposed to be the only pleasant dreams he was having of late. Those sleeps with her on his mind shouldn't leave him rested and calm when he woke. It'd been almost a year since he started craving sleep for anything other than to rest his exhausted body. Now, he had those secret hopes that when he let his brain run wild for the night, that he would meet her in that in-between.

This wasn't ever something that was supposed to happen. (Y/N) wasn't supposed to happen.

Even though he knew that, Harry didn't break himself from his sheets. He kept bobbing in between sleep and the rest of the world, right where (Y/N) was with him.

He'd stop thinking about her when he woke up properly, he decided. He'd deal with that problem later.

—————

"You know, you don't have to keep walking me home."

Despite the first hints of the rising sun, the stars were still glimmering in the sky like scattered bits of glitter. The moon had been a waning crescent through the night, but with the help of the oncoming sunshine, was slowly becoming full. These mornings had to be Harry's favorite times. Especially when he spent them with (Y/N).

Between all the jaunts to the library, hours spent lounging at the bakery, and time spent sending texts back and forth over the last month, Harry spent most of his time with her now. He looked forward to these prep shifts she suddenly seemed to be getting scheduled for more often than not. These quiet walks with only the crackling sidewalk and the sound of their footsteps and the sleeping town allowed him to settle into his skin and the space he took up beside her.

She was the only person he wanted to be close to like this anyway.

With that in mind, Harry only shrugged at (Y/N)'s words. "I don't mind."

He didn't have to look at her to know that response made her smile. It was that smile, soft lipped and quiet as if only for him, that starred in his dream more than once over the last handful of weeks. It was that smile that tested his self-control—or lack thereof, as he was learning.

It was a completely self-indulgent move to think about her before he slept. In a twisted turn of events, she was one of the only thoughts that had him calming after a bloody nightmare. He slept better when he had a dream of her, or even a calm, dreamless sleep could be achieved with the thought of her leading him. She was the first and only he'd found that was able to lull him into something that felt... normal.

Harry knew down in his core that it wasn't fair for someone like him to attach to someone like (Y/N), but this was where found he didn't quite have as much self control as he thought. It was easy for him to forget what her reaction would be if she found out what kind of person was walking her home after her overnight shifts or browsing the shelves with her at the library.

Especially in these moments, he could feel normal enough that he even forgot who he was. The way this place—this spot at (Y/N)'s side—had him imagining what it would be like to stay in this town was something he'd never experienced before. He'd never not been thinking about his next move.

With her gingerbread neighbourhood in sight, Harry felt that come down approaching. He would cling to this feeling—the clean, clear, and ordinary feeling—all the way back to his car and through the drive back to his apartment. It was when he was truly alone with the few things he was able to travel with surrounding him, that he would give himself a reality check. Until then, he'd keep indulging.

Stopping in front of the picket fence before her home, Harry turned to (Y/N) the same way he did every time he walked her home after prep. The exhaustion that had settled in his bones after a full shift at the store lessened when he saw her looking at him with eyes that rivaled the stars in the sky.

"Text me if y'need anything, alright?" he told her, the same thing he always said before they shared goodbyes for the night.

(Y/N) lingered as she always did. She hadn't gotten confident enough when asking for hugs, just yet. Harry liked that she still got a bit shy.

Instead of the same question he expected to hear, he saw a pinch of concern appear between her brows. "Do you want to come inside?" she asked, swallowing as she gestured to her house, "You look really tired tonight, Harry."

Lifting his shoulders, Harry shrugged. There was that slowed down, frozen feeling again. Another invitation into her world.

"'S alright. 'M okay, (Y/N)," he told her, "I don't want to keep y'up."

She wasn't convinced as she pressed just a little more, the toe of her scuffed shoes scraping over the concrete sidewalk. "Are you sure? I usually make myself breakfast before I sleep, so you could come in for a little if you want?"

His hands grew clammy where they were stuffed in his pockets. "Y'don't have to do that. I-I don't want to take from you or anything."

It was a defense mechanism the way he began inching back, as if he could pull his presence away from her. As normal as he felt with her, in this moment, he felt as if he were fooling her. She shouldn't be inviting him into her home; he shouldn't be invited into her safe space.

(Y/N) stopped him with a gentle hand landing on his forearm, her fingers brushing the inked photos on his skin and the raised scars underneath. "You said you like to cook though, right?"

Harry's throat bobbed as he thickly swallowed. He nodded.

A shy smile perched itself on her features, curling upwards like the ways of the sun on the horizon. "If you want, you could help me cook, maybe? That way it's not like you're 'taking' anything from me, you're just helping me. We'd be even."

How was he supposed to argue with her? Hadn't he learned yet that she was the one that would get him to bend to her will, bash down his own walls, and give her everything he had in his power to give?

Harry could only nod then, hiding the twitch in his lips with a brush of his knuckle against the tip of his nose.

The hand she had laid on his arm squeezed, her smile growing giddy. "C'mon," she said, her hand trailing down his forearm until it was clasped in his.

His lungs stunted at the feel of her soft palm pressed against his own. She didn't twist their fingers together, filling the gaps between his, leaving their hands to cup together like a pair of mittens for the cold. At least this way she couldn't feel how he was beginning to shake.

He followed her like a planet in orbit of a bright star, allowing him to breach the guarding fence line designed to keep people like him out. She only let go of his hand to unlock her front door, but a moment later they were bundled together once more. Her thumb skimmed the side of his own when she pulled him inside.

Guiding him over the threshold of her home, (Y/N) invited Harry inside despite all the red flags; despite the scars laced over his skin and the near permanent frown on his lips.

Stepping into her tiny foyer—it wasn't much more than a small hallway separated from the rest of her home by an extra wall—(Y/N) slipped her hand out of his to double back and close her front door and twist the lock. She used the space to house a long, skinny end table against the wall, the perfect space to hang her bag from and stow her keys atop until next time. A mirror with blushed gold edging was hung from the wall above it, a sparkly pink kiss mark stamped on the bottom corner of the glass.

"You can leave your shoes here," she offered, already shucking off her own sneakers. Her socks were revealed to be a baby blue with embroidered sheep. Of course.

When his own Vans were placed underneath the end table beside (Y/N)'s own pink-laced white ones, she beckoned him to follow after her to the kitchen. He made a point to keep his eyes off of her hands, ensuring he wouldn't do something stupid like try to grab it again. Gaze flitting about the space, he took in the details of her home.

The first thing that caught his attention were the pale curtains that were draped over the front window. The dead giveaway of what kind of person called this unit their home. Her furniture was mismatched, the couch a suede sage green and chair upholstered in a crosshatched fabric dyed pink. The center rug of her living room was a large white daisy, stray strings torn out here and there. Her coffee table had stacks of laundry she still needed to deposit into the correct rooms, a pair of fuzzy socks sat by themselves on the couch. All along her walls in the living room and the halls they passed through had canvas art prints, minimalist shelves stacked with books, candles, and odd items he knew had to have a story behind. Pinned to the drywall, between photos and shelves, were dried flowers. The petals were dull and curled back, frozen in time with the stems tied together with the help of ribbons.

Tiny bits of her personality were stamped on each item. Romance books stood out to him on the shelves. A polaroid camera that had seen better days, though the damage was now covered in stickers. Coiled ribbons that were frayed at the ends. A diffuser that still smelled of a rose garden. In her kitchen, a wipe-off calendar was pinned up, all events color coded and scrawled carefully on the appropriate date. Here and there, butterflies and flowers were drawn in marker on the white board.

(Y/N)'s home was kind. Easy and gentle; finding a version of perfect that was attainable and loving.

Stepping around the peninsula counter of her kitchen, (Y/N) looked at him with raised brows and soft features. "I was kind of in the mood for an omelette and hash browns and all of that. What do you think?"

Harry swallowed, standing on socked feet in the middle of her tiled floor. He was overwhelmed in an odd way.

He was in a home—her home. The last time he'd been in a place that was loved and lived in, had to be back when he was living with his family. And, (Y/N) wanted him here; she was asking what he wanted for breakfast, even. His hands were clammy at the thought even with his frozen veins.

He nodded. "Sounds good."

"Perfect!" she chirped, sounding very excitable for someone who had just worked an overnight shift and wasn't used to the turnaround.

Lingering in his spot, Harry watched as she padded around her kitchen, pulling ingredients from her fridge and tools from cabinets. It wasn't until she was reaching towards the carton of eggs that she slowed in her movements. Looking over her shoulder, she laid her hands on the edge of the counter.

"You know, I think I remember this having been a deal where you're supposed to be helping me," (Y/N) teased, her voice lilting as she canted her head.

While he knew she wasn't being serious, Harry still sprung into action as soon as she finished speaking. "Right, right, sorry," he told her, mumbling with his head down.

"I was just teasing. It's okay," she bubbled, bumping his shoulder with a bright smile on her face. With Harry now sharing the tiled space with her, she lent with her back pressed to the lip of the counter, "I usually like to put basil and tomato and cheese into my omelette, but I can see if I have other stuff if you wanted something else?"

"No, no" Harry shook his head, "That's perfect. Thank you."

"Okay," she sounded, her voice soft like the rays of sunlight beginning to drip through the window. "I can get the eggs ready and start on the hash browns if you want to cut the tomatoes and basil?"

As soon as he agreed, (Y/N) had him stationed in front of her cutting board—a wooden slab sanded down to recreate the shape of a monstera leaf. A pair of tomatoes were placed on the edge of the board, still taut and a vivid red. He thought he remembered her plucking them just the other night from the small produce section at the store. A few leaves of basil were bundled beside it, velveteen and vibrant. Off to the side with its guard concealing the blade was a pastel peach knife. The hardware was a gleaming rose gold—because, of course, it was.

Just like everything else in her kitchen, there were bits of her personality littered about alongside the things she most likely saw on the internet and wanted to give a try. Glass and ceramic canisters were dotting the back of the counter, lined against the wall with small labels, though some of the glass ones were clearly filled with the incorrect item. Pictures were pinned to her fridge, some with friends, others with what he could only assume was her family, and coupons to places in town littered between. Everything had color, a personality—evidence that someone who cared and truly called this place home.

Seeing it all made Harry feel that much more embarrassed knowing that she had seen his own home, even if she hadn't acted any kind of way when inspecting his place.

Working around each other, Harry was well-aware of (Y/N)'s presence as she moved around the kitchen. She had pans occupying the stove, drizzled with oil or a pad of butter. As he chopped the tomato and ribboned out the leaves of basil, the space became fragrant. The sound of the knife slicing the vegetable and thunking against the board meshed with the brittle snaps of the egg shells being cracked.

There was no pressure to fill the silence. He knew (Y/N) wouldn't make him talk either; she knew him enough now.

Harry felt settled.

Once the ingredients were prepped, he took over watching the eggs and creating the folds. WIth his new spot, he was able to catch every time (Y/N) plucked shreds of cheese from the bag as if they weren't going into her omelette anyway. He'd remember to put extra in for her.

Every time she needed around him, or reached to check on one of the heat dials, a small chirp of an excuse me and a bubbly smile had his heart thumping in his chest. An odd reaction to something so small, he thought.

A warmth filled the space with the sound of the bubbling oils popping and the burners growing hot under the pans. The sun had finally broken the horizon and was beaming real light into her kitchen, the tiny curtains above her sink pulled back to allow the rays in. The buttery light poured over everything in her kitchen, including (Y/N).

Everything was so easy, so picturesque, so dreamy. Harry had forgotten what it was like to be in a home, to cook for himself, to not be just getting through it.

He'd had dreams of (Y/N) before, moments like this accessible once he fell asleep, but they had nothing on the real thing.

"All done?" (Y/N) asked as he flipped over the second egg bundle, this one teeming with cheese and ribbons of basil swirled within the eggs.

"I think so," he said, lifting the pan from the heat as she grabbed a plate from her cabinet. Handing it out to him, Harry slid the omelette onto the ceramic—the same embossed pattern of flower petals on the edge that matched his own plate.

(Y/N) did her part of sliding the crispy hash brown patties onto their plates beside the completed omelettes. Nothing was perfect—there were tears in the folds of his omelette, the edges of the potatoes were just a little too browned from when she suddenly became distracted with the dishes, and tiny imperfections in the way they dressed their entrees were apparent, but Harry doesn't think he's ever seen a breakfast so flawless.

Harry could feel her eyes on him as he tried to correct the spillage that occurred on her omelette, using the edge of the spatula to hopefully fork the cubes of tomato that had escaped the fold. He swore her gaze left a physical touch over the bridge of her nose, the bow of his lips, the point of his chin.

"Harry?"

"Hm?" he hummed, pausing his fingers to match her warm gaze.

From where she stood, she was backlit from the sunshine spilling in through the gauzy curtains behind her. The sepia tones bathed her in gold with the creases in her top, lines of fatigue on her face, and the column of her throat turning into filigree. The flyaways of her hair were highlighted, messy baby hairs and all. The strands seemingly created the kind of crown he'd seen in ancient art to depict an angel. A goddess.

His breath caught in his throat. This was going to be the vision he conjured when he needed to evade his nightmares.

The goddess suddenly looked shy, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth as she hesitantly reached out towards him. For the second time, her skin grazed his with her fingertips touching at his forearm. They made soft dents in the layer of hair that covered his skin.

Harry's heart jumped into his throat at the touch.

Her eyes were on her hand, watching as she curled her fingers around his arm. Flicking her gaze up to match his, he saw that same golden touched goddess. She took in a deep breath, lips pillowed, lashes glittering, and baby hairs a golden cradle around her face. If not for the fact he could feel the scrape of her nails against his skin, he would have convinced himself this was a dream.

"(Y/N)?" he murmured, voice barely above a whisper in the middle of her small kitchen.

She blinked, letting out that deep breath before speaking.

"Can I kiss you?"

Though there was that smart part of his brain that knew he should think better of this entire moment, there wasn't even a second of hesitation before Harry dragged his socked feet over the tile and closed that distance between them.

He shuttered his eyes just a moment after her, his hands coming up to cup her cheeks while her own hand still clung to his forearm. He didn't think his hands could ever be so gentle with the way his hands molded to the curve of her cheeks and the soft give of his lips against hers. She lent into his hold, pressing her lips against his just that much harder. On the tip of his thumb, he could feel the brush of her bottom lashes on his skin.

Their lips slotted together as (Y/N) tilted her head, tucking her top lip between his two with a delicate kiss directly on his bottom one. She tasted of sugar and butter, whatever she had concocted at the bakery following her. Her hand on his arm tightened the longer they kissed in her kitchen, Harry's head completely empty.

While he knew he was going to feel guilty later for letting her kiss him when she didn't even know who he truly was and what kind of trouble could follow getting close to someone like him, but that was a problem for a version of him that existed hours later. This Harry was allowed to remember everything, commit every detail to memory, and indulge in the feeling of what something soft and gentle and kind felt like.

The soft sound of their lips parting and coming together against bounced off the tiles. Every kiss was lingering and soft, nothing urgent other than the need to show each other what had been brewing in the months since they'd met. Harry's eyes scrunched closed when he felt the dent of her fingertips into his arm—a grounding feeling as he threatened to float up to the clouds or wherever dreams were made.

It was (Y/N) that drew away first, a large breath being taken in as he pressed her free hand to the center of his chest. Underneath her palm, he was sure she could feel the pounding of his heart. Her smile bloomed across her face, swollen lips unfurling like petals. He felt breathless just looking at her.

"Harry?"

"Hm?"

(Y/N)'s smile widened, eyes becoming half-moons with the stretch of her cheeks. "Nothing. I just like saying your name."

Harry couldn't help but to dip down and press his lips against hers once more.

—————

Walking into the bakery, days after the kisses that still seemed to be imprinted on his lips, Harry thought it was funny remembering just how scared he was to walk into this building only a short few months ago.

His life had changed in plenty of ways since then, but they all had a common denominator: (Y/N).

Everything was different now. He had begun uncovering a life here he thought would never be for him. Even if there were still many ghosts haunting him, some strong enough to have made him run in the past, he felt a stronger pull to the positive these days. He could ever thank her enough for that.

Despite that, his hands still felt restless in his pockets. While there was still a level of anxiety that rattled his body, these tremors were the result of those dastardly butterflies that had made a home in Harry's stomach. It was all in reaction to the fact he knew he would be seeing (Y/N).

Outside of a handful of texts, this was the first time he'd be seeing and talking to her since that morning in her kitchen. He couldn't wait to refresh his memory of her—review the form of the goddess he had left.

The bell chimed above his head, signaling to the staff they had a new client in their sparsely populated building. Behind the counter was Sabrina and a perfectly familiar bow, the pair chatting away until the bow turned on her toes with a bright smile.

On instinct, (Y/N) greeted him with the customer service version of herself. She barely got out a single syllable before her smile turned blindingly genuine and she squeaked herself silent.

Looping around the counter, she rushed towards him with that smile on her face and bright eyes that matched the Sunday morning sunshine. "Harry!"

The pat of her shoes over the floor matched the tumbling of his heartbeat. As soon as she was close enough, she folded him into a hug with her arms around his middle. Her cheek pressed against the plane of his chest, heartbeat just under her ear.

"Hi," he murmured to her, burying his nose into her hair. The scent of rosemary from whatever tart she had been working on in the back filtered through his senses.

"I didn't know you were coming in today," she said, keeping her hug on him tight.

Harry grazed his hand over her back, palm pressing against her spine in a slow circuit. "Don't I always?"

That seemed to be the perfect answer as (Y/N) squeezed him that much harder, her hug a sturdy thing. He didn't even have to think before he was reciprocating, the tip of his nose brushing her scalp with every strand of hair tickling his skin.

Keeping her arms around him, (Y/N) pulled back just enough to look up at him. "I have new stuff for you to try!"

"Yeah? What is it?" Harry pressed, his voice quiet just for her as opposed to the bright chatter she was giving him.

(Y/N) dropped her arms from around him only to clasp her hand in his, guiding him to the table that may as well be reserved for just him. "It's a surprise," she said, giddy as ever. Once she had him settled in the tall chair, she had her hands bundled together in front of her. "I'll be right back!"

With that, she bounced back to the kitchen. Harry had his eyes on her and the tendrils of her bow, even when he felt the eyes of Sabrina looking at him with something smug and knowing on her face. He didn't care.

With his eyes following (Y/N) back to the kitchen, Harry didn't bother to hide the smile that crossed his features. Big and bright, he knew this was for her only, even if she couldn't see it.

—————

Harry's bones were exhausted as he trudged up the stairs to his apartment. The steps creaked under his weight, mimicking the scrap he swore he felt in his joints. Even with the fact he'd been cut early for the night, the lack of sleep the day before still clung to his muscles.

All he wanted to do was go home and drop dead in his sheets for as long as he could manage before he woke with a cold sweat.

Despite it all, he stopped in his tracks when he saw his door.

Harry didn't really get mail. It was one of those things that came with being a ghost.

So it was more than a little concerning seeing a manilla folder taped to his door, just where the gold apartment number should be.

His name was printed in big blocky letters across the paper. The strokes of the ink were harsh and glaring, a notice wrapped in the command for him to unfold the paper and check the contents.

With his heart rate spiking in his chest, Harry glanced around him, hoping to see a nosy neighbour peeking on. It wasn't like he was especially friendly with his neighbours (they weren't (Y/N), so he had no interest), but perhaps he had been a little too noisy with his nightmares and someone had had enough, pasting a passive aggressive note to his door telling him to keep it down.

It was a false hope, one Harry didn't believe even for a second, but the reality of the situation was still catching up with him. That was how he was able to snatch the paper from the door without shaky hands, slipping inside without a second glance around him.

He couldn't lock his door fast enough after slamming it shut, the jamb reverberating with a use of strength he hadn't intended to use. He stared for a few lingering seconds, watching as if the lock would flip itself open, all of the threats he'd been running from pouring in after him.

His apartment was silent just as it should be. It made him even more uneasy.

He wasn't supposed to be home now, but still no one was waiting for him. They'd found his apartment but didn't sit and wait for him—ambush him the way he knew they liked to operate. This was the long game they were playing. There were more games they wanted him to participate in before something drastic would happen.

Harry treated the manilla folder as if it were an explosive. Gentle hands gripped the edges with fingertips sliding under the lip to unhook the flap. He worked slowly.

Just inside was the edge of a white piece of paper—no it was thicker than paper, he found when he slipped his hand inside and tugged out a stack of the pages. The pieces were a blank, stark white, thick and heavy.

Flipping them over, that was where all the color was hiding.

Glossy photographs greeted him on the other side.

Glossy photographs of him.

Him at work. Him at his apartment. Him in his car. Every place within this town he had bothered to extend himself was in the background of these photos, while he was the muse in front of the lens. They'd seen him everywhere, for at least the last month.

His paging halted when a new muse made an appearance in the photos.

(Y/N).

Photos of them at the bakery together, the library, the grocery store. A shot had even captured them leaving his apartment the one time he'd brought her over. Thank god he'd taken her inside with him instead.

But that wasn't enough. There were a trio of photos of her all alone. They'd seen her in her home, seen her in her bedroom, seen her living her life without a thought in the world that someone may be documenting every moment from the shadows.

A story began to form the more pages he worked through. A starry sky was the backdrop behind the pair of them, (Y/N) looking up at him as he brushed the tip of his nose with his knuckle.

He'd been walking her home.

In the background of the next image was her gingerbread house. Her picket fence was behind Harry's form, her yellow birdhouse a pseudo-sun in the darkness. The camera followed their steps as she escorted him inside, their hands clasped just barely in view of the lens. With the door shut behind them, the angle shifted, their photographer having found a better vantage point to spot them in the kitchen.

Through new eyes, Harry saw the events he lived through unfold in front of him. He saw he and (Y/N) pattering through the kitchen, getting breakfast ready. He saw the way he was so nervous to be sharing the space with her until he eventually unfurled, his features visibly softening the longer he spent time with her. (Y/N) was there, with those flyaway hairs and gilded lines in her face, giving him space and an encouraging smile. He remembered exactly what it felt like to be standing over those tiles with her starry eyes placed on him.

Harry hesitated. He didn't want to see the next image. He knew how the story went, and he didn't want his recollection to be tainted by seeing it through the eyes of another. He didn't want the single joyous moment he'd had in years to be ruined.

But, this was the life he signed up for when he left that night. A life of goodbyes and nothing that could be truly his. He knew that.

With a steeled resolve, he flipped the page.

On the glossy paper was a photo of Harry and (Y/N)'s first kiss. He saw the crinkles by her eyes as she tried not to smile against his mouth. He saw the gentle way he cradled her cheeks. The smush of their lips together were slitted as if puzzle pieces had found their connecting slate. It was everything he remembered it to be. Buttery sunshine, gentle touches, and a moment no one could take from him.

Only this story was now shrouded in a darkness that came with the edging of leaves vignetting around the photo, the angle fudged to allow the photographer to capture this moment without their knowledge. In these photos, it wasn't a joyous moment to be documented and emulated in movies and novels. This was an exploitation of a weakness. A signal to let Harry know that they knew.

They'd found him.

Dropping the stack to the ground, Harry looked at his feet and saw every nightmare, every worst case scenario, every precaution he took now going down the drain. All of this running, fighting, and erasing just to be found anyway.

It was the photos of (Y/N) by herself that scared him the most. While there was that streak of fear for his own safety striking through his heart, he felt more for her than he could manage for himself. How could he have allowed himself to put his hands on her at all, let his eyes graze her skin, her face enter his dreams when he knew very well that this could happen?

He'd just ruined her life and she had no idea.

Peeking out just between a pair of photos of (Y/N) getting ready to go to bed was a page from a notebook. The blue lines were smeared, water stains on the very edge. Snagging the page, Harry kept his hands from shaking as best he could so he could read the red ink printed across.

It was (Y/N)'s home address. The address of the bakery. Her full name. And her phone number.

Every bit of pertinent information anyone would need to hurt her. It was the kind of information Harry had been given when he was sent out on jobs.

For a split second, Harry swore the earth shattered, but only in his chest. This message was worse than any photo they could have taken of him, any chase they could have given him, anything they could have done to only him. He knew what they were planning with that information if Harry didn't do something before then.

Just like that, everything stopped.

The shattering in Harry's chest ceased. His breathing became centered. His hands didn't shake. Every messy emotion, every wandering thought that didn't pertain to the goal was wiped away and tucked into a box to be shoved into a corner.

The switch had been flipped.

While there was a suddenly dormant part of him that worried over how easy it was to turn this version of himself on again, even after so many years, that couldn't be of a single concern of the moment.

With everything packed away, Harry could focus now. His mind was clear. A plan was forming, a list being written, that would dictate how the next twelve hours were going to go. When the time came, he'd reevaluate and add to his plan. Now was the time for first steps.

He wasn't safe here anymore. He couldn't stay in this apartment and wait for them to come back and either force him into doing things he swore he never would again, or kill him.

(Y/N) wasn't safe here anymore, either. She couldn't stay in her own home. They had enough information on her to make her a sitting duck without her ever being aware until the unthinkable happened.

He needed to leave, and (Y/N) was going with him.

WIth the photos and the page of her information left on the ground, Harry's instincts kicked in. This was just the exact reason he didn't have much of anything to lug around with him. His life needed to be packed up in as little time as possible.

Pulling a too-familiar duffle bag out from under his bed, Harry began the process. First, clothing was to be stuffed into the bag. He'd leave his work clothes for whoever would eventually break into his apartment and find him gone. The one book he'd never leave without was next. Hopefully, Ms. Klarke wouldn't hate him for never returning the books he borrowed this week. Tucked inside the cushion of his clothing was the photo of his mother and sister. Their faces were only blurs with the way he didn't allow a second to focus on them. A stash of cash he had stuffed under his mattress was next. Almost everything he made went to keeping this emergency fund stocked and untouchable. Shoved under his bed, farthest back against the wall, were a duo of guns he quickly plucked up and stuck into his duffle. Extra ammunition was next.

As a passing thought, Harry grabbed the photos strewn across the floor. There couldn't be a trace of him left behind. He was now nothing but a ghost that had haunted this apartment and left in the middle of the night. He was no one.

Everything he owned was stuffed in his duffle bag along with a manila folder of photos that felt as if they could set the whole thing on fire. Dressed in a dark hoodie he'd thrown over his torso and black pants he'd worn to work, Harry stepped out into the open hallway. He didn't bother to look around, trying to find any prying eyes.

His neighbours were of no concern to him now, and if anyone of importance had been watching him, he wouldn't have gotten this far in the first place. Shutting the door behind him, Harry placed his key atop the door frame. His landlord could find that easy enough, he figured.

Harry didn't look back as he left his apartment behind, his duffle bag heavy over his shoulder. He wanted to be sad. If not for the fact he couldn't feel much of anything at the moment, he knew there would have been a sting over the life he was leaving behind. This was the first place he thought he could have been normal; this was the first place he saw himself as more than a simple survivor. He was beginning to be someone here.

But as he jogged down the rusting staircase, Harry remembered he wasn't anyone. And, that was the only way to survive.

—————

Before Harry could even be sure of what he was doing, he was in front of (Y/N)'s house. He couldn't slow down to think this through—or really think at all. Even if he was fairly certain he wasn't being watched, there was no reason to slow down when he had somewhat of a head start.

Slipping out of his car, he worked as quietly as he could. While he didn't care about his neighbours, (Y/N)'s were people who couldn't know about their next moves. He didn't want anyone else to get wrapped up in this.

His duffle bag had been left in the backseat of his car, one of the guns he had now stowed away in the glovebox. The photos still taunted him even if he wasn't looking at them.

Harry tried his best to keep the strength out of his urgency as he knocked on (Y/N)'s front door. It was no surprise when there was no response, not even a stirring inside. It was three a.m.. But he didn't really have time for her to wake up.

He knocked again, a little more force given to the rapping. He barely gave a moment of reprieve before he had reached for his phone in his hoodie pocket and dialed her number. He didn't stop knocking as his phone rang for hers.

It's on the second phone call to her and the fourth minute of knocking on her door that had her opening up. Swinging the door open, she was unveiled to be just as tired as he figured. Her pajamas consisted of a large t-shirt and a pair of tiny shorts. Her socked feet shuffled as she rubbed at her eyes with her free hand.

She looked barely awake, as if she were trying to figure out if she were still dreaming when she squinted at him. "Harry?"

Her voice was hoarse. He wanted to feel guilty for waking her up from such a deep sleep, but he couldn't feel much of anything.

"We need to go," he told her, voice quiet and intense as he slid his phone back into his pocket. He was going to have to do something with that, he figured. They could be tracking him with it for all he knew.

A harsh blink of her eyes did little to wipe the sleep from her gaze. (Y/N) ran a heavy hand through her hair, tugging away stray strands that obscured her view. "Huh?"

Harry could feel her eyes on him as he brushed past her into her home. He stepped over the threshold with the kind of scary confidence he hadn't felt in years. It was a wonder how he was able to hide behind something as fragile for so long.

(Y/N) didn't fight him, only shutting the door and twisting the lock after him. "What do you mean?"

He didn't turn to look at her even when he started giving commands: "We need to leave, (Y/N). Pack some clothes while we have a little bit of time."

Some sense seemed to be making its way into her sleep-addled brain. Her eyes cleared up as he looked at him. She blinked with a flutter of her lashes, a pinch appearing between her brows. "Harry, I don't think I understand what's going on... W-Why do we need to leave?"

Her line of questioning went right over his head, the plan the only thing properly processing in his brain. He ignored her as he maneuvered around her to scale the staircase to the second floor. Her bedroom was down this hall, he knew.

"Jus' pack some clothes, and whatever you think y'need. We need to leave in the next ten minutes."

(Y/N)'s steps were decidedly softer and more cautious as she followed him upstairs. "Harry?" she tried to call for him, tone gentle, "Do you need to sit down for a second? I can get you some water and something to eat, I just need you to tell me what's going on."

The lights were flicked off in her room like the rest of her house. That would make this job that much harder, but Harry didn't feel as if he had even a second to spare to switch on the lights. He needed a bag, that's where he needed to start.

"Harry? Are you listening to me?"

Did she have a duffle bag, or would he have to settle for a tote? It didn't matter much in the grand scheme, but she had too many creature comforts that he knew she wouldn't have the heart to leave behind. A duffle would allow more room. Maybe, in her closet...

Just as he grabbed the knob to invite himself into her closet, he felt her grab his arm. Her grip wasn't anything he couldn't break out of, but the fact she touched him at all had him stopping in his place.

"I'm not leaving until you tell me what's going on. You're scaring me, Harry."

His focus shifted at her words. A point of clarity had been made in her touch and the plea in her voice. Turning to face her, Harry loosened his hold on the doorknob though he couldn't find it in himself to completely let go.

Her eyes glimmered as she looked up at him. The film of sleep had been wiped away, leaving nothing but the raw fear he'd instilled there. There was a tremor in her touch he hadn't noticed before. And, he knew it was all his fault.

A crack appeared in the steel demeanor he'd wrapped himself in.

He couldn't crack right now, Harry knew that. He needed to be careful.

Cracks had been appearing for months now. He was only fooling himself every time he said he was still being careful while orbiting around her. Now, look at where he was.

They couldn't afford for Harry to crack anymore. One more splinter in the ice beneath his feet and he'd be taking her down with him.

Dropping his hands to settle on her arms, Harry ducked down, crowding around her as he matched her watery gaze tenfold. Even in the dark, he knew he was close enough for her to catch every measured breath he took, every fleck of intensity in his eyes.

"I need you to trust me, (Y/N)," he told her, his voice low just for her to hear. "Do you trust me?"

The way she didn't hesitate to give him a small nod, even in the dark of the night with millions of questions running through her head, would've broken his softened heart if he hadn't caged it away for the time being.

He pulsed his hands around her arms. He didn't break his gaze from hers as he spoke, "I need you to grab enough clothes to last you a week or so, and anything y'can't live without. Okay? We need to leave as soon as possible. We need to get somewhere safe."

(Y/N) broke their eye contact, her own gaze searching his face for something he wasn't sure she'd find. Her chest rose with a lingering breath, her brows downturning just the smallest bit the longer she looked at him. It wasn't until she matched her gaze to his once more that she spoke.

"Okay."

It was barely more than a peep, but it was all he needed to hear.

Harry stepped out of her way as she moved on stunted limbs. She rifled through her closet for a moment only to reappear with the duffel he'd been hoping she had. She shoveled clothes in; soft sweaters, comfortable pants, t-shirts, all the things he'd seen her wear before, but they didn't look quite as sweet under these circumstances. (Y/N) was silent as she moved to the bathroom, the clanging of bottles and drawers sliding open and closed was all heard as she packed whatever she needed.

He wanted to feel anything as he watched her. He wanted anything to take root in his chest as he watched her pack up as much of her life as she could fit in that bag, but he didn't feel anything. There wasn't any guilt, fear, or pressure. He felt numb.

After she had her phone and her charger in her bag, he started her down the stairs. She didn't protest, didn't tell him she needed to grab anything else before they left. (Y/N) only followed.

"Put some shoes on," he told her gruffly, stopping her before she marched on out with only socks covering her toes.

"Right," she mumbled, immediately looking towards her end table with shoes shoved underneath. She picked her white Vans.

Wordlessly, Harry tucked her hand in his. He led her quickly out the door and down the steps of her porch. The click of her putting the lock in place did little to quell the urgency that was filling his chest now that they were out in the open for anyone to see.

It was an odd moment of deja vu, he felt as he guided her down the steps. Her hand was warm in his, the same way it was when she had led him inside for breakfast and a first kiss. That felt like a lifetime away instead of a weekend.

He took her bag and shoved it into the back seat along with his before he offered her the front passenger seat. (Y/N) didn't say anything as she buckled herself in, avoiding his eyes even when he slipped in beside her behind the steering wheel.

Turning the key, the dashboard lit up. He had enough gas in the tank to take them far enough away before they'd have to stop. His chest loosened at the sight of the meter. At least they had that.

Harry lingered in his spot at the curb in front of her house. His hands were heavy on the steering wheel, the car geared into drive, but he left his foot on the brake. The sun was still a couple of hours from breaking the horizon, leaving the only light from the waning moon and the dashboard tinting his car in a ghastly green. It was just enough light to see the tears glimmering in (Y/N)'s eyes and the exhaustion already trying to pull her down.

She had no answers, no idea of what kind of mess he'd brought her into, but she followed him anyway. The ice under Harry's feet cracked at the thought.

All it took was the reminder of the pad of paper with every bit of information a person needed to hurt (Y/N), all printed in slashes of red ink, to have that crack beginning to seal. She didn’t need someone who was cracking and just as scared as she was. She needed someone who would make her safe.

"Ready?" Harry grumbled, looking away before she could catch his eyes.

(Y/N) only nodded.

—————

sage represents wisdom; knowing when to run from the past or fight

now stuff is starting to happen!!! I would love to hear what you all think is going on and everything!!! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and please send in any ideas or requests or anything!

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 11 days ago

Text

Hit ‘Em Up! (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Cowboy!Gojo Satoru x Cowboy!Geto Suguru x Black!Cowgirl!Reader (Slow Burn/Enemies to Lovers)

Synopsis: You get to meet Geto & Gojo the Gunslingers, the notorious outlaws that have every town and law enforcement in a twist, when your bum-ass BF offers you as payment to avoid going to prison. Little do they know that this is only a part of your plan to get what you desire. But when you realize that the infamous gun-slinging, smooth-talking cowboys could be everything you want and more when they offer you a deal to team up with them, will you successfully be able to go through with it?

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINOS GTFO); poly!SatouSugu; Reader is Black & Fem; Mention of other JJK characters; Porn with Plot; Tragic Backstories; T/W for Childhood Trauma, Parental Death, Violence, Panic Attacks & Torture; Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Hand Kink; Masturbation; Voyeurism; Gay Sex; Polyamorous; Double Deepthroat; Mutual Oral; Fingering; CMNF; Spitroast; Riding; Unprotected PiV Sex; Creampies; Outside/Public Sex; Shotgunning; Multiple Positions; Spit Kink; Facials; MDom/fsub Undertones; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen PT I & II. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Epilogue. Soundtrack.

********

TWENTY-ONE: THEM CHANGES.

You sit alone among the pastures with Reneigh, listening to the wind whistling through the trees and feeling the afternoon sun hit your face.

As you stare at the swaying branches in the distance, you realize that the leaves are tinged slightly with red and gold that stain the green. Summer is almost over and fall will soon be here. You wonder briefly as you sit in the grass in your riding pants and cowgirl hat how time passes so quickly.

It has been almost two weeks since Geto and Gojo left. Two weeks of nonstop sobbing and grieving. Two weeks since your entire life changed for the worse…or so you thought.

You spent the first week doing nothing but crying, holed up in your room so much that your parents began to worry and secretly put you on suicide watch. They insisted on bringing your meals to you and tucking you in at night like a child. You’re shocked they didn’t call Nanami.

You felt so abandoned. Like the magical nights you spent with the Gunslingers meant nothing. Like the “I love you”s were meaningless and empty.

Maybe they were. Maybe they only said it to you to not hurt your feelings. Maybe they always knew how you felt because it was so goddamn obvious. You felt like a fool.

But after one hot shower that washed your tears away one sunny morning, you suddenly felt a burst of motivation and got back to horseback riding. For the past couple of days, you’ve spent your time outside with Reneigh and the other horses, enjoying the late summer air. While you still feel the sadness and bitterness for the Gunslingers, you refuse to think about them. Not when you finally have the future you’ve always wanted.

‘Except it’s not with them,’ a tiny voice in your head hisses.

You grunt, pressing your hands to your temples. “Shut up!” you hiss to yourself.

“Ms. L/N?” a soft, deep voice suddenly asks behind you.

You turn, finding a familiar blonde in flannel and his own cowboy hat and boots peering down at you. “Nanami,” you say in surprise. “Um…hi. What are you doin’ here?” You haven’t seen the doctor since the disaster during the town’s kickback.

“I hope I’m not disturbin’ you,” he says, taking a short bow, and tipping his hat at you. His horse grazes several yards behind him, minding its own business. “I visited your parents to give your father more medicine for his knee and see how you were doing. He told me you came out here, but that you wanted to be alone.”

He shrugs sheepishly. “I wanted to at least check on you.”

You feel a pang of guilt. You haven’t explicitly told your folks that you wanted to be left alone, but you’re sure that your standoffish attitude has given them the message. Heartbreak is a motherfucker.

“Thank you,” you say, genuinely touched by his kindness. “And you’re not disturbin’ me. I just needed some time in nature.” You nod down at the log beside you. “You can join me if ya want.”

Nanami looks like he won’t do it, but finally takes a seat by the oak tree you sit by. He is quiet which you appreciate. The only sounds are the distant chirping of birds and the rustling trees. Such a peaceful place.

“I heard the Gunslingers left,” he blurts after some time. “Your parents didn’t tell me, but I overheard some folks discussing it at the infirmary today. Supposedly, they saw the two ridin’ out on their horses a couple days ago.”

And then the peace is gone. You don’t get mad at Nanami though. He can’t understand the gutting feeling you’re experiencing over the outlaws’ departure.

“Yeah,” you somberly sigh, picking at a blade of grass. “They had some ‘business’ to take care of and…left me here.”

You toss the grass blade aside, letting it get swept up by the wind. Soon, the grass will be yellow and the winds will be crisp as autumn transitions to winter. What will winter be like in Willow Springs, you wonder? Will you even still be here?

As if sensing your somber, wistful thoughts, Nanami clears his throat, earning your attention. “You feel like takin’ a ride into town?” he asks. “I need to gather some ingredients for medicines.”

You smile, appreciative of his offer. You haven’t been out into town much since the party. The idea of being around people repulses you, but then again, this is a new start. You stand up and dust off your riding pants, smiling at the doctor. “Sure, I need to get some food for Reneigh anyway.”

The two of you ride your horses into town and leave them tied to some trees before venturing into the farmer’s market.

The market is a couple minutes from the town square and is teeming with life—vendors exploding with handcrafted items and home-cooked goods; pop-up shops and small stages for musicians to play; children running from one place to the next, playing with stray dogs that they steal scraps of meat from vendors for and feed to them.

For the next hour, you and Nanami meander through the throng of endless pop-up shops and vendors. The market has everything: blooming flowers and seeds to grow your own; sizzling appetizers and sweet-smelling, home-cooked desserts that you fall victim to and buy for yourself (you never had a waffle crepe before!); fresh produce of every bright, vibrant color and shape, like eggplant, tomatoes, corn, and squash for the fall; hand-sewn clothes and soft fabrics; books that belong to pop-up libraries.

You stop at one in particular, attracted to its adorable set-up. It is small in size, owned by an old couple chatting with some customers who admire books set up on a large, hand-built toy train. There are three in total, including one in front of you, and the trains are able to move because of the wooden wheels on them.

“Aww, this is so cute!” you squeal, instantly moving towards the shop.

Nanami watches you, smiling and patient. He has been the total gentleman throughout your day as you lost your fucking mind over different items, making mental notes to go back and buy them. He joins your side as you skip through the rows of books, new and old, big and small.

“You a bookworm?” he asks, sounding surprised.

You nod, looking at a book thick with pages with a pirate ship on the front. “Only for adventure. Can you tell I’m a girl for pirate tales? Oh, and they have The Raiders!”

You snatch the large book with the hardcover spine out of the shelf, gaping excitedly at the five-member group on the front. “The Raiders?” Nanami curiously repeats.

You nod, feeling like a little girl again reading her favorite book of action, adventure, mystery, drama, plot twists, and found family. “They’re a group of different outlaws who band together to take down corruption in law enforcement.”

You run a hand over one of the members—a tall Black woman with skin the color of cocoa beans, long braids, and two pistols in her gloved hands. “I’m in love with Mable The Merciless,” you wistfully sigh. “I wanted to be like her growin’ up.”

What a time that was. A time of innocence and dreams. Your mother gave you one of The Raiders’ books for your birthday as they had a six-book series. You never got a chance to read all of them. You often wonder if your book perhaps survived that raid when your mother was murdered, but you never went back to check.

Noticing some eyes on you, you turn away from the emotion-evoking book to see Nanami’s eyes trained on you. His gaze is soft and intense, making you blush despite your blessed melanated skin. “What?” you ask, self-conscious.

The doctor bites the inside of his cheek as if thinking to himself. “You just…remind me of someone.”

You raise an eyebrow, curious. “Oh, yeah? Who?”

But Nanami shakes his head, clearing his throat. “Nobody important. Anyways, go ahead and read. I see what I came here for, so please enjoy yourself.” He nods over at the pop-up shop of herbs and spices just a foot away from you.

You giggle—you giggle—excitedly, holding your childhood book in one arm while admiring the pirate book in the other. “Oh, I am. This little market is so cute! I can see myself comin’ here every day.”

Nanami smiles at this, looking happy to hear such a statement come out of you. “Thanks, Kento,” you happily sigh. “This really helped. Maybe a life that ain’t on the lamb ain’t so bad.”

You start to believe it. Nanami cracks a smile, his sleeves rolled up to expose his toned, veiny arms in his button-up shirt. It’s a nice change to his usually conservative appearance. “I’d hope so,” he chuckles. “And it’s my pleasure.”

He pauses, clearing his throat into his fist. “You know…if you ever wanted to come back here, we can. I’d be happy to show you the best libraries in the town too.”

His handsome face is tinged in red, giving him a flushed look that one could pass off as just being because of the beaming sun rays. Taken aback by the kindness, you feel your heart skip a beat.

“That sounds great,” you reply, smiling at him. He smiles back and peers over to read The Raiders as you crack it open. “Now, let’s see what’s got you so hooked on this book.”

By the time you head back home with your horses in tow two hours later, you feel rejuvenated. You feel grounded. You feel that maybe life without the Gunslingers is just what you need…but of course, retail therapy works like that.

As you come up the hill to your parents’ home after dropping Reneigh off at the stables and leaving Nanami’s horse by the trail with his herbs, you feel like a little kid excited to rip open her new Christmas gifts. You carry two paper bags in each arm—one for your new books and one for the fresh produce you picked up for the animals and your groceries.

And those aren’t even everything you bought. Nanami took it upon himself to carry your other bags filled with goodies—a box of mixed assorted treats, a butterfly pendant for Yuri, a gardening diary for Eren to keep track of his crops, and extra oats for the horses.

He doesn’t complain about how heavy the bags are as he lugs them in his arms up the hill, both of you slightly panting from the exercise. The mid-afternoon sun shines down on you, making your travel a lot hotter. “Ya know, ya don’t have to carry my stuff,” you giggle. “I’ve got a horse in the barn I can go get.”

Nanami shakes his head, carrying the bags with no problem. He’s so strong. “Let her rest. I need the workout anyway. Um…do you know those people?”

You look towards your home and stop along with Nanami, confused by the three people standing there chatting with your mother on her front porch. When she sees you, she waves, grinning. “Oh, Y/N, dear!” she calls. “You’ve got visitors!”

The three strangers turn around and you nearly drop your bags when you recognize your old friends standing there.

“Oh, my God,” you gasp.

Shoko, Yuki, and Choso stand there in their traveling clothes. While Choso and Shoko opted for simple riding pants and boots, Yuki is decked out in a flowing dress and sun hat. You don’t get a chance to say hello because you place your bags on the ground and immediately run towards them.

Shoko is the one who catches you first, nearly being knocked down by how hard you crash into her. “Damn, hello to you too,” she laughs, squeezing you tight. “You should skip town more often.”

You nearly sob at her jokes, missing her so much. Yuki shares in the hug, squeezing you and Shoko into her slim yet muscular body. “Oh, look at you!” she cries. “Look at that tan! I’m so jealous!”

You pull away to peer at each of them through your vision blurred with hot tears. Seeing such familiar, friendly faces floods you with nostalgia and joy. “W-What are y’all doin’ here?” you stammer, still in shock. “How did you–”

“A couple of birdies rode into town and gave us your letter,” Shoko explains with a knowing smile. “They told us exactly where you were and how to find you. We had to give our favorite outlaw a visit.”

You blink at her, confused for a moment. And then that light flickers in your brain. The letter you wrote to Shoko. You never mailed it. Geto and Gojo must have taken it and delivered it themselves. “Does anyone know you’re here?” you ask, your stomach dropping.

Choso wraps an arm around you in a tight, one-sided hug. “If anyone does, it doesn’t matter. Your outlaw friends dropped your letter straight off to us–here’s the proof.”

He digs into his pocket with his ring hand and sure enough, he retrieves the letter written in your handwriting to you. Wait…ring hand?

“Uh…what’s that?” you ask. You gape down at the gold band wrapped around Choso’s ring finger on his right hand.

The dark-haired man blushes like a tomato while Yuki teems with excitement like an overflowing pot. “Promise rings!” she squeals, showing her matching ring. “Aren’t they so pretty? He asked me just last week! Ain’t he such a doll?”

She wraps her arms around a shy Choso, hugging him close. “A lot has happened since you left,” Shoko chuckles. “The saloon is boomin’ with business since Valentine got arrested. Everybody wants to see the bar the infamous outlaws occupied.”

You feel like the wind is being knocked out of you. You completely forgot you left Valentine at that train in Bull’s Creek after he nearly killed you. So much has happened here that you damn near forgot about the reason you joined the Gunslingers in the first place: to find Benji.

“So where are the Gunslingers?” Choso asks, looking around, an arm wrapped tight around Yuki. “Weren’t they here too?”

Reality hits you clean in the face, and no books, goods, or cute farmer’s markets can distract you from it. “They left,” you bluntly answer. “I’m livin’ here now.”

Judging by the shocked looks on their faces, your friends weren’t expecting that answer. But they don’t push it either. “I don’t wanna talk about that though. Right now, all I wanna do is spend time with you guys and drink myself stupid. Who’s up for drinks?”

“Me, me!” Yuki hollers. Shoko nods, sighing dreamily at the sound of some alcohol. “I could use a beer after that train ride here.”

The sound of soft whinnying grabs your attention and you turn around to see the handsome doctor making his way down the road. Unbeknownst to you, he dropped all of your bags on the side of the porch without anyone noticing.

Seeing his muscular back and witnessing his kind nature breathes life back into you and you cup your hands around your mouth: “Nanami!” you shout.

The doctor stops and turns to look at you, his hat on his head. “Library tomorrow afternoon? I’ll meet you at the square.”

A slow, crooked smile appears on his lips and he nods, tipping his hat at you and your friends. “I’ll see you then, Y/N.” Then off he goes down the road, taking his cute butt with him.

“Who was that?” Yuki curiously asks, gaping at you. “How many hot guys you got under your arm, Y/N?”

“Anyway!” you shout, pressing a finger to the blonde’s mouth to silence her. “How long you guys here for?”

“About three days,” Choso replies, laughing lightly when Yuki pouts at you. “We’re right down from the train station at a bed n’ breakfast. We got a ride here.”

You begin to clap, jumping up and down. “Perfect!” you squeal. “Just enough time to get drunk! Just wait for me while I change.”

But as you go to bring your bags inside and change into a pretty dress for the night, Shoko puts a hand on your shoulder. “Hey,” she says, stopping you. “I’m really glad to see ya, y’know. You seem…different. It’s a good different.”

She gives a reassuring smile, her eyes knowing but refusing to say anything.

You know she wants to ask about Geto and Gojo, but she refuses to. You love her for that.

“Yeah,” you agree, thinking of your new books, the farmer’s market, and the cute doctor. “Maybe it is.”

#black fanfic writer #smutty smut #my works #black coded reader #my fic shit #black writers #jjk smut #cowboy gojo #cowboy geto #satosugu #satoru gojo x black!reader #suguru geto x black!reader #cowboy!au #cowboy!geto #cowboy!gojo #poly smut #poly love #enemies to friends to lovers #slow burn romance

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hummingbird-of-light · 8 months ago

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Round 2: Sixteenth story for @badthingshappenbingo ~

Title: Never Mess With A Nurse

Fandom: Star Trek (AOS)

Character(s): Robert "Robbie" Scott, Leah McCoy, OCs

Relationship(s): Robert "Robbie" Scott/Leah McCoy

Rating: T

Words: 752

Prompt: Knife to the Throat

Warnings: Violence, Hostage Situation, Major Character Injury, Swearing

(You can also find this story on AO3)

~ Never Mess With A Nurse ~

"I'm going to say this once in a friendly way, you understand that? Let him go."

Robert "Robbie" Scott tried his best not to swallow too hardly. After all, the blade of a sharp knife was pressed quite tightly against his throat.

He definitely hadn't planned for their date to end up like that. It had been supposed to be a nice and quiet evening at a restaurant for him and Leah after a stressful week.

Who could have known that a group of criminals was planning to rob said restaurant on that very evening? And who could've known that they were storming the building right when Leah and Robbie were about to leave?

"Aww, think you can play the hero, honey? Let me get this straight, if you don't want your lover's blood decorating this room, you better sit back down in a chair," the leader of the perpetrators mocked the nurse and nodded towards an empty seat.

If looks had been able to kill, the criminals would have dropped dead that very second. Unfortunately though they weren't and so Leah had to follow the man's order. Reluctantly she stepped over to the chair and sat down.

Robbie furrowed his brows the slightest bit, watching his girlfriend insecurely. There was a dangerous look in Leah's eyes and he didn't know if he liked it.

She seemed to have a plan, he just couldn't tell what it was.

Unfortunately though, the Scotsman didn't have much time to think for the man behind him suddenly started to move forward.

There were four members of the gang. Two were staying close to the front and back doors, making sure that no one tried to escape. Another member was standing next to the counter, ordering one of the employees to unlock the money PADD. It was a PADD on which all payments of the day were collected. With a special device the criminals would steal everything that had been earned that evening.

All of the perpetrators carried phasers with them to hold the scared customers and staff members at gunpoint. As if one hostage wasn't enough...

"Hurry up! We better get away from this place before the cops catch up with us," the man behind Robbie said in a harsh voice. Apparently he was the leader and obviously those guys had already robbed other restaurants that night if the cops were after them.

Maybe willingly, maybe accidentally, the man pressed the knife tighter against Robbie's throat and the Scotsman made a noise, squeezing his eyes shut in pain as the blade started to cut through his skin.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did I hurt you?"

The criminal moved closer to his face and from the corner of his eyes, Robbie saw a grin on the man's lips. A cold chuckle followed the words as the guy leaned back again.

"Alright, you asked for it, bastard."

Robbie's eyes widened in shock when he heard Leah's voice coming from behind them. The man holding him slowly turned around, still grinning.

"And what do you think —"

He didn't even get to finish the sentence for suddenly a small dart flew at him, hitting him right in the cheek, right beneath his eye. The guy gave a startled cry, even dropping his knife in surprise as he staggered backwards.

His fellow companions instantly turned their attention to what was going on, however, neither of them was fast enough to stop Leah from shooting darts at them too.

It didn't take too long until all the criminals dropped to the floor, still awake, but apparently unable to move.

A smile was on Leah's face as she stepped closer to Robbie who could only stare wide-eyedly at the man who had hurt him. The leader was lying on the ground, his eyes focused on Leah as she was smiling down at him.

"Never mess with a nurse who creates her own little weapons for self-defense."

She held up what looked like a smaller version of a phaser, then knelt down next to the criminal.

"And never touch her boyfriend."

Robbie only blinked in confusion and surprise. Flabbergasted, he raised his finger to say something when Leah got up again, but she only smiled at him.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, they are fine. The poison paralyzes their muscles, but it doesn't hurt. They just won't be able to move until police arrives."

Robbie dropped his finger and sighed, shaking his head. Leah was just incorrigible.

"Now let me take a look at the cut..."

#bad things happen bingo #prompt: knife to the throat #fandom: star trek aos #fanfiction #robbie scott #leah mccoy #robbeah #ocs #whump #violence #hostage situation #major character injury #swearing #mega_whumps_characters

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localsharkcryptid · 1 year ago

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Okay okay okay, I’m not like fully in the Flight Rising community but- I’m planning out the next dragons for my little fan-dragon project [though ive renamed them all] and I would LOVE to get some help tracking down a dragon with the proper colors or maybe someone who’s doing a breeding project?? Since the auction house has been zero help. Current hopes to get a fella that lines up with this:

[P: Savannah & Moon, S: Noxtide & Antique, T: Points & Obsidian] The tertiary gene is flexible same for the color as long as it remains black-ish, namely trying to also keep the element either Ice, Water or Wind, just a light blue. Gender doesn’t really matter either tbh.

If anyone could help feel free to message me here or on FR [CryptidCatacomb]! I’d prefer to like discuss payment stuff/whatever trade in detail but I’m a decent artist and have a somewhat okay amount of currency on my account, I could also trade off dragons.

#flight rising #fr dragon #fr help?? I guess #I have no clue what to tag this tbh #Crypts flight rising stuff

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lydiahosek · 1 year ago

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@awesomebutunpractical's OC Scenario Template thing!

Assign Each Character a Number, Answer Questions. Can be Random, Can be Not So Much.

1. Lynn

2. Erin

3. Rikki

4. Terrance

5. Evan

Just a little context: Lynn, Rikki, Terrance, and Evan were in the same class in junior high (Lynn and Terrance go back even further) and have been friends ever since. Erin is Lynn’s younger sister.

1. Lynn and Rikki both are in a hurry and practically bump into each other when they get to the door. What happens?

Chances are they’re on their way to the same place, or at least understand how important each others’ destinations are to them. They’ll both step back and Lynn will be the first to do the harried “after you” wave and let Rikki through.

2. Erin and Evan are in an argument. What could it be about? Just to smooth things out, Terrance walks in on them.

Evan’s family owns a restaurant. They decide to experiment with live music and hire Erin to sing, but it doesn’t go as smoothly as planned. The sound equipment (which Evan set up) doesn’t work properly. The accompanist doesn’t know half of the songs Erin brought music for – in addition to the crowd-pleasing standards Evan had suggested, she included several contemporary hits and obscure showtunes. She’s sensitive to every stray noise from the diners – every too-loud conversation, burst of laughter, and misbehaving kid distracts from those who are actually listening to her. After closing, she vents her frustration and Evan gets defensive. He doesn’t think it was that bad – she did sing, after all, which was the whole point, right? – but makes the crucial errors of suggesting that 1) she is reacting too strongly and 2) maybe if she had chosen some more mainstream selections she would have gotten a better reception. She accuses him of disrespecting the art – not so very deep down she resents performing in an environment in which she sees herself as “basically background music”, even as she was counting on it as a new step professionally.

Terrance arrives and is treated to each of their accounts of the evening. He is glad to have not been there earlier so he cannot give an opinion on whose read of the situation is “right”. Instead, he reminds them that whatever happened, it’s over now. They tried it out and learned that they aren’t a good match. A couple of snide “You can say that again”s notwithstanding, Evan and Erin both cool down. He pays her and thanks her for a night’s work, she thanks him for the opportunity and the payment, and they part ways.

(Evan’s family tries a few more acts over the next few weeks but ends up deciding that it’s not adding anything – that it’s more work and more money without pulling in more business – so they go back to their loop of recorded music.)

3. Erin needs a confidant and the options are Lynn and Rikki. Who’s it gonna be? What circumstances would cause this to switch?

While they haven’t always been the closest, Erin would still choose Lynn – unless the secret had something to do with Lynn herself.

4. Rikki and Terrance are stuck in a body swap and now they need to impersonate each other. What are the traits they’d overplay to sell it? Who’d do the better job?

Rikki would probably do better imitating Terrance than vice versa, though she’d call people “Dude” too much. Terrance would try to be affectionately snarky and sarcastic but it would come out as awkward and mildly rude. Everyone is uncomfortable.

5. Evan has lost something precious. There’s a pile of circumstantial evidence that Erin is the thief. Does Evan decide to trust Erin anyway? Jump on the evidence and start the blame game? Is there enough trust there to label this a betrayal? Is Erin actually responsible?

Left to draw his own conclusions, Evan will believe Erin took it. If Lynn catches wind of it, though, and comes to her sister’s defense, he’ll backtrack. He and Erin are at best acquaintances, so the presumed theft is in his mind a jerk move but at least nothing personal.

Erin’s many things, but she’s no thief. When the truth comes out, she’ll accept an apology for the accusation, but she may hold the incident over his head in the future.

6. Terrance, Erin, and Lynn are all out in the middle of nowhere and they stumble onto a very suspicious bag of money. What does each of them think of the situation? ��Can they agree on what to do?

Erin’s imagination is already spinning five different salacious backstories for the bag’s presence here. She wants nothing to do with it, for fear of entanglement in some gangster’s ransom drop or smuggling scheme. Terrance is not quite as convinced of the bag’s colorful past but considers the alternative that someone was just that careless with such a large sum, which annoys him. A tiny part of him wants to take it for his own/his family’s use, but *frustrated sigh* no, that would be wrong, let’s just leave it. Neither of them get their way, because Lynn is adamant that they take it with them and report it found as soon as they reach civilization again.

7. Rikki and Evan are, for the sake of this question, arch-enemies. For reasons they care about, they have to play nice with each other for a dinner. How well does each pull it off? Does Lynn pick up on the tension in the room?

Rikki plays it too friendly and casual, leaning on Evan and laughing at everything even slightly clever he says. Evan plays it too smooth and professional, as if he were at a business dinner and Rikki was a favored client. He’s the more convincing of the two, but Lynn absolutely notices both the stiffness in Rikki’s smile and the excessive courtesy Evan shows Rikki and nobody else.

8. There is a bug! A particularly big, spiny, potentially venom filled specimen. Lynn, and Erin are in the room with the little guy, and Rikki, Terrance, and Evan are in the next room over. What happens?

Bugs have a way of just suddenly being in the room without anyone having noticed when they came in. Lynn probably let out an embarrassingly loud yelp of surprise when she first spotted it in the middle of the floor or the counter or wherever. This attracts the attention of everyone else.

Rikki: *calls from the other room, concerned* What??

Lynn: *hurriedly regains composure* Nothing, just a bug.

Terrance: *gets up, heads toward the bug-occupied room*

Rikki and Evan: *follow him with mild interest*

Erin: *has instinctively backed away from the bug, is torn between her general regard for animals and her need for it to be far away from her*

Terrance: *squishes it before anyone can stop him*

9. Let’s cast Rikki as a detective and Terrance as the assistant. What could this look like? How effective would they be?

Oh, Rikki would have a blast bossing him around – sending him to do research and get coffee and the like. As for the actual investigation, Rikki’s very sociable, which gives her an advantage in interviewing people (and realizing when they might be lying to her). She deep-dives everyone’s social media, too. Between the two of them they’ll connect most of the dots, but depending on the nature of the case (say, if it’s in an unfamiliar setting) they might need an especially cooperative witness or an especially convenient clue to solve it completely.

10. Erin is jealous of Lynn. What’s causing this? How is this expressed? How honest is Erin about these feelings?

Well this is pretty much canon! It’d take a powerful truth serum to get Erin to admit it, though!

Lynn was the oldest sister to whom everything seemed to come easily – good grades, good rapport with their parents, making friends and getting dates, etc. This was felt less as they grew up and their worlds expanded beyond home and school (and as their younger siblings, Megan and Daniel, got older and it was less of a contrast between just the two of them), but Erin still feels it when considering their professional lives. Both sisters sing beautifully and had some theatre experience as teenagers. Erin wants to make a career as a performer. And she knows, she knows that if that was Lynn’s goal, she has the talent and likability to land any part she’d want. But instead she’s wasting it with mere church choir participation! This turns into irritation, defensiveness about her own choices, and reluctance to discuss her own career with her family when it isn’t going how she’d like.

(Of course, what Erin fails to consider is that for all of Lynn’s supposed instant success, she had her share of scrapes before Erin was around and she had to become the responsible example-setter. She puts in the work and meets people where they are and is tactful in her interactions with others even when she’d rather not be. She just doesn’t complain about it, which only feeds the perception that it’s all effortless for her.)

11. Say Evan really has to hype up Lynn to Rikki. Is this going to be easy? Sincere? How convincing would this all be for Rikki? What if Lynn overheard the hype session?

He never thought he’d have to, but Evan has no trouble making a case for Lynn and meaning it. He can casually state, as if these were self-evident facts, that she’s smart, talented, responsible, classy, hardworking…He cites examples and everything.

Rikki will easily believe that Evan thinks Lynn is great but not see that as any reason why she should think so. The one trait he brings up that starts to soften her is that despite all the others, Lynn doesn’t think of herself as better than anyone else but instead is caring and considerate to friends and strangers alike (the way he puts it is a little more rambly and inelegant but the point gets across).

Lynn would be floored to hear Evan speaking so highly of her. She starts remembering all the times she hasn’t matched the picture he’s painted and wants to question whether he really sees her that way or was just trying to persuade Rikki. He sure sounded genuine, though. The next time she sees him she’s tentative but pulls him aside and tells him that she heard what he said. He becomes self-conscious, but only momentarily and he doesn’t walk anything back. He accepts her thanks.

12. Erin and Terrance are now trapped in the Cave of ‘You’re Stuck Here Until You Resolve Some Character Conflict’. What would they need to talk about? What would they need to hear? How long will this take?

These two would not think to start opening up to each other until they’d been stuck for hours and were at a loss for what else to do or talk about – let’s say the better part of a day. Erin’s mind wanders back to the second-longest time they were together without Lynn around: When she was eight, he (and Rikki) got roped into babysitting her and she pulled some Calvin-level shenanigans. Even when Lynn was home Erin pestered them a lot at that age. She figures why not and apologizes for being “such a little brat” back then. Terrance tells her not to worry about it…that actually, now that he’s a parent, he’s been thinking about those days a lot lately. Being at her house was his main source of interaction with younger kids. It was and is humbling, and, he’s just recently realized, gives him a new perspective on his own experience as the youngest in his family. Erin stresses the importance of remembering the perspective of childhood in all interactions with children to avoid making them feel belittled or brushed off…and then makes a self-deprecating quip about childless singles giving parenting advice to actual parents. Terrance again tells her not to worry about it.

Awkward pause. Erin asks if Terrance was the same way as a kid. They trade growing-up-under-the-seemingly-perfect-older-sister stories and are feeling weirdly affirmed when – at last! – they hear their rescuers on the other side of the immovable boulder blocking the cave mouth.

13. Gift Exchange! Evan got Rikki in the Secret Santa. How easy will this be? How much effort is Evan going to put into this? What will Rikki think of the gift?

At first Evan thinks this will be a cinch – she makes no secret of her interests (anime, the Beatles, dancing…), so just get her something related. But what?, he realizes when he gets to the store. What if he gets her something she already has? Does he even know her size? Or, no, that’d be too weird, buying her clothes. He can feel himself starting to overthink, so he resolves to just grab the first decent-looking doodad he sees. He’s not gonna break her heart over a little gift exchange, right?

The first decent-looking doodad turns out to be a bobblehead figurine. “For your desk at work,” he tells her. Rikki thinks it’s a little goofy, but hey, so is Evan. She thanks him genuinely and does indeed put it on her desk.

14. Neither Rikki nor Erin believe in ghosts, but they happen to be in a very haunted house anyway. Who would figure out what’s going on first? Who would handle it better?

Erin is the first to consider the possibility of ghosts and eventually realize that that’s what’s happening. Depending on how menacing the ghost(s) is/are, her reaction might fall anywhere between trying to help them finish their business so as to pass on and just completely freaking out. Rikki is also freaking out and very unhappy to have been wrong in her assumptions about the supernatural (or lack thereof) and wants out of here immediately. If Erin’s too hysterical to contribute any ideas Rikki will just shepherd her towards the exit. If Erin thinks the ghosts need to be helped or fought Rikki will ask her what’s the quickest way to do that.

15. Well! It looks like a couple of no good bad guys are trying to snatch Evan. Why on earth would they do that? How much trouble would they have? What if Lynn got involved?

Evan’s a pretty unassuming guy – this is either a case of mistaken identity or has something to do with his family’s restaurant. Maybe the baddies are business rivals or saboteurs. He’s also very unimposing physically – they’ll sadly have no trouble picking him up. Lynn is shocked and appalled. Her first instinct is to go to the authorities.

16. Terrance and Evan have been assigned the Those Two Guys role. Whatever part of the story they play, the other tends to be around too. Would this be a voluntary arrangement?

Terrance and Evan would be great as Those Two Guys. They were the type to immediately seek each other out for partner projects at school. Since in this case the main business of the story isn’t personal to either one of them, they’ll gladly stick together on the sidelines offering commentary and doing odd jobs.

17. What kind of age gap is there between Erin and Rikki? What if this was exaggerated? Switched around? What kind of dynamic would you get with an old Erin and a young Rikki?

Erin is five years younger than Rikki. When they first met (and for some time after) they were just “Lynn’s friend” and “Lynn’s pesty sister” to each other. If that gap were widened they might have gotten off on a better foot – Erin would’ve been too young or less inclined to bother them* or they would have been more patient with her or both – and be on friendlier terms now that they’re all adults. Not that they’re rude or resentful or anything, but they might be on “stop and chat” acquaintance level rather than “smile, nod, and keep walking”. The same thing if Erin was the older one – she likes kids and is generally nice to her younger siblings’ friends, and Lynn starts (and leads Rikki into) trouble less often than Erin does in the same position. There’s a slim but nonzero chance that young Rikki, who already has an interest in dance, sees and is inspired by Erin’s early experiences in musical theatre, too.

*Presumably Lynn and Rikki remain the same age as each other in all of these scenarios. Otherwise none of them would have met at all.

18. What’s something both Lynn and Terrance find hilarious? Would they enjoy sharing it? What would Erin think of it?

In eighth grade Terrance taught himself to do a pretty good impression of their constantly grumpy gym teacher when he and Lynn had him as a chaperone on a field trip. He breaks it out again periodically for years afterward and it reliably causes Lynn to dissolve into giggles, especially when he does so at school and there’s the danger of being caught.

Erin never has that teacher, so much of the humor is lost on her, though it is still kind of amusing hearing Terrance do the goofy voice.

19. Evan and Terrance are in an on-going disaster together. Who’s handling it better? Is there a clear leader between them? Are they working together or cracking under the stress?

Terrance is more openly frantic, but he’s also the one who ends up taking charge to move forward. Evan is the one who first declares that they need to stop panicking and make a plan. A good balance overall, but this process may need to be repeated depending on how long the crisis continues and how many obstacles crop up along the way. I could unfortunately see Terrance accusing Evan of not getting it or not caring enough (and Evan taking issue with that in turn) if things got really, really bad (you know they’re gonna apologize and make it up as we move into the third act, though).

20. Let’s say Rikki was leading a team built from Erin, Evan, and Lynn. Would this position be more likely to be earned, elected, granted by a higher authority, or self-proclaimed? How would you rank Rikki’s leadership skills? Is there anyone in the underling trio who objects? Anyone whose particularly loyal? How functional would the team be overall?

Rikki probably (rightly) declared herself the most knowledgeable about whatever the group’s purpose is, thus the others couldn’t really argue against her taking charge. Lynn wouldn’t have argued anyway and defends her friend when the other two grumble. I’d give her a 6.5/10. She’s confident and decisive and her judgement about what needs to be done is usually pretty good. She’s not very patient with less than instant obedience, though. She’ll explain herself if asked but she won’t be happy about it. Major unforeseen complications may throw her for a loop and derail the process, as well. Otherwise, the team will generally cooperate and accomplish its objective.

21. Terrance’s been left out of the day’s shenanigans. Is this taken personally? What level of solo shenanigans will they get into if left on their own?

Terrance doesn’t mind staying behind once in a while. He’d be upset if it became a regular thing, though. He’ll most likely spend the day around the house – shoot some hoops, practice guitar as loud as he wants, etc.

22. If you had to choose a babysitter between Erin and Rikki, who would it be? Who would Terrance choose?

I would choose Erin. Both of them are responsible, but Erin’s much more willing to take on the role. Terrance is much closer with Rikki and would choose her.

23. Alright, let’s swap Terrance and Lynn’s stories for a moment. Would they get along with the other’s supporting cast? What’s one big way the stories would change?

Lynn would be a sensitive and cooperative daughter to Deirdre (Terrance’s mom). Lynn and Lily (Terrance’s sister) are already pretty similar – book smart, ambitious, organized. They would have been very close growing up together, but they also would reinforce some of each other’s flaws – tendencies toward stubbornness, snobbiness, brushing off other perspectives. Also, without younger siblings around on a daily basis Lynn would lose the relative ease she has in dealing with little kids.

Terrance would bond with David (Lynn’s dad) over basketball and bristle under April’s (Lynn’s mom) fussiness. He’d regard Erin with either tolerance or annoyance, depending on the day. Things would improve when they’re both adults. The relationship between him and Megan and Daniel is more consistently benevolent but distant – he has to help look after them when they’re very little, and he’s preoccupied with his own matters as they get older.

Canonically, Terrance starts working immediately after graduating high school. However, David works for a community college and gets partial tuition coverage for his children, so it was the non-negotiable assumption for as long as any of them can remember that they would all get college degrees. Terrance majors in English but has no clear direction of what he would want to do with it beyond doing something so he can have a steady income and propose to his girlfriend.

Conversely, Lynn is still as determined to get a degree as she originally was, but she’s not tied to going to that particular school. She follows in Lily’s footsteps to a large university in a nearby city. She’s also an English major, with a journalism minor – this probably brings her and Terrance closer as friends as they navigate their programs simultaneously, comparing and contrasting their requirements and course material. Come senior year, they’re both looking out for job opportunities and eventually end up at the same newspaper.

24. Terrance, Erin, and Evan have all been taken to a mysterious location, and separated. They have not seen their “hosts” yet, but have had time to think about the situation. When they are reunited, Evan has been replaced with a slightly too friendly, but otherwise identical, impostor. Do the other two notice? Does the discussion turn to escape? If they realize Evan is missing, what would the others do?

Erin definitely doesn’t notice the change. Terrance does eventually. I’d like to say he does immediately, but he would easily believe that the dire circumstances have simply inspired his friend to Realize What’s Really Important and be more openly affectionate.

Erin is the one to tell them to cut the mushy stuff and let’s get the heck out of here. When they realize “Evan” is a phony, however, Terrance flips out and (mentally if not also physically) scrambles around trying to figure out how to find the real one. Erin is agreeable to not leaving without him but is also now very concerned about the who, how, and why of the impersonator and will interrogate him. She’s mostly sure Terrance is the real Terrance. Mostly.

25. What’s one goal that Rikki and Lynn could share? What would they think of each other’s methods of getting said goal?

One of their favorite long-running prime time prestige drama/soap operas is in danger of cancellation and they must save it! Rikki immediately jumps to social media, calling for their fellow fans to make a stink. Lynn must admit the power of numbers and the fact that that’s probably where the higher-ups are most likely to look. Her first idea was a letter-writing campaign – actual pen on paper, with long, detailed, reasoned arguments in the show’s favor. Rikki admires the patience and skill necessary to do that but guesses the majority of viewers don’t have them (“I know I don’t - but that doesn’t mean I don’t love the show!”). She urges Lynn to go on with it, though, and anyone else confident in their word-assembling abilities.

#my ocs #violence mention #spoiler alert: a bug gets squished #ghosts #kidnapping #awesomebutunpractical #thanks for the prompts!

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banghwa · 1 year ago

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https://twitter.com/warnerbrosnft/status/1679838164276453377?s=46&t=Bu1h2cCfpATt5l8GUkbehg

omfg jules i just saw this and am i wrong or isn’t web3 the platform thing they plan on releasing the hyyh series on………..

ok so im not like. a tech person. but as far as i understand web3 isnt a platform, its more of like. a technological era/wave. like web1 is the first stages of the internet as it was getting started until the 2000s (think static webpages, personal websites, email). web2 refers to the period of internet between that and now (emphasis on social media, user-generated content, participatory consumerism, etc). as i understand it, web3 is just the name for this sort of new internet era we're approaching, with emphasis on decentralization of data/content and blockchain/token-based economies. more than anything web3 is a super vague buzzword. i have no idea what a "web3 streaming platform" would entail aside from clunky user interfaces and some sort of crypto/nft payment option/special features. maaaaaybe it means something like extra (probably nft) content on the series available ? maybe it'll be interactive like this trailer shows, kinda like bandersnatch was? i really have no idea what it would entail and tbh i feel like that was the goal of the platform promo, like web3 very much just is a buzzword to get crypto people interested, right now it means near nothing.

#i may be wrong tho! im not super versed in tech/crypto #💌#anonymous

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padfootastic · 2 years ago

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so, for s&h sarurday, we’ve got outsider pov of mob boss sirius and a bunch of scary looking mafia underlings showing up to a school play with inconspicuous weapons to see kiddie harry dressed as a tree. confusion & ‘oh my god the boss has a what?’ ensues. slightly crack-y.

Clark Forrest hadn’t planned on going into this line of work, not when he’d graduated with an honours degree in Business Administration. But the economy was…not doing great, bills had to be paid, and he knew someone who knew someone who had very enthusiastically hooked him up with this job so here he was.

Applying his hard earned education to being the accountant for a mob boss.

If only his poor mum, may the Lord bless her soul, could see him now. She’d faint right back into her grave.

To his boss—Mr. Black’s—credit, he wasn’t that kind of mafia, the one with the indiscriminate killing and plucking toenails off and kidnapping children. Clark was sure there was some kind of…illicit activity going on - he wouldn’t be a mob boss if there wasn’t, would he? - but he hadn’t seen anything of the sort as of now, so he could happily go on believing nothing was amiss.

Well, unless you counted the occasional blood on the rug.

That - was clearly one of the more, uh, colourful activities Mr. Black engaged in. He tried not to think hard about it. It could always be red wine?

Was it really a surprise then, that Clark thought it would be something similar, when almost the entire, er, gang was called in for an important meeting?

“Alright, this one’s important so listen up,” Mr. Black ordered.

Now, here’s the thing. For those who hadn’t seen the man, it would’ve been very hard to picture the kind of—aura he had. Outwardly, he was attractive, almost unnaturally so, with high cheekbones, a sculpted nose, grey eyes that were known to inject terror into the hearts of the toughest of men. His hair was cropped close to his head, and he had jewellery pierced through his entire right ear. Tattoos ran down the length of his arms, creeping up the hem of his shirt to skirt around his jaw, peeks of ink around the ankle when he walked.

He looked dangerous, yes. No one would dispute that.

But he didn’t—feel dangerous. Not at first.

Because Sirius Black had an accent as posh as the Queen, with a pleasant smile adorning his face, like he’d just gotten back from a walk. Clark had been under the mistaken impression that the man wasn’t fit to hold the position he did - maybe he’d just gotten it through inheritance? a placeholder, perhaps? - because someone who drank their tea with more milk than tea in it, who sniffed delicately into handkerchiefs and said ‘excuse me’ when he burped—that didn’t seem like a mob moss, never mind that Clark’s only experience with the underworld had been in the form of smuggled DVDs and pirated clips.

It wasn’t until he’d seen what happened when someone defaulted on a payment that he realised exactly how deadly the man was. The screams from behind closed doors still rang in his ears sometimes. The unbothered expression of neutrality on Mr. Black’s face as he exited the room even more haunting.

Coming back to the situation at hand, though, Clark’s back had automatically straightened at Mr. Black’s tone. His brows were furrowed in a deep frown, lips pressed into a line, and he was looking at all the assembled members intently.

“Tomorrow, 9am sharp, not a minute before and not one after—You’ll be outside Collingswood Primary. I want all of you dressed casual. Jeans, jumpers, t shirts, you get it. If I see a single obvious sign that you’re packing, I’ll have you strung upside down from the London Bridge quicker than you can turn the safety off, get it?”

It took a second for Clark to realise he was actually expecting a verbal answer and he hastily added his agreement to the chorus of ‘yes, sir’ and ‘affirmative’ ringing around the room. Mr. Black stared at them for a few seconds longer—seconds that felt like they were stretched into hours. Clark could feel the sweat beading on the back of his neck, not even daring to blink as Mr. Black’s gaze skimmed over the room, only stopping on his for a millisecond. Finally, he nodded and gestured to his right.

“Lupin will give you the address and be your point man for the event tomorrow. We’re going to be undercover in public, which means subtlety and respectability. I expect everyone to show it.” With one final nod, he swept out of the room without a glance backward.

It was like a collective breath was released in that moment because Clark could feel his chest deflating, eyes blinking rapidly in an attempt to understand what just happened.

Did the big boss just tell them to go incognito at a…primary school? One where actual, real kids went to study? Clark was confused because—he could’ve sworn they didn’t do that. Mr. Black hadn’t said it out loud but Clark had always gotten the impression that children were off limits. But that was clearly not the case here.

Maybe he needed to rethink his earlier ‘no kidnapping children’ conviction, and also his employment while he was at it.

Speaking of which, why was he there anyway? He was an accountant, had never been ‘out in the field’ so to speak a day in his life. He couldn’t even identify the parts of a gun if his life depended on it, for Christ’s sake.

Really, the only thing they all had in common was that they looked like they could blend into a crowd—as opposed to Mr. Black and a couple others who looked like they’d stepped off a biker gang catalogue at any given moment—which is, perhaps, why they’d been selected. All the better for going incognito.

“Alright lads, you heard the boss,” Lupin said, before rattling off the address for somewhere in Chelsea. Jesus. “Be there at 9 on the dot, you hear me? That’s when entry starts and it’s first-come-first-serve. Obviously, we want the best seats available. No excuses for being late because if you are, then that’s shop cleanup duty for a week. Alone.”

“But that’s a three man job, at least,” one of the others cried and the almost-sadistic smirk that flitted on the man’s face reminded Clark why, despite his mild mannered looks, he was one of Mr. Black’s main enforcers.

“Guess you won’t be late then, huh?” he replied with a nonchalant shrug.

Clark hastily swallowed all the questions he had at that.

The next morning, the sun was shining bright, the sky was blue without a single cloud and Clark was standing in front of Collingswood Primary—a large, sprawling brick structure with faculty members dotted around the grounds—at eight fifty seven, feeling exceptionally awkward in his polo shirt and khaki trousers.

He tugged at the collar as he surveyed the place. It was a posh neighbourhood, no disputing that. He couldn’t remember ever stepping foot in the area before today and it almost felt like even the air here was too expensive for him to breathe. It was making him even more nervous, then, to imagine what they could possibly be here for. Clark had spotted almost every single person from yesterday’s meeting scattered around the place.

McKinnon was leaning against a tree, phone in hand, and he was slightly envious at how comfortable she looked, while he was sweating in his loafers. Lupin, Meadowes and Longbottom were gathered around the far end of the lane, coffee cups in hand and periodically glancing around. Pettigrew was stuffing a bagel in his mouth, hunched over like he didn’t realise everyone could see him. Clark’s lip curled instinctively at the sight.

Another look around and he realised the man himself, Mr. Black, wasn’t here. Did that mean they had to do…whatever it was…on their own? He wasn’t prepared for this. He was just an accountant who’d taken a wrong turn in life and ended up in this position, both employment-wise and existentially, no matter how cushy the pay was or how many free coffees he got from the communal Keurig.

It was as he was spiralling in the thoughts of what could have been (what if he’d gone into trade school like his da wanted? what if he hadn’t failed third semester corporate finance and had gone into a different kind of cutthroat sector? what if he hadn’t thought a call centre was beneath him? what if—) that he heard a voice call out.

“Mr. Black! Welcome, welcome.”

His head snapped up just in time to look at the tall frame of Sirius Black standing beside a lady who was almost half his height—literally, the top of her blonde bun barely reached his chest—at the front gate. Mr. Black was dressed…differently. His usual leather-jacket-distressed-skinny-jeans look was switched out for a very respectable button down shirt and trouser, still skinny fit of course, and he looked—normal? Not like he was the head of the most terrifying organisation this side of the Thames, not even with the tattoos that were visible all the way from where Clark was standing. He could see him taking the old lady’s hand in a handshake.

“Headmistress Martin, you look lovely as always. I trust you’ve been well?”

Inexplicably, the lady (which—headmistress??), who must be as old as Clark’s grandmum, blushed. “I appreciate that, Mr. Black. You know, I’m glad to catch you here today, I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to make it.”

“As if there’s any way I can miss…” their voices trailed away as they made their way inside and Clark cursed the missed opportunity. He still didn’t know what was happening, and at this rate, his head was hurting because the most recent interaction was telling him there was something else at play here. It didn’t quite seem like they were here to kidnap kids for ransom or blackmail now.

Just as he’d shifted his worldview for the third time in so long, Lupin walked over the entrance and made a signal for the others to follow. Clark, being the closest, ended up directly behind him, which gave him the chance to…subtly listen—not eavesdrop, not his fault people talked too loud these days—to the man’s conversation with the teacher at the gate.

“Six for Harry Potter,” he said, handing over…tickets?

“I just saw Mr. Black go in too,” the teacher replied after writing it down in her clipboard. “Quite a popular kid, that one, isn’t he?”

“We’d like to think so.” Lupin smiled and walked in, seemingly familiar with the building and leading them like a line of ducklings to a door marked ‘Auditorium’. At this point, Clark was—yet again—calibrating his entire worldview. They were here for a…show? A kid’s show, at that? Were they going to drag a kid straight off the stage? Or, was he wrong, and were they here for a parent?

That would actually make more sense. Maybe they had a…client or someone who was hiding, but even cowards could be good parents, right?

He kept telling himself that as they took their seats somewhere down the middle, all in one row. He ended up squished in between Lupin and Longbottom, which was great, really. He could get all the inside gossip without any of the work.

“So when’s the kid coming up?” Longbottom asked, looking around curiously. “And where’s the boss sitting, anyway?”

“Sirius would be somewhere in the front row there. See.” Lupin pointed a finger towards the center of the auditorium, where a fancier set of couches were laid out. Mr. Black was sitting on one of them like he owned the whole place, with the Headmistress and some other distinguished looking officials in conversation beside him. “The lucky bastard, gets the good stuff while we’re stuck on these bloody chairs.”

Sometimes, Clark forgets that these two men went way back—no one else could dream of referring to the boss man like that.

“As for Harry, there’s some sort of a—choir, I believe? Then the play. Shouldnt take too long, it is primary school, at the end of the day.”

“Speaking of primary schools, do you know why we needed to bring our…pieces to one?” Longbottom questioned. Clark barely swallowed down the squeak that followed that line of query. He’d almost forgotten they were…packing. “Does Black think we’ll get attacked out here or something?”

“You know he doesn’t,” Lupin rolled his eyes. “But he’s not taking any chances when it’s coming to Harry. If you think you’re armed, you should’ve seen the assortment he strapped to himself today. If I didn’t know him, I would’ve had him chucked straight into a facility, I’m telling ya.”

“Mate, I know him and still feel the urge sometimes.” Both of them snort in unison at that and Clark is just sitting there, slightly terrified and mostly confused, at the turn of the conversation.

As the—program commenced, Clark keeps a tight grip on the handles of his seat, watching each child and member of the audience carefully. He doesn’t knew what he’d be asked to recount later, and he has no wish to make things harder for himself by losing himself in the spiral of wondering what the fuck was going on. His time at this particular…organisation had taught him two things, if nothing else: head down and no questions. It was how he’d skirted past everyone’s radar so far and he wanted to keep it that way.

The choir came up on stage and performed an—interesting variation on pop songs he’d heard on the radio. Lupin and Longbottom clapped politely when it ended and Clark joined in until the host on stage announced ‘Annual Play! Our little actors have put their heart and soul into this, so please, show them all the love you can’ which led to another round of applause, slightly more raucous this time. He could see Mr. Black was one of the more enthusiastic ones in the audience. Huh. He didn’t think he’d ever seen him smile so big before.

Just as he’s focused on now unnaturally white the man’s teeth were, Lupin leant forward to face their entire row.

“The boss’ kid is coming up now and he expects maximum participation from all of you.”

“The boss’ what?” Clark’s glad that McKinnon chose to voice what they were all thinking because he didn’t think he was brave enough for it, no matter how much he wanted to know.

“His kid, Harry. Keep up, Marlene,” Lupin sighed, like they were being the ones being unreasonable here and not the fact that an entirely new facet about their…organisation’s head had been revealed to them.

“Since when did Black have a child, what the fuck.”

“That’s not important, what is is the fact that Harry’s about to be on stage right now and if you get caught talking during his part, you bet your arse he’s gonna have you cleaning blood off the rug for the whole month.” With that, he turned back to facing the stage, considered the matter closed—no thought given to the others who were stuck in varying stages of disbelief and shock.

“How, er, how exactly are we supposed to know which one the kid is—and does he have a name?” Pettigrew asked, craning his neck around everyone between him—in the last seat—and Lupin.

“It’s Harry, didn’t you hear, Pettigrew?” McKinnon snarked.

“He’s just coming up, wait…” Lupin mumbled, looking intently at the stage where a bunch of kids dressed in colourful fairy tale costumes had arranged themselves. “There! That one.” He pointed towards the back corner of the stage where a small cluster of children were gathered. Clark squinted, trying to identify what was going on. Surely, Lupin didn’t mean—

“The tree?” Meadowes said, incredulously “That’s what we’re all here to see, a kid dressed as a common garden tree?”

Somehow, he didn’t think he could be more shocked and yet, when Lupin nodded, completely seriously, Clark was. His eyes zeroed in on the tree in question—not a hard task considering there was only one—and could just about make out a bunch of hair escaping the band sitting on his head. There was a pair of spectacles sitting on his nose, a bit too large in Clark’s opinion, and his face was pulled up in a wide smile. He was looking straight at the front row and even sitting as far back as he was, Clark could see the joy radiating off him. Cute kid, really, but did nothing to make sense of the befuddlement he was feeling.

Clark turned to his side, saw the varying expressions of confusion and shock lining everyone else’s face, and felt immediately gratified. At least he wasn’t alone.

He went through the rest of the performance barely registering what was happening, like moving through a fog, clapping when Lupin and Longbottom did—which was apparently whenever the tree, sorry, Harry so much as moved—and sneaking glances at Mr. Black all the other times.

It was astounding—the man was leaning forward, elbows planted on knees, an expression of complete rapture on his face like he didn’t want to be anywhere else except here, watching a kid dance around in a plastic shrubbery costume. He clapped frequently and loudly, even letting out a taxicab whistle one time that made Clark double take most comically. The guests on either side of him only smiled indulgently in his direction and that, more than anything, drove home how much of a regular Mr. Black must be among them.

An indeterminate amount of time later, the kids bowed, the host announced the end of the show, and everyone clapped harder than they had so far. Which was really saying something considering how much their group had contributed to the cumulative applause. And that’s not to even mention Mr. Black. But now, everyone was on their feet, and Clark could feel his palms stinging under the onslaught of his enthusiasm. Better that than be reprimanded later, though.

Once the cheers had died down and the host was finished with their closing credits, Lupin turned to them. “We’re going backstage, let’s go.” And promptly got up, walking down the aisle towards the stage. Clark blinked at his abruptness, used to it by now but still not quite, before turning to his other side where Longbottom was flapping his hand in a ‘well, go on then’ motion. He decided to listen and scurried away after Lupin, absently wondering if they looked like a bunch of ducklings following after mama duck. And wasn’t that a thought—the mighty thugs of the London underworld, relegated to animal metaphors.

“Wonderful event, Mr. Smith.” Lupin shook hands with an average white guy at a side entrance. “We’ll just go in here to see our boy, yes?”

“All…of you?” The guy asked, eyeing their procession dubiously.

“Well, of course, Harry’s our favorite little guy,” Lupin replied in the same pleasant voice. Clark didn’t bother to clarify that none of them even knew there was a little guy until an hour ago. If the boss wanted them to say his kid was their favorite, then that’s what they’ll say. It didn’t take long after that for them to be let in. Clark would be more worried about the school’s safety if he hadn’t seen Lupin walk circles around the smartest people he’d ever seen. School cops were no match.

“An’ an’ an’ did ya see the whole t’ing?” An excited voice was saying as they turned the corner. Clark craned his neck and felt his brows creeping up when he assigned it to their favorite little guy—Harry. Who was currently being cuddled—there was no other word for it—by Mr. Black. Harry had his arms wrapped around the man’s neck as he talked and Mr. Black was looking at him with a kind of laser focus Clark had never seen before. And considering he looked after their entire operation’s accounts, that was really saying something.

“I saw the whole thing, baby,” Mr. Black replied, voice soft. Clark and the rest of their entourage were frozen in their positions, not wanting to disturb their conversation. “You were beautiful.”

Harry bit his lip at that, eyes gaze falling to rest on Mr. Black’s collarbone rather than his eyes. “I was jus’ a tree, though, Siri.”

Mr. Black’s eyebrows turned down. “And you were the most perfect tree I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“But it—that’s—trees are boring. Anyone can be one,” Harry’s lower lip looked a bit wobbly there and Clark had just a second to despair, no matter that he was standing too far away to be expected to do anything, before Mr. Black took over, swift and practiced.

“Harry, my love, if anyone can be a tree, and yet it was you that was chosen, then what does that say about you?” Personally, Clark thought that bit of philosophy, while profound, was a bit too complicated for a child.

“But—“

“And,” Mr. Black gently cut in, “If you were boring, then I wouldn’t have cheered as hard as I did, would I? It’s a matter of pride for me that my godson makes such a lovely tree.” He tweaked the kid’s nose, making him let out a wet giggle. But, even Clark, inexperienced as he was around children, could see they weren’t out of the danger zone yet. The kid was still looking a bit troubled there. Clearly, Mr. Black had picked up on it as well because he turned to their little association with an expectant look on his face. Clark hadn’t even realised he’s noticed them but of course he did.

“And if that’s not good enough for you,” he continued teasingly, turning Harry towards them. “Then you can ask any of them and they’d say the same.” Mr. Black’s raised eyebrow was sufficient warning.

Harry, on the other hand, was unaware of the looming danger because he burrowed into his…parent? guardian? uncle? (Seriously, what was the relation here?) as he noticed the bunch of strangers standing there like idiots.

“Who’s they, Siri?” he whispered loudly.

“They’re my friends from work.” Clark pushed down the hysterical snort that wanted to emerge at that statement. “And they came here just for you!”

“Really?” Harry’s eyes—a bright emerald, now that Clark was closer—opened wide in surprise. “All for me?”

“All for you, baby,” Mr. Black reassured him before clearing his throat pointedly. Clearly that was the cue for Lupin, who’d been standing just as quietly, to jump in for he strode forward until he was right in front of the pair.

“Hello, Mr. Harry,” he offered a hand to the kid, who returned the solemn handshake with a grin tugging his lips. “I see you’re well.”

“You too, Mr. Loo-pin,” Harry giggled before leaning forward in Mr. Black’s arms. “Did ya see me pre-pef-peform?”

“I did, you were really quite something, kiddo,” Lupin ruffled his black hair, showing a level of familiarity Clark should’ve come to expect by now. “Thank you for letting me come.”

“But I din’t—“ Harry said, eyebrows furrowed adorably.

“We wouldn’t have seen such a great show if you weren’t acting in it, now, would we?”

“Hm.” While Harry seemed to consider that, Clark and the others had managed to get over their shock to make their way to their boss and his kid.

“Hello, Harry,” Meadowes grinned, bright and friendly, taking the lead. “You were so cool up there!”

The poor kid looked at her with rapidly reddening cheeks. Clearly he wasn’t immune to her charms either. Figures. “T’ank you, miss.” Clark could see Meadowes biting down on her lip, eyes softening in adoration.

“I thought you were the best one on stage, Harry,” Clark added, keeping one eye on his boss who was staring at all of them intently and another on Harry who couldn’t see to stop blushing. As he received another stammered thanks in reply, the others stepped up for their turn at congratulating the kid.

When all of them had finished their round of pleasantries, not that it was much of a chore—while a tree was certainly a forgettable role, Harry was adorable enough to win all of them over—Mr. Black smoothly stepped into the conversation. He ran a gentle hand over the boy’s unruly hair, smoothening it fruitlessly before tucking a few strands behind one ear.

“Will you believe your poor godfather now? Or do I need to shout from the rooftops?”

Harry swatted at his chest feebly, making a face at the gentle teasing. Despite knowing that this was just a kid—the boss’ godson at that—Clark held his breath in anticipation of how such an action would be perceived. Surprisingly (or perhaps not) the boss only grinned, a shocking display of emotions Clark hadn’t ever seen before today.

“So, ice cream in celebration then?” he asked. Clark, still stuck on the relationship reveal, almost replied in the affirmative before realising that would’ve been a supremely awkward thing to do. Clearly he wasn’t the one being asked here.

“Yes, please, Siri!” Harry chirped, bouncing a little in excitement. “Will—will your friends come too?”

“Will they, now?” Mr. Black repeated, looking at them with a raised eyebrow that communicated very well his feelings on the matter. The four of them, Longbottom and Lupin not included, immediately fell over themselves trying to communicate a variety of reasons for why they ‘couldn’t come, so sorry kid, maybe next time?’ in a way that didn’t hurt his feelings or get themselves strung upside down.

“Oh, otay then,” Harry blinked, looking a bit overwhelmed at the sudden onslaught directed at him. “T’ank you for comin’!”

Meadowes was unable to stop herself from cooing this time. Mr. Black snorted softly before inclining his head in their direction, saying ‘thank you’ and dismissing them in one smooth move.

Longbottom and Lupin stayed back, engaging Harry in conversation, while the others slowly walked away, trying to wrap their heads around the events of the day. He could hear snippets of Meadowes and McKinnon conversation, speculating on why they needed to be armed if they were just here to watch a kid’s play, and immediately increased his pace so he didn’t have to hear about things like that again. He really did not want to think about the unsavoury aspects of his job right now, not when he was equally baffled by everything.

Instead, he wondered if he should go job hunting again. All this stress surely wasn’t worth it, was it? Not if he wanted a place right next to his mother in the near future. Maybe he should think of going into the call center industry he’d written off earlier. It didn’t make use of his degree but it also didn’t have guns, the pay was decent, and there was no definitely no blood to clean up on the rug.

#sirius black #harry potter #remus lupin #good godfather sirius black #sirius and harry saturday #mob boss sirius black #an oc with the stupidest name on earth #literally used it as a placeholder but i can’t find anything better lol #outsider pov #look i finished it! a bit disjointed but the spirit is there i think #i started this like two months ago bc of this mental image of a bunch of scary thugs showing up to the school #for harry dressed in the most mundane outfit because sirius is a PTA Parent #and that fact remains true even in a universe where he’s a scary mobster #the ending is kind of meh but we’ve established i’m not good at those #but yeah. big terrifying man who’s super soft for his kid.#a+ concept. love to see it.#tumblr works #pen’s writing

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afolderfullofstories · 2 years ago

Text

Whumptober 2022: Day 22

Sequel to Day 6

TW: Bad things happen to a child

Pavi hugged himself. How long has it been? The men left him alone for now. He wondered what that meant. What if papa still refused to pay? Would they kill him? Papa wouldn’t. Papa would pay. Papa wouldn’t let them hurt him…right?

The mean man walked in.

Pavi moved back. What did he want?

“I’ve got good news for you. Your father sent payment.”

“A…are y…you g…g…going to l…let me g…go?”

“Why should I?”

Fear filled Pavi’s chest and he backed away.

“Leave the kid alone.” The nice man walked in. “You can go home in the morning.”

Pavi just nodded quietly.

“You’re no fun.”

“I…is f…f…fratello o…okay?”

The nice man sighed. “I don’t know, kid. There’s nothing on the news. No news is good news in this case.”

Pavi looked down and nodded. Fratello had to be ok. He always was ok.

“What’s the plan?”

“In front of the kid?”

“Who’s he going to tell?”

“We’ll just dump him at the usual spot. Without the cameras, it’s been peaceful so far.”

“What’s to stop the GeneCops from surrounding us?”

“We have the kid.”

“And when we let him go?”

The mean man fell silent for a moment. “We do the same thing as we did his brother. It’s proof enough he would be found.”

“And if he gets lost and Rotti Largo thinks we didn’t let him go?”

“I…I w…won’t g…go anyw…where.”

The man stared at Pavi.

Pavi looked away. He hadn’t meant to interrupt.

“We could sedate him. By the time he comes to, he would have been found and we would be long gone.”

What did ‘sedate’ mean? It sounded scary. But Pavi didn’t want to interrupt again. He just kept quiet and listened.

“I guess we could do that.”

“It’s settled.”

They left, leaving Pavi alone once more. Pavi pulled his knees to himself. He would be home in the morning. He just had to be patient. He would be home soon.

Pavi opened his eyes groggily as someone picked him up. “W…w…wha-”

“Just sleep kid.”

“A…a…am I g…going h…home?”

“Yes. Just go back to sleep. By the time you wake up, you’ll be home.”

“O…o…okay. T…thank y…you.” But Pavi was wide awake now. He was going home. He was actually going home.

The man placed him at the back of the van.

“Ready?”

“Yea. Got everything? It’s risky coming back here.”

The other man nodded and took out a syringe from his bag. He approached Pavi.

Pavi backed away. “W…w…what a…a…are y…you d…doing?”

“Just a little something to help you sleep.”

Pavi’s back pressed against the van wall. “P…Please. I w…w…will be g…good.”

“Just relax, kid. You’ll be home soon enough.”

The mean man climbed into the van and held him down.

“S…s…stop.”

“It’s ok kid. It’s just a bit of zydrate. It’ll just help you relax.”

Horror filled Pavi. He tried to struggle but the man was too strong. “S…s….s….st…st…stop.” He couldn’t take zydrate. Papa told him to always remind the doctors he couldn’t take zydrate. “C…c….c…ca…can’t.”

“Hold still!” The man held him down tighter.

“P…P….Pl…pl…please. I c…c…ca-” Pavi felt a sharp prick at his thigh. “N…n…no.”

“Done. Just sit still. You’ll be home in no time.” The man climbed out of the van and slammed it shut.

Pavi’s heart pounded in his chest. Papa told him he couldn’t take zydrate. Papa told him… Mama took zydrate and she didn’t come back. He couldn’t take zydrate. Pavi hugged himself. He couldn’t take zydrate. Something bad would happen if he took zydrate. Pavi rocked himself back and forth.

The van started moving. He couldn’t take zydrate. But he would be home soon. He would tell papa they gave him zydrate. Papa would know what to do.

But nothing happened. Maybe…maybe he would be ok. He never tried Zydrate before. Maybe he would be ok. He just sat quietly on the van floor.

Pavi scratched his arm. The itch was relieved for just a moment. Pavi scratched again. The itch was getting worse. He looked down to see red bumps over his arm. He scratched harder. The itch radiated further up his arm. Soon he felt his whole body itching. Pavi desperately tried to scratch what he could. The itch was unbearable. He rubbed himself against the van wall, anything to stop the itching.

His lips felt funny. He rubbed his lips with his hand. It felt funny. Everything felt funny. Pavi knocked on the van wall separating him and the two men. “S…s…somet…t…thing f…f…feels w…w…wrong.” But the men ignored him.

Something in Pavi’s gut twisted and he felt like throwing up. He knocked the wall harder. “P…p…please s…stop. F…f…feel si…sick.” Something in Pavi’s gut twisted again and he had to sit down. He hugged himself. Something felt wrong. He didn’t know what but something felt wrong.

Pavi coughed as he started rubbing his throat. His throat felt funny. He tried to take in a breath but his chest felt tight. It was hard to breathe. He couldn’t breathe. Pavi banged the wall desperately. “H…h…h…he….” But he couldn’t get the words out.

“I thought the drug was supposed to sedate him.”

They could hear him. Why weren’t they helping him? Pavi banged the wall harder. He took desperate gasps of air. He couldn’t breathe.

The van wasn’t slowing down. They weren’t going to help him. Pavi just sunk onto the ground. He curled into himself, trying to take desperate breaths. He coughed once more and his chest just felt tighter and tighter. Tears streamed down his face. It hurt so much. “H…h…he…”

It was so hard to speak. His chest was so tight. He couldn’t breathe.

They were bringing him home. Papa would help him. Papa would know what to do. He just had to be good. He just had to listen. He just had to try to breathe.

His chest hurt so much. He gasped desperately.

His throat tightened shut.

Pavi’s eyes widened. He couldn’t take in a breath. No matter how much he tried to breathe, nothing would go in. Pavi couldn’t breathe.

Pavi’s hand scratched his throat desperately. But nothing was going in. He arched his back, desperate to take in a breath. He couldn’t even cry out for help. Someone had to help him.

His partner pulled to a stop. “Get the boy out of the van.”

“Yes sir.” He saluted sarcastically. He headed to the back of the van. The boy had finally calmed down. Maybe the zydrate had finally kicked in. He opened the van door only to see the boy on the ground. He was gaping desperately. All he could think was that he looked alot like a beached fish. The boy’s hand was twitching desperately at his neck.

The boy tried to stop them.

“Hurry up.” His partner pulled open the window slot. He fell silent at the sight of the boy. “Remove him and get back in the van.”

His eyes met his partner’s then back at the boy.

“Rotti Largo will not forgive this. Get back in the van. We have to leave.”

“He’s still alive.”

“Then just drag him out.”

“It’s too early. No one will find him.”

The boy’s eyes met his, begging. His mouth gaped desperately for oxygen.

“There’s nothing we can do for him now.”

He looked back towards town. “GeneCo isn’t far.”

“Are you fucking insane? Rotti Largo will have our heads.”

The boy looked so small on the ground, mouth opening and closing, desperate for relief.

“He’s a child.”

“And what about your child, your son? Have you forgotten why we’re doing this? We have the money.”

His son was sick. He had to save him. But to kill a child? No one was supposed to get hurt. They didn’t know what they were doing. They were just desperate parents who got lucky. “Take care of him. My share, just give it to him.”

“You’re a fucking idiot.” He got out of the van. “Take the van. And never contact me again.”

“Thank you.” He picked up the boy. He didn’t want to think how limp the boy was in his arms. He didn’t want to think how cold he was. He got into the driver’s seat and laid the child so he would be lying on his lap. He sped off. GeneCo wasn’t far. He would get there in time.

He looked down to see the child’s eyes unfocused. His desperate gaping becoming weaker. His eyes darted back to the road. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. Neither you or your brother were meant to get hurt. Even if your father never paid, we never intended…”

The roads were empty. Small blessings. But the child was getting too still. He didn’t want to think about how blue his lips were. The boy tried to stop them. They didn’t listen. The child was obedient. There was no need to sedate him. “My son. He’s only a year older than you. He needs a transplant. That shit’s expensive. I just wanted to save my son. No one was supposed to get hurt.”

He looked down and the kid’s eyes were closed. His lips were blue. He was still. His chest was not rising. “Fuck.”

He saw GeneCo. He sped into the ambulance entrance and slammed the breaks. He saw the GeneCops approach him. He should throw the kid out and speed off. He-

He threw open the door. “Help! Help me! He isn’t breathing.”

Nurses and paramedics rushed towards him. He saw doctors running out of the building. He carried the kid out of the van.

The doctors spotted the kid and froze for a moment. “Get Rotti Largo.”

“Get a stretcher.” He approached them. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. We just gave him zydrate. I tripled checked the dosage-”

“Shit.” The doctor turned back. “Prepare adrenaline stat. Get an intubation set ready.”

“Will…will he be ok?”

The doctor took the boy from him. And then hands grabbed him and pressed him against the ground. Something tightened around his wrist.

Rotti Largo ran out of the building. He spotted his son and the sound that escaped his lips twisted his insides. He didn’t want to see Rotti Largo as a father. He just wanted to see the man as a rich bastard who had more money than he could spend. A cruel man who took too long to pay for his children. That was all he was right?

The doctors brought the boy into the hospital.

Rotti Largo’s eyes met his for a moment before he turned and followed the doctors in.

He was a dead man.

Rotti ran a hand through Pavi’s hair. The boy was always small for his age. Now lying on the bed, he just looked tiny. Rotti sighed. He was used to this. He’s spent so much time by hospital beds waiting for his son to be ok. But not Pavi. Pavi had never even broken an arm. Pavi had never been in a hospital. Pavi was the one who was supposed to live.

Rotti’s chest clenched at the thought. He could not give up on Luigi.

“Mr Largo. He’s fine for now. But the attack severely damaged his heart. We’re running out of time. I don’t think…”

He had time. He still had time. He just needed Pavi to get better now. Then he would go back to the heart. His children would be fine.

“The anaphylaxis is resolved but I don’t know how long he was deprived of oxygen.”

“It’s time to wake up, bambino. Your brother is very worried about you. Let’s not worry him more alright?” Luigi didn’t know Pavi was back. He didn’t want to worry his son. He didn’t want to stress his heart further. He-

This never should have happened. He should have been more careful. He should have hired bodyguards to watch his children. GeneCo was making money, yes, but he never expected his children would be target for ransom. He barely got the money in time. All the money GeneCo made went back into research.

Pavi stirred.

“Bambino?”

Pavi opened his eyes. “P…Papa?” He shut his eyes tightly. “H…hurts.”

“I know. Everything’s alright now. You’re in GeneCo. You’re safe.”

Tears fell down Pavi’s eyes. “I…I…I t…tried n…not t…t…to be s…scared.”

“I know, bambino. You’re very brave.”

“I…I…I th….thought I w…w…was g…going to d…d…die. L…like mama.”

Isabella’s reaction was too severe and by the time the doctor’s realized what happened… They’d hoped it wasn’t hereditary. But he never let his son anywhere near Zydrate. There was no reason to. “You’re ok now, bambino. You’re safe.”

Pavi nodded. “P…p…papa, I…” Pavi fell silent.

“What is it, Pavi?”

Pavi shook his head. But more tears fell from his eyes. His hand twitched towards him.

“Bambino, what is it?”

Pavi shook his head harder. A quiet sob escaped his lips. He tried to stifle his sobs.

Rotti stood and sat on the side of the bed. “What is it?” He asked gently.

Pavi shook his head once more. A choked sob escaped his throat. He barrelled into his father, sobbing loudly into his chest.

Rotti pulled his son tighter towards him. “It’s ok, bambino. I’m here. You’re safe.”

Pavi nodded and sobbed harder into his chest. “S…s…sorry.” His words were barely understandable through the tears and stammers. “D…d…didn’t…m…ean….c…cryb…baby.”

Rotti sighed. “Don’t listen to your brother.” He held his son tighter. “You must have been so scared.”

Pavi nodded into his chest.

“You’re safe now. No one will hurt you here. You’re very brave.”

Pavi shook his head. “N…N…Not b…brave.”

“Your brother told me what you did. That was brave.”

Pavi’s voice was small. “F…fratello’s a…a…alright?”

“You both are alright. You both are safe. That’s all that matters.”

“N…n…no o…one w…will h…hurt u…us anym….m…more?”

“No.” Rotti’s eyes darkened. None of this would have happened if he knew about the ransom from the start. If she was willing to do this, what more would she be willing to do. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Rotti walked into the dining room. Irene was there with Carmela. He told the Gentern to take the toddler.

“Rotti. I heard Pavi has been found as well.” The fake smile on Irene’s face was vicious.

“Yes.” He threw the ransom letters and videos onto the table. “No thanks to you.”

The smile dropped. “So you know.”

“They’re children!”

“Obstacles for Carmela. Nothing more.”

“Obstacles?” Rotti asked warningly.

“I did what any mother would do.” She leant back onto the chair. “Besides. You should be thanking me.”

“Thanking you?”

“Luigi is a lost cause and everyone knows it. I was just helping to relieve you of your burden.”

Rotti just stared darkly at her. “How dare you?”

“And Pavi is a useless crybaby who would amount to nothing. Why waste your time with them? I was just trying to help.”

Rage flared. Rotti marched up to her.

“Are you going to hit me, Rotti? All I have to do is tell my father and you can forget about approval for any GeneCo research.”

“Then,” Rotti said dangerously. “You better hope that Luigi lives a long and happy life. Because once I have no use of your father, I have no use of you.”

Irene just smiled snidely. “Let’s hope then. Shall we?”

Rotti slammed his hand against the table. He seethed. But he couldn’t do anything to her, not yet.

“Fine. Luigi is off-limits. I can’t promise anything about Pavi.”

“If you touch him-”

“If I touch him, then what? What can you do to me?”

“You bitch.”

“Bitch?” She scoffed. “Did you think I want any of this? To be married to a widower twice my age and be stepmother to two bratty children? You and my father nicely planned out my life for me so he can have some hold on GeneCo and you get your research approval. And I get nothing. A husband who’s barely ever home and 3 bratty children I have to raise.”

“Then get a divorce.”

“Why? So you can take my life from me then take away my money. I don’t think so. I saw an opportunity and I took it. Just like you did.”

“Hurt my children again and I swear you will regret it.”

“Try.”

Rotti walked out of the dining room. He turned back to see Irene drinking down her glass of wine.

“Mr Largo, it’s done.” The GeneCop said.

“Good.” She was right. He couldn’t outright kill her. But if she slowly fell ill over the years, no one would suspect him. A slow-acting poison in the wine. He drank hard liquor and his children wouldn’t touch it. The poison was undetectable unless anyone was looking for it. She would be too weak to hurt his children. And when she died, no one would suspect him.

#whumptober2022 #no.22 #Pick your poison #Allergic reaction #Toxic #repo! the genetic opera #fic #kidnapping #poisoning #drug reaction #drugging (minor)#Rotti Largo #Pavi Largo

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oreoambitions · 4 years ago

Note

Would love to see supercorp “I’ve never been festive”! Glad to see you back on my dashboard!

The thing about Lena, Kara thinks to herself as she strolls down Main Street with her hands shoved in her pockets, is that she wants to seem tough. That's the problem in a nutshell. And anyone else here in Midvale would tell you that it's just a city thing, that all the city kids want to seem tough, that Lena is no exception, but Kara doesn't think that's true. Well, okay, she knows it's true. But with Lena, it's something else. Something deeper. Something maybe related to the way that Lena has withdrawn into herself day by day as Midvale has begun to dress itself up for the holidays.

But Kara can do I'm-so-tough. She can do I-hate-Christmas, and she can do I-don't-believe-in-fun because at this time of the year she can do anything and get through to anyone. A little bit of light, a little bit of magic... maybe a little bit of love. That's how Christmas goes, right? Especially in a place like Midvale.

Kara likes to think of Midvale as a postcard town: the kind of town folks are only ever passing through on their way up and down the coast, a scenic detour, a cozy place to spend the night or just the afternoon before you move along. It's a place where time seems to have come to a standstill or at least a crawl, where it was a big deal when the first (and only) Starbucks opened, where nothing at all is open after 8pm, and you'd be hard pressed to run any errands on a Sunday, and you'd better not let Mrs. Nal catch you doing anything untoward or you can expect you'll be the topic of every conversation in or out of church for the next week or so at least. Kara would know; she's been the talk of the town on more than one occasion.

But these last several weeks the talk of the town has been the young woman who pulled up one evening in a car worth probably more than every vehicle on Main Street put together and strolled into the aforementioned Starbucks in a beat up hoodie sporting red rimmed eyes and trembling hands to ask the barista whether possibly anyone had a spare phone cable. She didn't want to bother anyone, only she'd left Metropolis in a hurry and forgotten hers and without GPS she didn't have any idea where she might stop to purchase one. She'd slid a hundred dollar bill across the counter as payment for the manager's beat up old charger and rolled right back out of town before anyone could tell her just how far from home she was.

Only then she'd rolled back into town some six hours later and booked herself into the bed and breakfast. And then she hadn't left.

The Danvers have assured Kara that in all the years Eliza and Jeremiah have run the bed and breakfast, and all the years Jeremiah's parents ran it before that, stretching back all the dusty decades since Midvale was founded, they have never had a longterm guest, no sir. It has simply never happened before. Kara doubts the veracity of such a statement but it has been delivered to her with all the solemn weight of sacred fact, and so she's taken it in stride - something which Alex seems to have found suspicious. And, true, on another occasion Kara might have been found elbow deep in records on a personal mission to prove that Jeremiah has pulled this particular historical "factoid" from some place the sun don't shine, but, well, she's been a little distracted these past weeks. Distracted by sad green eyes and coy smiles and the overwhelmingly mysterious circumstances that have delivered Lena directly into Kara's home.

Unfortunately Eliza has strictly forbidden Kara from asking the hundred and one questions perpetually on the tip of her tongue, and Kara's objections that she's twenty four now and she'll ask her questions if she so pleases haven't actually outweighed the sense that, at least where Eliza is concerned, she ought to do as she's told. So she's restrained herself. And as the weeks have gone by, she and Lena have fallen into an amicable, if not entirely comfortable, routine.

Kara serves Lena breakfast in the dining room with the other guests at precisely 8:15 every morning: two poached eggs with avocado on a thick slice of Winn's sourdough bread, a cup of coffee (black, diluted with hot water), and a side of roasted vegetables (no potatoes). Every morning Lena invites Kara to join her at the table, though Kara only does so when there are no other guests around to serve. They eat - together or not - in a silence broken only by small talk and the occasional lingering gaze when one catches the other looking until, at precisely 9:15, Lena excuses herself to seek out Eliza and enquire after the availability of another night's lodging. She pays in cash, one day at a time, without fail. She and Kara see one another again on the stairs, Kara on her way out to work a shift at the library and Lena on her way back up to her room. A small smile passes between them, affectionate and familiar, and Kara thinks perhaps... But no, the moment has passed and they've gone their separate ways for another day.

Kara has resolved that this pattern will not repeat itself again. Not now, not when Midvale is draped in heavy golds and greens, when the smell of Christmas pastry is wafting through the streets, when the trickle of seasonal tourists is threatening to become a thunder which will by necessity pry Kara's attention away. Not now when Lena is withdrawing further and further, when those lingering glances at breakfast seem to be few and far between, and it seems the onslaught of Christmas cheer is threatening to drive Lena out of Midvale altogether. If Kara is going to get through to her, today is the day.

She swings into J'onn's diner with a determined expression, sidestepping the younger Arias who has eyes these days only for her iphone and not so much for where she's going. J'onn is predictably behind the counter; Kara isn't sure he's taken a day away from the diner in all the time she's known him.

"I need two to go mugs of Bad Day Danvers Brew," she tells him. "It's urgent."

He plops two large paper cups down onto the counter almost before she's done asking. "I thought your sister was on duty tonight."

"She was. Is. It's not- It's for me."

"I don't suppose this has anything to do with a certain green eyed young lady from out of town."

It's not really a question the way J'onn says it but Kara somehow still feels pressured to answer. She flushes, turns away, scans the room. The dinner rush hasn't quite arrived. J'onn bustles about behind the counter without further comment, though he does arch an accusatory brow when Kara meets his eyes again.

"You do know," he says as he slides the drinks across the counter, "She's going to leave this place. She may not be ready yet, but the day is coming."

Kara frowns at him. "Leave is a four letter word."

"L - e - a -"

"You know what I mean."

"Maybe you should consider it too. Whole world out there waiting for you, Little Danvers. Seems a shame not to go out and see it."

Kara thinks for a moment of this world as she saw it first: a little marble hanging in a black sea, so fragile and small, so far away from home. Midvale is home now, and she'll be damned if she's going to leave it behind. She forces a smile for J'onn's sake.

"I'm right where I'm supposed to be," she says. She tries to pay him for the drinks. As he has a hundred times before, he turns her money away. Kara slips the cash into the tip jar on her way out the door.

When she gets home it's to the smell of apple pies bubbling in the oven and the sound of some old 50's Christmas record playing almost too loud for Jeremiah's battered old bluetooth speaker and hardly loud enough to compete with Jeremiah himself. Kara creeps up the stairs two at a time, one Bad Day Danvers Brew clutched in either hand, quiet quiet quiet. If Eliza catches her she'll try to put her to work and Kara isn't sure she can explain exactly what she means when she says she's too "busy" right now to help out.

She occupies herself with that thought, thinking up excuses for Eliza, each one more improbable than the last, and then she finds herself standing in front of Lena's door. She feels suddenly grimy, foolish, clumsy. What she hasn't considered in all her planning for this moment is that with both hands occupied she can hardly knock on Lena's door, and with her heart pounding an urgent rhythm in her chest and her body trembling with something that is distinctly not fatigue Kara doesn't trust herself to tuck one of the drinks into the crook of her arm.

So she does what any sane person would do: she kicks the door. Gently. As gently as she possibly can, but it still feels brutish and Kara winces as the sound of it tumbles down the hall to clash with Jeremiah's crooning and the roar of the vacuum cleaner in the foyer. Grimy, foolish, clumsy. But then the door swings open and all such thoughts fall from Kara's mind.

She has words picked out for this moment but they don't come to her. Lena stands in the doorway in jeans and a cardigan and socks that have bumble bees on them and Kara feels like she needs just a moment but the moment is already passing. Green eyes search hers, curious, bemused. Kara wants to reach out and tuck that stray lock of hair away, but-

The drinks. Right. "I brought refreshments," she says, proferring the paper cups. "For us," she adds, in case it isn't clear.

Lena reaches out for one of the cups, hesitant, then pries the lid off to take a whiff. "Hot chocolate?"

Kara wants to melt on the spot but she sticks to her guns. "It's special hot chocolate," she clarifies. This is not how this conversation was supposed to go. She had this exchange all planned out, there were contingencies, it was all perfect and here she is muddying it all up. "I was thinking maybe we could go out tonight."

"Like on a date?"

Oh, Rao. Kara's eyes drops to Lena's mouth without her say so and then they travel a little further south to the line of that cardigan and she swallows. "No," she forces out, "like on a walk?"

There's a long pause and then Lena laughs. "You're really very charming, Danvers," she says, and Kara feels an unexpected thrill at the sound of her last name in Lena's mouth. "Let me just get my sweater."

"You're already-" Kara starts, but the door clicks shut before she can finish. "Wearing a sweater," she mumbles to herself.

Lena emerges some minutes later, just when Kara is beginning to get fidgety. She's thrown on a hoodie which is perhaps a size too big and a pair of converse rather the worse for wear and Kara isn't sure what she was expecting but it wasn't this. Which is not to say that she doesn't like it. Lena licks her lips and fixes Kara with a pointed look.

"There is whisky in that hot chocolate," she says.

Kara shrugs. "I did say it was special."

They make it down the stairs and out of the bed and breakfast without Eliza noticing, though Kara is all but certain Jeremiah saw them leave together and will have Questions with a capital Q about it later. The sun is just now sinking below the horizon as the two of them turn down Main Street, ducking around Mr. Schott who is occupying most of the sidewalk with a rickety old ladder in an attempt to install another strand of lights above the toy store window. Already the street lamps bear oversized red bows and long, heavy pine garlands, and it will be only a matter of days now before every storefront from here to the edge of town is bright and warm and magical. Kara takes it all in with a growing smile. Lena takes it in with an expression that borders on an outright scowl.

"So are we going anywhere in particular?" Lena asks. They duck around a knot of visitors asking after a table at the brewery and for an instant Kara is almost certain she feels Lena's fingers brush hers.

"We are," Kara admits. And then, because she doesn't want to give away their destination, she adds, "You don't like Christmas."

Lena grimaces and takes a long sip of the Bad Day Danvers Brew. "I wouldn't say that I don't like Christmas."

"But?"

"But I've never been festive. And this year..."

Kara's mind fills in the words that Lena doesn't say: This year it's hard. Hard to see the joy and the magic and the laughter all around when you're alone and far from home. Well, Kara knows a thing or two about that. She takes a sip of her own drink and, resolutely, carefully, looking straight ahead, she reaches out to touch Lena's hand, so gentle it could have been an accident.

"This year you have me," Kara says. She's shocked the line comes out of her mouth as smoothly as it does. Her heart is so far up her throat she almost fears she'll choke on it.

Lena steps in closer until Kara swears she can feel the heat radiating between them even through both of Lena's sweaters and her own Christmas flannel. They walk in silence for a block or so, shoulders bumping once in a while, before Lena asks, "Do you have any favorite holiday traditions?"

Kara shrugs. "I like the carols. Jeremiah and I always go out caroling on Christmas eve. Oh! And the cookies. Pie for breakfast on Christmas morning."

Lena laughs at that. "Pie for breakfast? Lilian - my step mother - she'd have a fit."

"Well you can have pie with us this year if you want; I promise not to tell Lilian a thing. If you're still hanging around."

Lena looks at her sharply and then looks away, leaving Kara to feel silent and small and a little rejected. But Lena touches Kara's wrist as they move through the crowd and then, when Kara doesn't pull away, she takes her hand.

"Christmas is always an important social event for my family," Lena says. She glances at Kara as if to check that she's listening and then away again so quickly that Kara almost wonders if she imagined it. "Everything has to be perfect. The food, the decorations, the music. The family. And it's beautiful, really. Imagine a pine tree towering up to the very rafters, all the ornaments carefully curated and arranged, and a cellist flown in from Italy perches in the corner playing O Come Emmanuel while the city's elite pass through pretending to enjoy bite sized Christmas pastries prepared overnight by a team flown in from France. I suspect it would feel magical if it weren't so much work. It's hard to enjoy the magic when you're a part of it. Especially as a child."

Kara frowns. Her fingers tighten around Lena's, tugging her ever forward towards the Christmas tree in the center of town. She's thinking of Krpyton, of a perfect family, a perfect people, and a perfect world crumbling under the veneer. But she can't say that to Lena, so she flashes her a bright smile instead and says, "In Midvale, everyone who wants to gets to put an ornament on the town tree."

"Everyone? That doesn't seem practical. There have to be, what, at least a thousand people living here."

Kara nods. "Yeah. Not everyone participates, but most people. And of course that means the tree isn't curated like your family's, but it's got a special kind of magic to it. The kind you get when you aren't trying to make magic follow the rules."

It occurs to Kara that there is a sort of comedic timing to this, as this is the moment Kara steps over the low fence with the sign that reads "do not walk on the grass" and tugs a protesting Lena after into the shade - or, in this case, the light - of the Midvale tree.

"Rules," Lena is saying, "Generally exist for a reason, and when you break them willy nilly you don't get magic, you get chaos. It's important to- Wait, is this your Christmas tree?"

"Yep," Kara says. She reaches out to press a hand to the trunk and then stares up at the tiny golden lights wound among the branches with care, ornaments dangling here and there, some homemade and some not. She's definitely not supposed to get this close to it but, well, it's Alex on duty tonight and she doubts her sister is about to arrest her for trying to make a move on a pretty girl. "This is the one."

"But it's an oak tree," Lena observes. She steps up beside Kara to touch the trunk.

"Couple hundred years old, or so they told us in middle school," Kara says. "She's a gorgeous tree, isn't she? Not a pine and not perfect, but. Our own kind of magic." Then she grimaces. "Sorry; I'm being terribly cheesy right-"

"Did you know that mistletoe often grows in the California oak?" Lena interrupts.

Kara falters. She did know that, but this tree is carefully tended. No mistletoe here. She opens her mouth to say so when Lena holds up a finger to stop her again.

"To be perfectly clear I'm suggesting that we kiss here under this tree. Because you're charming and a little over the top and I hate that I love your Christmas flannel and I would very much like to have pie with you on Christmas morning. So if you'd like we can pretend there's mistletoe in the Midvale Christmas tree. It would be a very reasonable mistake; mistletoe really does grow on-"

Kara kisses her. The surprised gasp that falls from Lena's lips almost makes her laugh, but this is a serious moment so she tries to keep it in. She's got only one hand to work with - the other is still hold her Bad Day Danvers Brew - so she slides it around Lena's waist to pull her closer, and it's her turn to gasp when Lena tilts her head to slide her tongue along Kara's bottom lip.

Someone on the sidewalk cheers, and that is when Lena drops her drink. And then they do laugh together there under the tree, spiked hot chocolate splattered over the bottom of Lena's pants, Kara pressing her own drink into Lena's hands, and the sound of Mrs. Nal nearby screeching about public indecency while James tells her to go suck an egg. The two of them will be the talk of the town for weeks. Certainly through New Years. Kara doesn't think she minds.

///

Merry Christmas to everyone celebrating; Happy Holidays and a lovely morning to everyone who is not! Thank you for this prompt! I expected to write a quick 800 words but it got away from me and took all month.

#A Supercorp Smalltown Christmas I guess #MERRY EVERYTHING #I am finishing an queuing this at 2am #so please excuse any errors #Supercorp #made-of-rust-and-stardust

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the-fiction-witch · 4 years ago

Text

Books

TV SHOW: THE QUEENS GAMBIT COUPLE: BENNY WATTS X READER RATING: FUNNY + FLIRTY

I walked down the half broken, foul smelling new york streets. Hearing my heels clacking in the pavement as I walked, the swishing of my petticoats and my dress, the small sun trying to peek through the thick grey clouds. I put my sunglasses in my handbag as I arrived at the tall buildings I saw the beaten up beetle parked in the street and the small handful of parking tickets it had under the wiper blade so I picked them up and sighed turning to look down into the ever stretching darkness of the stairwell. I stepped down trying not to touch the handrail to the first level of little doors with some lights and then down the second stairwell into the dark nothing's, it smells like shit down here.

I got to the door trying to not touch the gross walls tapping in the door as hard as I could hearing the metal echo through the basement.

The door opened tenderly and careful a first as if trying to peak before it opened fully revealing a barefoot, Benny watts. Stood in his black dirty jeans where he'd clearly wiped his hands down his legs for some reason, his black t shirt with his usual chains, his hand fixing his hair out of his eye with a small smile on his lips

"Hey you"

"Hey" I smiled briefly stepping inside, as soon as my foot crossed into his apartment he put his hand on my waist and gave my cheek a kiss "move your car" I told him pushing the tickets into his chest he took them and I headed inside slipping my Jacket off and laying it over the chair

"I'll move it in a bit" he says "coffee?"

"Tea" I Answered "extra milk t-"

"Extra milk two sugars I know" he laughs going over to his kitchen setting the tickets down in a forming pile on his kitchen counter

"You should pay them"

"I should do a lot of things"

"Pay your parking tickets Benny"

"Suck my dick y/n" he says leaning against the counter looking at me crossing his arms over his chest "we both don't do what the other wants us to"

"You make me suck your dick I'll bite your cock off" I sighed sitting at the table

"I know, I still have the bite mark from Last time" he sighed bringing the cups over sitting across from me with his coffee instantly I took my little hanki from my handbag and cleaned the top of the cup seeing the white cotton turn grey

"What is it Benny? What did you summon me to the slums of new york for?"

"Oohh sorry, next time should I request an audience at mi lady's palace?"

"What do you want Benny before I pour this tea down your pants"

"I need your help"

"... Hu. Never thought I'd hear you say that but go on"

"I need your help with something that only you can help me with"

"Right…"

"I wanna write a book"

"A book?"

"Yes"

"What kinda of book?"

"One with... words?"

"No shit. Fictional or non fictional?"

"What's the difference?"

"Fictional is a story, non fictional is real life."

"Oh, non fiction"

"Okay, do you have a plot structure"

"A who what?"

"What's the plan for the book Benny?"

"I shall write it. And then I shall publish it."

"Did you wanna edit it somewhere in the middle there?" I laughed

"Eh, you can do that"

"Okay… so lemme guess this is a book about you? Or about chess?"

"Little I'd both"

"Who's publishing it?"

"Me?"

"Ohh so you have four thousand dollars laying around do you?"

"What!"

"If you wanna self publish Benny, the basic level is four thousand dollars and that will get you local distribution if your lucky which is about five states out if that."

".... Uuuughh, I'll publish through a publisher? Your publisher?"

"Eleanor doesn't take non fiction"

"Then she has to know someone who does? Right?'

"She does but then have to pay for meetings which cost roughly fifty bucks per ten minutes, and you have to get an approved manuscript before they'll even meet you, and even though a publisher for international you’re taking nine to ten thousand. Dollars."

"Uuuuuuughhh, wait. It's a chess book so I could get funding for it from the chess federation"

"Maybe, but then they are going to need to approve it first, and the send to a publisher willing to carry it, and then designing, and editing and printing and stocking which could take over five years"

"Five years!"

"Yep. The novel world is a slow one Benny" I said "besides that's all publishing stuff, you can worry about that when you have a manuscript"

"A what now?"

"Manuscript is like the… actual book pages and all the words that will be on them"

"Ohh, well that shouldn't be too long, bang it out over a long weekend or something"

"You think you can write a book manuscript over a long weekend? Three days?"

"Yes"

".... Okay, so you wanna write a book? Which for non fiction about chess really a good level would be five or six hundred pages minimum, your going to get it written, edited, and ready to send to the chess federation for approval by Monday morning, even though they might reject it or just plain not fund it, you'll be already one thousand dollars in the red, before you add shipping, handling, copywriting, paying me for editing because I ain't doing that shit for free and as it's currently four pm on a Saturday afternoon and you haven't even writen a word yet"

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh."

"How long did it take you to write your book?"

"Six years, in and off with a full time job and without an editor"

"I'm fucked aren't I?'

"Not fucked Benny. Overambitious" I laughed "do you have a title?"

"No."

"Do you have a synopsis?"

"No."

"Do you have a typewriter?"

"I was going to write it by hand?"

"With your handwriting?"

"What's wrong with my handwriting?"

"Benny, it looks like a spider learnt cursive and then got drunk"

"I don't own a typewriter. May I borrow yours?"

"No. Buy one"

"There like sixty dollars!"

"I will buy you a pre-owned typewriter"

"Aww thank you sugar"

"How are you intending to pay me for being your editor?"

"... Royalties?"

"Awww Benny darling, if you sell your book for a dollar each you'll be lucky to make 25 cents per book in royalties, less if you go though a publisher, and even less if it's being funded by the federation… you'll maybe get about six pennies if your lucky" I explain

"Then how the hell do you afford your car? Your house? Your dresses?"

"I sell alot of books Benny"

"I'll give you three pennies if my six pennies royalties?"

"Of your not yet existing book? So I'm just meant to wait and see if I get paid?"

"I'll bake you a cake?"

"You can't cook Benny"

"... I will eat you out?"

"No deal"

"I promise you half of all royalties, editor credit and I'll fuck you as much as you want, now will you please just help me?"

"Fine. I'll be needing a deposit payment" I said

"Alright, you know where the bedroom is I'll finish my coffee and be there in a sec"

I sat on the leather chair looking at the handwritten chapter structure Benny had given me "Benny?"

"Yeah?" He asks slightly jumping where he had been sat for so long at his table with his notes and the old typewriter I got for him trying to figure out how he loaded paper in it

"What is this word?"

"What word?" He asks

"The something with something"

"Which chapter?"

"Four?"

"The faults with defense"

"That is how you write an s?"

"Yes"

"... How do you not write an s right it's in your name?"

"No it's not?"

"Yes it is"

"B. E. N. N. Y. No s there?"

"Watts?"

"Ooohh yeah"

"You fool"

"Also, does this have a E?"

"No."

"And how am I meant to write a chess book without the letter e? I sort of need it? Chess. Defensive. Queen. Benny."

"Antidisestablishmentarianism"

"That's a word?"

'"yep"

"Can you use it in a sentence?"

"Screw you bitch I can spell antidisestablishmentarianism"

"A.n.t.i.d.i.s.t?"

"Nope"

"Damn it" he sighed "but I need e how am I meant to write chess without an e?"

"Write an o and then draw a line in the middle?"

"Fine" he said starting to type one key at a time "Openings… and… tactics… by… Benny… watts" he said but the typewriter had got to the end of the spool "y/n! Why won't it type!"

"Benny just… ughh come here you child" I sighed getting up going over and moving the spool back to the centre so he could write "there. You have to do that at the end of each line"

"Really?"

"Yep. Isn't writing fun" I smiled kissing his head

I sat listening to the clicking and clacking of his typewriter keys, sounded like music to my ears in his quiet dark and cold apartment

"Fuck!" He yelled breaking me from my relaxation as he stopped

"What?" I asked

"How do I undo?" He sighed rubbing his eyes

"You can't what happened Benny?"

"I typed porn instead of pawn" he sighed resting his head in his hands

"You fool" I giggled "you wanna know how we fix mistakes Benny?" I giggled going over wrapping my arms around his neck

"We we write the whole page?"

"Nope. White out" I smiled handing him the shall bottle

"Fuck! That smells like paint"

"Ehh pretty much is"

"Thank you y/n"

"Your welcome" I smiled giving his head s kiss "call me when chapter one is done I'm going for a shower"

"Uuuuhhh… yeah I'll do that" he says not sounding confident

"How close to finished are you with chapter one?"

"Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhh… next week sound good?"

"And you could bang out a whole book in a weekend" I laughed sitting back on the chair

"I said I'm sorry! I didn't know it was this hard" he says

I sat the other side of the table with my lovely blue pen, my leg over my knee, smirking slightly at him as Benny sat on the other side his hands to his face watching me Intently, panic in his eyes everytime he saw me use the blue pen, which I was having to do alot.

"Here" I said throwing it back to him now I was done "you should probably re write that's a little too much editing for white out watts"

"What's wrong with this?" He asks as he looked over the page

"You used the wrong there"

"I hate you. Beyond words can express."

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makebank · 4 years ago

Text

secrets & suds

request: long request but to summarize jj is involved with a kook but hasn’t moved past hooking up, he gets in trouble for pope sinking the boat, and she decides to help out.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: mentions of smut but none, cussing, typos, angst, fluff

He presses a quick kiss to your cheek as he throws his shirt over his disheveled head. His skin is slightly damp and glistening and some of his tufts of hair plastered to his forehead. “Gotta bounce, see you tomorrow?”

You beam at the blond from across the room and send him a smirk, “You always do”. He rushes out of your house just before dawn. JJ was always good about making sure to leave before your parents woke up, specifically your dad. You never minded the class division, but it was easy to say from your spot on the kook throne. You take a moment to regain your breath then toss yourself back onto your silky king size bed. Your satin pajama set lay wrinkled off the side of your bed, you knew he was going to love ripping off the matching outfit as soon as he saw you.

For some time now you and JJ have had a little arrangement. And by arrangement that meant he came over most nights to fool around. Sometimes you’d get him to watch a movie or cuddle, but it was always interrupted by your parents waking up or his friends texting him for something. You weren’t exactly sure when you started to fall for the troublemaker, but it came with ease. He seemed so rough and mysterious, which is what amplified your want for him in the first place. But after closer observation, he is kind, gentle, and would do anything for you. Of course you knew it would never happen. He is too caught up in the division and himself to even want anything more than this. Not that you don’t love the time you get with him, but you crave more.

You sigh as you stand up wrapping yourself in your fluffy robe. Peering out of your bedroom window, you watch JJ sprint across your lawn and expertly hop the high gate.

Alternating between mindlessly scrolling through your phone and checking out your window, you grow impatient. JJ had never missed coming over without texting. You were worried something happened or maybe he was just bored of you. It was getting late, so you send a single text hoping he was okay and try to lull yourself to sleep.

The next morning you wake up and for a moment your fears weren’t there. Slowly blinking your eyes open, it all comes back to you. You reach for your phone hoping for some relief. To your dismay no new messages were from him. You jump out of bed and rush to take a quick shower. Some slight snooping wouldn’t hurt.

You definitely weren’t close with any of JJ’s friends, but you did know where to find them. You enter the Wreck looking overwhelming overdressed in your designer shoes and this season’s newest sundress. You find a vacant booth and make yourself cozy until a curly haired girl you recognize as one of his best friends comes to get your drink order. After she introduces herself, it clicks. Kiara right you had a class with her freshman year of high school. Hm small world. She comes back with your coffee and asks what you’d like to order.

“Have you seen JJ lately?” you awkwardly ask. She shoots you a confused look before settling into a glare. “What’s it to you?” You stumble on your words, “Oh… nothing. He just normally mows our lawn on Wednesday mornings, but he didn’t show up. Just thought I’d ask”. She seems semi satisfied with your answer and doesn’t press for more detail. “Well, he’s busy. Not that it’s any of your business anyway. So do you want something to eat or not?” You weren’t sure why she was being so hostile it's not like you two ever had any direct problems. Maybe she was just being protective of her friend. You weren’t going to take it to heart.

You slump down in your seat resigning to the fact you weren’t going to get any answers from her. “No, I think I’m good with just this. Thanks”. She huffs whatever and walks away. Just as you're about to leave you see a frantic boy rush up to the counter to Kiara. You knew it was Pope from the pictures JJ has shown you. He looks like he’s on the verge of meltdown.

“I can’t believe JJ covered for me. Ten thousand dollars is a lot of money. I feel so bad! What do I do?” He’s running a mile a minute and Kiara tells him to lower his voice. She brings him into the back room to comfort him away from eavesdropping ears. However, you heard it all and can’t comprehend what happened that he would owe that much money. Nonetheless, you conclude that you’re going to find a way to help him, wherever he is. You drop a couple twenties leaving a hefty tip and rush out of the restaurant.

Walking down the street you bump into the three bozos that rule your side of the island. They ogle you and shout their vulgar ‘compliments’ at you. You scoff but are well accustomed to their barbarian-like nature. As you strut away, you overhear Rafe yelling at Topper. “Dude, get over the boat! You won’t even hit on y/n with us. That Maybank kid will have to pay one way or another”. What was with today and perfect timing? You thought you were going to have to dig a little deeper.

You walk home to think of a plan. You had lots of money, but your parents would notice if you took that big of a chunk out without something nice to show in return. There was no way you could get that much, but you could find a way to get fifty percent. That would be enough to get the authorities off his back and give you time to talk down the Thorton’s. You decide you could easily sneak a couple thousand without your parents noticing, but you were going to have to figure out a way to come up with the rest.

It dawns on you after spending all your childhood watching teen rom coms. A car wash! Everyone was always searching for one after a storm. Plus, it wouldn’t take much but a simple tweet and an instagram story to have people lining the block. You immediately text the girls’ group chat to set the plan for tomorrow.

You wake up with a spring in your step ready to put your plan into action. You frown a little knowing it was another day with no word from JJ. You hope he’s safe and just taking time to himself.

Putting on your skimpiest bikini and shorts you gawk at yourself in the mirror. It’s not like you had a problem with showing yourself off, you just knew the attention you were in for today regardless. You were doing this for JJ though, you wanted to help him out and show him there’s a lot more to you than having money and pretending to be perfect.

You greet all your friends and start setting up. As cars start to line up, you can’t help but giggle to yourself thinking of the stereotypical ‘Cherry Pie’ or “Milkshakes’ playing in the background of every car wash scene. You get to work flirting and scrubbing cars as you all work for every dollar. The nice thing about Figure 8 was that they were willing to spend whatever. Just as you were about to head to another car you hear someone shouting your name.

You whip around to see a red faced and furious JJ. “You’re alive!” You try to lighten the tension. “What the hell are you doing y/n?” You frown in confusion. “What do you mean? A car wash?” He doesn’t seem satisfied with your sarcasm. “You're half naked out here and all these guys can’t keep their hands to themselves,” he remarks annoyed while flailing his arms. You grin for a moment realizing he’s jealous, then it dawns on you, “First of all, you just disappeared off the face of the earth for days. No text or anything. Second, since when you do you care about what other guys say to me?” He crosses his arms over his body clearly irritated by your logical retort. “It’s none of your business. And I don’t care”. All the energy drains from you at the impact of his words. “Fine. Then keep not caring and leave me alone.” You swivel around stalking off to another car leaving him alone. Even if he didn’t want you, you were determined to finish your job and then move on.

You turn over your shoulder to see JJ storming off in the other direction. Your heart aches at seeing him actually leave. At least you knew he was breathing now. The next car pulls up with Pope in it. “What was that all about?” Your eyes widen at one of his friends catching you. He chuckles, “It’s okay I know about you guys. He tells me everything”. You soften knowing you weren’t a complete secret. “I’m not sure. He’s upset with me though.” He sends you an empathetic smile, “Don’t worry. He’s dealing with a lot right now. He’ll cool down eventually.” You nod your head, “Yeah, I heard about that. That’s actually what this is all for,” you admit sheepishly. Pope’s eyebrows raise with confusion. “My mom had me bring the car, because she said it was raising money for the high school”. Yikes. “That’s my bad. I kinda said it was for whatever people would listen to, so people would come”. He laughs, “Quick thinking y/l/n. You want some help?” Now it's your turn to laugh. “I’m sure we could find you some short shorts somewhere.” He parks the car off to the side and grabs a sponge to contribute.

The rest of the day goes by with a breeze while joking with Pope and the girls. The last car drives off and you all plop on the curb for a break. You dry off your hands and start counting the money. You could almost cry happy tears. You raised over four thousand dollars. You thank everyone and promise to buy them mimosas at brunch tomorrow. For spoiled rich kids, they sure knew how to help someone in need. Pope pulls you into a side hug, “Thanks for doing this for him”. You smile squeezing him back, “thanks for helping”.

After putting on some real clothes you stalk off to the Thorton’s. They promise they’ll leave JJ alone about the couple thousand left so it can be paid off slowly, now that they have a down payment for another boat. You breathed a sigh of relief knowing you did all you could.

JJ was relaxing at John B.'s when he got a call. After hanging up, he’s elated and full of energy. He yells to the pogues, “Guys they said I don’t have to serve any time for the boat!” They all jump up excited and ask how. “They said over half of the debt has been paid, so they said I’ll have to sign up for some payment plan. But this means it won’t be on my record or anything”. They all join him in a group hug congratulating him. John B. pipes up, “Who paid it?” JJ stops for a moment considering that it wasn’t just magic, and the only person he knew that had money that knew was Kie. “Did you have your parents do it Kie? I seriously can’t thank you enough,” he picks her up into a giant hug. She shakes her head once he lets her down. “No, I wish I could’ve though. Sorry man.”

Pope is smirking thinking about his day yesterday trying not to blow his cover. JJ notices. “What do you know, Pope?” He just shakes his head not budging. JJ throws his arm around his neck putting him into a choke hold wrestling move. Kie and John B. are enjoying watching them fight until Pope taps out. “Fine! It was y/n. That’s what the whole giant parade of cars getting washed was”. JJ freezes speechless. He turns on his heels and instantly busts out of the chateau.

Meanwhile, you’re getting into comfy clothes preparing yourself for a lonely movie marathon tonight. Just as you settle into your thousand thread count sheets, your door swings open making you jump. “JJ you scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here?” He crosses your abnormally large room beelining to you. He grabs your chin and pulls you into a kiss. Your hand naturally falls to his arm as you allow him to passionately lead your lips. You pull away gasping for air. “What was that for?”

He sits down next to you. “I am so sorry. I’m sorry for disappearing and not texting you. And I’m really sorry for being such a dick yesterday at the car wash. I didn’t know you were doing all that for me. Either way though I shouldn’t have acted like that. Thank you for what you did. It means a lot. I’ll repay you I promise”. You smile rubbing your thumb against his hand. “I forgive you. You don’t need to repay me, we worked for it. You were right though, it wasn’t my business”. He shakes his head, “I wasn’t right. I like you a lot. I’m stupid for not saying it before. I just didn’t know how to tell you about all my issues and thought I’d scare you off.”

You lean over kissing him on his cheek to soothe his obvious tension. “You can’t scare me off. And I really like you too. You can trust me with your secrets, but I’ll try not to meddle anymore if you don’t want to tell me.” Grabbing your arms to scoot you closer, he brings you in for another long and deep kiss. “Don’t worry. You can know all my secrets now,” he winks as he pulls his shirt off easing you back onto the bed.

taglist in reblog, join in my bio

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank fic #outerbanks #obx #des writing #rudy pankow #jj maybank x y/n

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nejibaby · 4 years ago

Text

Paper Rings

Pairings: Neji x Y/N

Song reference/inspiration: Paper Rings by Taylor Swift

A/N: HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY! I WROTE THIS ON A WHIM. AND NOW I AM GOING TO ASCEND BECAUSE OF THIS. Please let me know your thoughts~

The birds were chirping by the time you woke up. As you stretched your arms, a smile had found its way into your face.

Usually, you’d be so grumpy in the mornings because you truly weren’t a morning person, yet there are random days like today where you find yourself waking up with bursts of happiness.

Most days there were reasons why you were feeling such a way, like when you’d get a full eight hour sleep, when you’d have a great dream, when you know you’re going on a date with your boyfriend Neji, or when you’d get your payment for your missions. This time, however, you didn’t know the reason why you’re this happy first thing in the morning.

You quite literally woke up on the right side of the bed today, which has always been Neji’s side of the bed, but he was nowhere to be found. You would’ve preferred to have woken up in his arms like you normally did.

You raked your mind trying to remember Neji’s schedule for the day. It was his day off so he didn’t have to go on missions and he didn’t have to meet up with Team Guy. You wondered where he went at such an early hour but you didn’t put too much thought about his whereabouts.

He was probably called in for an emergency mission or maybe he had an unexpected meeting with the Hyuga clan. He was, after all, going to be the new head of the clan. After the Fourth Shinobi War, he was recognized by his clan for his contribution during the war and for representing the clan with dignity, honor, and strength — the traits that the Hyuga clan deemed necessary for the next leader to have.

Regardless of the reason why Neji wasn’t there by your side when you woke up, you knew you didn’t have to worry because you knew he’d be safe. He can handle himself and besides, it was a time of peace.

You didn’t have any plans for the day so you found yourself going out and about. You found it amazing how your good mood could drastically change your perspective. For example, on most days, you wouldn’t take your time looking around the village and the people in it, yet today you found yourself entranced with the village. The sun was shining bright yet somehow the village seemed to be brighter.

As you walked through the streets, you caught sight of a stall selling accessories. It was no secret that you were a fan of these things. Even the merchant knew you by name from the amount of times you bought from their stall.

More often than not, you’d buy earrings, bracelets, necklaces, and anklets from the merchant. You just generally like shiny things. But this time however, your eyes strayed towards a simple lavender hair clip. It reminded you of Neji’s eyes and you couldn’t help but reach out for it. Without even thinking twice, you bought it.

Neji wasn’t the type of boyfriend who would stop you from buying things you don’t need. He wasn’t controlling. However, he sure was blunt in telling you that you don’t need that much accessories. Who would need eight necklaces when you only have one neck anyway?

You almost giggled at the thought of him commenting on your recent purchase when you still have four unused gold hair clips at home. As a response, you could always tease him for buying a ton of books when he doesn’t have enough time to read them. Although you wouldn’t admit the fact that you’ve read all the books beside his bed.

The thought of Neji made you smile, making your day much, much better than how you felt waking up. Your good mood seemed to be infecting the others as well since there were a lot more people smiling at your direction.

At one point you came across Tenten too who beamed upon the sight of you. You had a whole conversation about how your day went and even got a compliment from her about your new hair clip. Was she chirpier than usual or was that just your imagination? Either way, her company was great.

“So have you seen Neji yet?” She asked.

“Ah, not yet. Do you happen to know where he is?”

It was a good thing you were both walking and you weren’t looking at her direction, rather, you were staring at a bird that flew by. Otherwise, you would’ve noticed the way her smile faltered for a second.

“Uh, I don’t t-think so.” There was a hint of nervousness in her answer.

Normally, you would’ve pried as to why she answered that way, but you were still happily watching the bird flying freely in the sky.

“Hmm? Oh, alright then. I’m sure I’ll find him somewhere,” you distractedly said.

“Ah, I’ll have to go! I forgot I have to meet with Lee today. Bye Y/N!” Tenten quickly said.

You finally tore your gaze from the bird and looked back at her to wave her goodbye. “Okay. Tell Lee I said hi,” you yelled with a smile while watching her figure walk away.

You continued your trek around the village, just contentedly watching the citizens do their own thing. It was after an hour and a half of Tenten leaving your side did you see Neji. He was looking rather anxious so you immediately went to his side.

For someone who had an amazing visual prowess such as the Byakugan, he still got startled when he saw you standing in front of him despite you being in plain sight. You wondered what was going on in his head. He must’ve been thinking hard about something for him not to notice you.

“Neji, baby, are you alright?” You worriedly asked.

“Ah, uh, yes.”

You weren’t satisfied with his answer so you pulled him to an alleyway, away from people’s prying eyes since you knew Neji was a private person. Whatever’s plaguing his mind was definitely something important for him to look that much anxious. Because if it wasn’t, he wouldn’t have trouble masking his emotion.

“Is there something troubling you?”

“Nothing.”

“Was this about your mission yesterday? Or were you assigned on another S-rank mission today? Are you worried about it?” You blurted out the questions one after the other.

He shook his head, “No it isn’t about a mission.”

“Is it about Naruto or Hinata? Or both?”

“No, not really.”

You frowned. “Well then, is it because of me? Did I do something wrong?”

His breath hitched at your question. Then he looked at you tenderly. His eyes found your newly purchased hair clip and his hand gently touched it. “This looks good on you,” he softly said.

“Yeah, it reminded me of you,” you automatically answered. Then you realized he didn’t truly answer your question. “So it’s me, right? I probably did something wrong. I’m sorry I’m not sure what I did but if I hurt your feelings in any way, I’m sorry I didn’t mean it,” you babbled on.

“No, you didn’t do anything. Don’t worry.”

“It’s the Hyuga clan, isn’t it?” You guessed again.

“No, the clan is doing fine. There isn’t any issue.”

If those weren’t the cause of his worries then there was only one more thing that would make him feel this distracted — thoughts about his father.

“Is it… is it about Hizashi?” You almost whispered.

A small smile had appeared on his face at the mention of his father’s name. “I do miss my father, but that’s not what I was worried about. Frankly, I’m not worried about anything at all.”

That was clearly a lie.

Neji used to have a habit of keeping things for himself back in the day but he changed. It seemed like today he reverted to his old ways.

However, you’ve already asked a ton of questions and you knew well enough when to stop prying. If Neji was ready, he would tell you at his own pace.

“Okay… You must’ve had a long day,” you said. Instinctively, you gave him a quick peck on the lips.

Neji certainly wasn’t expecting that. He blinked a few times before regaining his bearings. A blush crept into his cheeks. “What was that for?”

“Nothing,” you cheekily said.

Then another peck on his lips.

This time a genuine smile was etched on his face.

“It’s going to be alright,” you told him with a sweet smile.

“Thank you,” he looked at you lovingly.

“No problem, baby,” you chirped.

And then after a minute of looking into each other’s eyes, he paled, as if he was hit by a sudden realization. You only looked at him curiously after he reacted that way. He cleared his throat, “I remembered I had something to do with Lee.”

You furrowed your brows and tilted your head. Neji almost swooned at how cute you looked. Then you asked, “What are you guys up to?”

Neji could feel a sweat forming at your interrogation. “Huh? What do you mean?”

“Well, I caught up with Tenten a little while ago and then all of a sudden she dashed out saying she was supposed to meet with Lee,” you told him. “So what are you guys going to do?”

“We, uh… Lee… is, uhm…”

“You know what, you don’t have to tell me,” you cut him off. You knew well enough that Lee could talk Neji into doing ridiculous things. Tenten would be a little more apprehensive but if Neji would do it, she would give in eventually. And you knew Neji preferred not talking about whatever Lee had him do.

You could hear the sigh of relief Neji released when you answered that way. Without saying anything more, he quickly made his way to meet his friend.

You chuckled at your boyfriend. He looked absolutely endearing whenever he was flustered. You shook your head and got out of the alleyway, deciding that it was time for a quick snack.

You made your way to the bakery to buy your favorite cinnamon roll. It wasn’t surprising that you found Hinata there as well. Your friendship with Hinata was furthered by your common love for cinnamon rolls after all.

You chatted with her for the entirety of your time eating the delicacy. She always reminded you of Neji despite them having different personalities, so you were quite comfortable in her company. You continued your conversation with her even after you both finished eating. Even as you both left the bakery, you couldn’t be separated. It’s been a while since you last saw her and you had so many stories that you wanted to tell and hear from her as well.

Hinata seemed to be talking a lot more this time and she looked so excited as well. Why? She didn’t say, it felt weird to ask. Maybe she woke up in a good mood just like you? In any case, you were happy that she was happy.

The subject of your conversation shifted to the wedding preparations for her and Naruto’s wedding. You offered to help in any way you can but she told you everything was coming along just fine. Then she made a comment that if you needed help in some things, she’d be there to help too. It sounded like she was talking about something and you wondered what she meant but thanked her anyway despite not knowing what she was possibly implying.

You were rambling about your most recent mission at the Hidden Cloud Village where you bumped into the Eight-tails jinchuriki, Killer B. You were telling her about this rap he did. You were too deep in your story that you didn’t notice she was leading you to the riverside.

Hinata waited for you to finish your story, giggling in the right parts. As your story came to an end, she said, “I’m glad you had fun with your mission. I hope you had fun spending your time with me too,” she smiled, “but I’ll have to go now. I still have to talk to Iruka sensei about something.”

“Of course, I had fun with you! It’s been awhile since we last hung out together. Sorry if I took up too much of your time though. You should’ve told me earlier you had other plans.”

She giggled and told you it was fine. Then she walked backwards, waving goodbye.

When she was out of sight, it was only then that you noticed that the sun was setting and that you were right on time to witness it.

A few minutes later, you heard someone behind you clearing their throat. When you turned around, you saw Neji.

Instantly, you beamed and went to hug him. “Neji baby!” You greeted, voice muffled because you’ve buried your face into his chest.

Neji shook his head at your antics but with a smile on.

You pulled away and asked, “So how was your day with Lee?”

“Tiring. How was yours?”

“It was nice. But it became better now that I’m with you.”

A blush had formed on his cheeks at your statement. He avoided eye contact too. Then he suddenly grabbed your hand and led you away.

“Where are we going?”

He didn’t respond. You just went along. But it only took a few steps before he came to a stop. You peeked over his shoulder to see where he led you. It was your time to blush.

In front of you, just further down the riverside where Hinata left you, was a picnic mat that had been set up with a basket containing fruits. It was the perfect spot to watch the sunset.

“Was this what you’ve been up to?”

Neji nodded.

Your heart swelled. It wasn’t everyday that Neji did grand gestures like this.

“Oh, Neji!” You hugged him tightly. “You’re so sweet! Was this also what you were worried about?”

“Ye— I mean, I told you I wasn’t worried about anything.”

“I’m sure you weren’t,” you teased. “This is nice, come on let’s watch the sunset together!” You said as you tugged his hand and sat on the mat.

You both sat on the mat side by side, silently watching the sun and the soft golden glow it casted on the sky. Unbeknownst to you, Neji’s eyes were only on you.

All of a sudden, Neji spoke up, “I love you.”

You tore your eyes away from the sunset and focused on Neji. In this lighting, he looked mesmerizing. “I love you too, Neji.”

But once again, Neji looked unsettled. “But I have so many flaws and I’ve done so many wrong things when I was younger…”

“I still love you just the same, regardless. Besides, everyone makes mistakes and if it weren’t for those, we wouldn’t be who we are now. We probably wouldn’t be here together too.”

“...and my clan is just... They aren’t that great too…”

“It’s fine, Neji, that’s fine.”

He was going to say something more but the words got stuck on his throat when you said, “I love you. In your entirety. Even with your flaws, complications, and problems too.”

He then went to grab something in the basket. You curiously watched as he searched for something. Then when he retracted his arm, a small box was enclosed in his palm. As if on cue, you noticed fireflies flying around, making the moment look more magical.

When he opened the box, you gasped. Tears had started forming in your eyes.

“I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

In that moment, somehow the rest of your time together as a couple flashed before your eyes. You remembered the bickering between the two of you. You remembered how you got together. You remembered the days you spent training with each other. You remembered him moving into your place. You remembered the fights between the two of you and how you made up. You remembered how you almost lost each other during the war.

Neji panicked at your silence. You were close to tears and he didn’t know if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

The first thing that came out of your mouth after the silence was, “I love you, Neji.”

And then you stopped talking again.

“It’s the ring, isn’t it? I know it’s simple, I should’ve just got the other one,” he nervously rambled.

“The ring is perfect,” you cut him off.

“But—”

“I like shiny things but I’d marry you with paper rings.”

Neji looked shocked. “Really?”

“That’s right. Darling, you’re the one I want.”

“So…?”

“Yes, I’ll marry you, Neji.”

#neji hyuga #neji #neji hyuuga #neji hyuga x reader #neji hyuuga x reader #neji x reader #neji x you #neji x y/n #neji hyuga x y/n #neji hyuga x you #neji fluff #neji fanfic #neji fanfiction #neji lives #naruto #naruto fanfic #naruto fanfiction #naruto fluff #naruto shippuden

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binxyu · 4 years ago

Text

Being an agent undercover was difficult enough but it being with Jung Hoseok- that was a whole other story. Of course, you expected for him to catch feelings for you because that was part of the plan- but getting a tattoo just to say you were his property? That was definitely not part of the plan.

>>Pairing: Jung Hoseok (dom) x fem!reader (sub) | mafia!hoseok x secret agent!reader

>>Word Count: 2.7k

>>Genre: Oneshot / Smut

>>Warnings/Kinks: Gun play/penetration, knives, murder, manipulation, mentions of drugs, blood, tattoos/needles, branding, creampie, oral (giving), overstimulation, fingering, unprotected sex, humiliation, mirrors, double penetration, and scratching

You had been working alongside Hoseok for months now. You were now his most trusted subject and you became that through murdering whoever he chose, sexual manipulation, and having the ability to figure out anyone you were supposed to.

Hoseok was referred to as ‘The Heir’ by your police department. This was because no officers dared to call him by his real name. They knew they wouldn’t live long if one of Jung’s, what they called Hoseok’s father, men found out about that.

Hoseok was the heir to one of the most notorious crime families in the country. Well, more like the world. The Jung family has been responsible for the exportation of millions of drugs and weapons, the murder of thousands, and so much more. Yet, your department could never seem to get enough evidence to put them in jail since Jung would just bribe them out of it.

That’s why you were sitting beside Hoseok at this exact moment. You were supposed to be the one to get that evidence that was needed to put their asses in prison for life. However, you hated to admit that you were growing rather fond of Hoseok.

He really was charming for a psychotic serial killer with an army of men waiting for any order he may give.

“Okay y/n, I think it’s finally time I give you what you deserve”, your head tilted at Hoseok’s words. You two had just escaped an ambush and Hoseok was more than pleased with how well you protected him. You saved his life and for no payment.

“What I deserve?”, you asked as Hoseok put his arm around your shoulder. You couldn’t help but have certain thoughts run through your head and your cheeks went red.

“What my father requested you get. The mark of the Jung family”, you realized what he was referring to immediately. The tattoo that every member of the Jung empire. You had seen enough members to know the tattoo was a dagger with the initials of Hoseok’s father engraved on the handle.

“Oh, I see”, you simply answered as the limo parked. You got out first and held the door open for the man. Hoseok got out and thanked you, adjusting his luxurious suit that had had blood smeared across the front of it just yesterday. Now, it seemed good as new and you wondered when he had managed to get it clear.

That question didn’t last long because it was replaced with the question of who was going to give you this tattoo? Could you trust them?

Don’t be stupid. If Hoseok wanted you dead then you would be by now.

You calmed down and followed Hoseok, noticing a rather young man staring at the two of you.

“Boss! It’s been a while”, the young man greeted Hoseok, looking beyond happy to see him.

“Hello Han”, Hoseok smiled softly back and you never failed to be surprised when that smile appeared. It was so rare and precious.

“The usual, sir?”, Han asked and you studied him curiously. You knew more than just tattoos took place here from just the sounds alone. The screams weren’t extremely loud but you could hear them from one specific room. You shook your head and didn’t focus on it.

“Yes, but I would like to add red on the end of the dagger. She looks good with red on her skin”, you knew what Hoseok was referring to. He had seen you plenty of times with blood on your skin. You knew he loved the sight.

“Like blood I’m assuming, sir?”, Hoseok nodded and Han gently hooked his arm with your’s and guided you to the chair for you to sit down in. A table with all the tools for the tattoo was beside the chair and you looked at it. Han looked at Hoseok.

“Make it right above her breast”, Hoseok walked over and unbuttoned the top few buttons of your blouse, tapping on your skin with the tip of your finger. Of course he would want it above your heart. The tattoo artist nodded and got the needle ready before he cleaned the area above your breast and put the outline for that tattoo on your skin.

You bit your lip and just looked at Hoseok to distract yourself as the needle started to dig slightly into your skin. It was painful, but it definitely wasn’t the worst pain you had ever felt.

“Is there anything I can do for you today?”, Han asked as he finished up the tattoo, putting the finishing touch on the blood dripping down the dagger. You looked down to see the crimson red.

It definitely looks like blood. I’m sure Han has seen his fair share of it too.

“Yes”, Hoseok paused as he moved his gaze from your eyes down to your hand that was resting on the arm of the chair, “I want to put a tattoo myself” Han looked a little taken aback but he nodded after he was finished and moved out of the way.

“Another one?”, you asked curiously, tilting your head a little as Hoseok sat on the stool that Han was previously sitting at. He hummed and started to prepare the black ink he was going to use.

“The dagger shows you belong to my father. I want something on your skin that is a permanent reminder that you are mine too”, you blushed at his words, a little taken aback as the needle pricked your skin again. You just watched as Hoseok’s fingers gently held your own in place so the letters would not be ruined.

S. L. U. T.

You read each letter individually in your mind until you realized what it said. Across your knuckles read the word ‘slut’.

“S-slut?’‘, you mentally cursed yourself for stuttering and Hoseok chuckled.

“Mhm. I know you like being called it and that’s what I call you. It suits you”, he leaned closer to your ear and whispered, “my pretty slut. Maybe we should get out of here and make use of that tattoo, hmm?”.

You gulped and nod, shivers going up your spine from the feeling of his cold breath against your ear.

“Thank you, Han. We’ll be on our way now”, Hoseok helped you up off the chair before he started to button your blouse back up, his fingers ghosting over the dagger on your chest. Only the tip of the dagger was visible after he was done and you looked over at Han.

You started to dig for your wallet, ready to pay the man but he gently put his hand around your wrist to stop you.

“No, it’s okay. Any friend of the boss is on the house”, if you didn’t know better, you would say Han was an innocent and charming young man, but you did know better. He had probably seen more death than you had.

“Thank you”, you returned his bright smile with your own before Hoseok took your hand in his own and guided you out of the building.

“I should’ve asked for you to have baby written on your knuckles so people know you belong to me too”, you joked quietly and giggled. Hoseok looked at you and opened the door to the limo.

“You think I belong to you?”, he asked, an eyebrow raised teasingly and you smirked as you moved to get into the vehicle first.

“Oh, I know you do”, you whispered into his ear and sat down in your seat. He looked taken aback but got in beside you, your words replaying in his mind as you two rode in silence back to the penthouse.

“Come on, let’s have some fun”, Hoseok quickly dragged you out of the vehicle once you got to the building. Hoseok’s bodyguards allowed you in and you two went into the elevator. His penthouse was on the top floor of the building and you had always wondered what was found on the other levels, but you never asked. It wasn’t your place to.

The elevator door opened and you walked inside the penthouse, going to sit on the bed across the room since you assumed that’s exactly where Hoseok would eventually lead you anyways.

“I do think you deserve to be rewarded, y/n”, Hoseok takes off his leather gloves and sets them on the kitchen counter before he walks over to where you were and lifted your head up to look at him with his finger that was under your chin.

“For what, Hoseok?”, you tried to keep your voice steady despite the wetness gathering between your legs.

“For staying by my side and doing what I ask. We’re going to kill anyone that stands against us, isn’t that right?”, you quickly nodded and moved back on the bed so Hoseok could crawl onto it.

“C-could I reward you first? I feel like you could use it”, you softly smiled and Hoseok smiled back, slowly nodding since he had never been asked such a thing. You put your hands on his chest and pushed him to lay down on the bed. Hoseok looked up at the mirror on the ceiling and watched your reflection as you started to unbutton his clothes for him and toss the fabric to the floor.

“I’ll be your good slut master”, you saw the man get significantly harder from your words and you smiled before you started to wrap your mouth around his cock. You took as much of him into your mouth as you could and wrapped your hand around the rest. Hoseok moaned at the sight of your head bobbing up and down on his dick and your hand with the tattoo pumping the base of it.

“Fuck, that looks so amazing”, he groaned and you took that as encouragement to continue what you were doing, moving a little faster. Hoseok’s hand trailed down to your jeans and he started to unbutton them, pushing his hand into your panties when they were visible. You moaned around his cock and rocked your hips against his finger when he started to rub your clit with it.

Hoseok’s moans became louder from the vibrations and he pushed two of his fingers inside of your dripping wet cunt. You whimpered from the stretch and started to bounce your hips to ride his fingers as you hallowed your cheeks to suck him off better.

You knew you really did look like a whore right now and you loved it. The knowledge that slut was inked into your knuckles and that those knuckles were jerking Hoseok off was enough to make a loud moan spill from your lips. Hoseok’s gripped your hair with his free hand and started to force your head down further, making you choke on his dick and you gasped for air.

“Don’t be pathetic slut. I don’t care if you’re choking, keep going”, you held back the tears threatening to spill from your eyes and started to move your head again as you speed up your hips when Hoseok added another finger. He curled them against your walls when you sank back down onto them and the sensation caused your legs to shake. His fingers were easily knuckle deep.

Hoseok’s grip tightened in your hair even more and you knew he was close. He came down your throat and you swallowed all of his seed like he had taught you. He gripped your hip with his free hand and turned you onto your back, making it easier for him to help you finish too. His fingers started to thrust much faster than before and you desperately gripped his arm as your legs shook more, your nails digging into his skin.

You came around Hoseok’s fingers with a loud moan of his name. He smirked and brought his finger out of your panties to lick them. The sight made your eyes widen as his cheeks hallowed and he sucked on the digit, cleaning it completely of your cum. He removed the rest of your clothes entirely and you looked up at the mirror, waiting for his next move.

“I know you’ve wanted to try this for a long time. I could tell by how you look at it when I’m cleaning it”, you watched cautiously as Hoseok went over to where his jacket was lying on the floor and retrieved his pistol from the pocket. That’s when it hit you what he was referring to. You knew you had fantasized about Hoseok using a gun for your pleasure before, but you never expected him to realize you did.

“Hmm, what to do with you?”, he asked himself and trailed the gun down your chest, the cold metal against your bare skin causing you to let out a soft moan. You honestly felt a little scared but you were quickly reassured when Hoseok pulled the trigger and only a puff of air came out.

“P-please fuck me with it master”, you begged and the man chuckled at how desperate you were to have anything inside of you. Hoseok cleaned the barrel of the gun and you watched his hands move up and down it with a rag. He moved the tip of the gun in circles around your hole, causing you to clench around nothing in anticipation.

Slowly, the barrel of the gun was being pushed inside of you and you watched the reflection in the mirror as the top of the gun slowly disappeared inside of you. You looked down and saw the tip bulged in your stomach, making your mouth fall open in pain and pleasure.

“It fits so perfectly”, Hoseok commented before he started to thrust the barrel in and out of you. You clenched around the metal with a loud moan and gripped the sheets.

“Pull the trigger! Please!”, you moaned out and Hoseok nodded before he slowly pulled the trigger of the pistol. The rush of air made your back arch and the sight of you squirming and moaning from his pistol caused Hoseok to groan too. He moved the gun a little more to the side and slowly pushed himself inside of you too.

You screamed a little from the stretch, tears prickling your eyes and you whimpered loudly. Hoseok kissed your face gently, easing you into the feeling by slowly moving the weapon and his hips. As he sped up, your moans got louder and louder to the point that Hoseok had to cover your mouth with his free hand and he noticed something laying in your pile of clothes.

“Shhh slut. Take it like a good girl and be quiet”, you breathed heavily and whined as you tried your best to nod. The overstimulation was causing your second orgasm to come much faster and your legs were beginning to cramp.

Hoseok groaned as his cock rubbed against the barrel inside of you, the cold metal was a pleasant sensation he hadn’t felt before. He was going to cum soon too.

“Cum with your master, okay?”, Hoseok spoke softly and you nodded so he moved his hand away from your mouth. He counted down and you both came on three, your cum mixing inside of you before Hoseok pulled the gun out and watched his cum flow out of you.

He moved to lay beside you and pulled you into his arms, gently stroking your hair. You tried to catch your breath and relaxed in his embrace.

“I love you”, the words surprised you to say the least and fear struck your heart as you thought about what to say in response.

Is this a test? Do I love him back?

I do.

“I love you too”, your words came out clear enough for you to know you weren’t lying.

“Then why did you betray me?”, Hoseok pointed to the burner phone next to your jacket on the floor and your eyes went wide at the sight of it. You forgot to toss it out after you called your department earlier that day with information.

“I-I can e-explain”, you mentally cursed yourself out for stuttering.

“What a shame. I really did like you”, he pressed a knife against your neck and looked at the word across your knuckles.

Slut.

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