#put his two dogs in my car overnight without telling me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

egcdeath · 4 years ago

Text

first impressions

pairing: soft!ransom drysdale x reader

summary: [request] “hmm prompts... Ransom introducing you (a total opposite of him) to his family for the first time, or a Thrombey wedding! if you feel like it” i like where your brain is at anon! but why not a little bit of both? ;)

word count: 3.7k

warnings: pretty fluffy, some angst, toxic family dynamics

author’s note: this has been super lightly edited so pls forgive any mistakes <3 click here if you’d like to be added to my taglist & all reblogs are super appreciated!

You felt slightly out of place driving through the neighborhood of your youth in the passenger seat of Ransom’s beloved Beamer. Thinking of how your parents would react to your boyfriend, let alone his lifestyle of excess, made your heart rate increase, and you shuffled a bit in your seat unconsciously as a result of your nerves. As if he were reading your thoughts, Ransom set a steady hand on your knee and gave it a tiny reassuring squeeze before parking in front of the curb ahead of your home.

Nervously exiting the vehicle, you watched wordlessly as Ransom grabbed your overnight bags from the trunk, and hauled them over his shoulders. Still saying nothing, you reached out and grabbed Ransom’s hand, constricting his circulation as you strolled up to your door, and rang your own doorbell.

When your mother whipped open the door and offered you an excited grin, you finally were able to let out the breath that you weren’t even aware you were holding.

“Goose!” your mother cheered, squeezing the life out of you while you snuck a glance at Ransom who seemed rather amused by the childhood pet name. “And who’s this?” she asked, pulling away from you and looking him up and down.

“I’m Ransom, your daughter’s boyfriend,” he announced with confidence, offering your mom friendly smile, before glancing back over at you and raising his brows the slightest bit.

“Finally putting a face to the name, then. I’ve heard all about you from this one. Come on in,” she gestured for the two of you to enter. “Y/N can show you to her room, and dinner will be ready in about a half hour,” with that, your mother was off, and you were once again alone with Ransom.

You showed him up to your room, where he set down the bags and flopped down onto your bright pink duvet.

“Goose, huh?” he questioned, rolling on the hyperfeminine twin mattress.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, before sitting down next to the headboard of the bed.

“Do you think she liked me?” Ransom asked, seemingly out of nowhere. “Did you tell her good things about me?”

“Since when do you care about what other people think of you?” you giggled a bit, and planted your fingers in Ransom’s hair.

“I care because…” he thought for a moment, calculating just how honest he wanted to be. “I care because this is the longest relationship I’ve been in, and I want my future parents-in-law to like me.”

“We’ve been together for like, a year, Ran. But I applaud your commitment to me,” you massaged his scalp as you spoke, and ignored the butterflies floating throughout your torso at his mention of marriage.

“Well? Do you think she likes me?” he asked once again.

“Mmm, I like when you care about things,” you pressed a little peck to his forehead, and hovered a bit over his face. “She said like, 20 words to you, max. But after dinner I’m sure they’ll like you. At least I hope they will.”

Ransom playfully swatted at you. “How comforting. Wait, stay right there,” he reached up and held the hand that was massaging his scalp in place.

——

By the time dinner came around, you seemed to have switched emotions with your partner, as you were feeling much more relaxed, and Ransom on the other hand, was not.

He kept a hand on your knee under the table in what seemed like a grounding technique, squeezing every now and then while your father plated your meals.

“So, how did you two meet?” your father questioned, sitting down beside your mom.

“We met while we were volunteering at the Humane Society together,” you gushed, glancing over at your partner who was nervously sipping his water, then back at your parents. “He always seemed so pissed in the beginning. I mean, the amount of times I saw him growling obscenities while tugging on harnesses, or playing the most unenthusiastic games of fetch I’d ever seen in my life is astounding,” you laughed softly, and looked over at Ransom once again as if you were cueing him to speak.

“Yeah, I really didn’t like it there at first. Not really a dog guy, but my grandad said it was community service or no allowance, and I was not interested in the latter,” he chuckled awkwardly and received confused expressions from your parents, which granted you an SOS squeeze on the knee.

“Um, anyway, one day we were closing, and I went into the last cat suite, and there grumpy old Ransom was, cuddling with Garfield, you know, the old cat with the three legs, and it was literally the cutest thing I’d ever seen. Especially ‘cause Garfield is so hard to please,'' you paused to take a bite of the food in front of you. “We started talking more after that, then he asked me out, and of course I said yes. I guess the rest is history.”

“Aw, Goose, that’s so cute!” your mom cooed, but the moment didn’t last too long.

“What do you do for work, Ransom?” Your dad asked, tilting his beer at the man.

“I’m currently in between jobs. But, uh, I’ve been doing a lot of volunteer work.”

Your father nodded wordlessly and paused for a second. “Volunteering get you a Beamer?”

“Dad!” You interrupted in a yelp, “please.” You frowned as you looked between the men.

“Y/N, it’s fine. It’s a good question, but I got it as a gift a few years back. And, you know, my family’s comfortable.”

Before your father could respond, your mom popped in to save the conversation. “No money talk at the table, please. Tell me more about your relationship,” she gave both of you a sympathetic look.

——

After that, dinner went on without much of a hitch, and you agreed upon doing the dishes with your mother while your father and boyfriend prepared a little fire outside.

“He seems sweet,” she commented after a long period of silence.

“I’m glad you think so. He was really worried about you not liking him, and honestly, I was too,” you rinsed the last glass before setting it in your dishwasher.

“I just want you to be careful, okay? When you have that much money, people do strange things, or say things they don’t mean and expect you to just take it. He seems like a good boy, but just don’t let your guard completely down. The last breakup you went through-“

“Stop, I get it,” you sighed softly.

“This doesn’t mean I don’t like him. I just don’t want to see you that hurt again,” she gave your arm a soft squeeze. “Let’s go stop your dad from catching a murder charge,” she beckoned you to follow her out to the backyard, where your boyfriend and dad were… laughing together? If you weren’t so relieved, it’d almost be off-putting.

The rest of the night went alarmingly well, Ransom finding a way to bond with both of your parents after an awkward first half of the evening. As the two of you crawled into your tiny bed and spooned while drifting off to sleep, Ransom slurred a tired ‘I think they liked me,’ into your ear.

From that point on, Ransom’s position within your family only became better. For the first time, he was welcomed into a familial environment that wasn’t more toxic than a Chernobyl cooling tower, and Ransom was loving it. After suggesting to spend that year’s Thanksgiving at your parents’ home, spending the holidays with the L/N family became a frequent occurrence for the two of you.

Though you occasionally wondered why you were four years into a relationship with the man, and still hadn’t met his family, which to your understanding, was rather large, you had better things to concern yourself with. You understood and respected that Ransom’s relationship with his own family wasn't the best, from the little that he shared with you, but occasionally curiosity often got the best of you.

Yet, things seemed to shift after your engagement. In the midst of dress fittings and cake tastings, Ransom had decided that it was finally time for you to meet the rest of the Thrombey clan, and that there was no better time than Harlan’s book release party, which was being celebrated out in California, at the Thrombey Vineyard.

In your years of relationship, you’d become no stranger to luxury, and the finer things in life, but arriving at the Vineyard put you in awe at just how affluent these people were. Perhaps that’s what happens when you’re one of the great writers of your time, and your offspring go off to become equally “self-made” successes.

You were a bit tired from the three hour difference between Boston and Sonoma Valley, and as soon as you hopped out of the car at the vineyard, you could only think of getting to your room, out of your baggy travel clothes, and to sleep as soon as possible.

Trailing behind Ransom, you looked around at the vast expanse of crop-filled land around you in astonishment while you walked up the cement path to the mansion, not really noticing the petite woman with curled blonde hair, and an oversized straw hat approaching you.

“Oh gosh, you must be Y/N!” she said gleefully. “I’m Joni. I’ve seen you all over Ranny’s Insta,” she paused and looked you up and down. “Well, you do look a little different there,” she chuckled.

“That’s great, Joni. Maybe you can Tweet about how exhilarating and life changing this experience has been for you to all your little pyramid scheme friends.”

“You’re always so rude, Hugh,” she sneered.

“I forgot about your chronic victimhood. Goodbye, Joan,” he rolled his eyes, and practically tugged you inside the massive building in front of you, before dragging you up the stairs. You were honestly in a little bit of shock at seeing how nasty Ransom got from just a small interaction.

You set your Louis Vuitton Keepal, and aluminum suitcase down on the granite floor of the bedroom, before flopping down, and spreading your limbs out on the massive memory foam bed that sat in the center of the room, “What was that, Ran?” you questioned as he sprawled out next to you.

“The reason why I didn’t want you to meet them. They’re like sharks, looking for anything that even resembles blood in the water,” he threw an arm around you and yawned. “We can talk about this in the morning, though. Right now, I think that both of us need a shower.”

“Speak for yourself, you stink bug.”

“But what if I get lonely in there?”

“Fine,” you huffed, moving his arm off of you, and heading off to the en-suite.

That night, as you stared at the blank wall in a vain attempt to quiet your mind enough to fall asleep, you questioned if coming to meet Ransom’s family was more of a mistake than you initially anticipated.

The next morning felt a bit frantic. You and Ransom woke up a few hours before everyone else, as they’d been in California for a few days now and had adjusted to the time difference, while you two had not. An in-house chef made you two a gourmet buffet of a meal while housekeepers laid out your clothes back in your room, and you were feeling a bit overwhelmed by all of the sudden interferences in your life. Though it was nice to not have to do all of the work, you weren’t sure how you felt about other people doing it for you.

The majority of your day felt similar to that morning. You quickly realized that Ransom’s fortune was just a small portion of the Thrombey estate, and that his family were essentially a bunch of monsters with money. Throughout the day of horse riding, wine tasting, and wine painting workshops, you couldn’t help but notice how they turned their noses up at you, treating you, and the staff working at the vineyard, like some sort of outsider.

Your alienation only became more apparent during Harlan’s celebratory dinner, when insults and sneers were tossed at both you and Ransom for being together.

“Are you trying to get revenge on us, or something?” Richard asked at one point, gesturing to you, and catching you completely off guard,

“Why would you say something like that?” Ransom asked, trying not to let his offence show as his jaw clenched.

“It’s just not like you to want to settle down, especially with someone like… her,” he spoke about you like you weren’t sitting right there.

“No, I agree,” Walt added. “For once in our lives I agree with you,” he laughed aloud, and a few other folks at the table laughed with him. “Can you believe that after all these years, we’re bonding over Ransom’s little girlfriend?”

You weren’t even sure how to react, so you laughed awkwardly along with them, and stared blankly at the vast expanse of grape trees behind the row of Thrombey and their friends. What you would give to sprint out into that, and never come back.

Ransom looked to you in your obvious discomfort, and grabbed your knee, offering it a little reassuring squeeze before he interrupted them.

“You know what? All of you dickheads can eat shit. Y/N is really the only person who matters to me at this point, and you pricks need to respect that. Hell, you need to respect her.”

“Look at little Ranny, getting all soft,” Walt chided.

He ignored the comment and continued on, “And If I don’t start hearing apologies soon, every single one of your wedding invites have a one way ticket to the shredder.”

A silence fell over the table. You were a bit surprised too, since your invites had already gone out, and Harlan was the only Thrombey to receive one.

“...You’re getting married?” Meg asked, breaking the silence. “Why wouldn’t you tell us?”

“Why do you think?” you muttered, pushing around a few things on your plate before standing up, and pushing your chair away. “Excuse me.”

You knew that by leaving, you were only opening yourself up for more criticism, but you genuinely weren’t sure that you’d be able to take one more second of hostility. You pushed your chair back in, before heading off the patio, into the gigantic home, and up to the room that you’d claimed.

You rolled on top of the bed, and screamed into a feather filled pillow. It wasn’t too long after when tears stung your eyes as you came to the conclusion that these monsters were just a few months away from becoming your in-laws.

You thought you’d heard the most of it after the table, yet a prompt knocking at your door proved otherwise. Letting herself in, you turned to face Ransom’s mother herself, and you just knew that you were in for it.

“Listen, you whore,” Linda began in a sharp, yet quiet tone, “I don’t know what you’re trying to do with my son. Isolate him from us. Try to ‘change him’ like I know you think you’re doing. But just know that at the end of the day, he’ll always pick us. You’ll always be the second choice, especially when Ransom realizes that you barely have a dime to your name, and his bank account starts to runs dry,” she approached you, and pointed an accusatory finger towards you. “You’ll never be anything but a disgusting, sloppy little gold digger. You may be his toy of the week, but at the end of the day, you’re just an afterthought. I suggest that you get out of his life sooner than later. I’m sure Ransom wouldn’t mind, considering we already have your replacement with one foot in the door,” she gestured over to the window facing the back patio, where Ransom was chatting with a brunette woman that appeared to be quite a few years younger than himself.

“You’re cute, Y/N. Really! It’s cute that you’re thinking right now that he would never leave you, cheat on you with some new, younger, hotter piece of ass. Just know that you don’t know Ransom as well as you really think you do. I can promise you, it’ll be much easier to break off an engagement than it’ll be to get a divorce. Especially with that prenup he’s considering dropping on your desk any day.” she tutted as if she cared. “Well, sweetheart, it was great meeting you. I’m glad that these were our first and last words together,” she gave your back a pat before leaving the room, and you looked out the window in shock.

Shaking as you dig into the pocket of your sundress, you sent Ransom a simple ‘help’ message, before setting your phone aside and trying to pack your belongings in as quick of a manner as possible.

When Ransom opened the door, a steady stream of tears and mascara was staining your face, while you urgently threw things into your suitcase.

“Goose, what happened?” he gasped, hurrying over to your kneeling form, and setting a hand on your shoulder.

“Why,” you sniffled. “Why would you let her come up here and say all that shit to me!” you croaked, swatting his hand away from you.

“What?” he watched as you pressed down on the overfilled suitcase and frantically attempted to zip it, to no avail. “Linda said she was gonna come apologize?”

“Telling me that I’ll never be enough for you is just a perfect apology,” you muttered, “I need to go home.”

“God,” he grumbled to himself, “This is exactly why I waited so long for them to meet you. Okay, we can go home then. I’ll buy us tickets right now.”

“This is on you too, Ransom. You didn’t tell them about us, like, at all. You had so much time! You couldn’t give Linda a call and say ‘hey I’ve been seeing this girl’ or even tell Harlan to deliver the message for you?” you hiccuped, but continued. “All of this could’ve been avoided if they had four years to adjust to our relationship. Maybe then they wouldn’t call me a whore and a gold digger every other sentence.”

“I was just trying to protect you from them,” he frowned.

You finally managed to zip up the suitcase, and stood up along with it, “well, you clearly did a great job of that.”

You dusted off the skirt of your dress, and grabbed your phone. “I’ll let you know when our car gets here,” you huffed before walking into the en-suite and closing the door behind you, just to have a moment for yourself (and make yourself look a bit more put together before you leave.)

A tense car ride, and awkward flight later, you marched straight into the guest bedroom, and cocooned yourself under a copious amount of blankets. You felt like you stayed there for years, only getting out of bed to shower and use the restroom, and living off of the crustless sandwiches and jarred spaghetti your fiancé brought to your door.

You slept most of the time, and in the moments you weren’t sleeping, you were dwelling on every vicious word thrown at you at the vineyard. Every day, you listened to Ransom apologize through the door, yet every day, you questioned if going through with the wedding was truly the wisest idea.

A few days into your stay in the guest bedroom, you finally allowed Ransom to stay in the room for more than just dropping off food. He sat down next to you in bed, and cupped your cheek in his hand, rubbing his thumb softly back and forth against the skin.

“I don’t know how I can make things right for you,” he said softly. “I really did set you up, and I didn’t even mean to. I should’ve made better decisions, but I can’t change four years ago. But I can keep those heinous people away from you. They’ll never have the chance to do, or say anything like that to you again, okay?” his thumb caught on a tear, which he promptly wiped away. “Just… please don’t leave me. The bed feels too empty without you, and it’s just been a few days. I can’t imagine feeling that emptiness for the rest of my life.”

You whimpered and sat up, abruptly embracing the broad man. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let your idiot family make me question the validity of our relationship,” you muttered into his shirt.

“I promise you you’ll never have to worry about them again. They had their opportunity to make things right, and they missed it.”

-----

Things were more or less smooth sailing after that fiasco. You found your perfect venue, decided on your ideal Honeymoon spot, and finished your seating arrangements with time to spare, and the next thing you knew your wedding day was around the corner.

It all seemed to happen so fast, one second you were being walked down the aisle, the next, exchanging vows and rings as aisles of your friends and family members cheered for you, Y/N Drysdale.

Your reception also seemed to slip right through your fingers, your first dance, toasts and cake cutting finding itself over almost as soon as it started. You were grateful that you hired a wedding videographer, as the day was so overwhelming, you weren’t quite sure how much of it you’d remember.

As you drove off to the airport, Ransom set his hand upon your knee one more time. A warm, fuzzy feeling formed in your chest at the all too familiar gesture. You turned your head from the window to your husband, who was grinning back at you, and couldn’t help but to think of how perfect your wedding ended up, though it felt like it sped by quickly. More than anything, you were grateful that you didn’t give up on Ransom despite his interesting family.

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom drysdale #knives out fanfic #ransom drysdale x you #chris evans x reader

426 notes · View notes

batarella · 4 years ago

Text

3 birds 1 stone - BLUE

From a world once so cruel, that never seemed to have granted them the time enough to be together, it’d never built up into anything more perfect.

WORDS: 7785 WARNINGS: Sexual Content

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST | RED | YELLOW

-----

Dick:

It was concerning how at the moment he stepped into the narrow elevator, he wasn’t the least bit surprised at the pile of animal shit at the corner. It wasn’t until the doors closed when he noticed it, or rather his nose did, and he had to clog his nostrils just so he doesn’t pass out on the floor.

“Gar!?” he yelled just as the doors opened. No one was there, save for Raven with a book sitting at the couch. She didn’t glance at him. “Gar, I swear if you took a shit in the elevato-“

“That wasn’t me!”

Gar’s voice came from the kitchen, panting and occupied with something unruly. Then he heard plates falling to the floor, breaking, then there was a whimper. Not one that came from a human.

“Then who was it!?”

His question was soon answered, when a dog, a brown-furred mutt, sprinted out into the living room with a strip of bacon lodged in its teeth. “Gar!”

“I told you!”

Gar came out of the kitchen with a leash that had been ripped. “It wasn’t me!”

“You brought a dog into the tower?!”

“It was hungry!”

The mutt had finished off the bacon and headed straight for Raven’s lap. She gave it a scratch under its ear.

“Not on the couch,” Dick said.

“But Dick-“

“You’re not allowed on the couch either,” he told Gar. The boy murmured something Dick couldn’t hear, and after a second, no longer was he a boy but a green parrot. It squealed against Dick’s ear before it flew to Raven’s book.

“Jesus-“ he rubbed his ear. “I’m not in the mood.”

“SQUAWK-,” the parrot said. “WHAT’S UP WITH YOU?”

Having some coherent answer to that would only cement it as some grueling reminder. Hell, even thinking about it hurts more than the coward’s way out of pretending the past year never even happened. But then again, here he was, back in the Titan’s Tower to escape from the love of his life he could never be with and force himself into this infernal damnation of having forever to get over her. Here. Thousands of miles away. Where he’d only have his thoughts to battle and nothing else.

But all he said was: “Nothing.”

Dick should have told her, at least. Given her that kind of closure instead of his current disappearing act without so much as a note or a text or even a notice memo at the manor’s announcement board, which Alfred insisted with there being eight kids around.

But being away will be good. For her. For him. The first step to moving on. And with that, cutting all ties. Make it hurt less for both of them.

Maybe not all ties. He’ll have to go back to Gotham soon enough. But at least he was trying something. Not like the past five, six, seven years. God, has it really been that long?

She was probably over at Tim’s office, or Jason’s apartment doing whatever. Thinking about it won't do him any good. Doesn’t mean he subconsciously won’t.

It was apparent, and out into full consciousness, when he pulled out his phone and saw her name in five missed calls, with voice messages she’s left behind. A whole lot of minutes of them, too, it seems. She’d called while he was on the plane.

He could listen to them. Hear her voice one last time. Let his mind trail away. God, he was pathetic.

Dick put it up to his ear, his other hand stuffed to his pockets as he went out to the tower’s highest balcony so at least the air wasn’t so stuffy and he wouldn’t choke so much.

He wasn’t even nervous when he heard her speak. “Hey, Dick.”

A plane. A helicopter. Some folks over at the apartment building nearby partying it out. At least he’d have something to look at. He was exhausted, too. It was eight am over at Gotham. Shouldn’t have taken the overnight flight.

“You weren’t at the manor. I tried calling there first. I wanted to see you. Call me when you get this?”

He might. After he listens to the four other messages she’d left behind.

“Hey. I know it’s only been an hour. But please call me.”

Another one.

“Dick, where are you? I hope you didn’t change your phone. or I’ll look stupid leaving all these messages behind, which I’m not about to stop doing. Call me. Please. No one knows where you are but no one’s panicking either. It’s worrying me.”

Next one. From another hour after. He’d been gone a little over ten hours since he left. If Bruce didn’t have a tracker on him, they’d have called the police by now. But he highly doubted Bruce would take the time to announce his little trip to the West Coast to everyone in the house.

“Dick, if this is you ignoring me, you’re doing a hell of a good job at it. Did I do something?”

He heard her huff over the phone. No one else seemed to be around her.

“Please, I just wanna talk. Call me.”

The last one. Sent just four hours ago, which meant she’d been awake at four in the morning.

And, on top of that, the last one was five whole minutes long.

A call to tell her she was dating Tim again? Explaining how there are no hard feelings? Catch a movie sometime? An ass of him to think she’d be that cruel, but he was jetlagged and exhausted and the smell of dog shit still hadn’t left, which could be explained because that mutt had made a home just a few feet away from where he stood.

Dick played the message despite all that. Even if she called to tell him she’s getting married. He’d answer it.

“Dick…”

He could hear the rain, sheets shuffling under her feet.

“I’m sorry…” she said. “I… I probably took too long… I guess, if you’re ignoring me, you still deserve to know. I hope you get this message. I’ll tell you now, I guess. So you won't have to respond if you don’t want to.”

Tears. He could hear her wipe them off her skin.

“I kept you waiting for… I wanna say months but it’s a lot longer than that. Years… God, and I didn’t even see it… I took too long trying to figure this all out for myself, and you just kept waiting for me. No one should be worth waiting for that long.”

He was laughing as if it were one of her god-awful jokes. Funnily enough, it was worth it. Even when it sent him nowhere in the end. All that waiting was worth it. Somehow.

“Which is why I don’t blame you. Because you shouldn’t have taken this long. I thought even if I took another few weeks before I’d have enough courage to finally ask you to be mine, you’d still be there waiting for me. Selfish as it is, but I guess that’s your fault, too. Spoiling me and whatnot. Now my expectations for men are out of hand. Sorry.”

She even fucking laughed all the while he could hear her biting back her sobs. If he were there, he’d hold her by the shoulders and squeeze the fucking sense back into her and tell her yes, I did wait for you, and I’d wait for you for a hundred more years if I had to but I know you love someone else and-

Wait.

Backtrack.

What the hell did she just say!?

“I mean, I’m…” she continued, completely ignoring his panic. Was there a rewind on this thing??? “The past two days all I did was read your letter. Over and over again, trying to find something I could have missed. I memorized it by now. I’m a wreck. I’m sorry. I know it’s all so complicated, but I can't stop thinking that if the timing had just been good to us the past few years, all this would have been so different.”

Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT, is she actually saying she-

“I’m so sorry, Dick…” she sighed. “I kept you waiting. But even if… even if you’re not anymore, I already made up my mind. I’ll be here. It’s my turn to wait for you. As long as it takes. I love yo-“

Something hit the back of his knees.

Which, unfortunately, with him not in some defensive stance, caught him in a rather vulnerable position.

And with that, Dick tumbled off his feet, almost fell off the railing, and failed to catch his phone from slipping right off his hands.

“NO!”

“DOWN BOY-SQUAWK!” Gar the parrot cried and followed the obnoxiously unruly dog running around the terrace. “SORRY, DICK!”

The dog kept running around and almost crashed to his feet twice with it being too fast even for Gar's supposedly swift wings, and if he wasn’t so frozen and horrified, watching his phone descend from almost a hundred stories above ground, he would have grabbed that mutt by the neck.

“GAR, I SWEAR TO GOD-“

“I’m sorry!” He turned back into a human and caught the dog. “It was him!”

“My fucking phone just fell over the railing!”

“Want me to go get it-“

A car alarm. He could hear it even from above. Or Gar did. Because he went to look over and caught sight of his phone breaking a car’s windshield below. He scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry.”

“I have to…” Dick pulled on his scalp. “I have to go call her.”

“Call who?!”

“Give me your phone!”

“I don’t have a phone!”

“Give me Raven’s phone!”

“She talks to people with her mind,” Gar twirled his finger against his temple. “She doesn’t need a phone!”

“Just get- UGH!”

He stormed back into the building. “Where the hell is everyone else!?”

“They’re all out of town!”

“So it’s just you and Raven in here?! Without adult supervision!?”

“Why do you think we got a dog into the building?!”

Said dog stuck his tongue out at him like it was just so awfully adorable.

“Ok, ok, ok, ok, ok.” He can do this. He can calm down. “I have to go back. Or call her at least.”

“You’re going back to Gotham now?!”

She said she’ll wait. But to hell with keeping her waiting. “Yes. I do. I’m going back now. As soon as I can call her and tell her I’m on my way-“

“I wouldn’t do that.”

Raven didn’t even look up from her book, legs up on the couch as seemingly relaxed as if the whole wreck of a home they lived in wasn’t a mess at all.

“Next flight to Gotham’s in an hour.” She levitated an apple to her mouth and took a bite. “And the one after that’s in two days.”

“Two days!?”

“Airline shutdown. Some strike is happening,” she pointed at the TV playing the news. “I’d hurry if I were you.”

“God fucking dammit-“

“Good luck.” Raven took another bite.

Of course. Of course, this would fucking happen.

But, fuck, he didn’t know if he should just leap out the window to keep up now that everything he’s ever wished for had finally come to be. Because, to his own beliefs up in the clouds, he could probably fly with just the flap of his measly arms.

Y/N chose him.

He left for the elevator, just before Gar stopped him for leaving his wallet, then he was sprinting his way back to the airport.

You:

“I already made up my mind,” you said to your phone as if there were anyone else on the other line. As if he was there, listening to you. And that in a few seconds, he’d respond.

“I’ll be here. It’s my turn to wait for you. As long as it takes. I love you, Dick.”

Quite haunting how easy it was for those words to just roll off your lips, because as much as you thought all this to be so complicated and difficult, it was the easiest thing you’ve ever had to say.

At four am, alone in your studio with all your lights off and your sheets in an unkempt mess. You stuck your knees so close to your chest, trying to conceal at least some kind of warmth against you. But even with it so easy, it didn’t mean it wasn’t hurting.

“I can't,” you stuck your palm to your forehead. “I know things are so hard between us… and this past year is just…”

You breathed, longer than you’d hoped, just to get enough air into your lungs just so you wouldn’t collapse.

“God, I don’t even know what to tell you anymore. It all just… It feels like it’s too late. Everything went so wrong between us and I can't stop but think maybe it’s the world saying we’re just not meant to be,” you swallowed. “And the scary thing is… I don’t even care.”

The blue rose you painted, staring back at you once so bright, but as the passing days of you still wondering if were brave enough to do this at all, it had dried up and was now blank, patronizing even, that maybe it just wasn’t right, even when you wanted it to be.

“I don’t care if it’s so complicated, I want you…”

On the bed, just by your feet, you locked your eyes onto Dick’s beautiful handwriting, some that had been smudged with the sweat from your hands with the paper now crumpled up after all those months of reading and rereading.

You closed your eyes.

“You sent me an awfully painful, heart-breaking letter,” you said. “This is my awfully painful, heart-breaking reply.”

‘I usually just say all this in my head. That’s when I get poetic. Sometimes I write it down. Most of the time, I try to paint them. I think of galaxies and meadows and skies and flowers and all that, metaphors as they are, but I’ll say everything I’ve got. Right now. Because you deserve to know that all those years of you thinking nothing could ever go how you wanted, that it could end being just that.

Dick:

“Hey.”

Hands on the counter, the attendant looked startled at the least.

“I need a ticket for the next flight to Gotham.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said, after taking a while to look at Dick’s handsome yet frantically uneasy face. “You just missed it-“

“I know, I know, I missed the last one.” The one that left just five minutes ago because of fucking California traffic. “But I need to get on the next one. Please.”

“All flights from San Francisco after the next hour are canceled I’m afraid.”

“Any connecting flights? Anything that leaves before that?”

“Sir, I-” she stretched her fingers. “I’ll look for something.��

His fingers, tapping onto the counter until the tip of his nails started to hurt.

“The best option’s a connecting flight to Denver, then to New York.”

“New York!?”

“Then there’s the railway transits to Gotham. I can book you a ticket for that, too.”

From a seven-hour flight to a seventeen-hour trip with layovers and a crowded train.

But as soon as he heard best option he pulled out his wallet quicker than when they told him his rent was three months overdue and that if he weren’t to pay the doorman that very instant they’d evict him.

He rushed to the first plane, closed his eyes, and prayed she hadn’t said anything in her voice message too important for him to miss out on.

‘The universe, or whatever it is out there that has a say in all this, they didn’t make it easy for us at all. If they did, we would have met long before we went too far into this mess. We were friends, sure, and you have no idea how much I value our friendship.

But I guess not even that friendship’s strong enough for us to deny what’s really going on. And that’s why it’s all so hard. I can't even look at you without thinking about kissing you, or holding you, or touching you. I can't hold your hand without wanting to never pull away. I can't even be in the same room with you and not stare, even when you’re just reading a book or talking to someone else. You are… you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and you’re just as beautiful within, which is why it was so easy to love you, and so hard to keep it in.’

You:

Morning. Eleven am at that. You slept before the sun was up, at least. But you were up all night.

Nothing. Not a call, not even a text from him.

Everything shattered, and you were still half asleep. The next thing you did, and the next thing to do, was wrap yourself up with the thickest layer of your blanket and hide in the dark, even with it such a lovely day.

Another message wouldn’t be such a good idea if he still hadn’t opened the last five, which seemed highly unlikely with him gone for almost a day now.

A day. It had been a day.

But nothing on GCPD’s notices reported a missing person’s file of an utterly gorgeous, half-Romani hunk of a man in any of their websites. You called the manor, again. Still, there was nothing.

Twelve at noon. All you had for lunch was a bagel from three nights ago. It stuffed you, at least.

You sat at your dining table and stared at your phone.

If there was a moment for so much love to come crashing at once, it would all have been too great for that to be possible.

But the moment you realized it was there at all,

A few weeks ago. Steph’s birthday.

A party at the manor. It wasn’t much. Just a little get together with everyone at the parlor.

Everyone was talking, laughing, and frankly you wished you’d joined them. It looked like fun.

But instead, you were looking out the window, at the gardens white with melted snow and winds strong enough to knock the leaves out the branches. But you couldn’t hear any of that, which made it peaceful. It was the trees that danced, birds instead of planes that hovered over the sky, not a star above but perhaps it was because it was so full of clouds. It looked cold. Cold always looked so beautiful when you were looking out from the warmth of the inside.

Dick walked up to your side, just a reasonable distance away so he wouldn’t touch your shoulder, but close enough that you’d smell the jasmine from his neck.

“You’re just gonna stand out here and watch the glass fog up?”

You remembered laughing, probably at something else he’d said after that.

“It’s pretty when you look hard enough.”

And all the while, he didn’t pull your arm and drag you over at the crowd. He didn’t tell you to join them, to loosen up and have fun or have a drink or in any way stop you from what you were doing.

He just stood there and joined you, instead. Ditched his family. Didn’t even speak much.

He stood there because he wanted to. Because you staring out the window was more interesting to him than a whole crowd of kids doing whatever.

When he balled up his fist, covered it with his sleeve, and wiped the window right in front of you to rid it from the fog so you could see the gardens clearer, you knew you loved him.

Such a small act that was, but it was the finality of everything else that built up to that moment.

Then, you remembered what you told him last night, in a voice message that lasted way too long and sounded far too painful.

‘I don’t regret what I had with Tim… but I do regret not saying anything the past four years when I had the chance. You were there. You were there and I could never have had it any other way. When we’re not trying so hard for everything to be alright, everything’s at its best. I’m not even your girlfriend, and already I think about every minute I spend with you and laugh before I’m off to bed. I think about your jokes way too long than they should ever last. And your smile, god your smile, saying that that it’s all I could ever think about wouldn’t do it any justice. You have drawn out the ugliest laugh out of me that never should have come out of any human in existence. And frankly, I’m glad you do. Because just when I thought I could never smile again, you made me the happiest I could ever be.’

Dick:

Of all days. Of all times.

His survival rate at that point, rushing through Denver Airport with just a fifteen-minute layover period, with his shoelaces undone, probably wasn’t one he should have relied on. He was starving, but he had the appetite of a mammal in hibernation with the horrible airplane food costing a hundred dollars and everything else taking too long to prepare.

With just thirty seconds to spare, he fell to his too-narrow coach seat, shuffled along so his large ass-damn this cursed asset-would fit through the aisle and breathed just as the air hissed into the cabin after they closed the service door.

Head against the back of the seat, eyes up the ceiling, at the smoke that blew in through that gap outside the overhead locker, he ignored his dried skin, his dry mouth, his feet that were close to standing on a thousand knife tips, his eyes so close to just shutting out, his wallet painfully thin with this whole trip costing the equivalent of a round trip to Shanghai, and his whole body about to collapse. He hasn’t slept in twenty-four hours. It didn’t look like he was ever going to sleep at all.

And he hasn’t even called. God, what was she doing at home? Is she okay? Is she eating okay? Is she worried about him, staring at her phone wondering what she did wrong when she was nothing less of a perfect creation of all the gods that existed, an angel the earth didn’t deserve?

He really, really had to call.

Someone just sat next to him. A child. And next to him was his mother, who just put down her phone from a call.

“Excuse me.” Dick put on his award-winning smile, pretended he wasn’t sweating his balls off or that he was in any way close to psychological death, and hoped he looked the part as well.

“Yes?”

“Is it okay if I, uh, borrow your phone? I have to make a call. It’s sort of an emergency.”

“The plane’s about to take off.”

“It won't take long. I promise.”

He probably didn’t look as charming as he’d hoped. His hair was a mess not even a bird would settle into. The woman looked at him quizzically, up and down, and shrugged. Like it was handed to him on a silver plater, she gave him her phone.

The aircraft was about to take off. He only had so long.

He called Y/N’s number that he didn’t even know he memorized and settled back. It started ringing.

“MOM!”

The kid beside him. He was tugging on his mother’s shirt.

“MOM, I’M BORED.”

“We’re in a plane,-“

“I’M BORED. I WANNA PLAY ROBLOX-“

“Not now, we’re in a plane. Sit down.”

“GIVE ME YOUR PHONE-“

“That man has my phone.”

Fuck.

Y/N, fucking pick up.

“HEY, GIVE ME MY MOM’S PHONE BACK-“

“Kid, I hear ya. But you have to give me this one-“

“GIVE ME THE PHONE-“

That kid, a chubby one not older than six, stood up from his chair and was wild enough to grab Dick’s hand away from holding the phone up his ear. If he weren’t so desperate, he would have let him have it.

But god almighty, he’s never been as desperate as a starving man in a desert.

“Kid. Just one minute.”

“NO, GIVE ME!”

The mother put on a sleeping mask and faced the other way.

“KID-“

“GIVE ME MY PHONE-“

Back and forth, both grabbing onto the phone and the kid having the strength he did not at all expect, they ended up wrestling it out in the cramped-up economy seats until the kid was screaming out his ears.

He’s never looked so ridiculous but jokes on everyone else if they thought he could care less.

“Excuse me.”

An attendant, bags under her eyes and giving both of them, not just the kid, a dirty look.

“I’m sorry, sir, but the other passengers have complained about the noise. I’m gonna have to ask you to take your seat.”

“NO!” the kid screamed.

“DID YOU JUST BITE ME!?” Dick cried out.

“GIVE ME THE PHONE!”

“I NEED TO CALL SOMEONE!”

Dick grabbed the phone off his hands, palm to the kid’s face to stop him from reaching out to his outstretched arm. “Don’t you have some kind of coloring book you can give him?”

The attendant smiled, albeit forcefully, and walked back over to the back of the cabin. The kid did not stop trying to grab it off Dick’s arm.

She gave the kid a bag that probably had books and crayons and whatever stuffed inside. It looked so old. It had to have been in storage for the past ten years.

But as if some miracle heard him, the kid shut up, took the bag, and settled on his seat. Then he was as quiet as a mouse.

Fucking finally.

He held the phone up his ear and closed his eyes, fingers easing the tension on the nerve on his forehead.

“And sir?”

The attendant smiled at him. It didn’t look so much of a smile as it was a death threat.

“I’m gonna have to ask you to turn off your mobile device.”

To say he wanted to squeeze the life out of everyone in the whole aircraft, including himself, wouldn’t cut it.

And he didn’t even have it in him to protest.

“Hello?”

Her voice. At the other end of the line. That word was all there is to it, the only thing he heard.

Dick sighed, closed his eyes, counted to three, then ended the call after just two seconds.

The next thing he heard, for the next three hours, would be the screams of the child at his side, kicking on his seat like a fucking soccer ball.

‘That call from a year ago. The one about Kori. Fuck, I don’t even know where to begin. I overreacted. By a mile. Did some stupid shit to make up for that guilt and masked it over as another heartbreak when really, it was me refusing to have to go through all that again. I had to see you with that woman when I was in love with you for three years. Of course, it hurt. But I shouldn’t have an excuse. It was so stupid. Just thinking about it makes me want to break. I’m so sorry about that, Dick. I know we’ve already been over that months ago, but I just want to clear everything while I still can. God, I don’t even know if you’d listen to all this. I’m rambling. I’m sorry. I put all the blame on you when I had my share of mistakes. A whole lot of them. I’m sorry. I love you. And I’m sorry.’

You:

Hung up after two seconds. All you heard on the other end of the line was breathing and huffing, and nothing else. Whoever it was, they’ve been calling the past two minutes, just as you stepped out of the shower. And you almost cracked a rib flying from your bathroom to your kitchen table with just a towel around you, hoping to see his name on the screen. But alas, your luck just wasn’t at its peak.

You put your phone down, still with nothing to do, nothing else you could think of doing, than to just wait on that seat, stare at your phone, and hope Dick hadn’t hurt himself going after some goon alone the night before. Still no missing persons report. Nothing from the rest of the team, either.

Maybe just once more. You could call him. It wouldn’t annoy him too much. It had been hours since the last one.

You called, put the phone up your ear.

No ringing. It went straight to voice mail.

You opened your mouth, thinking you had something to say.

But you didn’t have anything to say. Not anymore. Not after you poured your whole heart out on the last one and now your throat was as dry as your palms were sweating.

You put your phone down, facing away from you, then you sank to your arms, burying your crumbling face away even with no one to see you.

‘That’s why I hate myself for not caring if this was difficult. Because I know, somehow, that’s it’s all still gonna be worth it. With you. Just thinking about the things we’d do, you’ve been the light of my life, the one person I look for not just because I need it, but because being with you makes so much of my day, every day that I see you. I look for you in crowds. I turn to your face when I want to look at something pleasant. I stare at doors, constantly hoping you’d be the one to walk in. I seek out for your voice, call you even when I know it’s a bother, find the most ridiculous excuses and the most stupid questions just so I’d have a reason to stand close to you, to have you talking to me, wanting all that everyday. I’ve never met anyone like you, Dick. I’ll never get used to you, and there’s no way in hell that I’d ever get tired of you. And maybe that’s the price to pay with all this being so hard. As complicated as it is, the troubles aren’t half the worth of the happiness it comes with.’

Two flights, three within the past thirty hours, jet-lagged far beyond a night’s repair, and his stomach in so many knots that even the bag of peanuts from the plane was too much to digest. And it wasn’t from poisoning or hunger or whatever it was. Everything in a whirlwind, one he can't even track.

He got to New York before it was dark, and he wanted to kiss the floor.

But he wasn’t at Gotham yet. This trip wasn’t over.

And if it weren’t for the half a million people crowded over at the airport, he would have been in Gotham right at that second.

Past the crowd, fumbling and running for whatever life he had left that wasn’t a spirit descended into something infinitely better than this, he made it over to the other side of the terminal, with his pits sweating his shirt off and his legs made of cooked chicken drumsticks and dough.

He got to the railway station, over at the attendant behind the counter.

“Excuse me,” he panted, and just like the one at the San Francisco airport, it startled her. Except now, there was no using his charm or his looks when he looked like he crawled out of a swamp.

“To Gotham,” he said.

“Ticket?”

He reached for his wallet, hands shaking so horribly it was worrying if he hadn’t known it came with his mind being as much of a mess as a wrecked ship from the 1800s.

And all the more did they tremble, down to his sorry knees, when he opened every flap there was on his wallet to find every pocket empty.

No.

No. no. no. no. no.

He searched his pockets. His jacket. His pants. His fucking shoes. If he had a hat he’d probably look into that too.

Nothing. Not a stub. A tiny stub that would have easily been blown by so much as a gust from a fan, let alone running a marathon in three airports in a single day.

“I,” he swallowed. “I seemed to have lost my ticket.”

Yeah. He wasn’t getting out of this one. The attendant looked at him and snarled like the annoyance he was.

“All the trains are sold out. And I’m afraid you can't board the train without a ticket.”

“Ma’am, I really, really, have to get to Gotham-“

“I’m afraid you’re gonna have to step out of the line.”

Like every force in the universe was out to get him.

“Do you have a phone? A payphone at least? I really need to call someone-“

“Sir, please step out of the line.”

“Please, ma’am, there has to be some way you can squeeze me into one of those trains-“

The attendant waved at someone behind him.

Two security guards were at his side before he could even turn around.

“Alright, alright, I’m leaving,” he huffed. “You guys don’t happen to have a phone I could use?”

Both guards ignored him, set him aside against a pillar.

And, with the excruciating exhaustion finally crashing into this one blow to the face, he stuck his back against the column, head up to the ceiling, then fell on his ass.

God, what does he even say to her after this?

If he actually gets to talk to her, that is.

“Final call for boarding!”

That light. One, single light. Or two, if he focused his eyes. The headlights from outside the revolving doors, from a bus that just opened its doors. It was a light, because it had GOTHAM in bold letters pasted onto its windshield.

And a line of people stepping inside. Kids and adults, old people alike.

He sat up from the floor, hungry, tired, and in pain.

But this was all going to be worth it. Every minute of this.

He just knew, that one last push, after this tormenting, inferno of a day, would all come to an end he’d dreamed about since he first laid eyes on her that day at the Wayne Manor’s library.

Dick got in line outside the bus, told the conductor he’d pay when they get inside. And after he did, he had just a quarter in his wallet to spare. No one sat beside him. The others were at the back. The one across was fast asleep. He couldn’t call her.

He’ll just have to hope, that whatever worries she had waiting for him to come up, that she’d forgive him enough for all this to end the way he hoped it would.

Three hours on a bus.

Didn’t even sound like it was remotely a long time.

The moment he took his seat, the bus doors hissed closed, and the air so silent, so did everything else calm.

He’s waited so long.

But he just had to wait for another three hours. In a bus. Then he’ll see her.

He closed his eyes.

‘I don’t even know why I rambled so much about all this being so complicated.

Because even if I had to walk up to the sky, I know there’s a galaxy waiting for me at the end. You are worth it. You are worth everything. I’ve never been so obsessed with anyone my whole life. You are, with my whole heart, my greatest love. And you are so beautiful that I never want to look at anything else ever again. And I never thought I’d get know beauty the way I do when I talk to you. You are everything I could ever want. And so much more.

And that pain, that hurt we both had to go through after all those years. That pining and waiting, and the heartbreak just because I was too stupid to understand that it didn’t have to be so hard after all, it doesn’t even matter, when at the end, I get to be with you.

I’d go through all that again if it means I can be with you.

You are the man I’ve dreamt about since I could first dream, and I’m lucky enough to have you in my reality. It’s you I want, Dick.

So I’ll wait for you. As long as I have to.

I love you so much.

Please, for the love of God, call me.’

You:

That message.

The longer you stared at your phone, the more you wondered if it was the right thing to do at all.

It was four am. You were tired. And worried.

And it was four am now, a whole day after.

Not a single call.

You’ve done it this time. You tripped at the finish line.

You were selfish enough to keep that man waiting for so long hoping he’d keep going, just as he had been for years.

And now, this is what you get.

You have yourself alone, in your apartment, one you haven’t cleaned in a week, and your heart in the same shatters as it often had been.

Your phone rang. You weren’t so excited to pick it up. Rightfully so when you saw it was just Bruce.

“Hello?” you said, your weight against the table’s surface, also surprised that it hadn’t broken.

“Y/N,” Bruce said. “I heard you were looking for Dick.”

“Mhm?”

“Sorry I haven’t called. Anyways, the last location I can point him to was at the Titans Tower in San Francisco.”

Okay.

You’ve had your heart broken before.

But it wasn’t just that that had broken right then.

Everything else, every bone, every bit of flesh there was, it was this numbing buzz you couldn’t even fight.

“What?”

Just then, someone knocked on your door.

And it wasn’t just a knock. They were pounding against the wood.

The ringing in your ears hadn’t even subsided, and you were breathless, muscles stiff. You just let the pounding go on until you heard Bruce hang up on the other line.

Life didn’t even give you so much as a second to process all that, of what he could be doing there, who he was with.

Your walked to the door, and without looking into the eyehole, you unlatched the lock and opened it.

Some glitch there was if all this were nothing but a simulation.

But it was as if the last five minutes-no-the last two days hadn’t happened at all.

Dick never looked like such a mess.

But, nonetheless, the way you stared at him was as if he was as beautiful as he ever was.

Everything that had broken, the moment you looked into his eyes, had fallen right back into place, into an entity far stronger than any quake could knock it out of.

Dick shut the door behind him.

He grabbed your face.

Then he kissed you. Without words. Without letting so much as a speck of time, however it worked now that it’d stopped, pass and waste away.

Dick:

Whatever she told him in that message he never got to hear, everything she ever had to say, the instant he felt her kiss him back, it was like every word flew out of her lips. How she wanted him. How she chose him. How in love she was with the mess of a human being he could be. How all the trials they’d been forced to go through, all the misunderstandings and the fights and the long months of this troubling, awkward place they wanted nothing more than to climb out of. He got all that with the way her lips molded so wanting and harsh, pressed so hard against his dried, chapped pair that have never witnessed anything more beautiful and so awfully perfect.

No more time to be wasted.

Not another second.

He had her. He finally had her.

He got the girl.

Not a chance that he wasted so much as another second.

He pushed her against the wall and the gasp that came out of her wasn’t at all out of pain, but at the sheer desire that had sparked at such impact that only knocked her into the same place he’d long settled in. And he could just feel, how much she wanted so badly to speak, to tell him what was raging in her head that was as much of a mess as his. But they’ll talk. Eventually. After.

All he wanted, right then, was to have her. Love her. Love her. To send her off to some paradise that long surpassed oceans and mirages and heavens that stood on clouds, to culminate that seemingly endless torture into a reward so great, that to say it would have been worth it would be so much an understatement. To play every instrument there was and let the song resonate into her body, and make it last for the rest of his life for so long as he could touch her. All that, he was going to give her tonight. Tonight. Right then and there.

Grabbing her legs up to his hips, her hands pinned to the wall above her head, it was too much of a flash for him to rush into this beautiful thing that shouldn’t be rushed at all. But he couldn’t slow down if it meant that he lives. Even if he died right after, he just couldn’t hold back.

He was pushing himself into her and the sounds that he earned out his lips were more than any songbird could cry out. After just having her against that wall, he finally got the sense to take it to the bed. It was dark. Not a light was on. And it was raining outside the one window she had near the bed and just the streetlight outside was enough to make him see her face. Dick placed her on top of his lap, on which she enjoyed herself to her own pace. Her hips were like waves, the ocean that rocked about, and the stain on his pants that she’d left behind was just as wet as so.

At that moment even she didn’t want to wait and talk any longer.

He took off her clothes, lied back.

Then he hoisted her up so the sweetest part of her body was just hovering over his mouth, her strong, beautiful legs, one of skin and the other of metal, on either sides of his head.

You:

You were made of gemstones. You were shimmering.

Of diamonds and rubies and emeralds, of the most precious rocks that could be found on every soil on earth.

Everything. That pain. That darkness. All the troubles and hardships, the disputes and every tear you’ve ever had to shed. Gone. Gone when he drew out this wonderful melody of sensations from his sweet, sweet tongue quivering you to every core. You were rocking, shaking, trembling, barely keeping yourself up. Not long after you screamed, and like the skies heard you it screamed back with a thunderous roar.

Then Dick shed his own clothes and moved inside you, rolling your hips with your two bodies now this one, beautiful entity, like you were holding his hand, just as you did right then, as you both ran through the darkness of a cave that has long haunted you, with creatures and bats and ghosts flying about, just to reach the end that was a light so close and so bright, you chased yourselves, chased that very light.

And once you reached it, that blinding, flashing white light that shone with this painful, glorious sting to every bit of your flesh, to say you found that end would be wrong. It wasn’t an end. It was this continuous, tantalizing aroma that would last a lifetime. It was beauty. You felt beauty. And it was in ripples you couldn’t see. A blur you couldn’t comprehend.

You had so much to tell him and ask him about.

But just as that wonderful night showed you, you had the rest of your life to do just that.

Epilogue

Dick:

Life could only ever be so cruel.

But life gives its niceties. Sometimes, to the people so used to it that they take it for granted.

But it’s even more so of a nicety when it’s the people who’ve long deserved it.

Not to say he deserved the world, but it was just that he’d gotten. From a world once so cruel, that never seemed to have granted them the time enough to be together, it’d never built up into anything more perfect.

Watching her from his car’s driver seat, from where he had a perfect view of her looking at the wondrous scenes flash by outside the window. It was even more beautiful, more than ever before, now that he could take just a second off his time from the steering wheel just to kiss her.

Just a little over six months together. Never has there been anything so rewarding in his life. A rainbow, ten of them at least, that filled what was once this depressingly grey sky. He always knew it’d be worth the world. But even he surprised himself.

When they parked the car, got out into this wide, orange field, a farmland just outside of Jersey with a valley at the farthest end, the only thing that battled the brightness of her smile was the sun itself.

“It’s beautiful, Dick.”

Her voice, even more so.

He set up her canvas, all her paint, and her brushes. They found a spot on the grass that was clean enough for them both to sit on. She didn’t use her easel. Instead, they both laid on this plaid red and white sheet over the grassy soil, her using her own knees to hold it up. And Dick sat beside her, watching her as the hours ticked. Without looking away, no longer ashamed when she’d catch him.

Just before the last of the sun had set, he pulled out from his pocket a ring, one with a diamond a shape of a white rose on top.

He got it a week after they got together.

Her face, her lips wide open as she realized what came in front of her, then he asked her to be his. Forever.

She said yes, just as the sun fell.

-----

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST | RED | YELLOW

-----

MAIN TAGLIST:

@idkmanicantenglish, @wunderstell, @birdy-bat-writes, @multifandomgirl-us, @icequeen208, @offendedfishnoises, @arkhamtoddler, @elsenthal, @lucy-roo, @loxbbg, @reclusive-chicken-nugget, @l-inkage, @http-cherries, @river9noble, @zphilophobiaz, @annoylinglyaries, @knightfall05x, @hyp-oh-critical, @satan-s-ass, @1-800-starmora, @flowersgirl02, @nahcho, @thatonecroc, @trixie-bb, @daddyissuesmademe, jasonsbitch, @shadowsndaisies @jaybirdbooty @writing2sirvive

SERIES TAGLIST:

@spaceservicestation, @thedeadlythoughts, @vanessafabricius, @pinkforest05

#dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #tim drake #jason todd #tim drake x reader #jason todd x reader #dick grayson smut #batboys #batfam #batfamily #3 birds 1 stone #3 birds 1 stone series #batarella #batarella series

226 notes · View notes

daydreamerwonderkid · 1 year ago

Note

"This chapter goes out to Signal, Spoiler and Black Bat. Just saw them doing a mini dance off on my way home from classes and if this fic somehow magically transformed into a dance competition AU overnight, well you know who to blame."

"SOOOOOOOOO. It turns out that Poison Ivy’s pheromones are NOT a good way to counteract Scarecrow's fear gas."

"Typing in 'I'm not a terrorist, I don't work for any of the Rogues and I have no plans to actually do any of this' into my search engine every other hour just so I can get my daily 'I know' message from Oracle."

"First off, I just wanna say I'm FINE. I only got like 12% direct exposure to Joker gas which is just a regular Tuesday, let's be honest.

Update: It was more than 12%."

"No new update because some asshat decided to push me into Gotham River so now I'm on bedrest for the next two months until all the toxins finally get flushed out of my system. And by asshat, I mean fucking Batman and his stupid piece of shit Batmobile.

What's the point of having a fucking tank for a car if you're not gonna use your goddamn headlights to keep from, I dunno, bumping into people with your goddamn car! He's so fucking lucky that Red Hood was there to chew him out or I swear I would have crawled out of that river and laid hands on him myself."

"I swear to god every single time I try to update this fic, at least one new city wide attack happens. At this point, I wouldn't be surprised if Batman crashed through my window and interrogated me."

"Special thanks to Red Robin and Spoiler for accidentally throwing a Riddler thug into me, only for said Riddler thug's full weight to completely collapse on top of me and break my leg. Extra special thanks to Red Robin for holding my hand and listening to me ramble on forever about this fic until the paramedics arrived. Extra extra special thanks to Spoiler for agreeing with me that Batman/Bruce Wayne is a far superior ship to Batman/Superman."

"Note to self: typing in 'Commissioner Gordon smut' will immediately put you on Oracle's watchlist."

"Being high on Poison Ivy pheromones is apparently not a good enough excuse to get away with explaining Omegaverse to your favorite local vigilante. Nightwing, if you're reading this, I am so sorry."

"In hindsight, I really should have realized that those dogs only looked that massive because they were fucking HYENAS and I don't know, not just some new bizarre monster dog breed some loser cooked up in his basement."

"You know the brain rot's really wormed its way into your skull when your reaction to getting captured by a Rogue is to think: Hmmm, this would make an interesting oneshot.

It was Bane btw. Yeah, I still have no idea why he took over Gotham Library for an afternoon, either."

"Sorry if the chapter updates are coming in a bit slower than normal. My editor was shot in the middle of a fight between some Two-Face goons and Black Mask pricks. Good news is that she got to meet Red Hood and I think she's fully converted to being a Red Hood stan now lol."

"Great news, guys! Turns out my cat hadn't run away, she was just pregnant and trying to find a safe spot to give birth! I don't know why she thought the dumpster behind our apartment was a safe place, but I got to meet Robin and take some pictures with him and the kittens so it's a win-win all around!"

"This oneshot is dedicated to that one time I saw Red Robin accidentally drop his coffee and then immediately curl up and cry for five minutes. Absolute mood, buddy. We've all been there."

"The next person that tries to tell me how 'unrealistic' it is for that many Arkham breakouts to happen in such a short span of time is going to get a swift kick to the nuts. Tell me you're not Gotham without telling me you're not from Gotham."

how crazy do you think the AO3 authours notes are in gotham?

"Joker killed my grandma with a reindeer whilst playing 'grandma got run over by a reindeer' and i don't think i can continue to write this JokerBat fic anymore guys sorry :/ it just feels disrespectful."

“Look, I get if Batman/Clark Kent isn’t your cup of tea, but the guy writes more about Batman than anyone else outside of Gotham. There’s got to be a reason, is all I’m saying.”

“And here I am, jumping on the Batman/Bruce Wayne train like the rest of our beloved hellhole. Anyway, if you’re not from Gotham you can keep your criticisms to yourself or I will not be held responsible for the bloodshed that will occur should you insult our beloved sunshine child and his goth sugar baby. You don’t know them like we do.”

“Hey, sorry I haven’t updated in awhile. I died and then got caught up in this whole my-father-didn’t-avenge-me angst thing. Which was completely justified in my opinion. Anyway…”

“Let’s be honest, this entire series is dedicated to the fact that Red Hood could crush any of us with his thighs and we’d say thank you.”

“I just read a fic shipping Nightwing/Superman and I mean, come on. The author is clearly not from Gotham but I can never unsee that and I think I should be entitled to financial compensation.”

“Sorry it’s been awhile, I just got a new job! With the Best Boss™️ (if you know, you know). Also, my boss said he’d give a hundred bucks if I wrote a Batman bashing fic? Thoughts? Ngl I don’t think it’d even be that hard.”

“‘WHy aRE yoU WriTIng ABouT FakE SupERheROes WHen THe rEAl oNEs aRE riGHt tHEre?’ Uh, because it’s Gotham and they’re all a disaster? And also because I don’t want to be haunted by the venegeful spirits of robins past idk. Thinking of doing a crossover though. Batman in the Avengers? Thoughts?”

“I just want my husband Nightwing to be happy, is that too much to ask?”

“I came across Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy on my way home from school today and will now be hyperfixating on that ship, thanks.”

“Leave me and my 235k word fic of Prince!Bruce/Knight!Batman alone you Metropolis and Superman-loving traitors. This is not for you.”

#ao3 gotham #only in gotham #gothamites #crack #crack fic #this was WAY too much fun #long post #long post is long #batfam #batfamily #incorrect batfamily quotes #incorrect gotham quotes

14K notes · View notes

paisley-print · 4 years ago

Text

3:00am : George Strait Sang It Better.

About: The two of you make your way home from the bar...

Rating: SFW

Word count: 1635

Characters: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Warnings: HEAVY ANGST I AM SO SORRY (no I’m not hehehe), Curse words, fluff, mentions of death, grief, mentions of alcohol, mentions of vom*t ,implied age gap.

NOTE: Not me making myself cry....not that. Also I love country music y'all can square up on me if you like. I find it funny how I am turning this satire of a character into a Nicholas sparks protagonist. Wild.

MIDNIGHT MASTER LIST

3:00am : George Strait Sang It Better

“I’m not drunk.”

Jack had you slung over his shoulder “I don’t believe that’s a correct statement.”

“Are you proud of me for beating all those guys at pool?”

“Are you kidding? Of course I am sugar, you know…. I think the whole bar was lookin’ to take you home after that.”

Jack had spent most of the night sitting back and watching you interact with the other patrons. How you flitted about like a little fairy; all giddy and flushed from the alcohol. He enjoyed seeing men and women ogle over you. The looks on their faces when he scooped you up to leave was priceless.

“Wha?! No! Only you can take me home!”

He smirked “that is right babygirl- only me.”

You giggled and whispered to him, “Jack?”

He whispered back to you “what?”

“May I smack your ass please?”

You heard him chuckle “only cuz you asked so nicely.”

You gave his ass a light tap “boop”

“Excuse me mam I said smack not a boop. My ass is too incredible to have it booped.”

“Well, I booped you- watcha gonna do about it?”

“Might not help you take off your makeup when we get home.”

You gasped dramatically, “you wouldn’t dare!”

“Try me honey,” he shot back.

You cleared your throat, “wait, put me down.”

His brows knit together, “you gotta throw up?”

You hummed in response.

He took you by the waist and placed you down, keeping his hands there to make sure you didn’t take a header into the brick wall.

Before he could react you flashed him a bright grin, broke from his touch and proceeded to skip down the street. It took him a second to realize he had been conned; he had to jog a little to keep up with you. “Girl, where in the hell do you think you’re goin’?....... y/n?”

“Do you hear that?” You asked, rounding the corner onto a totally empty side street. This side of town was mostly strip malls and county buildings. A record store was playing music from inside...it floated through the street and echoed lazily into the humid June night. “My father used to sing this song to me.”

The song was a cover of ‘Cross My Heart’ written by George Strait but sung by Dierks Bentley. “God I haven’t heard this song in years” you breathed, making your way into the street and laying down under the streetlamp. You sang along, “I cross my heart And promise to, Give all I’ve got to give, To make all your dreams come true.”

Jack stood off to the side, getting more and more frustrated. “I’m not gonna scrape you off the sidewalk if you get hit.”

You laughed, unable to see that he was upset…. “hit by what? All the cars?” The street was completely deserted, most everybody was home in bed. “You will always be the miracle, That makes my life complete, And as long as there’s a breath in me, I’ll make yours just as sweet.”

Jack shook his head, shifting uneasily on his feet.

It was an absolutely beautiful night- full moon, warm, not a single cloud obstructing the sky. You gasped and sat up “Jack please dance with me!”

“I’m tired, put your shoes on- let’s go-”

You gave him the puppy dog eyes “but it’s perfect! The song is almost over anyway-”

He snapped, losing his temper and shouting at you. “What part of I’m fucking tired do you not understand? Come get your shoes and stop acting like a goddamn child!”

You stared at him wide eyed while the music played on. The two of you had little spats in the past….but you had never seen him do anything close to that. Sobriety struck you in an instant. You held tears back and pulled yourself from the asphalt. Silently, you took your shoes from him and placed them on your feet.

His tone was still a little harsh but not nearly as bad as before, “you want me to carry you?”

“No” you said quickly “I can walk - thank you.”

Jack pulled the car to a stop at an empty intersection and waited for the light to turn green.

You were the first one to speak “sometimes I get too excited and act stupid... I apologize for not listening to you when you said you wanted to go. I’ll listen better next time.”

He sighed and hesitated, “I’m sorry I didn’t dance with you.”

You shrugged, “it’s okay, you were tired...plus George Strait sang it better anyway.”

“No, it’s not that-”

You could tell that he was fighting something, but you didn’t know what. His lack of verbal communication frustrated you at times, however it was something you had been learning to accept. Each day you noticed his tells and from those you would peace together how he was feeling. He would get boisterous when he was nervous, silent when he was focused, chatty when content...so on and so forth.

Although you would rather him tell you these things, you understood that he was a man raised in a way that forbade overly emotional declarations. He was getting better the safer he felt with you and it was okay that he wasn’t perfect with it just yet. Jack had spent years shutting people out, it was going to take time for him to break the habit.

“-that was my wedding song,” he confessed.

You nodded slowly, showing him that you were listening.

“You looked so fuckin’ beautiful and just - happy…….” he sighed again. “It’s uh- do you know that the two of you share the same birthday? I didn’t realize it until the other day when you mentioned yours …...three hundred and sixty five days in a year, what are the fuckin’ odds?”

The light turned but he didn’t move, he was staring transfixed at the road - his mind somewhere far. You watched him remember her and a life that no longer existed. He always had a certain look about him when he was thinking of her. You couldn't really put it into words; he just seemed so at peace with the world….like the burden of loss wasn't weighing him down.

His hands gripped the wheel tighter “the birthday you have coming up will make you one year older than she ever got to be…. It’s like one day I woke up and twenty-four years have come and gone overnight.”

He started to choke up a little, but fought against it. “ I don’t know why it just hit me all of a sudden. I can go weeks, months, without feeling upset. Then one little thing just sets it off and everything comes rushing back at once…. and it hurts the same way it did then.”

His breathing hitched in his chest, you could tell that he was probably on the verge of a panic attack.

You placed a hand on his leg “hey-”

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you. That wasn’t right….. I’m not that person-”

“It’s alright-”

“No it’s not. I’m sorry if I scared you and I’m sorry that I’m talkin’ about this. I know you probably don’t want to hear it-”

“Jack” you spoke softly in an attempt to stop his spiraling. “I always want to hear about what you’re going through. No matter what it is…..your wife, she sounds amazing.”

He reached down to take your hand, squeezing it gently.

You brushed your thumb across his knuckles. “If you ever need to talk about her you can, I hope you know that. And what you said about it all rushing back….grief is not linear. It's not something that has a start and end...instead it’s like a box with a little ball inside. Every time the ball hits the side of the box you feel upset. Like tonight-”

Your other hand reached up to tuck a little strand of hair behind his ear, while you went on… “At first the box is tiny and the ball hits the sides of it often. However as time goes on the box gets bigger. Meaning that the ball has much more space to travel until it hits the sides.”

You paused for a moment to let him follow along. “You grew up with her; she is literally woven into the fabric of your soul. You are allowed to miss her and miss her deeply. Even after all this time. It is okay. In the same breath though, you are also allowed to be happy. I know you carry around guilt - I see it in you constantly……. but there was nothing you could have done Jack.”

You placed a finger under his chin and turned his head to face you, “and you didn’t scare me. You just caught me off guard is all.”

“I wish I danced with you,” he said softly.

“We’ll have plenty of time to dance, Jack.”

He looked so utterly exhausted; you dropped your hand to let him focus back on the road. “Yeah” he agreed, then lifted his foot off the break to continue on.

The open windows let wind rush through the cabin. He kept a tight hold on your hand, it was the only thing keeping him grounded at the moment.

An idea surfaced in your mind…. “I think we should include her this year. We can pick up some flowers - maybe a little toy for the baby, and have a picnic. I’ll make cupcakes and we can blow out a candle for her as well ….would that be something you want to do?”

He rubbed his eyes and nodded.

“Then that’s what we’ll do.”

“Thank you.”

You smiled softly “you don’t have to thank me Jack.”

#Jack Daniels x you #Whiskey x you #Agent whiskey x Reader #Agent whiskey x you #Agent whiskey fanfic #Kingsmen Fanfiction #Kingsmen Fanfic #Pedro fanfic #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Pedro Pascal Fanfiction #long live the queue

47 notes · View notes

iamtheblondestblonde · 4 years ago

Text

The Clark Kent Effect

Part Three

AN: Imma be honest, I’m not happy with this part. I feel like my brain isn’t entirely ready for writing yet, it’s still wired to argue cases so please bear with me as I get my shit together. I still wanted to give the people who follow this story something though (you have no idea how happy I am about every single one of you) and I sincerely hope that this is good enough, apologies if not :)

Song: Catching Feelings - Drax Project (this will be a thing from now on)

Word Count: 4,6k

Warnings: explicit language I’m pretty sure but thats it

Masterlist / Part One / Part Two

You felt foolish really. It was as if your entire life had turned into a soap opera overnight. You wouldn’t call yourself cynical by all means, you loved love and everything that came along with it far too much for that, but you would’ve at least described yourself as rational.

Up until now.

Up until now you’d been convinced that if people really wanted to, they would be together. Up until now you’d been a believer of where there’s a will, there will be a way - relationships that would classify as statutory rape excluded of course, age was a bit more than just a number in those cases - but you, you, you had been stopped by the Bro-Code, which was just absolutely ridiculous.

Imagine telling that to your parents: Hey mom, so I met this great guy but I can’t do anything about it because he’s friends with my ex. Your grandma would straight up laugh in your face if you told her, the badass bitch had married her former lover’s rich best friend after she’d gotten the news that her fiancé hadn’t survived the war. Without needing to call her you knew that she’d tell you to go for Mat in a second, no matter how much she’d adored Tito back then.

But you weren’t your grandma and Tito hadn’t died in a war so here you were, pining over a guy you couldn’t have and practically living out a tragic romance novel. Technically you didn’t even know if Tito would have anything negative to say about the entire situation, it may all be water under the bridge by now, but you also couldn’t just casually ask him without giving anything away.

The only good thing about this situation was that Tito had brought a great group of people along with him into your life. He’d always been good at making friends, that certainly hadn’t changed from when he was younger and since the two of you had hit it up again your friend groups had seemingly merged without issue. It sure made for an interesting dynamic. You’d had some explaining to do whenever you initiated someone new into a group that also included your ex, but the result was definitely worth it.

Spending time with Tito was just as easy as it used to be, back before feelings complicated everything. Somehow you’d managed to fall back into a completely platonic relationship, one that worked just as well when the two of you were alone as it did with others around.

You’d missed having him around the years before, his view on things and the way he’d always managed to make decisions easy by providing simple solutions.

Should you get a puppy right now? - No, your apartment is too small for a big dog right now and no, you also shouldn’t settle for a purse-sized dog because you’ve always wanted a big one since you were little.

Maybe a cat instead? - No, you are allergic to cats, don’t be stupid.

What about one of those naked ones? - Also no, you need to bathe those frequently because of the built up oils on their skin and you don’t even have a bathtub in your apartment.

(You really had to bathe those from time to time, you’d looked it up. Apparently they could still trigger allergies as well, which straight up sucked.)

Should we grab Thai or Chinese? – Chinese, you told me about this new place you wanted to try out like three days ago.

What can I do to stop this one coworker from belittling and making fun of me? - I’ll help you make her jealous, how about some courtside seats to watch the Nets since she likes basketball?

The last idea had actually come from Mat (since Tito didn’t know shit about basketball), who had also pulled some strings to get four tickets so you could attend the game with Dana, Tito and him. Mat had even taken some pictures of Dana and you in your jerseys and at the game so you could post about your night excessively on your social media, making sure that said co-worker would see it. They’d also given you a tour of the building and you were surprised to say that their locker didn’t smell as bad as you’d expected.

Said coworker hadn’t said anything ever since by the way, but you could still see her lurking on your Instagram.

For all the advice Tito provided you with, you still hadn’t asked him the one thing you needed an answer to:

Is Mat off limits?

But you couldn’t do that and therefore it somehow became a normal thing for Mat and you to walk on eggshells around each other after the “incident” at the bar.

From time to time there were moments that made it blatantly obvious how good things could be – the time he’d excitedly side hugged-you after the Nets turned the game that one night before realizing what he’d just done and quickly letting go, how he’d found you in the crowd and looked straight at you after scoring a goal at one of his games before being swept away by his teammates or simply how you could see him looking around until he found you whenever your group met up – but they never lasted more than a few seconds.

The two of you were stuck, neither of you wanting to hurt Tito’s feelings. At least with your big group moments with Mat alone were rare. They still happened from time to time though, especially since the majority of your friends wasn’t even aware of your dilemma, which was why you found yourself in the passenger seat of his car on a Friday night.

Emily’s boyfriend Rafael had finally returned from a two-month-long work trip to Spain and was dead set on making an authentic recipe he’d been taught over there for everyone. Unfortunately he’d made the mistake of putting Emily in charge of getting the needed groceries and in true Emily fashion she’d forgotten to buy tomatoes. Something neither of them had noticed until Rafael had wanted to start cooking as soon as everyone arrived at their place. Maybe Emily had done it on purpose or maybe she hadn’t been thinking properly in that moment, too caught up in the fact that her lover was with her again, but she’d tasked Mat and you with a last-minute errand run to the store.

You couödn’t stop yourself from checking out the wine aisle though, leaving him waiting behind, dutifully holding a bag of fresh tomatoes and checking his phone while you inspected the options. Rafael had asked you to bring some wine as well but the one he’d requested was apparently out of stock.

“Barzal”, you called for his attention, inspecting a label to try and figure out if it was a suitable replacement, “you think Rafael would like this one?”

As you turned around with the bottle in your hand you were taken by surprise by Mat’s proximity. You hadn’t even noticed how close he’d moved until now and for a couple of seconds you were caught up in your daydreams again. He seemed to struggle with the same thing, his pupils blown and his breathing growing uneven while the two of you just stared at each other. His lips were so close and so incredibly inviting, his mouth slightly agape.

If I leaned up on my tippy toes right now I could-

You quickly stopped yourself from finishing that thought, looking down so you had a couple of seconds to gather your thoughts, thoughts Mat seemed to infiltrate constantly. By the time you dared to look up again he was running his hand across his face in frustration before slowly breathing out and returning to his cool and collected regular self.

“I’m the wrong person to ask this, he was drinking some red wine earlier and the one you picked out is obviously red but that’s about it. Wine culture is definitely lost on me, sorry. I prefer beer.”

“Stereotypical hockey player through and through, I see.” Later on you’d tell yourself that the smirk that followed made your brain short-circuit, because there was no other way to explain why you’d keep on flirting otherwise.

“Maybe one day I’ll teach you, only if you’re nice to me though”, you teased, maybe in an effort to take control over the situation, maybe because you simply couldn’t stop yourself but his laugh made your heart soar for one second, until you remembered why this shouldn’t be happening.

Maybe you simply were an undiscovered masochist because even though you knew you should stay away from him you kept finding yourself in situations like this one way too many times. Deciding that you’d simply drink the wine by yourself if anyone had an issue with it - drowning your sorrows seemed like a great idea either way right now - you handed him a second bottle before moving to leave the aisle and in turn his personal space.

Making eye contact with Colin standing a couple of meters away from you got you to do a full 180 though, almost smacking into Mat in the process, who had obviously followed you towards the cashiers.

What was it with Mat and you?!

While a collision was thankfully avoided, Colin’s presence could cause other problems, since he hadn’t exactly appreciated you breaking off things over a month ago. Because you hadn’t known him for long it had taken you longer than you liked to admit to realize that he was a manipulative bastard, you weren’t proud of that, and you had no idea how he’d act right now.

“What’s wrong?”

“My ex is over there and I don’t want to talk to him. Is he walking in our direction?”

Mat lifted his concerned glance from you to look over your shoulder so he could be on the lookout.

“If he’s the one wearing a Gucci hoodie that is so obviously fake then yes, he is walking in our direction.”

You let out a snort at the casual burn but you weren’t too happy about having to face Colin right now. He hadn’t even crossed your mind in these past few weeks but for him to cross paths with you while you were with Mat of all people seemed to be yet another one of these odd twists of fate your life seemed to attract lately. Maybe your guardian angel had decided to start a meth lab instead sometime recently, there was no other way to explain what was going on instead.

“Uh.. you look good, don’t worry, he’s definitely the one that missed out. Do- do you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend or something?”, Mat stuttered out nervously, probably noticing your anxious shifting and you couldn’t help but smile at his words, despite him being wrong about the reason behind your nervousness.

“Thanks for the offer”, you gave him a gentle smile of reassurance before continuing, “but no, it’s not about the way I look or anything like that, I don’t give a fuck what he thinks of me because he’s an idiot. I just don’t want him to cause any problems and if I could I’d just run away from him forever so he doesn’t have the chance to ever ruin my night again.”

“Well I’m no expert on forever, but I’m here right now and I say fuck that guy”, he responded and with that he grabbed your hand and started running towards the cashiers, leaving you with no other choice but to run along with him so he wouldn’t rip your arm out of its socket.

Oh how you wished you had a picture of the expression on Colin’s face as Mat and you ran past him, hand in hand and cackling like maniacs.

He was apparently too stunned to follow you as you fought over who would pay for the stuff - Mat ultimately winning - but you didn’t let that stop you from running all the way to this car as well. Of course hand in hand.

Masochist.

Somehow the weird tension between the two of you seemed to lift sometime during your little sprint but you weren’t sure if this would be permanent or if it was a spur of the moment thing. You’d be damned if you didn’t enjoy it while it lasted though.

The entire ride back you couldn’t stop thinking about the way his hand had felt in yours and what a perfect fit it had been, desperately wanting to feel it again as the two of you sang along to the songs playing over the speakers, perfectly happy in your little bubble.

As Christmas approached Emily roped everyone in to accompany her on her mission to make Rafael appreciate the cold that taken over New York. According to her he dearly missed sunny Spain but all you could see was a man who was happy to be home again. You weren’t about to tell her that though, you’d long figured out that whenever she’d set her mind to something it was best to simply follow along. Everyone else had apparently come to the same realization because no one objected to her plans.

Emily wanted to take Rafael ice skating and since the Rockefeller Center apparently wasn’t good enough and too crowded, she told everyone to meet at Pier 17. Dana and Mariah were on board of course and you’d managed to convince Tito to come along, who had in turn invited Mat.

In a ridiculous attempt to not get spotted, both Mat and Tito had donned a pair of glasses and while you were used to seeing them on Tito by now, seeing Mat with them again knocked the breath out of your lungs for a second.

It had been almost two months since you’d last seen him like this and the fact that you hadn’t recognized him that night seemed impossible to you now. Maybe it was because you’d gotten to know him since, seeing him in real life instead of only on pictures and memorizing his handsome features in the process but as you tried to get a good glance at him without anyone noticing you realized that he’d never be Clark Kent to you again.

Whether that was a good or a bad thing was still left to decide though.

“Need help with those?”, Mat’s voice ripped you out of your thoughts. You’d been so lost in them that you hadn’t even noticed that everyone else had already laced up their skates and walked out onto the ice while you’d been staring at your hands for who knows how long, laces wrapped around your fingers but not doing anything. Tito and him had brought their own skates while everyone else had to rely on rentals and his were already laced up perfectly of course.

You nodded, despite full well knowing how to do it yourself but you weren’t about to stop Mat from pulling your leg into his lap so he had better access. Besides, you’d stupidly forgotten to bring gloves and you’d gladly take any chance to leave your hands stuffed inside the pockets of your jacket as you rapidly got colder.

His fingers worked quickly, tightening the laces with expertise and you watched his hand moving in awe.

If hockey ever wasn’t an option for him anymore, hand modeling definitely was. He had such nice hands, strong and big and perfect. For a quick second your thoughts drifted to what else they could be capable of, before you reeled them back in, mentally scolding yourself. It really wasn’t your fault, not thinking of him seemed impossible these days.

His eyes were mostly focused on his work but from time to time he’d lift his gaze and give you a small smile, one you happily returned despite the mess inside your head. He had just finished tying the second one when someone banged on the glass, making the both of you jump a little.

“Ayo Barzy get your filthy paws off Y/N!”, Tito yelled before zooming away again laughing loudly, leaving an awkward silence behind.

Was this just Tito being his usual little-shit-self or was he actually serious?

For a couple of seconds you couldn’t do anything but stare at Mat as he looked down onto his hands, one of them still loosely wrapped around your ankle. Carefully you pulled your leg off his lap, set both feet on the ground and got up.

It was apparently time to face reality again.

You waited until there was a break in the throngs of people circling around the rink before stepping onto the ice, muscle memory from your childhood kicking in immediately. Once you were convinced that you weren’t going to fall on your ass you did a couple of little spins until you were facing Mat again, who had followed you. He looked at you with a slack jaw and you laughed at his expression.

“You can skate?!”, he asked bewildered and you laughed again, moving so the both of you could skate beside each other at a relaxed pace.

“Obviously. Sorry to ruin your late night fantasies of teaching me how to skate but I’m a good Canadian girl and I did some figure skating when I was younger. I actually used to be pretty fast.”

That caught his attention and you smiled at the way he looked down at you with a conspiring grin.

“Oh yeah? Show me what you got then”, after a couple of seconds of contemplation he continued, “last one to reach the others owes the winner coffee.”

You looked around to find the rest of your group, spotting them on the other side messing around. Of course.

“You’re on, Barzy. I hope you’re ready to lose though”, you winked at him before racing towards your friends, leaving him and his exclamations about you being a cheater behind, now definitely not cold anymore.

Something in your relationship seemed to shift after that, at least whenever you were alone with him. Things were still difficult around others, especially with the way Emily kept prodding you for updates and Tito constantly disturbing the few moments you had alone with him. You weren’t sure yet if he did it on purpose or if he simply had awful timing but it wasn’t like it made a difference.

Christmas came and passed just as fast, the team leaving for a roadtrip shortly after. You’d celebrated New Year’s Eve with your friends in a club, unable to kiss the person you wanted to either way so your lips had stayed untouched as the fireworks went off at midnight and the days following.

Tito had announced that the guys would return later in the day though, already making plans in the groupchat to meet up tomorrow. While you wondered where he got all this energy from you suspected it was a way to distract himself as the trip hadn’t been successful - to put it mildly. In reality they’d ate shit, losing all of their games, some to teams that should have been an easy win.

It was hard to watch on TV but even harder to talk to the guys afterwards.

A couple of hours later you sat on the couch, a book in hand that you’d meant to read for weeks and enjoying staying in on a Friday for once. You were so lost in the story that it took you a couple of seconds to realize that someone had knocked on your door.

Who could that be?

Tito or Emily were most likely to show up unannounced at your day but you knew that Tito would be on his way to his home so he could sulk by himself and Emily was away on a ski trip with Rafael. Unwrapping yourself from your fuzzy blanket you padded towards the door, taken aback by who was waiting on the other side.

“What..”, you trailed of questionably, not even sure what you were going to say in the first place.

Mat looked so out of place in the dimly lit hallway, dressed in a suit that fit him so nicely, bag set on the ground next to him.

“Can I come in?”, was all he said and you nodded, unable to bring yourself to say anything else.

How could you even refuse him?

You didn’t move from your spot beside the door and after taking off his shoes he took a couple of steps inside your apartment, hanging up his coat before turning back around to face you.

“You’re probably wondering why I’m here but if I’m honest I can’t even tell you. I just didn’t want to be alone tonight and since you seem to constantly be on my mind either way..”, he trailed off, seemingly gathering his thoughts before continuing, “I don’t know if you watched the games or-“

“I did and you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to”, you said softly as you interrupted him, sensing his apprehension. You decided that you weren’t about to touch his admission of thinking of you all the time with a ten-foot-pole, instead focusing on the rest of his sentence. He looked so broken and lost standing there so you couldn’t help but take the few steps it took to reach him, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug.

You knew from personal experience with Tito that athletes tended to take losses personal and if you had to take a guess you were pretty sure that Mat was one of those guys that blamed himself for them as well.

At first he seemed surprised about your bold move – it was the most the two of you had ever touched so far – but he quickly caught himself, hugging you even tighter to his body. For a couple of seconds you stood just like that, simply basking in each other’s proximity.

It was as if your bodies were made for each other, your head resting perfectly in the crook of his neck. Despite probably just getting off a plane he smelled so good and you were trying to figure out if you could take a deep breath without raising any suspicions. Before you’d managed to make a decision however, he pulled away and you unfortunately had to untangle yourself from him.

“Feel free to stay as long as you want to”, you said to fill the silence, leaving out the part where you hoped he’d stay for the night as well. He simply nodded before asking where he could change into more comfortable clothes. While you were sad to see the suit go you directed him to your bedroom, glad to have taken those thirty minutes earlier to tidy up.

He returned in a pair of grey sweatpants and a hoodie and it took every last remaining bit of your willpower not to drool at the sight of him. Somehow he managed to look even better in sweats than he did in his custom suit, which really wasn’t fair at all.

You had to admit it was a little weird to see him in your apartment though. He’d been over a couple of times to pregame etc. but he’d never been here alone. Somehow it felt strangely intimate to have him over by himself on this Friday night. To prevent your thoughts from going to a direction they definitely shouldn’t, you asked:

“Do you want some tea? I know technically you still owe me that coffee but I’ll be generous and let you off easy this time.”

For good measure you even threw in a wink at the end and your words had the desired effect, breaking the loaded tension completely.

“You cheated! I would’ve won if you hadn’t started early”, he exclaimed but the way he was laughing showed that he was anything but butthurt about the situation.

“Mmm keep telling yourself that, it’s okay”, you kept on teasing as he followed you into your small kitchen that was definitely at maximum capacity with two people in it. You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t enjoy the closeness the tight space prompted though.

With a steaming mug of tea the both of you settled onto your couch shortly after, also small enough to keep you close together. You’d been wanting to buy a bigger one for weeks, but right now you certainly didn’t mind its size.

Masochist.

“Oh I love that one, the chimpanzees are so cute”, Mat said to your surprise as he finally realized what was playing on your tv and you looked at him in utter disbelief. You certainly hadn’t pegged him for a guy that liked to watch nature documentaries but yet here he was, constantly surprising you.

“What? Documentaries are very soothing”, he defended himself and you had to laugh at the way he looked like a little kid with his floppy hair and the cute way his eyebrows had scrunched up.

“I know. That’s why I love watching them as well.”

You hadn’t exactly pictured yourself watching documentaries with him on a Friday night, something that felt way too domestic if you were being honest, but yet here you were.

As the hour grew later both Mat and you sunk further in the cushions and while you had no recollection of how exactly it had happened, your head apparently ended up on his shoulder somehow. Your only regret was that now it wasn’t as easy to sneak glances at him from time to time without him noticing. At one point he’d even wrapped his arm around you, moving both of you into a more comfortable position before covering your bodies with the fuzzy blanket and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulled you to sleep before you even knew it.

The soft sound of your name woke you up sometime later, you weren’t exactly sure how much time had passed but the credits of the second documentary you’d started were already rolling and you were pretty sure you’d only caught the first half of it. In your sleep you’d cuddled up even closer, your arm wrapped around Mat’s midriff and you quickly sat up, embarrassed about turning into a koala in your sleep. Maybe you could blame it on the documentary?

“Sorry for waking you but I should probably head home. Otherwise my back is going to kill me tomorrow.” His voice was a little hoarse and it was obvious that he’d fallen asleep as well, his hair now sticking up in multiple directions. You suppressed a giggle at the disheveled sight of him, instead appreciating that he let down his guard enough for you to see him that way.

“Yeah of course. I’ll show you out.”

“Thank you for tonight. It means a lot to me”, he said quietly as he stood by the door, ready to leave.

“Anytime Mat. Get home safe.” It was the first time you’d called him by his first name, after months of first calling him Barzal then Barzy and he must have noticed as well because his smile could probably make glaciers melt at this point. You weren’t even sure why you’d given up your pathetic way of distancing yourself from him – despite the fact that it was very much obvious that it wasn’t working – but to not call him Mat would feel wrong after this evening.

“Have a good night, Y/N”, he simply said, still smiling as he leaned down to kiss you on the forehead before walking out the door, leaving you speechless.

Tagging: @jamiedrysdales @nazdaddy @itrocksmysocks @yeeehaw-hockey @whitesummerx @teenagekook

#mat barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal imagine #nhl fanfiction #hockey imagine #hockey writing #nhl players #nhl #my writing #new york islanders

93 notes · View notes

mrvdocks · 4 years ago

Text

Selcouth

You shouldn’t have come on this stupid trip. Not even if it had opened you up more to him. If anything, you felt this trip had soured the more time had passed. Alex could tell. But you two had to play it safe, play the parts that Karl thought you two assumed from his perspective. You resented that, having to stick to an image that he had formed of you, one that tried to act like you weren’t so in love with him it made your heart ache.

Or,

You and Alex plan a meet up with Karl for a week trip, only to have your feelings for Karl be put to the test when things don’t pan out how you all planned. (Karl Jacobs/Reader)

After

“Stop it.” He says, voice serious and no longer joyful or even hinting at friendliness. You’ve heard Karl be serious many times but this time sounded different. This time he sounded like he was scolding a child after being annoyed by them repeatedly.

“Stop what?” You ask, pretending to be aloof.

“Stop acting like a child!”

“I’m the one acting like a chil - since when was doing something I want, acting like a child?!”

He makes a hmpf sound. “What is this supposed to be, payback? Is that what you’re playing at?”

“I’m not playing at anything here, Karl. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

He scoffs. “Oh yeah? So you just suddenly developed an interest in Dream overnight, is that it?”

“Honestly, why do you care so much? My love life isn’t up for debate here.”

“Oh and mine was?” He retorts.

You knew he would bring it up, you just knew. It was perfect ammo right now. You stutter to find the right words.

“What - what do you want from me Karl? I don’t need to explain myself to you. Have you considered that maybe I just finally got tired of being alone? That maybe I just needed someone?”

Karl tries to not let this dig push him over the line but his frustration and jealousy wouldn’t let him stop seeing green.

“Is this what you do? You like playing with people's feelings? Do you think screwing my friends is going to help you or is this another one of your phases?”

It feels good in the heat of the moment but he knows he’s messed up as soon as he says it.

Your mouth drops open. Incredible. In-fucking-credible.

You laugh bitterly, trying to put up a strong front but your voice betrays you by cracking. “That’s low, Karl. That’s - really fucking low.”

Instantly regretting it, he tries to make amends but can’t put words together properly. His mind reels, heart races, palms suddenly feel sweaty and all he can manage is your name. “(Y/N)......I -”

You can’t bear to hear another false apology spill from his lips. If that’s how he felt, then there was no changing his mind. No matter how badly you wanted to.

“No you’re right. You’re right. You made your choice and so have I. Goodbye Karl.” You conclude and hang up, throwing your phone across the room. You stare at it until your vision becomes blurry with tears.

Where do you go from here?

Before

You didn’t think that when you first started streaming that you’d end up at the point you were now. You just wanted to have fun with your friends, maybe meet some new people, share your interests along with the loads of games you found amusing. Interestingly enough, your personality and content seemed to resonate with a lot of people.

Pretty soon you’d become one of the top streamers on Twitch behind the other big talent that once dominated your dashboard.

You’d made your way into the big leagues with names like GeorgeNotFound, Dream, Quackity, Nihachu, and even Karl Jacobs. Though you’d met the latter two years ago, you’d become quick friends with Quackity, or Alex(is), having bonded over having similar backgrounds and interests.

He was more like a brother to you than anything, much to the chagrin of many in the chat. You believe it had to do with growing up in a family with mostly girl siblings.

Your collabs with Alex garnered lots of views, with people tuning into the streams to watch you two yell at each other chaotically while playing odd games or attempting to bake things.

Of course, while he did your side of content, that meant you had to hold up your end of the bargain. Minecraft wasn’t your strong suit at first, but as time went on and with some help from both Alex and Karl, you became a little more proficient.

Karl was no stranger to you, not anymore. Alex had introduced you to Karl a little after he started streaming. You’d only really known him from a couple of Jimmy’s videos.

He seemed kind, goofy, friendly, and all around a pretty fun guy to be around. Which is why when you started to fall just a little bit for him, you were surprised. You came into this Twitch thing with one rule. Don’t fall for people.

Things could get messy, it was always a given. The fandoms would tear into you or them, people were unpredictable. It was just better to keep everyone at an arm's length when it came to shipping.

You were thankful nothing had come to fruition from your friendship with Alex. If anything, all you saw were people shipping you platonically. Though you two would often tease each other if one had a crush on someone.

Your dynamic with Alex meant that you had countless ridiculous and outrageous moments together, often documenting them when he would visit you in LA from Mexico or you going to Mexico to see family and stopping by to visit him.

It was starting to become a thing you two did a few times a year. This year was no different. Even when the pandemic seemed to sour your plans, you both promised to stay safe and healthy and limit the trips. So far, this was going to be the first trip you two would be taking anywhere.

Your phone buzzed next to you as you scrolled mindlessly through your discord server. You laughed a bit here and there, looking at memes and chatting with people.

Alex’s text ringtone was him rage quitting during a game where you absolutely obliterated his ass. You either cracked up at the sound of it or jumped in sudden fear when it bounced off the walls of your apartment in the middle of the night.

A: Hey wiener, are you packed?? I know you take like three business days to get ready.

You rolled your eyes. He was supposed to be coming to visit you first before you both made the flight out to see Karl in North Carolina.

Y: Me??? I’ve been packed since last week. I thought you were supposed to be on the flight here already 🙄

A: I may or may not…...already be out. 💀

Your eyes widen. You abandon the chat and hit the FaceTime button. He lets it ring for a good five seconds before he accepts it and greets you with a close up of his face.

“What am I looking at?” You ask, feigning disgust.

“My beautiful face, what else?”

“Really? I thought it was a dog’s asshole.” You chuckle.

He guffaws. “Fuck off! First I get stranded here in LA, then I get some shitty chicken nuggets and now you’re calling me butt ugly! Why does life hate me so much?!”

“Menso! You were supposed to call me when you - wait did you say chicken nuggets?”

“Yeah, I still have the rest but I can’t finish because every time I chew I think of the pink slime.”

“Ugh don’t talk about Supersize Me, I’m still having nightmares about it. Who shows that to little kids??”

“Yeah well it’s shit, Burger King’s better.” He admits, munching down on the nuggets. He chews obnoxiously near the phone speaker to annoy you so you tap at the screen in retaliation.

“Hey, I was supposed to record you trying out American McDonald’s! Why are you taking sweet sweet content away from me? Now no one gets to see you lose your McVirginity!”

He sputters through a mouthful of nuggets and does a combination of coughing and laughing.

“Anyways,” he says, finally nugget free. “You coming or not? I don’t think I wanna sleep on the airport floor.”

“Yeah yeah, I’m coming. I’ll text you when I’m outside.”

The airport was a forty five minute drive, thirty if you stepped on it and committed several traffic violations.

Maybe that would make good content.

You grabbed your keys and rushed out of your home, fully prepared to go fast and furious. You put your windows down, connected your phone to the aux and blasted Tokyo Drift as you merged into the freeway.

Half an hour later, you’d arrived at a packed airport pick up area and texted Alex to let him know you’d arrived. He replied that he was starting to feel the effect of the chicken nuggets but that he would push through people to get out of the building before he caught anything from anyone.

Once you could make out his figure up ahead in front of the other cars, you got the bright idea to switch your music to something more interesting. You pulled up one of his videos where he was fully invested in a rendition of Hey There Delilah and honked excessively once you got closer to him. He looked around and pulled his beanie down lower to hide his face in embarrassment.

You and the prerecorded Quackity sang in off key unison with the volume up as much as you could before he threw his luggage and bags into your backseat, hopped into the passenger seat and put the volume down.

“Never do that again.”

“Hey, that was your welcome salute. I don’t do that for other people, you’re special and I like it.”

“Could you try liking me a little less? I could do without all the cringe covers.” He laughed to himself as he buckled up.

The ride home consisted of a mix of very poor and impressive impressions of characters that would’ve annoyed nearly anyone else except you. Alex alternated from a gruff impression of Squidward to a raunchy Mickey Mouse that left you doubling over and gripping the steering wheel. You competed with him, doing your worst impression of Cookie Monster and Goofy.

Your impression competition was interrupted by a phone call, Karl’s photo flashing flipped a panic switch in you as you scrambled to grab your phone. Alex takes your phone and extends his arm far from your reach.

“Ah, ah, ah! No texting and driving! You want to kill us or something?!”

“I need to answer! What if he thinks I’m ignoring him?”

“I got it, I got it.” He assures, sliding the bar to unlock the phone and meet Karl face to face.

Karl makes a surprised sound, greeting Alex almost immediately.

“Hey bub!” You chime in, keeping your eyes on the road but getting a glimpse of Karl in his frog outfit.

“Hi! Sorry, I didn’t know you were driving.”

“No it’s okay! I’m just coming back from picking up this idiot.”

“Who you calling idiot, dumbass?” Alex suddenly burst into his Mickey Mouse voice from earlier, ending it with the iconic Mickey laugh.

Karl seemed to eat it up, breaking into laughter. It was infectious enough to make you chuckle.

“You guys excited for the trip? It’s looking really pretty here this time of year. I can’t wait to show you around.”

“You mean show us your sweater collection?” Alex jabs.

You nudge him roughly to the side as a warning, glaring at him when he glances at you.

You’d hoped that the change of scenery would do you some good. LA was an endless heap of heat that you never could seem to escape. Not even with air conditioning. It was October already, which normally would mean Fall, orange leaves, pumpkins everywhere, a complete shift in temperature, right? Nope.

It was the devil’s asshole all year round, something Alex could attest to.

“Don’t mind him, I think he was dropped as a kid.”

“How dare you! There is nothing wrong with me, I’m perfect.”

“Ha! Sure. As if you don’t have a lot of things wrong with you.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

You tap at the time on your screen, “We don’t have enough time to get into it.”

You turn your attention back to Karl, very attentive to your bickering, small chuckles here and there. It wasn’t until he made eye contact with you that you felt your hands falter on the wheel. You were lucky enough that it didn’t make you stray away from the road.

“Um - you know what? We’ll call you later, we’re almost home anyways.”

“Okay! Be safe! Goodnight. ” Karl bids you both goodbye and poses his phone in front of him in order to hug it from afar, as if to hug both you and Alex.

You groan to yourself, pretending to bang your head against the steering wheel as soon as you pull up to your complex. Alex laughs at your misery.

“Oh man, you really are down BAD.”

“Shut up! I regret telling you things sometimes.”

“No one said you had to! I guess I just have one of those faces.” He Chad swipes at his chin and squints at you.

“Yeah, punch able.” You remark with a quirk of your brow, slipping out of the car and heading to your front door.

Alex follows, grabbing his things in a hurry before you can get the chance to lock him out and leave him to sleep with the coyotes.

“Don’t leave me out here! I’m too delicious to die!” He cries.

You’re awoken by the feeling of warm sunlight on the left side of your face. You hesitate to move, feeling tired already even though you’re sure you slept longer than you should’ve.

You prop yourself up by your elbows, shielding your face from the sun with your hand. You get out of bed groggily, staring at the floor for a second before making your way to the living room and finding Alex sleeping in a weird position.

Amused, you rush back into your room and grab your phone to document this moment and post it on Twitter. However when you return, he’s gone. You lean over the couch to check if he’s hiding behind it but he’s nowhere to be found.

You’re about to crouch to check for his feet or any sign of him when you feel fingers dig in your sides. You yelp in fear and surprise, smacking your attacker until he starts to yell in a shrill voice.

Alex pushes you over the couch making you fall on your ass.

“WHAT THE HELL?!” You scream.

“That’s what you get for trying to take pictures of me!”

You try to stand, rubbing at your sore ass. “Ugh, what are you, a cryptid or something? The people have a right to see!”

“No one gets to see me in the morning! No one! I need my beauty sleep more than you.”

He extends a helping hand for you to take in a moment of truce but you take advantage and pull him down with you to land on his back. He groans when he hits the ground and curses at you in Spanish.

“Play time’s over, we gotta get ready. The plane leaves in…..one hour????!”

Your phone says it’s only nine in the morning but you hazily remember the tickets reading ten thirty.

“No way! I have to take a shower, I have to order food….” He begins, counting on his fingers the various things he suddenly had to do but you stop him by running into your room and getting your bags.

“No time! Brush your teeth, get dressed, I’ll buy us something at the airport.”

“NOOOO! Airport food is disgusting! Can’t we stop somewhere?”

“Like I said, no time! We gotta be out of here in thirty minutes.”

He grumbles under his breath.

“I heard that!” You yell behind you, grabbing a towel and turning on your shower.

After Alex rummaged through your kitchen, stuffed himself with some snacks and an alarming amount of frozen food, you urged him to shower in the little time span you had left and ordered a ride to take you to the airport.

You had to basically pull him away from putting on his finishing touches with his beanie, with him complaining that his hair wouldn’t settle under it the way he wanted. You rolled your eyes and shoved him and your stuff into the Uber and kissed California goodbye.

You two started planning what you’d do in NC as soon as you landed, besides getting food. You could practically hear Alex’s stomach grumbling the whole drive to the airport and even after the Uber gave him some snacks.

There was a sense of urgency that made your stomach twist in knots until you’d arrived at the drop off section. You stuck your tickets in your pocket as you hurried Alex, dragging him and urging him to run faster than he’d ever imagined to catch the plane.

With only minutes to spare, you didn’t realize you were holding your breath until you panted and tried to regain it once you were at the gate. Alex makes a joke about you being out of breath to the pretty attendant that you make a note of later, just in case he tried to flirt with her.

Alex followed the attendant like a puppy while you popped your phone out from your pocket and snapped a photo of the plane. You debated sending it to Karl, not sure if wanting your boarding to be a surprise or not. You relented to posting it on Twitter and sending it to Karl.

Big things coming ;) You tweeted, exiting out of the app as quickly as you’d posted it, knowing you’d be flooded with notifications.

You switched over to message, sending it to Karl but unsure if he would be awake right now. Maybe it would make his day better.

On our way! See you soon! :))

You ran to catch up with Alex, finding him still talking to the attendant. In the most bitchy voice you could muster, you hugged him from the side and nestled your head into his shoulder.

“I’m so happy we’re going on vacation babe, thank you!”

His face fell, the attendant suddenly losing interest and suggesting the two of you find your seats. You intertwine your hands with his and hold it up, making a joke about how you two were inseparable.

He suppresses the urge to fight you and instead screams internally, whisper yelling to you as you both sit. “You couldn’t let me be a Chad once? Just once!”

“That’s what you get for slamming me on my ass earlier.”

#karl jacobs x reader #mcyt #yes I am aware that alex and karl might be a little OC #but I really wanted to get this chapter out of the way #myct fanfiction #myct imagines #dream smp

67 notes · View notes

nicb0723 · 4 years ago

Text

Find Your Worth

John Wick x Reader

Summary: You meet John in an unconventional way.

Notes: Depression trigger warning

Word Count: 11,754

Read Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Before work you go grocery shopping and run some errands. You clean up a lot and wonder how the hell John’s personality will fit in your tiny apartment. He doesn’t say much but he can be so intense. You can’t imagine the two of you together, alone, in this tiny space.

In the bathroom you hesitate as you pick up your prescription. The doctor thought it would take the edge off your anxiety, and make the depression manageable. She also made sure you were seeing someone for therapy. For now, the pill once a day does work. You can breathe. You can function. You’d be a fool to think all of your problems would disappear overnight. You still have a long road of recovery ahead, but this makes it less overwhelming. You place the little plastic container in the medicine cabinet, somewhere John won’t see it. You wouldn’t put it past him if he snooped, but in a way you're proud that you were able to talk about your problems and get some help.

At work Sam is with you and currently making fun of your limp after you tell him why there’s a bruise on your foot. He’s asking if you want him to go buy you a cane when John waltzes in, hair slicked back and suit jacket blowing from the wind. How someone can look like a model in a gas station you’ll never know. He stares until you go to him and ask what the hell he’s doing here.

“Getting gas.” He answers and reaches for his wallet.

You don’t say anything and ring him up, glancing outside to his car parked in spot one.

Sam is watching you two interact and he has the biggest grin on his face. Is that your boyfriend? He mouths behind John’s back and you cough in shock. No, and yeah right, like you could ever get a guy like John in a million years.

“Hello!” Sam says loudly and teasingly bumps your hip with his behind the counter.

John raises an eyebrow and glances to you first, then nods to Sam. “Hi.”

“John, this is Sam my co-worker and Sam, this is John my um… friend?”

True surprise flickers in John’s brown eyes and he looks pleased, a slow small smile spreads on his lips.

“She’s actually my boss, but nice to meet you.” Sam says and his attention is drawn to the classic car outside and the gushing begins.

You let the two of them talk until you hear John offer to show him the engine and they both move to go outside. “Hey, I’ll see you later?”

Sam smirks and you nod at John, wondering how he knows where you live. It’s a little weird that he broke into your place just to fix a leaking faucet and he was in your apartment without you even knowing. In the back of your mind, you think that it’s actually pretty thoughtful. You mindlessly wonder why he would waste his time though. Why he would do any of the things that he did. He said that he would help anyone in the same situation as you, but you’ve been thinking about that question since the day at the lake, and you’re too scared to ask him. You’re scared to see the look on his face, the look of pity because that’s all you can think that he’ll say.

You hear John’s car peel away and Sam comes back inside, still grinning like an idiot.

“What?” You ask, not really wanting to know.

“Nothing.” Sam hops up on the counter and he knows he’s not supposed to sit there. “I think he likes you.”

“And what makes you say that.” You deadpan, pushing at his butt with the tip of your pen.

Sam slides down and knocks over a display of gum. “He told me to look out for you.”

“Oh yeah? I can see you’d be very threatening.” You point to the packs of gum all over the floor.

He bends down and starts to pick up the mess. “What’d you need looking out for anyway?”

“Nothing, he's just being protective I guess.”

Sam looks at you with concern. “From what?”

“Nothing. I promise, okay?”

For the rest of the night Sam shows you his karate moves and chops up air until closing time.

John is folded up in the corner of your couch with his legs crossed at the knees and his black leather shoe tapping your coffee table. He’s reading one of the old magazines you have laying around.

“How was work?” He asks, folding the magazine shut, like this is the most normal thing in the world.

You check the locks on your door to see if they’re broken, but they’re not. You turn the handle again to make sure the door is shut all the way.

“I should probably give you a key if you’re going to let yourself in.”

John shrugs. “If you want.”

Tossing your purse on the kitchen table you make your way to the living room and sit on the chair across from the couch. John looks so out of place, but you can tell he’s trying to blend in, make himself belong in your little apartment.

“Who’s taking care of your dog while you’re here?” You ask, kicking your feet up.

“Pooch? The little girl next door. She loves him.”

You let out a surprised laugh. “Don’t tell me you actually named him Pooch. I don’t even think that’s an actual word, I think my grandma made it up.”

John shrugs again you can tell he’s definitely not a man to waste any words. “It stuck. It’s... cute.”

“Cute? I can’t see you thinking anything is cute.” You grin and stand up to take your jacket and shoes off to get more comfortable. You can hear him mutter something under his breath, but can’t catch it. “So do we know if Max is officially out yet?”

“No, I’m waiting for the call though. I’ll know as soon as it happens.”

You don’t have any doubt. “Do you want something to eat or drink?” You open the refrigerator for some juice. ”I usually have a snack when I get home. Feel free to take anything you want.”

John tries to settle back on the couch but he seems stiff. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“You can take off your tie and your jacket at least. You’ll probably be here for awhile.” You call out to him, your head sticking in the cupboard looking for the popcorn you put in there earlier.

John doesn’t move and you gesture for him to get up as you crawl back in your chair with a bag of food.

“You sure about that?”

“Yes of course I’m sure. Why would I not be sure?” You look at him like he’s crazy as he slowly stands and oh… that’s why.

The suit jacket comes off and he carefully lays it over the side table. His slender waist is circled with a large utility belt with three guns, two clips, and probably a knife. The sight makes your eyes widen. He stares at you as he slowly unfastens the buckle and gently places it on top of his jacket.

“Don’t go near that.” He points sternly and sits back down, this time more comfortable. He takes his cell phone out of his pocket and sets it on the couch next to him.

“Definitely not. Are you planning on using any of that?”

“Scare tactic.”

Silence fills the room as you crunch on your popcorn and you’re actually feeling pretty tired. You’d like to go to bed, but you’re not sure what John’s plans are exactly.

“So how is this going to happen?” You ask. “Are you going to come to work with me too? Are you going to run my errands with me? I mean, I’d love the company but I don’t see you wandering around Target for an hour.”

“I don’t mind going to Target with you.” His voice is so serious you can’t help but smile. “I don’t think he’ll come around during the day though. He wants you alone. Scared. Vulnerable. And I have my cop friend keeping an eye on you at work. It’s on his beat anyway.”

“Okay.” That all sounds reasonable. Dread and doubt suddenly take hold of you. “Look, maybe I’m wrong? Maybe he won’t bother with me and we can just forget about it? Maybe there’s nothing to worry about at all.”

John shakes his head. “I read his record. It’s not good.”

Well, crap. You don’t want to talk about Max anymore and you don’t want to ask the one question that’s been hounding your mind. You’re still too scared to know the reason John is here, so you ask something else. “Are you ever going to sleep? You can’t stay up all night waiting.”

“I’ll sleep until I know he’s out.” John says easily. “Then after that I have motion detection alerts on my phone from the camera outside your floor.”

You blink at him. “There are cameras on the door of the elevator?”

“There are now.”

“How’d that happen?” You’ve never noticed any security cameras anywhere.

“I talked to Francis, the apartment manager. He’s a nice guy.”

You blink at him again. “I know, but he only speaks Russian. How’d you talk to him?”

John smirks and says, “Bez truda.”

It’s all a little too much and you get up, shaking your head in disbelief. “How is this my life right now? How do I get myself into these things? I have an assassin in my apartment… I’m going to take a shower!” You announce after a minor anxiety attack. “Feel free to turn on the TV, get comfortable, whatever you want.”

The water feels good as you scrub away the day. It relaxes you until swarming thoughts of John sitting on your couch make you hurry out of the tub and wrap yourself in the flannel bathrobe you always wear. Before you lose your nerve you walk back into the living room and find John where you left him, now looking at his phone.

“They’re just starting to process paperwork. That means it’ll be a few hours.” John’s talking, but doesn’t look up. You start to brush your wet hair out and twist it loosely on top of your head for the night. Usually you’d smear face cream all over but that obviously is not going to happen.

“Look, John. I know we hardly know each other, but you can sleep in the bed, okay?” You start to turn off the kitchen lights and check the front door one more time to make sure it’s locked. “It’s plenty big enough and I would just feel better.”

He’s looking at you with warm eyes now, his mouth open but nothing is coming out. It’s like his brain turned a switch and decided something important. Whatever he’s thinking must be big because his whole demeanor changes. You can’t quite figure it out, but he seems content to be here with you, where just a few moments ago he had a guard up and was struggling with something on his mind. Somehow and unknowingly, you sense that you’ve just started to break down his wall. You have no idea what you did, you’re just being yourself, but for the first time John is vulnerable. He’s blinking slowly, as if he’s seeing you for the first time in a new light, or finally giving himself permission to really see you.

It doesn’t matter though, because you know you look like a complete dork in your bathrobe and suddenly you feel incredibly stupid. Shame floods your stomach and you almost feel sick. Of course, this man wouldn’t want to be in the same bed as you. He’d probably rather die. You can’t believe you even suggested it. Also, your therapist would be terribly disappointed in you for talking down to yourself like this.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

He stands up and grabs a small leather bag you hadn’t seen by the widow. “Yes. If it’ll make you feel safer.”

No. No. That’s not how you wanted it to happen. You wanted John to want to sleep in the bed, not because you asked him. “Listen, I didn’t mean… I’ll take the couch, okay? You probably don’t want to share the bed with me, I totally understand. And you’re doing me a favor and I just want you to be comfortable.”

Utter confusion crosses his handsome face. He scratches at his beard with long fingers, trying to make sense of what you want. “What good would that do? With you sleeping on the couch?”

You stammer and can feel a flush develop on your cheeks. “I just thought… I don’t know.”

“If you rather, I can book you a room in a hotel for a few nights. I won’t… do anything to you. I can promise you that.”

Oh God. This conversation could not get any worse. You’re horrified that he thinks something like that and you try terribly to explain. “No, no that’s not what I meant. I don’t want to go to a hotel. I just meant that um, you probably don’t want to share a bed with someone like me.”

“Someone like you?”

The flush is creeping up to your neck as you become more embarrassed. You point at your bathrobe and general dorkiness. “Yeah, like someone… not… exactly… uh… cute?”

He seems to realize what you’re trying to say and laughs a little. “Well it’s a good thing there’s no one not cute in this apartment. I don’t know how I could ever sleep.” He walks towards you and gently tucks the hair that had fallen in your eyes behind your ears. It’s very intimate and you feel yourself start to smile. “Can we go to bed now?” He moves his arm out for you to lead the way and you feel silly. John is a nice guy. Even if he really didn’t want to sleep in the same bed as you, he probably still would because it’s what you wanted.

“Yeah, sorry.” You mumble and walk into the bedroom with him following. There’s not much clutter and it’s pretty bare besides the newly bought self help books on the nightstand and regular girly stuff littered on the dresser. John throws his bag on the floor and you grab some pajamas for yourself, heading to the bathroom to change.

When you come back John is wearing a white t-shirt and soft blue sleep pants. He’s incredibly adorable and you can’t believe your luck of having him in your room right now. He must’ve grabbed his phone and weapons because they’re both on the nightstand on his side of the bed.

He looks you up and down in your tank top and shorts as you plop on the mattress, quickly getting under the covers.

“This okay?” He asks and points to his own clothes. Was he expecting for you to want him to sleep in his suit?

“Yeah of course. But... can you fight in pajamas?” You wrinkle your nose and tease him. “That’s not very assassin-y.”

He barks out a laugh and lays down, but he doesn’t get under the sheets. His feet are bare and long, and you keep peeking at his toes. “I think it’ll be fine.”

You roll over and face him. He’s looking up at the ceiling with his arms crossed behind his head.

“I can’t believe you’re here right now.”

He doesn’t move. “Why?”

Your eyes start to become heavy and you watch his chest move up and down in slow rhythmic breaths. “People don’t usually do nice things for me. I’m used to being on my own.”

With that he shifts on his side, towards you. His hair falls in his eyes and you long to brush it away. “I can tell.”

“I don’t like asking for help.”

“You never asked me for anything.” John points out. There’s plenty of space between the both of you and flop your arm towards his side, pointing at him teasingly.

“Oh, I distinctly remember asking you to do one very specific thing and you failed.”

He squirms from the quick stabs of your pointer finger at his ribs. “I don’t know, I think things turned out pretty perfect.”

You scoff and roll to your stomach now, sliding your arms under the pillow. “Perfect? Yeah right, I’m sure this is the last place you want to be.”

“It is perfect. This bed is very comfortable.” John finally gets under the blankets and you giggle sleepily. His cologne is stirred by his movement and you savor the spicy smell.

“It’s new. I got a raise at work. I’m an assistant manager now.” You tell him proudly, even though you know it’s not that big of an accomplishment.

“Oh excuse me, Miss Assistant Manager.” John smiles and acts extremely impressed. “Congratulations, by the way. I should take you out to celebrate.”

You have no idea if he’s serious or not so you just laugh and snuggle down more into the bed. After a minute you ask, “Do you think Max will come tonight?”

John pauses, thinking. “Hard to say. He doesn’t have a good past. He has friends in high places who will probably help him. How’d you meet a guy like that anyway?”

“How is that you know my name, where I live, my phone number, where I work, what car I drive… literally everything about me and you don’t know that?”

John brushes the hair from his eyes and you can see the tan line around his ring finger has started to finally fade. “That’s just part of the job.”

“Fixing leaking water faucets is part of being an assassin?” You ask, teasing again.

A sweet pink flush spreads on John’s cheeks. “Shush.”

“That’s what I thought.”

He pretends to glare. “Maybe it is. You don’t know.”

“You’re right, I don’t know.” You yawn and let your eyes fall close. “Can I tell you tomorrow though? I’m gonna pass out.”

You hear the click of the side lamp turn off and you want to stay awake, to soak in this moment a little more but sleep is overpowering and you drift off into a peaceful rest.

Until about two o’clock in the morning, and then you start to toss and turn. You swear there’s a noise out in the living room but you also know you’re probably being paranoid. You can see the shape of John’s body just a few inches away and you want to reach over to him.

“Hey.” He whispers and his voice startles you still. “Are you okay?”

“No.” You sit up a little and look towards your bedroom door. There’s a stream of light from the street lamps coming in through the window, but other than that it’s dark. “I thought I heard something.”

“It was just the air kicking on. You’re fine.”

“Are you sure?”

You feel John’s palm rest on your arm and squeeze. “Positive.”

“Is he out? Did you get a text or anything?”

“Hey, don’t worry about anything, okay? I promise you’re safe.”

You fall back on the bed with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

You're wide awake and this whole situation is baffling. John Wick is in your bed, squeezing your arm and comforting you.

“Isn’t being an assassin illegal?” You blurt out, the darkness giving you courage, and you instantly regret asking the question because he pulls away.

“It’s the only thing I’m good at.” He says quietly. “Trust me, I tried to retire and I got sucked back in somehow. People seem to want only me for really hard jobs.”

“Couldn’t you get arrested or something if you got caught? Could I get in trouble with you being here?”

“No. Sometimes cops need bad guys to go away too. You won’t get in trouble.”

“Oh.”

“Feel better now?”

“Yeah. Sorry, I just don’t always get myself into the best situations. I feel really safe with you, I just…” You don’t meet an assassin everyday. You have no idea what it really means.

“It’s fine.”

“I don’t want to offend you.”

He laughs softly and his fingers brush the back of your arm now. “Nothing you ever ask will offend me. It’s actually quite refreshing. I just hope…”

You wait for him to finish, but he seems to be gathering his thoughts and you don’t want to rush him.

“I hope you can think of me as a friend before an assassin. And I hope that I don’t scare you.”

“I don’t scare easily.” You mumble and yawn, glancing back to your bedroom door. You ignore the friend comment because you feel like you’ve already been through hell and back. You don’t know if you could consider John as a friend and then lose him someday. It might break you all over again. But then you think of how far you’ve come. “I could probably take Max. I could get him to leave me alone now that I have my mind straight.”

“You think so?” John is sincere and you can hear he’s happy at your mental growth.

“Yeah maybe. As long as he’s clean and not hopped up on something. Then it might be harder.”

“I guess we’ll see.” John checks his phone and puts it down again after looking briefly at it. “Are you going to be able to get back to sleep?”

“Yes. I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

“Stop apologizing.” He shifts to his side, with his back to you.

It’s a strong, solid back with his shoulder blades poking out from underneath his t-shirt. You stare until your eyes feel heavy again. You feel safe.

The next time you wake up the sun is blaring from the window and John is gone. His leather bag is still by the bed though, but his suit jacket and all of his guns are gone too.

You start to go about your business, not believing John would leave you alone if you were in any kind of danger. It’s almost creepy how your phone alerts a few seconds later with a text, like he knows that you’re up.

No need to worry. I know where he is. I’ll see you later tonight. Let me know if anything happens.

You text back sounds good and John tells you to have a nice day.

It just so happens that you have the next two days off from work and you don’t know what to do with yourself. Your foot still hurts from the baseball bat incident so you zone out in front of the TV for a while, trying to forget all of your problems. That doesn’t really work so the next best thing is to venture through the kitchen. You have snacks but not much else. Maybe it would be nice if you could fix John a nice dinner or something, for hanging out with you and like, protecting you from a shitty ex boyfriend.

Some nice meat might do the trick. A nice steak with a potato and veggies. One thing grandma did that was awesome? Was to teach you how to cook. Wanting to actually cook was a different story for the last few years, the thought making you ill when you were practically a walking zombie, but now the thought excites you. It’s also different to cook for someone than just yourself because it’s usually not worth all the hassle.

Quickly, you get dressed and head out to the nearby grocery store. It's quiet and you take your time walking down the aisles with your cart, wondering what sorts of things John likes to eat. He probably stays healthy but a part of you thinks that he might have a sweet tooth. You grab everything you need, including some pie for dessert and head back home to get started.

There’s a ton of food so you text John to come over hungry and don’t eat any dinner.

He doesn’t reply back immediately and your stomach starts to sink. What if this is too much? Is this weird? It’s just dinner, right? Friends have dinner together. John has to eat sometime.

He eventually texts back a simple okay and you take it for what it is. There’s nothing you can do about it now, and since you’ve never really cooked in this kitchen before, if it turns out terrible you can always order pizza.

It doesn’t turn out terrible, in your opinion, and you’re actually impressed with yourself. There’s a knock on the door right when you're finishing setting the table and John scolds you for not asking who it was before opening the door. He’s still in the middle of his speech when he gets a whiff of steak and sees that the table is set nicely.

“What’s all this?” He asks, smoothing down his expensive silk tie.

You pull out a chair for him to sit down. “It’s just a little thank you.”

He doesn’t look happy with that answer.

“It’s me making my friend dinner… randomly?” You try again.

He laughs and nods, accepting that instead and removes his suit jacket, draping it over the back of his chair. “Do you mind if I…” He points to his waist and waits for you to nod before unclipping the belt, putting it in the bedroom for the night.

“Wine? Beer?” You ask, debating which you want.

“Usually I would, but…”

You understand that he’s working, even though he’d hate it if you said it aloud, and put them both away. “How about some ice tea?”

“Sure.” John sits and folds a napkin in his lap. He’s watching you and when you bring over a plate full of food there’s an unmistaken gasp. “Wow, this is amazing. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing.” You sit down too and pass him the salt and pepper. “I forgot how much fun it is to cook. I haven’t made anything since grandma was sick and I stopped eating. But today it was like she was in the kitchen with me.” You stop and close your eyes, embarrassed. “Sorry, that was weird to say.”

“Not the weirdest thing you’ve ever said to me.” He reminds you hesitantly, but with a small smile.

Heat warms your cheeks and you have to chuckle in agreement. “True. I feel like that was so long ago though. I’m like a different person now. You must’ve thought I was crazy.” You don’t say that you’re grateful you accidentally gave your phone number to a police informant. That it was John who showed up that day. That it wasn’t some crook who could’ve used a few hundred dollars.

“I didn’t think you were crazy.” John takes a big bite of steak and moans a little. “This is really good. I haven’t had a home cooked meal in a long time.”

“You don’t cook much?” You ask, waiting for him to make another noise of pleasure.

“I hate cooking for just myself.” He says, but otherwise he is disappointingly quiet.

You take a bite of vegetables and nod in agreement, trying to hide your swelling of excitement. Well, that’s that. He is single. No big deal, you tell yourself to calm the hell down in your head. It doesn't matter anyway. It’s not like anything would ever happen. “So, you didn’t think I was crazy? What did you think?”

John puts down his fork and looks at you, his chin resting on his hand thoughtfully. “I thought you looked really tired. That you needed help and had nowhere else to turn.”

You gently rub a finger under your eye, where you know there used to be darkened circles. Now your eyes are bright and alive. You blush at his observation.

“What’d you think when you saw me?” He asks, interested again in his steak but keeping an attentive ear to everything you say.

You don’t know why, but you feel a surge of confidence. “I thought I was talking to the most attractive hitman in all of New York and that there was no way I could afford your... business.”

John raises an eyebrow and laughs. “Really?”

Shrugging, you take another bite of food and swallow. “I don’t know what I was really thinking, honestly. It was not my best day. I just wanted to get the conversation over with. I wasn’t in the right mindset.”

“But therapy is going well?”

You’re not surprised that he knew about that, but it does make you pause that he actually asked. “Definitely. It’s going very well. And she’s a fan of you, by the way.”

“Me?”

“Don’t worry, she thinks you're an undercover cop.”

John leans over his plate, trying to get closer to you. “What exactly do you say about me?”

“That’s personal!”

“Fine.” He leans back now in his chair and crosses his arms, fake disappointment in a pout on his lips. “Then I won’t tell you about what I found out today.”

You glare at him. “Isn’t that blackmail?”

“Or extortion.” He shrugs, waiting for you to answer.

“Ugh.” You roll your eyes and sigh. “I told her about all of the nice stuff you did for me, even though it was creepy, and how you probably saved my life.”

He blinks at that, obviously not expecting you to be so forward. “Oh. And what did she say?”

“She said to be careful about you breaking into my place and stealing my car… but that it sounded like I made a really good friend.”

John is suddenly silent and tucks a stray piece of hair behind his ear. His voice is quiet when he finally speaks. “Just… just a friend?”

Your stomach does a little flip and you’re not sure where he’s going with this. “I’m pretty sure all I can have is friends right now.” You tell him slowly, trying to get all of your words exactly right. “I need to find my worth, be happy with myself… before I can do that for someone else, you know?”

John nods and his eyes are sad for a brief second but when he looks up at you, he’s proud. “I think that’s great. And I’m happy to help remind you that you’re pretty awesome.”

“Reminders are nice.” You tell him with a small smile. “Especially considering they come from a bad ass assassin.”

John chuckles and finishes his steak. He loosens his tie and unbuttons the top button of his dress shirt. He looks a little tired and you wonder what he did all day.

“So what were you going to tell me?”

“Oh, right. Max. He seems to be doing well. He’s living with his mom across town and he was spotted going into an AA meeting.”

You’re stunned. In a good way. “Really? He was always such a heavy drinker. That’s where I met him. At the bar across the street from the hospital. When visiting hours were over and I didn’t have to work, I’d go there a lot. And well, I guess he spotted a weak one.” You think back to those days when he was nice to you at first, which quickly changed into becoming manipulative and controlling. The final straw was when he said that you couldn’t visit your grandmother anymore. You lost it and he raised a hand at you, several times. You never want to be that weak. Ever again. “Well that’s good news, right?”

“Yeah.” John rubs at his beard. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t relapse.”

You stand up and start to clear the dishes from the table. “So you don’t have to stay the night, probably.”

“No, I’ll stay at least one more night. Just to be safe.”

You give him a disapproving look. You really hate to waste his time.

“Seriously, I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I wasn’t here. One more night and I’ll be out of your hair.”

That’s not at all what you meant by giving him a look so you just shake your head. “It’s nice to have the company. I just don’t think my apartment is where you want to spend your nights.”

“And where exactly do you think I spend my nights?”

The sink is full of soap and John stands to clear the rest of the plates and cups. “I picture this really fancy nightclub or rave with techno music and neon lights and beautiful women dancing around you.”

John hands over a plate and looks at you like you’re nuts. “You have a very vivid imagination.”

“Oh, like that’s never happened.” You deadpan.

“Well, I can’t say never... “ John leans against the counter and offers to help you.

“No, I got it but thank you. And also, I knew it. I just don’t see you like… dancing to techno music.” You make a face and stick out your tongue a little. You hate techno.

John laughs. “I don’t go there to dance. If I’m at a club or something it’s usually for work.”

“Ah, I see.” You move to get the dish rag to dry the silverware. “So, where do all the beautiful women throw themselves at you?”

He’s not really paying attention when he answers and he’s looking at something on the ground. “Well lately it’s been at a lake and a local gas station. Is that a bruise?” John bends down and slowly traces the swirls of black and blue colors on top of your foot. The touch stings a little but you hold still.

“Oh uh... “ God, how stupid. You didn’t think it was that noticeable. “Yeah.”

“Your whole foot is swollen.” His eyes are huge when he stands up and looks at you, his hands on his hips. “What happened?” He growls out and you push past him, considerably embarrassed and turned on all at once.

“I did it to myself, okay? It’s not a big deal.”

“You’re limping.” He exasperates, but he gently puts an arm around your waist and helps guide you to sit down. You put your foot on the coffee table and it does look worse than it did yesterday, puffy and colorful.

You grimince and don’t want to tell him. “It was just a silly accident. Sam at work already made fun of me, so let’s just forget it.”

John disappears to the kitchen and you can hear ice being gathered. He comes back and sits on the coffee table, slowly moving your foot to his lap and putting a towel full of ice by your toes, where the worst of the purples are blooming.

“You really don’t have to do that. It’s not that bad. I was just on my feet all day and I didn’t think about it. It’ll be back to normal by tomorrow.”

His fingers are so gentle around your ankle and you can’t help but to stare at his big hand surrounding your delicate bones. “Hey.” John taps on your skin until you look up at him. “You’re worth being taken care of, okay?”

Well, he got you there damnit. “Oh, that’s a good one.” You’re impressed and you let him hold your foot, sitting back to relax. Your therapist would be really pleased that you let someone help you.

“Are you going to tell me or are we going to sit here all night?”

You briefly tell him how you got the bruise and his fingers stop tracing over your skin long enough for him to laugh. Loudly.

“It’s not that funny.” You scowl at him.

“It’s really funny.” He’s snickering now and you swear there’s a tear at his eye. He moves to wipe it away and mumbles something like, “you are the cutest... “ and then clears his throat and straightens up. “You’ll have to show me your moves.”

“Uh, no, I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough for tonight, thank you.”

John rubs at your ankle again, squeezing around your leg lightly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be mean to the patient.”

“Exactly right.” You agree and smirk when you think of payback. “You gonna kiss it better?”

Without hesitation John takes off the towel and presses his lips to your cold skin. All you can do is stare at his beard and then at the teal nail polish on your toes. You’re speechless.

“It didn’t seem to work.” John says, disappointment in his voice. “I guess I’ll have to work on my technique.”

He says that last part suggestively and you sit up in the chair, ready to change the subject. “I got dessert. You like pie, right?”

“Do I like pie? What kind of question is that?”

“Can you get it?” You smile sweetly at him. “It’s on the counter.”

He gives you a knowing look but lifts your foot to get up. You can see his reflection in the window as he moves around in your kitchen and you watch him in disbelief. You realize you’ve never had anyone in your apartment. Not even grandma, she was already too sick when you got it. Max always made you go to his place. John comes back with one plate and two forks, a big slice for both of you to share.

“This is the best anyone has ever paid me to do a job.” He jokes and you smile back, taking a fork and scooping a bite for yourself.

You point to an envelope on your desk. “Speaking of getting paid… I know it’s not much, but I did promise you--”

“I was kidding.” John cuts you off. His face is instantly annoyed and hurt.

“John, please.” Your foot is still propped up on the coffee table and you can’t really move. “I just thought I’d offer.”

“Well, take it back.” He says and you put your hands up in defense, silently telling him not to be mad. “And you just lost pie privileges.”

“What?”

He stands up and walks over to the couch, as far away from you as possible. “Yeah that’s right. I’m eating all of this myself.”

You huff and struggle to sit up. “That is a radical punishment.”

“You need to learn your lesson.” He takes another big bite, making a show of it.

“That’s it.” You get up and hobble over to him, practically falling into his side and he lets out a grunt when you accidentally lean into his ribs. You decide to just lay where you are for now, you can’t move if you wanted to. “John, seriously. Pie please.”

He shakes his head with amusement and feeds you a small piece. You take it happily and let your head rest on his shoulder while he finishes and feeds you some more until it’s gone. Both of you are quiet. This is the closest you’ve ever been and you just want to feel his warmth. You know eventually you have to move so you peer up at him and smile. “You have blueberry on your lip.” You tell him, reaching to smudge it off with your thumb. At the same time he licks at it and you both laugh.

“C’mon, cripple. I’m helping you to bed.” He tells you, putting the plate and fork down on the coffee table. You use his thigh to get yourself up and he steadies your waist as you balance on one foot. You’re standing between his legs and he’s looking up at you with the sweetest eyes.

“Thank you for dinner.” His voice is sincere and determined to get his appreciation across.

You put your hands on his shoulders and lean some of your weight on him. “John… thank you. Thank you for everything.” And with that you let yourself drop down and you hug him hard. He pulls you close and rubs his hands over your back. His hair brushes your cheek and you breathe in deeply, his scent rushing to your head in the most pleasant high.

Awkwardly, you push yourself away and he grabs at your hands. “You want me to carry you to bed?”

You shoot him a glare and he laughs, letting you wobble towards your bedroom while he takes care of the dishes and turns out all the lights.

When he’s satisfied everything is in the right place, he walks into your bedroom and stands in the doorway, watching you while you sit on the bed and tie your hair up over your head for the night.

“What?”

John breaks his stare and walks around to the other side of the bed. “Nothing.”

“Do you want to watch TV or something?” You ask, grabbing the remote to the set up you have on your dresser. You tend to fall asleep to sitcoms rather than complete silence with thoughts running through your mind at full speed.

“Actually do you mind if I take a shower?” He asks. “I did a lot of running around.”

Your mouth goes dry and you try to get it together before he notices. “Did you get all sweaty tracking Max today?” You guess, smiling when he looks impressed that you got it right. “See, I could totally be an assassin!” Your smile fades when he points to your foot. “Okay, well I could be an assassin’s secretary. I could like, get all the payments and make appointments and travel arrangements and get your guns cleaned and all that stuff!”

He walks around to his bag and gathers a pair of clean sleep clothes. “And take care of all the dead bodies too?”

You gulp. That’s so disturbing. “Yep. And I could take you to the doctor if you get hurt real bad.” You think back to the bruised knuckles and the dried cut on his face.

He cocks his head to the side and thinks for a minute. “That does sound helpful.”

“Really?”

“Yes and also dangerous. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You stand from the bed to get him a towel. “Um, just to let you know, I’ve seen all the assassin movies.”

“Oh, so you’re an expert.”

Opening your closet, you pull out the softest towel you own. “That sounds very sarcastic.” You push it to John's stomach and he grabs it from you, but you don’t let go and tug it back gently. “I’ll have you know I’m a very quick study, Mr. Wick.”

John briefly closes his eyes and takes a step closer to you. He leans in to whisper, his mouth close to your ear, “You better get off that foot.”

A giggle escapes and you sit down on the bed. “If I didn’t have a bruised foot... then could I be your secretary?”

He walks into the bathroom, and right when he closes the door he stops to tell you no.

Frowning, you crawl back to your pillows. You notice John forgot his pajamas on the bed and you’re about to get up and give them to him, but you decide not to. This should be interesting.

You’re watching TV innocently when the bathroom door cracks open ten minutes later. Steam is hovering around John’s form and you hide your smile.

“Um… I forgot my…” He points to the clothes on the bed and you point to your foot.

“I would help you, but I’m a cripple.” You tell him, now smiling because you can’t hide it anymore. You’re trying not to laugh.

He glares at you when the door opens and you see the towel wrapped around his waist.

“I swear I won’t look.” You tell him, covering your eyes.

“Are we twelve now?” He mocks, stepping out and picking up his clothes.

Your smile fades when you look at him because damn. “No, we are definitely not twelve.” You murmur to yourself, and you don’t mean to gock, but he’s fresh out of the shower, glistening skin and tight muscles, toned and strong. He pushes his hair from his face and notices you watching him.

There’s a smug grin when he turns around and your heart completely skips a beat. All you see are flashes of tattoos, black lines and shading on his back. Maybe on his arms too but it was so fast. If you could only make time stand still.

Now you’re glaring when he comes back into the bedroom a few minutes later. He’s glancing at you very casually. “What?”

“You did that on purpose.”

He laughs and gets under the covers. “What? Forget my clothes?”

“No. Showing off all of your…” You gesture to his body. “Never mind.” You can’t believe this is happening and turn towards the TV, trying to forget the hotness laying beside you. Nope. You can’t. “John, why are you doing this?”

He sits up a little. “What do you mean?”

“Why are you here? Why are you helping me?” There. You finally asked it. Here comes the pity party.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He asks, confused. When you don’t say anything, he asks another question. “Would you help me if I needed it?”

You don’t hesitate. “Yes, of course I would.”

“Well,” he lays back down and looks blankly at the TV. “There’s your answer.”

“But you hardly know me.”

He briefly glances at you. “Does it matter? I would want to help anyone. What are we watching?”

You laugh at how simple it was all this time. You should really stop overthinking everything. “Do you want to watch Friends or Seinfeld?”

“Who and what?” He asks, not knowing at all your favorite shows.

You caress his cheek and pet him softly. “You poor, innocent man. I have a lot to teach you about laughing.”

He shoves your hand away playfully. “I watch TV… sometimes.”

“When you’re not doing assassin-y stuff.”

John sighs and closes his eyes. “Yes, when I’m not working.”

“Mmhm.” You don’t really believe him. You figure he reads a lot or studies, or does something really smart. Never really does anything just for fun. “We should totally go to a movie tomorrow!” You say it jokingly, like he would ever agree to something so mindless, but you can hardly believe it when he nods and says okay. “Really? You would go to a movie?”

“Isn’t that what friends do together, right?”

You wouldn’t have any idea. You don’t have friends and you haven’t been to the movies in ages. You hate going by yourself and you never had enough money.

“I think so?” You respond, not really knowing.

He lets out a little yawn. “All of my friends are… well, you know. I don’t see any of them going to a movie.”

“But you would?”

“With you? Yes. You’re not in the business, clearly.”

You throw a pillow at him, but he quickly catches it and puts it behind his head. You mumble to yourself of course and turn off the light. “Just for that, I get to pick.”

He groans and you laugh as you tuck yourself in under the covers. You feel excited for tomorrow. Your therapist was right, you did make a good friend. Even if both of you have no idea what exactly that means.

You’re still in bed when John is getting coffee from the kitchen, looking at your phone for movie times. “Don’t worry, I will not make you sit through a chick flick… or a disney movie… or a musical.”

“Do you take cream and sugar?” John asks, popping his head into the bedroom. You nod yes to both and he disappears again.

“Oh! There’s a new sci-fi movie out. You like aliens, right? It looks scary too.”

John comes back into the room with two steaming hot cups. He hands one to you carefully and you take a slow sip. “Mmm. This is really good, thank you.”

He looks pleased with himself as he gets back into your bed, sitting with his legs crossed under him. His hair is messed up a little and he’s still in his pajamas. The sight is really cute. You’re kind of sad that it was the last night he’s here. You quickly got used to him in your apartment and having someone to come home to was so nice. He already mastered your crappy coffee machine and he does the dishes. But the sleepovers are done and you wish it had lasted a little longer, purely for selfish reasons.

You must be staring at him for too long because he stops drinking his coffee and gives you a small smile. “What?”

Dunking your head, you’re embarrassed that he caught you. “Nothing.”

He grins, like he can read your mind but doesn’t want to ruin the moment. “What time’s the movie?”

“Let’s see…” You tap at your phone, scrolling through the options. “How about this afternoon? Then we could get something to eat or whatever.”

Now he’s really smiling and now he really does call you out. “Wouldn’t this be like… a date? Did you just ask me out on a date?”

“What!” You shriek and put your coffee down on the nightstand, stretching your leg over to try and push him off the bed, but he doesn’t move an inch and just laughs at you. “Oh. My. God. Absolutely not, you weirdo. Why can’t two people just hang out? Jerry and Elaine do it all the time!” You point to the TV in your defense, trying to remind him of the show you watched last night.

“Okay, okay. Sorry.” John puts his coffee down too and grabs your foot to inspect the bruise. “Wishful thinking, I guess.”

You roll your eyes, still not being able to fathom John Wick flirting with you. It’s probably all a joke to him anyway so you continue to ignore it. “What’s the verdict, Doc?”

He slides your pant leg up and takes a closer look. “Well, it’s not as dark as it was yesterday. Still a little swollen.”

“Told you it would be fine.”

“You’re welcome.” He cracks a smile and you remember the kiss he placed there last night. “Do you need anything else to feel better?”

“Ugh, gross.” Rolling your eyes even harder. “Your flirting is terrible.”

He grabs at his heart like it hurts. “I take offense to that.”

“Good, that was the point.” You get up from the bed and open the closet, searching for something to wear today. “It’s probably the one thing you’re not good at.”

“I could be good at it.” He says, sipping his coffee again. “I’m just rusty. I need to practise.”

You don’t turn around. “Obviously.”

“Obviously.” He repeats slowly, and then horrified, “Wait.. I’m not skeezy am I?”

That makes you laugh and you sit back down on the bed. “No, John. You’re not skeezy. You’re like the opposite of skeezy. You’re too nice to be skeezy.”

“I’m too nice?”

“Yeah.” You get up again and fiddle with your hair that’s fallen in your face. “I know you say these things just to be nice to me. I know it doesn’t mean anything. It’s sweet though, it’s fun. I get it.”

Slowly, he shakes his head, trying to comprehend your thoughts. “So, you’re saying I could never be serious about flirting with you?”

“Ha, not in this lifetime.” You gather your bathrobe and head for a shower. “Don’t worry, I’m not that stupid. I know exactly how far out of your league I am.”

Now John is the one rolling his eyes. You don’t give him a chance to say anything though and close the door to the bathroom, finally able to catch your breath a little. He still makes you nervous, you realize, and you hope the feeling fades the more time you spend with him because it seems like he needs a friend just as much as you do.

You’re brushing your teeth when John taps a knuckle on the door.

“Do you mind if we stop at my place before the movie?”

“You don’t want to wear a suit all day?”

“Not really.” He smiles. “And I have to pick up the dog.”

“Oh right!” You spit into the sink and wash your mouth. “I want some puppy kisses.”

John looks at your lips and then to your eyes. It’s fast, but you still see it. And if you didn’t he mutters, “tease” and leaves to go out the front door.

You grab your purse on the way out and he waits patiently for you to lock the door behind you. He has his bag with him and you’re disappointed it’s not still in your apartment. You wonder if he’s wearing all of his guns and try to sneak a peek under his suit jacket at his waist. You’re not paying attention so you run smack into his back when he stops for the elevator.

Yep, he’s wearing one gun because you feel it hit your stomach. He looks at you oddly and reaches a hand out to steady you.

“Do you always carry a gun when you go places?”

“Usually.”

“Do you ever have to use it?”

“Sometimes.”

The elevator ride down is quiet and you wave to Francis walking by in the hallway. John nods towards him too, like they have some sort of secret understanding.

His car is glistening in the sun and you have to admit, it is a pretty sweet ride. John opens the door for you after he throws his bag in the trunk and you move carefully, afraid you might scratch the paint job. You fold yourself neatly in the seat and stay still.

He smoothly gets in and before you can process about how annoyingly attractive he is, the engine roars to life and he’s speeding out of your complex onto the main road. You have a hard time not watching his hands because his fingers are long and look good around the steering wheel. He drives fast but not enough to make you nervous and glances at you a few times to make sure you’re okay. You don’t say much but it’s a comfortable silence with the windows down. You watch the town go by as you start to relax.

It’s only about a ten minute drive until the car pulls up to the most gorgeous house you’ve ever seen. Of course, this is where John would live. In a house built with huge windows and high ceilings, with a big open yard that’s perfectly manicured.

He parks in the driveway but still pushes a button so the garage door goes up.

“C’mon, I’ll only be a minute.” He tells you and curiosity gets the best of you because you had planned to stay in the car.

“Are you sure? I can wait here.”

“Why?” He doesn’t wait for you to answer, obvious that he thinks your question was dumb, and he moves around to open your door again.

“Such a gentleman.” You praise, not being able to help yourself. You can’t remember the last time anyone opened anything for you.

He smiles and leads the way into the house. “Well, I try.”

“This is really pretty.” You tell him, stepping into a long hallway where you can see the living room off to one side and the kitchen off to the other.

“You want the tour?” He asks, throwing his keys into a glass bowl and taking his suit jacket off. There are actually two guns on his belt, the one on his right hip you hadn’t seen.

“No, it’s okay. Just seeing the downstairs is enough to make me depressed about my small apartment.”

John scoffs and opens the front door to let in some air. “I like your place. It’s comfortable there. And the cooking’s really good.”

You laugh and he steers you more into the kitchen, which is huge with a tile floor and what looks like all new appliances. “I’d love to cook in this kitchen. There’s so much room!”

“Yeah?” He stops and looks at you very seriously. “You officially have an open invitation to cook here any time.”

“Ha ha.” You push at his shoulder and walk to the big wood dining table, looking around. There are a bunch of picture frames, but they’re all in a pile on a shelf by the coffee maker. You wonder what kind of pictures he has and why they aren’t on display. You don’t want to be nosy though, so you run your finger over the espresso machine that looks like it cost more than a month of pay. “Marry me?” You bend over and ask it, breathing in deeply the scents of coffee.

John laughs and points at a smaller hallway. “Laundry is through there.” He points at a door. “Basement.” He walks through the kitchen and into the living room, which is sparse but still lovely. You wonder if he decorated this place himself or if he had help.

“Evening entertainment.” He points to the TV even though you see a stack of heavy books on the coffee table, some of them well read. “Upstairs?” He asks, starting for the staircase. You shrug, trying not to seem eager and interested.

The amount of sunlight the house gets is incredible. There are windows everywhere, but you can’t see any neighbors and it’s fairly quiet. This is like your dream house.

“Wow.” It’s all you can say when you enter the master bedroom. A huge bed in the middle that looks so very soft. There’s a sitting couch and table, with a bureau next to the walk in closet. The view is fantastic and you can even see the lake from here. You walk to the other side of his bedroom and almost press your face against the glass. “You live right across from the community college campus! That’s so cool!”

John is in his closet, probably getting new clothes for the day, but you can hear him say, “Yeah?”

“Yeah! You could walk there if you wanted to! Save a ton on parking.” You mutter, more to yourself.

Suddenly he’s right behind you, now in a white cotton shirt with long sleeves. “What do you mean?”

“I applied to go to school in the fall. I want to take some classes, maybe try for a degree or something. My place is far, so it’ll be a hassle but that’s okay.” You tug on the hem of his shirt as you walk by him, throwing your purse on the bed. “What else is up here?” You ask, peering down another long hallway.

He has a proud look in his eyes and he’s still gapping at you a little. “I didn’t know you’re going back to school.”

“Oh, something you finally didn’t know, I can’t believe it.”

“Well, I saw the application on your kitchen table but I didn’t want to assume.”

You laugh because of course he did. “Were you snooping, John Wick?”

“Never. I just observe.”

“Oh, I see.”

He opens the door to an empty bedroom with no furniture. “This was supposed to be a guest room but I never got around to it.”

“What about that room?” You point to the door at the end of the hallway.

“My office.”

“Ooh. Do you have assassin secrets in there?” You smile teasingly and walk back to his bedroom to get your purse.

“No, those are in the basement.”

Laughing, you can’t tell if he’s joking or not. You don’t think he is.

The windows are calling again and you can’t help but to take one more look of the view. “This is just so nice. You have everything in walking distance. The lake, the school…”

There’s a beat of silence before he says, “You should move in here.”

That makes you throw your head back and really laugh. How funny. “John, don’t be stupid.”

“How is that stupid?” He asks, his tone is serious but kind. “There’s an empty room. You can walk to school. You can watch the dog for me when I go on… work trips. You would have a kitchen to cook in.”

This man seems to keep surprising you. “You’ve only known me for like a month. What if I smell bad or something?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “You smell amazing.”

“What if I play loud music really late at night?”

“You can’t keep your eyes open past ten.”

“What if I have parties all weekend long?”

“While you work and go to school? Be my guest.”

“What if I’m messy and leave my clothes everywhere?”

John’s eyes narrow with suspicion. “Did you just pretend to be neat while I was at your place for two days?”

He’s right, you do like a clean house. “Whatever, John.” Hoping that he drops it. “Don’t you have to get the dog?”

“Damn, stay here. I’ll be right back. Their house is just down the street.” He runs down the stairs and you can hear the screen door open and shut.

You look around the bedroom again and take it all in. What a completely different life this would be. Not that you don’t like your apartment. It’s cozy and you’re proud of what you’ve established for yourself. This is too fancy for you anyway. Plus, you like having your space. John would be the weirdest roommate ever. You can’t even imagine.

You jog down the stairs to wait on the couch. You spot some more picture frames stacked nicely in a pile and you’re just about to sneak a look when you can hear them approach the house.

“Puppy kisses!” You cry out and kneel down to gather a happy dog in your arms. If you had any idea this was the dog driving you mad all those nights, you would have taken him for yourself.

“Pooch! Get down.” John’s Alpha voice is hot and both you and the dog stop everything.

He trots over to his doggy bed anyways and plops down. “Cassey, the little girl, wore him out at the park this morning.” John says. “Are you ready to go?”

The movie! You had almost forgotten with all the excitement of being in John’s house.

“Yeah, let’s do it. And don’t worry, I’ll protect you. Don’t get scared.” You tell him, in a bravado voice.

“Can we get gummy bears?” He asks and you crack up on the way back to the garage.

“You’re a grown man, you can get whatever you want.”

John hurries to open the car door for you again. “I meant, would you have any or would you like something else?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, that’s a big decision.” You slide back into the car and think to yourself that you could really get used to the chivalry John is showing. You wonder how long it could last. “I think I have to see all my options.”

John smiles as he starts the car and lowers the garage door. “This is really serious.”

You fasten your seatbelt and get comfortable. “When’s the last time you went to a movie?”

He turns his head to back out of the driveway, putting his arm around your seat. His face is very close to yours and you notice that his eyes are a very pretty brown when he’s not working.

“Good point.”

You grin, breaking the eye contact because it’s making your stomach fill with butterflies that you mentally quiet down.

The theater is busy and you realize it’s a Friday during summer, so all the teenagers are here. John’s phone rings as he parks and tells you he has to take it, so you decide to get in line and buy the tickets. He’s leaning against his car, chatting while looking around at his surroundings and smiles at you when he catches you checking on him.

You quickly see that the movie is sold out and not knowing what to do, you walk back to John and the car just as he’s finishing his conversation. It sounds like he was speaking in Russian, but you can’t be sure. “All set?” He asks, sliding the phone in his pocket and reaching to put his hand on your back. He hardly ever really touches you, but his hand hovers over your body constantly.

“It’s sold out.” You tell him. “Do you want to see something else or maybe come back another day?”

“Oh.” He looks disappointed. “But you really wanted to see that movie.”

“It’s okay, shit happens, right?” You shrug it off easily. This is not the worst thing that could happen. Plus, you’re hanging out with John, so you could be going to the town dump and you’d be happy.

“Hold on. Stay here, I’ll be right back.” He takes off towards the theater and leaves you by the car. You watch him go and it’s almost like he’s in slow motion again. You wonder how just his stride oozes that much confidence.

In a few minutes he’s back with two tickets. “Here we go. C’mon.”

“How’d you do that?” You dumbly follow him to the theater doors and he guides you to walk in front of him.

“It’s a secret. What do you want?”

You’re still staring at him in a silent awe as he looks at the refreshment stand. A beautiful young worker comes to help and John’s gaze is just on you.

“Um… gummy bears? Right?” You ask him, trying to snap out of it. “That’s what you wanted?”

He leans in close, dark hair falling into his eyes. “I’m asking what you want.”

You don’t really remember what the hell you say, but somehow John pays and leads you down a long hallway and to your seats. Now he’s really close to you and the smell of his cologne is making your legs weak.

“You okay?”

“Yes!” It comes out too fast but you realize you’re acting weird and need to get with it.

John nods and crosses his long legs, sitting back in the chair and shifting towards you, whispering as advertisements play on the big screen. “I have a question.”

“Yes?”

“Do friends hold hands at the movies?”

You close your eyes. “No, John. They do not.”

“Not even when I scored tickets that were sold out?”

You lean in to him and smile. “If you tell me how you did that, I might reconsider the answer to your question.”

“Hmm…” He runs fingers over his beard as he thinks. “I talked to the manager.”

“And?”

“And I paid him.”

“John!”

“What? You wanted to know, so I told you.”

You shake your head in disbelief as the lights lower and the movie starts. “You’re crazy.”

He doesn’t disagree with you, but he does turn towards the screen, still touching your elbow throughout most of the first half of the movie. When it gets really creepy, he covers his mouth every time you jump in your seat, hiding his smile.

You somehow get closer to his shoulder, shielding your eyes and turning into his body when you jump again, grabbing onto his arm. The muscles you feel are solid, and you technically knew they were there, you just never really considered them before. And you are definitely considering them now.

John lets you hold on to him, and even offers to hold your hand when the movie winds down and you link his pinky with yours, not wanting to totally turn him down. He seems satisfied with that and smoothes his thumb down your hand a few times before the credits roll.

“That was so good!” You exclaim, getting up from your seat and stretching. “I forgot how fun the movies are!”

“You were scared.” John teases, playfully shaking your hand with his.

“Was not.”

“Was too.”

“Whatever, you were scared too.” You tell him, pushing the heavy doors open and heading to his car. The sky is darker now and the wind has picked up, chilling your arms. You wish you had brought a sweater.

“I was definitely not scared.” John laughs, his hand hovering over your back again. You feel it because you stop for a car and his arm is suddenly pressed into your waist. He moves quickly though, opening the door for you to get inside.

He turns on the heat as soon as he can and asks where you want to eat.

“It’s up to you. I could go for anything.”

“Sushi?”

That surprises you and you can’t help but look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“What?”

“Nothing, I just didn’t know John Wick likes sushi. I see you more of an all meat kinda guy.”

“I have a very sophisticated pallet.”

“Oh, my mistake.” You laugh and tell him to lead the way.

He takes you to a really nice place and you talk about the movie and the food all throughout dinner. It’s nice, not forced, and fun. These past two days, even with the weird circumstances, have been really fun. You want to pay for the dinner, but of course John beats you to it without you even realizing until it’s far too late. You glare at him and tell him that friends usually split the check. He apologizes with a sparkle in his eye and you know he’s not sorry at all.

When John pulls up to your apartment you thank him for such a great day.

“Are you sure you’re not going to be scared?” He asks, after telling you he had fun today too.

“Yes, John.”

“I could spend the night again, just to make sure.”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll be fine. And you have to get back to Pooch.”

“You could spend the night at my place.” John offers, completely innocent but realizes what he says and adds, “I could take the couch, of course.”

“Good bye, John.” You tell him and he wants you to let him know if you need anything, or if you hear from Max. “I will.” Waving, you open the car door before he can get out and do it for you. The walk up to your apartment is quiet and just a little lonely.

Once you get inside it’s worse, but you try to ignore it. Instead, you lay in bed where John had slept and cuddle the pillows.

He texts you once he’s home, to make sure you made it to the apartment okay.

You didn’t let me walk you upstairs, he texts with a sad face.

Instead of telling him that you’re a grown up or you don’t need his protection, you simply text back next time.

You really hope there’s a next time.

TBC Chapter 3

#john wick #john wick x you #john wick x reader #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x y/n #romance #slow build #find your worth #chapter 2 #keanu reeves

225 notes · View notes

xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 3 years ago

Text

Mission of Mercy: Thirty-Two

Bucky opened your car door and bowed slightly, teasing, “We’re gonna be late to the ball, Cinderella.”

You quirked an eyebrow but took the hand up he offered to get into the truck, “What ball?”

“You’ll see,” he said, grinning. He hoped that you liked what he had planned. He really did.

‘Bucky,” you say, biting your lip.

“I promise, doll,” he said quietly, stepping up and kissing you softly, taking to opportunity to buckle your seat belt. “No cemeteries. Just all the tricks this old dog can remember.”

“Just your old tricks?” you ask, smiling a little.

“Maybe some new ones,” he said winking, kissing you again. He hopped down and shut the door carefully taking a deep breath as he walked around the truck. It was going to be a bit of a drive but… As soon as he saw the place, he knew there was no better place to take you. He hadn’t even known places like this existed but… he could see you there. And he wanted to take you there. Somewhere you could feel… free. Without the constant bombsat of feelings and needs and wants tugging your attention this way and that. You’d described it to him once like being a teacher in a classroom full of really rowdy kids. Everyone needs or wants something but some people’s needs and wants are more urgent. Kid A broke his pencil but kid B has just stapled his homework to his forehead somehow. So how would you prioritize them? It’s a constant triage, trying to decide what to ignore and what to act on.

To Bucky it just sounded like a maddening tangle. And even just thinking about it for too long made his head ache and his eyes water. It gave him a new appreciation for your need for silence.

When you claimed his hand, Bucky laced his fingers through yours and skimmed a kiss across your knuckles. “Where are we going?” you ask quietly, staring out the window absently. You’re thinking, he knows. Wandering down little rabbit holes in your head.

“You and I,” he said, “Are going to go spend the night somewhere… Fun.”

“That was a suspicious pause,” you say suspiciously.

Bucky grinned and glanced at you, hesitant to take his eyes off the road too long. “Well. I know it’ll be fun for me,” he teased, “Spoiling you within an inch of your life and making you deal with the fact that I love you for a solid 36 hours.”

“Buck-”

“Nope,” he teased, kissing your knuckles again, “I promise. It’s just going to be you and me and as many of your favorite things as I could cram into an overnight trip.”

“I didn’t pack a bag.”

“I packed it,” he said grinning, “I didn’t want to give you time to talk me out of it.”

You give him a look over the tops of your sunglasses and he mock scowls at you, “Listen, whipper snapper,” he scolds. “You’re going to have a good time… I hope. I just wanted you to get out of the tower for a while. You’ve been tired, baby. Tired and sad and I know you’ve not been eating because your stomach is always in knots. Stuff’s been hard. And you deserve a break. And I miss my girl.”

He squeezes your hand and smiles, “Just… relax? Let me do this. I haven’t gotten to do this kind of stuff for anyone before. At least not without us having to sign the hotel register pretending to be married.” He gives you a suggestive look and you can’t help it, you giggle.

“Who’d I have to kill in a past life to get this lucky, huh?”

Bucky grinned so broadly his molars gleamed, “Well. I killed Hitler so-”

“You can’t remember that Sam and I had lunch plans but you remember that?”

“One time,” he protests but shuts his mouth with a soft snap when you giggle. It was good hearing that sound. It had been a little too scarce in the past couple of weeks.

________

He turned down the road, thankful that he’d had to learn to read maps and memorize directions. Sure. The address wasn’t significant to you, but. He wanted you to be surprised. And he was enjoying deflecting your attempts to get information. You were excited. You sparkled with optimism and curiosity. You weren’t just going through the motions for him and he knew it. He could feel it.

“Bucky, what-”

He paused at the top of the drive and let you just take it in for a moment. It was a cottage, covered in ivy with a wrought iron fence. And magnolia trees shed petals that drifted lazily on the breeze. Willow trees bent like gnarled old women providing pools of shade. And beyond that, in the yard there was a hot tub and a fire pit. He looked at you and grinned. You looked stunned.

“How?”

“Google,” he said, kissing the hand he was holding. “And some money.”

“Bucky-”

“Before you start fussing at me about it being too much, just know. This is where we’re staying… but it isn’t it.”

“It’s so much,” you murmur. You aren’t sure what to say. Or how to act. After a lifetime of Birthdays that were mostly crying over photo albums and maybe some cake and a couple presents this… This is a lot.

“I know,” he murmurs, “But- I’ve got a lot of birthdays to make up for… and a shit load of back pay burning a hole in my pocket.”

“But-” You can feel the backs of your eyes sting and he tilts your chin up gently.

“No pressure,” he reminds, wiping tears away and kissing the tip of your nose. “It’s just going to be us, hanging out here.”

“Okay,” you murmur.

“Good girl,” he says softly, stealing a kiss and jumping out of the truck to open your door.

“It’s so pretty,” you breathe, leaning against him as he walks you up the cobblestone path.

Bucky doesn’t answer but he kisses your head as he walks you inside. It is intensely satisfying to see you so stunned. And he’s more than a little proud of himself for pulling this off and keeping the secret from you to pull it off.

He follows you from room to room watching you be in something close to awe at the four-poster bed, the hot tub, and the champagne.

“You thought of everything didn’t you?” you ask, standing on your toes to kiss his cheek as he opened a bottle of champagne.

“I might have snooped just a little,” he admitted, “And Nat helped me fill in some blanks.”

“What’d you snoop in?” you ask, more curious than angry.

“Your phone when you were asleep,” he said grinning, “And I asked Sam if you’d ever told him any ideal date kind of things… He told me to ask Nat. But I tried Sam first because he’s known you longer.”

You nod and take the glass of champagne he offered you and plucked a chocolate-covered strawberry off the waiting plate. “Sneaky,” you scold.

“Oh, baby. You don’t even know.” He chuckled and leaned down to kiss you, savoring the sweetness on your lips.

“What-”

He held up a finger and pressed it to your lips, “Before you have time to work up a good worry, can I give you a present?”

“I-”

“Good,” and before you have time to think he steals a kiss and disappears through a door. You can hear him, talking softly and the rustle of cardboard and tissue. It was curious. New. Bucky didn’t usually talk to himself… It was a bad habit for someone who needed to be stealthy.

You take a seat and take a nervous sip of your champagne taking a deep breath. You know Bucky means well. He crafted all of this just for you. To make sure you had a good day. But you can’t stop the gnawing feeling in your stomach. It was alien territory.

“Doll?” Bucky said, holding a box.

And you smile, snapping back to this instant like a rubber band.

Bucky smiles a little. You look good in your sundress, lounging on the plush sofa and sipping a drink. It makes him feel warm all over. He wants this life for you. To come home from work and see you waiting for him. And he crosses the floor, putting the box in your lap.

“I know I probably should have asked first but,” he stole a soft kiss as he knelt at your feet, “I saw this and… It was perfect.”

He watches you tilt your head and nudges you, “Open it,” he coaxes, “I’m not gonna tell you!”

You tug the ribbon on the box carefully and Bucky holds his breath. He really hopes this was the right choice.

And the moment you set the lid aside and make a noise. The softest little noise. Not quite a coo and not quite a gasp, his heart does a backflip as you take the Aussie Shepherd puppy out of the box.

This time when you start to cry, he doesn’t have to wonder if it’s a good thing or a bad thing as you snuggle the ball of fluff that Bucky had fallen in love with the second she attacked his shoelaces.

#Bucky x reader #fluff #Soft!bucky #hurt/comfort

13 notes · View notes

scullydubois · 4 years ago

Text

one-shot: does a scully pee in the woods?

read on ao3 | msr flirting and fluff | 1.6k | rated t | s6, pre-Field Trip

tagging @today-in-fic

While driving to North Carolina, Scully has to resort to some dubious tactics to convince Mulder to stop so she can use the bathroom. Unfortunately, she doesn't specify where he should stop...

---------

He promised they would stop once they made it out of Virginia. What Scully didn’t realize is that Virginia is five hours worth of highway, and despite his assurance that he is “driving as fast as he can” and his natural tendency to cruise as much over the speed limit as they can go without getting pulled over, they have still not made it out of the state.

“The next exit, Mulder, please,” she begs, squirming in her seat. She is not used to driving this long. Usually they hop on a flight--with a bathroom, thank you very much--and then head just a few miles out to their destination. But of course, the FBI is cutting their budget, and according to Skinner, the only way they could take this case is if they agreed to make the six and a half hour trip to North Carolina by car. Which hadn’t sounded that bad to either of them. I mean, the open road, the radio, and each other for six hours? What could be wrong with that? Then again, they hadn’t stopped to consider how early they would have to leave DC to make their lunchtime meeting, nor the exponential decline in their ability to tolerate one another with each increasing hour.

Mulder drums the steering wheel in time with the beat of the classic rock song playing. “I’m telling you, we’re almost to the state line. If you’ve made it this far, you can make it another twenty minutes.”

“Are you willing to test that theory?” Scully prods, an eyebrow elevating itself. “Because I know you are a man of many theories, but I really don’t think this is one you want to mess with.”

“Oh, I do.” He flashes a quick smile at her, as if to confirm that, yes, he is amused by her suffering, if she hadn’t noticed.

“ Mulder…” she whines, not even bothering to construct a coherent argument. It’s time to play the card she never plays, the one that will catch his attention and show him that she is serious about this. She hates to stoop this low, but at this point, it’s either play the card or pee her pants.

“Mulder,” she makes her voice sound languid and far out, “has anyone ever told you that you bear a great resemblance to Cary Grant in his young and handsome days?”

He is rather unphased by this. Too unphased for Scully’s liking. “No, and I really don’t, do I?”

“Oh, absolutely.” She lets her voice flutter through the confines of the car. “Dreamy, boyish, yet somehow retaining your masculinity. It’s astonishing, really.”

She sneaks a glance at him. He’s stopped tapping along to the song. He turns the radio down to listen to her like a dog’s ears pricking toward their owner’s voice.

She looks through the windshield, continues her reverie. “He looks like such a gentleman, but I can’t imagine that he’s a gentleman in…” She trails off suggestively, waiting for Mulder to raise some objection.

When she looks at him out of the corner of her eye, he is already looking at her. “What?” she offers innocently. “Do you have proof otherwise?” It’s always a contest of right or wrong for them.

“No, but I might have proof of aliens. Bounty Hunter, I know that’s you, what have you done with the real Scully?”

She considers what would happen if the Bounty Hunter had disguised himself as her and was driving alone with Mulder in the middle of a five lane highway with dozens of other cars. “You know, you’d be screwed right now if it were.”

“Yeah, I get that feeling.”

She wets her lips, navigates the next sentence with precision. “But since it’s not, you can get screwed instead.”

Mulder almost swerves into a jeep in the next lane. “Jesus, Scully!”

“I’m sorry, did I make you uncomfortable…?”

He focuses on the road. “Something like that, yeah.”

“Gee, I wonder what’s that like.” She looks at him with a devilish closed-mouth grin.

Mulder registers this and looks away just as he cracks his own smile. Silly, misbehaving, rebellious Scully has a power over him that would be comparable to religion, if he had one.

“So what I’m hearing is, you want to forsake your opportunity to make it the whole way through Virginia without stopping just so that you’ll actually have some semblance of comfort?” He checks to see if she’s smiling and is happy when she is.

“Something like that, yeah,” she says, imitating his reply from earlier by donning a outlandishly deep voice.

He coughs to hold back a laugh. “Well, the lady’s wish is my command, though I must warn you that the next exit’s not for another seven miles.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, we just passed a sign.”

“Mulder, I don’t know what kind of bladder you think I have, but I’ve drank two cups of coffee since the drive started and one before I left my apartment. I would classify this as an emergency.”

“I’ll pull over, then.” He switches lanes, turns on the emergency lights, and presses the brake slightly as he pulls onto the shoulder, all before she can protest.

“This is humiliating, Mulder,” she laments as he unlocks his door, pulls it open.

“While we’re at it, I’ll go too. Save us a stop in North Carolina.”

He’s way too excited about this, she thinks. She unclicks her seatbelt and climbs out of the car like a child dragged to church by their parents.

They proceed toward the woods at the edge of the highway. Mulder leads the way, a subtle spring in his step about getting to return to nature, so to speak, and to embarrass Scully while doing it.

As they hit the dividing line between grass and trees, Mulder looks back at this partner.

“Have you ever peed in the woods, Scully?” he asks with a smirk. “I’m assuming that’s what’s happening here, since you mentioned the coffee.” Scully winces at the rather disgusting image his implication puts in her mind.

She puts on a scholarly, serious tone as they head deeper into the trees. “You know, Mulder--and I’m glad we’re clearing this up-- I have peed in the woods actually. I seem to remember we were stuck in the woods overnight just last year. In Florida, was it? And contrary to what you may believe, I actually did relieve myself during that period of time. Thanks for asking.”

“Wow, you learn something new everyday,” Mulder jokes.

“Exactly.” Scully can’t help but laugh. What a funny little situation this is. They have shared so many instances when the stakes were much higher, life-threatening even, and this is what feels so grueling.

The vehicle noise having quieted significantly, Mulder gauges that they’re far enough from the roadway now. He stakes out a pine tree and steps up to it.

“Don’t look, Scully!” he teases, as if she needed the reminder, as if he really cared.

As he stands there, pants unzipped and all, he can’t help but wonder how many years this tree stood here before some human just decided to come over and do their business on it. That has to suck, huh? You’re just going about your usual tree life--swaying in the wind, rooting deep into the Earth, maybe providing a home for some critters--and then this creature that’s like, fifty times smaller than you comes over and pulls their pants down. What the hell?

A few yards away, Scully hunts for a place that might preserve an ounce of her dignity. Not that she has any left at this point, but it’s a nice idea. There’s some bushes not far off, or she could take a cue from Mulder and squat against a tree. This process is so much more complicated for a woman--you have to get down low, check the ground around you, not hit your shoes…

She chooses a spot behind a bush and crouches down. She hears Mulder zipping his fly, wonders if he’ll be able to see her when he turns around. She can’t see him, so theoretically he shouldn’t be able to see her, but he��s so much taller that she’s never sure. Then again, she’s not as objected to being seen by him as she expected herself to be. Still, she waits for him to say something.

“Scully, please tell me this wasn’t just some elaborate plot to abandon me in the woods.”

“I’m over here, Mulder,” she reassures. “But don’t come over.”

“Why, what are you doing?” He laughs at his own joke.

“Very funny,” she says, trying to cover the sound of her faculties. This feeling of release is so desperately needed that it’s almost orgasmic. She finishes, then rezips her pants while staying as crouched as possible. Sated, she stands up, pops into Mulder’s view. She tightens her belt as she walks over to him.

She sighs. “I’m glad that’s over.” Mulder smiles. She’s been through far worse, in far more unpleasant conditions, and this is what bothers her. A complex being, his Scully is. They retrace their steps toward the highway.

“You do know that toilets weren’t invented until like, the Renaissance, right?” he teases.

“Sure, but they weren’t just squatting in the woods!”

He pulls the car keys from his pocket. “I guess we’ve solved another X-file…”

Scully gives him the look she’s been giving him for six years.

“...does a Scully pee in the woods?”

She bites her lip, obscures her smile. That’s her Mulder.

#of all the things for me to write 1.5k on...#txf fic #txf fanfic #the x-files #x files #fox mulder #dana scully #msr #mine

73 notes · View notes

redbirdbella · 4 years ago

Text

@clintasha-week Advent Calendar - Day 10 Past/Present/Future

I took my old Lucky fic and turned it in to tooth rotting fluff telling the story of Clint and Natasha's early relationship. Its basically their past so i think it counts. (sorry if it doesn't it wasn't meant to come out like this but i couldn’t make it work.)

Lucky likes visitors. He is a dog after all and all attention is good attention.

But like all good things they should come to an end and the visitors should leave at bedtime. That’s his time. When he goes and sleeps by his special human. No more sharing. He shouldn’t be left out cold and alone in his living room bed that’s slightly too small. When they come he knows. They laugh too loud, and sit too close, and touch too much.

Natasha isn’t one of them. She’s quiet and calm and always makes space for him. Even sneaks him out extra treats letting him settle his head in her lap. He likes her, a lot, and Clint does too. Lucky can tell. Natasha likes Clint too, almost as much as she likes Lucky. He’s sure of it.

But she always goes home. Always…

Until she doesn’t.

Until she comes in with bloodshot eyes, leaning into Clint for support. Clint’s gentle with her, using the voice he only reserves for when they’re at the vets. They don’t ever really settle. Not like normal. They’re not quiet or calm and they don’t eat junk food or laze the day away. He just cleans her with the kit of funny smells that Clint never lets him explore. Then they talk.

And talk.

Until its late, and he can see the moon through the window, cause the blinds aren’t down but Clint doesn’t seem to care. It’s only when she yawns that he ever seems to notice that time has passed. That its time to go to bed. He smiles and offers her out his hand.

It’s the move that makes Lucky’s heart sink.

They’re going to bed.

Without him.

Well, they can try but Lucky’s fast when he wants something. He bolts as soon as Clint opens the door to the hallway and sprints into the bedroom.

His bedroom.

He’s not going to be shut out. Not this time.

He likes Natasha.

It’s not fair.

He doesn’t want Clint to shut the door. Shut him out of all their fun and he knows its fun. He can still hear them, the giggles and the gasps. The bed creaking with the motion them playing, all without him.

Natasha wasn’t meant to shut him out.

She follows him, still holding Clint’s hand. They’re still talking, even when she settles on the corner of the bed. Clint looks between them. He’ll have to go, leave with his tail between his legs.

But Clint sits next to Natasha, leaning over to scratch Lucky’s ears.

“Can you share me just this once boy?”

Lucky settles, it would be rude not too. Especially when there are ear scratches on offer.

They change, turn off the light and climb into bed. Close enough that Lucky can settle across both their feet.

Ok, she can stay. He decides when they don’t play Clint’s secret games. When they’re both asleep and he’s sure he’ll still be here when the sun comes up.

And when Clint still wakes with the same smile he always does when he has an overnight visitor. When he plays with Lucky down on the floor, making a special fuss of his good boy, while Natasha goes to shower. He knows he’s made the right decision.

And When she leans down to feed him the scraps from their overgenerous breakfast?

He decides she can stay anytime she wants.

And so she does.

Sometimes she goes home, a few times she doesn't. It doesn't seem to change much, she just slots right in whenever she's there.

Clint likes her more than ever, Lucky can tell, he laughs more and smiles longer, gives better scratches and extra treats.

Lucky likes her more. Clint understands that too. He lets Lucky stay in Natasha's flat when he's not around. Her flat is nice, it's warmer, bigger with more blankets but less pizza. She's kind, quieter, but they take longer walks and get cool toys for Natasha's flat.

It's pretty good having a second person to love.

It's good.

Until it isn't.

Until she comes back in tears wearing Clint's jumper.

She sits on the bed, brushing her fingers through his fur but she's not there. Not really.

"You'll be with me a while longer boy, Clint he-he got hurt. I'll look after you though, I can keep you safe."

Lucky nuzzles closer, he likes it when she talks to him. It means he's important and this sounded very important.

"I know- I love him too"

When Clint comes home he brings Natasha with him. He's not as fun, with these extra toys stuck to his arm and leg that he's not sharing. Which is not fair. Especially when he shares with Natasha laying his leg on her lap.

They're different now. They share things Lucky can't have, drinks, human toys that lucky just longs to play with and even kisses. Lots of kisses.

Kisses on the sofa, in the kitchen, on their bed.

Lucky puts a stop to it quickly. He whines and barks until Natasha pulls away to give him behind the ear scratches he craves.

"I think you love my dog more than you love me"

"Absolutely"

Clint scratches her then across her side's until she's laughing and he's laughing. Till it's so funny they're fighting apparently. Playing whatever game's Clint's new toys allows. But Lucky's persistent with his humans and soon they settle. Until Clint's head is also in Natashas lap.

"My boys" she mutters as she shakes her head and lucky decides it's high praise.

Natasha stays the night now more times then she doesn't. She even brings blankets and lights to add to Clint's bed, to snuggle with when watching TV at night.

"A man could get used to this," Clint says one quiet night when Natasha dozes in his arms and Lucky at his feet.

Lucky already is.

Well, that is until the boxes arrive.

They're everywhere and in everything. Making a mess, ruining his perfect little flat.

He does not like the boxes. So he sulks and sulks hiding away until the pizza box arrives and maybe they're not all bad after all.

The boxes eat away at the flat, until they'll have to go hungry, there is nothing left to eat. Abandoned with just Lucky for company.

Well Lucky and Clint, but he seems a little distracted lately.

"Hey Lucks" he whispers one morning, "Should we go for a walk?"

Of course, they should, Lucky's not too sure why the cars involved but he climbs in happily.

They park in a parking lot somewhere Lucky's never been before.

Clint clip's on his lead and smiles, "You're going to love it boy I promise"

They walk around the streets up and down and round and round this new maze Clints found, full of people, cars and a few friendly dogs. They find they're way out of the city and all the fun smells it contains to the sprawling fields and tall trees.

He sees Natasha a mile off and takes Clint straight to her.

She laughs fussing with Lucky before she kisses Clint. As it should be.

"Ready?" He asks.

"It'll be fine" She whispers opening the gate to the house they've stopped at.

It has a garden this new place, with its own trees and grass. Lucky thinks he might like it here, with whoever it is who lives here.

Clint smiles leading Lucky to the large house set in the center of the garden. It smells like Clint and when Natasha opens the door Lucky can see why.

The boxes are back! And they're here!

The bed blanket's and his purple bowl and the toys from Natasha's house. Her books are on Clint's shelves and his TV with her speakers, all her shoes stored by his.

"Welcome home boy" Clint whispers.

They're staying. It's nice having two humans, but it's better having a home.

Oh, they can stay. They can definitely stay.

#clintasha advent 2020 #i hope i havent ruined the original #but i wanted to add to it #so #thats on me #i have so many thoughts on this #like theyre early relationship #clintasha

40 notes · View notes

darling-i-read-it · 4 years ago

Text

Sleepwalking

Will Graham x reader

Word Count: 800

Warnings: sleepwalking

Author’s Note: My boy. My love. My darling. I love him. This is very short but it sweet so theres that

Summary: Based on season 1 Will sleepwalking

Genre: fluff

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director

(not my gif)

Your phone was ringing.

You knew that it was late. You were sure that it was probably around three in the morning and upon looking at the clock beside your bed you were validated. 3:14 in the morning. You picked up your phone and put it to your ear, not caring enough to look at the collar ID. It was this early they may as well surprise you.

“Hello? Y/N?”

Not a voice you recognized. You squinted, sitting up and turning on your lamp.

“Yes? Who is this?”

“I’m calling from Will Graham's phone. My name is Officer Troy, you were the first person on his emergency contacts.” You sat up quickly.

“Is he alright? He isn’t in custody is he?”

“No no. We found him sleep walking, we’re going to bring him back to his home but we were wondering if it would trouble you to come to see him, make sure he’s alright.” You nodded quickly.

“Are any of his dogs with him?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

You got up, brushed your teeth and grabbed your overnight bag. You kept it packed just in case. Will called you every once in a while, trembling from nightmares. His therapists thought you were the only person he trusted but you imagined he trusted any number of his dogs over you. Still, you really liked him.

You were over there in record time.

You saw the cop car out front still which meant they had just gotten there. You got out, walking inside without knocking. Will was standing in his living room, the two cops at his side.

“Y/N,” Will breathed like a sigh of relief. You nodded, smiling. You wiped the last bit of sleep out of your eyes and walked over to him.

“You were sleepwalking? That’s new.” He nodded, shaking his head.

“I don’t know.”

“Thank you for staying with him. I’ve got it from here,” you told the officers. They nodded and waved at the two of you, making an exit. You sat beside him.

“You shouldn’t have come.”

“I wanted to. Come on, you gotta be up early tomorrow.”

“Tell me why again?” he asked, shaking his head.

“Because you have a job.” He let you help him up and the dogs followed him into his room. He got into bed easily and you threw one of the extra comforters on him. It was a cold night and he hadn’t been wearing much.

You started to walk out the door to sleep on the couch when he called you.

“Sleep in here. The couch...shitty,” he promised tiredly. You smiled.

“You sure?”

He waved his arm over at you and you padded over, practically jumping into bed. He laughed dryly. He thought a little about how much he liked you. More than most. You didn’t try to get in his head, you just tried to help him with his experiences. That was different. Kinder.

You settled in beside him, facing each other.

“Thank you for coming,” he whispered. You nodded.

“Couldn’t leave you in here alone. Not with all those thoughts in that big head of yours.” He smiled.

“I know you have work tomorrow too. I’ll try not to wake you up again.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. That’s what friends are for,” you promised. There was a bit of silence as you both hung on the word friend. Something you had called yourself for so long that you hadn’t thought it should change until you were sure it had to. Right then.

“Friends huh?” he muttered. You shrugged.

“We’re too delusional for this discussion.” He laughed.

“I guess you’re right there. Goodnight Y/N.” You let your eyes flutter closed.

“Goodnight Will.”

Despite the fact you were too tired to talk about your relationship when your alarm went off that morning his arm was around you and your head was on his chest.

You hit snooze.

#will graham x reader #will graham imagines #hannibal imagines

204 notes · View notes

notquitecanon · 4 years ago

Text

With & Without // John Wick x Reader

This is very dramatic. It was gonna be a lot longer and fleshed out, but I kept it vague in case I wanna do a part two.

Basically: Two idiots who don’t want to be apart but can’t admit that to each other. break up fic ???? Should I have them make up????

John Wick had rules. He had rules because he loved you, worried over you, and worked so hard to keep you safe. Never go anywhere alone without telling him. If you think you’re being followed call him, and then find a public business. Memorize his phone number, the continental’s, and Aurelio’s, as well as all their addresses. Always keep a couple gold coins on you. Only use his name as leverage as a last resort, he’s not exactly popular. Stay out of the basement. In case of emergency, do what he says, no exceptions. And so many more, because he loved you. You knew that. You fell into the routine of looking over your shoulder and watching his back, because when you would turn back around John would be waiting with a soft smile (because he’d already checked your surroundings multiple times). You adapted to being more comfortable with the curtains pulled shut to avoid snipers, because in lieu of the sun John would wake you up with gentle kisses. You taught yourself to stop answering unknown calls and only post on social media after you’d left a place, but you were more than happy to live in the moment with John. It was so easy to slip into that lifestyle. Not so easy to slip back, for you at least. John was a man of pure determination and discipline, the moment he decided it was over he seemed absolutely resolved. Which left you with… completely unresolved emotions.

Maybe that’s why you were sitting in his drive way, knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel so tight as rain hammered onto the windshield while your engine puttered away underneath you. You weren’t even sure if John was home, it wasn’t like he was really open with his schedule when you were together, you particularly hoped he was out. He’d been very clear that you should keep your distance, suggested that you change your name as well. You sniffled a bit, angrily swiping tears away before pressing your knuckles to your lips hoping to suppress anything more than stray tears. Surely it wasn’t too pathetic to get misty eyed at what was once your home. Sobbing was pathetic and you were NOT sobbing. Okay, maybe your throat was a little thick. Movement caught your eye, a certain gray pit bull trotting through the rain. Your eyebrows furrowed as you watched Dog sniff at the door before he looked directly back at you in your car. Those big eyes pulled at your already frazzled heart strings. Surely, John hadn’t left Dog out in the rain, and the large man wasn’t in the yard. Before you could think about it, you were out of your car. The pitbull’s tail started wagging as you approached, whining quietly when you spoke, "Dog, what are you doing out here? It’s wet." Your hair was already starting to plaster to your forehead as your fingers traced through wet fur, water soaking through the knees of your pants as soon as you kneeled down. The dog leaned into your touch before turning around to lick at your face. You couldn’t help but smile even if it only made you miss what was even more. You pressed a kiss to the wet fur before standing up, "Sorry, buddy, I can’t let you in." Dog whined again, resting a heavy chin on your knee. A sudden, crescendoing engine caught your attention as headlights blinded you. You heaved a sigh, so John hadn’t been home, and now you were kneeling on his doorstep. The gun metal mustang sidled to a stop beside your car, engine cutting off as a familiar form unfolded, “(Y/N), Is that you?” You didn’t answer because you knew he already knew it was you, rain wouldn’t obstruct those sharp eyes. John fruitlessly shielded himself from the onslaught of precipitation, “What are you doing here?” You thought about it for a moment, focussing your eyes on the canine as you bit your lip and hoped the falling rain would hide any traces of tears lingering on your face. John stopped just short, hovering over you, “(Y/N)?” He kneeled down beside you, intense gaze burning holes in the side of your face. “It’s freezing outside. Are you alright?” Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore and turned to meet those dark eyes. “Yes,” You sighed unconvincingly, ripping your gaze from his, but John always had a way of dragging things out of you, “…no, I don’t know, John.” Out of the corner of your eyes, you could see John hesitate- his hand hovering over your shoulder but in the end it fell back to his side. His voice was strained, drawing out your name, “(Y/N)….” His pity crumbled what little resilience you had left, anger chipping away at the walls you’d carefully put up, “How are you ok, John? Because I’m really struggling to figure out how you woke up one morning and changed your mind about me.” John only nodded in response to your outburst, taking the cutting words in stride, “I didn’t-“ “But you did, John. And I genuinely don’t know why, I keep wracking my brain for something I could have done. And whatever I did, I can’t figure out how it was so bad you flipped this switch overnight.” Your voice was thick as you forced yourself up, standing to your full height before trying to make a break for your car. John’s taller (and much firmer) form was quick to intercept you- if it wasn’t for the situation, it would’ve amusing how you bounced off his hard chest. He held you at elbow’s distance, carefully observing you, there was something in his eyes that you couldn’t place, but you were done trying. With embarrassment heating your cheeks, you attempted to shrug his hold off, “I’ll get going, I’m sorry for bothering you.” “(Y/N), you didn’t do anything, I-“ John stopped himself quickly when he saw you shiver, shrugging off his leather jacket so he could drape it on your shoulders. He was always so in tune with your needs. The warmth was immediate, as was the scent of his cologne that drifted around you, “It’s easier this way.” You scoffed, clutching at the well worn leather. Almost instantly, his white t-shirt clung to his torso. “What’s easier, John?” He shook his head, this time not hesitating to touch you this time, tracing wet hair off your forehead before his hands rested on your cheeks, as his eyes racked your face. “(Y/N), you gotta stay away from me. Move on, have a life.” “You seem to be moving on just fine.” You raised an eyebrow bitterly, jerking your head to the side but still allowing John to guide your face back to his. “Believe me, I’m not doing as well as you seem to think I am.” He muttered, the only thing you could find on him to back up the statement was the slightly over grown scruff on his jawline. "Where is this coming from?” Your voice was tired, but you didn’t pull away from his touch. He sighed, eyes closed as his thumbs swiped across your cheeks before his lips pressed gently against your forehead. “(Y/N), you’ll be so much happier, safer if you do.” He promised (carefully avoiding answering your question) you after he pulled away, but kept his nose pressed to your forehead. You sighed heavily, your body naturally folding into chest as if he wasn’t telling you to move on. “I don’t know how, John.” You whispered, close enough to hear his heart beat. His arms wrapped around you like they had done so many times before, cheek pressing against the crown of your head. Finally, you pulled away, forcing the distance he so desperately wanted between the two of you. “You taught me how to live with you,” You kept your voice steady as you met his eyes again. He was staring after you with sad eyes, but waited quietly as you continued. One deep breath to ground yourself as your eyes began to sting again, “And I was happy.” John began to say something, but you cut him off by holding up your hand. Sliding his jacket back off and tossing it to him, the assassin caught it easily. This gave you enough time to continue, even if your voice was so thick it was barely audible over the steadily increasing rain. “Then, you made me leave, so tell me how to live without you, John. Tell me how to live without you and I will, but I genuinely don’t know how to.”

#john wick x reader #john wick imagine

16 notes · View notes

supernaturaldesires · 4 years ago

Text

A Descent Into Insanity - Chapter One

Based on request by @sweetpotato-97

Could ask for a fic of Yandere Dean with a reader who sees him as a best friend and a form of brother for them, of course in the beginning Dean was not a yandere but he changed with the passage of time?

Note: the reader in a way is innocent and does not know that Dean is in love with them.

Pairing: None (yet)

Characters: Dean & Sam

Warnings: none, other than a slightly protective Dean

Word Count: 1,802

One Year Ago

As you pulled up to the old abandoned shack, you checked against the photo in the newspaper on your passenger seat. This was the place, without a doubt. You had stopped about 150 yards away to avoid drawing any attention or raising any alarms within the shack. If the stories you’d heard from the townsfolk were true, you were expecting just a couple of vamps, max three. It appeared to be a relatively new nest since the attacks only started a couple of weeks ago, out of the blue. You reached into the backseat, grabbing your machete and hip-flask. You took a swig of whisky from the flask for good measure before shoving it in the glove compartment and heaving yourself out.

There was a gravel path leading up to the shack, but you opted to walk along the grassy verge in an attempt to keep as quiet as possible. When you were about 50 yards from the shack though, you noticed a ‘67 Chevy Impala tucked behind some large shrubs, just off the path. Strange. It wasn’t a large town and all of the attacks happened within a couple mile radius of the shack, so you couldn’t imagine much need for the vamps to have a set of wheels. Nevertheless, you pushed on.

As you approached the front porch, you noticed that the door to the shack was already open, creaking back-and-forth with the breeze. It was at that moment you heard a blood-curdling scream, followed by shouting. Armed with your machete, you launched through the front door towards the noise.

Two beheaded bodies already lay on the floor, and ahead of you there were two figures wrestling on the ground. “Sammy!” Shouted the man who was pinned to the ground, trying to fend off the snarling vamp with his bare hands. His machete lay on the ground nearby, but just out of reach. Without a second thought, you flew forward, thrust your machete down on the vamp, slicing clean through its neck. The head bounced off the man’s shoulder, to which he jumped up, shuddering and wiping himself down. “Hey, thanks man-” He looked up at you for the first time and blinked. “Oh, my bad. Sorry, didn’t mean to assume.” You lowered your machete, wiping the blade on the clothes of the dead vamp. “No biggie,” you shrugged in response. “You get used to it in this line of work.” You flashed him a knowing smile.

Another man entered the room through a second door, to which you instinctively raised your weapon again, but he immediately stopped and raised his hands in self-defence at the sight of you.

“He’s good,” the first man said. “That’s my brother. All good, Sam?”

“Yeah,” the tall man said, running a hand through his shaggy hair. “There was another one in there but I managed to catch him off-guard.”

“Sweet. Well, this young lady saved my ass before I became a vamp snack,” the first man chuckled. “Thanks for that, by the way, um...?”

“Y/N,” you said. “As I said, no biggie. I wasn’t expecting such a big nest, so if you guys hadn’t got here first, I’d probably have been the meal anyway.”

Both men laughed at that. “I’m Dean, this is my baby brother Sam. Come on, let me buy you a drink to say thanks.”

Present Day

“Dean, can you please put a different tape on now?” Sam moaned for the fifth time. “I swear this is the tenth time I’ve heard this song.”

“Sorry Sammy, you know the rules,” his brother smirked. “Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole.”

Sam turned in his seat to face you in the backseat, hoping to get some back-up but he knew he was outnumbered when he saw you playing air guitar.

“She’s got eyes of the bluest skies, as if they thought of rain,” you sang along gleefully. “C’mon Sammy, how can you get tired of Guns ’n’ Roses? I could listen to this all day!”

Sam groaned, shifting back to face forward and slouched grumpily against the car door. “Don’t encourage him, Y/N,” he grumbled. “And I’ve told you, not even Dean’s supposed to call me Sammy, you’re definitely not allowed.”

You leaned over the back of the front seat, throwing him a pout before motioning a tiny violin between your thumb and forefinger. Dean roared with laughter as Sam grunted, folding his arms with a strop. “Tell me we’re nearly there, at least.”

“Only another 50 miles to go, little brother,” Dean hummed. He shot you a cheeky look and you knew exactly what was coming next. You both sang at the tops of your lungs:

“WoooooOOOoooaahhh sweet child of mine!”

As you arrived at the bunker, you jumped out of the car and stretched your legs before hauling your overnight bag out of the backseat. “I’m jumping straight into the shower, I still stink of werewolf.”

“Yeah I know,” Dean remarked, scrunching his nose comically. You punched him playfully in the arm, which he then clutched in feigned agony, staggering.

“Whatever, tough guy,” you huffed as you made your way into the building.

After showering and feeling refreshed, you pulled on a pair of joggers and an oversized hoodie and made your way to the kitchen. Sam was already sat at the table, staring intensely at his laptop screen and scribbling notes.

“I’m feeling pancakes, Sam, you want some?” The tall man just shook his head, his eyes not moving from the screen. “You know you’re allowed to relax every now and then, right?”

The elder Winchester sauntered into the kitchen then, also looking much fresher. “Did I hear pancakes?”

“Yep, you know where the ingredients are,” you smirked, plopping down into the chair opposite Sam.

Dean threw an irritated look at you before reluctantly rummaging through the fridge. “Asshole,” he muttered.

“Jerk,” you retorted without missing a beat. “You boys up for a drink tonight? I fancy going out, celebrating our victory in taking out that pack.”

“Sure,” Dean answered. “Let’s get some grub in us, then we can head over to the bar.”

Sam continued tapping away at his laptop. “You guys go ahead, I’ve just found this interesting article about this new legal case over in Wisconsin. Check it out, so this guy-”

“Yawwwn,” Dean interrupted. “Sometimes I wish I’d just left you at Stanford, you nerd. Anyways, Y/N and I are gonna go have some fun. Maybe you can look up the definition of the word sometime, Sammy.”

You and Dean had settled at a table at the bar, chatting about everything and nothing for about an hour, already four drinks in. You couldn’t forget that impressed glint in his eye when he first realised that you could not only hold your drink, but could also keep up with him quite easily.

You were howling with laughter as Dean told you a story of Sam losing a rabbit’s foot and the chain of unfortunate events that followed. “So I’m there on the phone to Bobby and I could tell Sam was mucking around behind me doing some stupid shit but I wasn’t really paying attention. Next thing I know, I turn around and he’s looking at me with that goofy puppy-dog face. ‘I lost my shoe,’ he says. Dropped it down a damn drain, the dumbass.” You wiped the tears of laughter from your face, shaking your head and taking a swig of your drink. “Anyway, gotta go empty the tank. I’ll be back.” Dean pushed away from the table and headed off to the men’s room.

One of your favourite AC/DC songs came on the jukebox, so you started tapping your foot and bopping your head along with the music. You didn’t really notice the stranger approach you until he helped himself to Dean’s seat. “Hey there, little lady.” You looked up at the guy, he was your typical jock-type, wearing a football jersey and a baseball cap. He was a little broader than Dean, but several inches shorter. “Can I get you a drink?”

“No thanks,” you said, smiling politely. “I’m here with a friend, just having a good time.”

“Yeah, I saw your friend,” the guy scoffed. “I promise you, come with me and I can show you a real good time, sweetheart,” he said with a wink.

You sighed and rolled your eyes. “I said-” your tone was harsh now, your words sharp. “I’m here with my friend. I’m not interested.”

“Aw come on sweet cheeks, I saw the way he was looking at you. He ain’t interested in you like that. I mean, he’s a fucking fool for it, but I’d be happy to step into the shoes if he’s too much of a pussy to fill them.” He tried to wrap an arm around you then, and you were just about to shove him off when his whole body was suddenly ripped away from you, and the next thing you knew, he was on the floor.

Dean towered over him, his eyes sparking with anger. “Did you not fucking hear her when she said she’s not interested?” By now, the rest of the bar had fallen silent, all eyes on the unfolding scene.

“Hey, dude, chill out,” the guy muttered. “It’s not like you were making a move.”

Dean grabbed the collar of the guy’s shirt in his fist, getting right in his face. You jumped up, preparing to intervene. “What I do is none of your fucking business, if you come near her again, I swear-”

“Dean!” You shouted, grabbing his other fist which had raised, ready to take a swing. “Leave it.”

“Oi!” The manager peeked out of the backroom, having heard the commotion. He jabbed a finger at Dean. “Get out of my bar, now!”

You could see the fire in Dean’s eyes redirect towards the manager, but you tugged at his shirt. “Dean, please! Just leave it. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Dean paused for a moment before releasing the guy’s shirt, letting him fall roughly to the floor. He turned his attention back to the manager, eyes like daggers. “You oughta get some better clientele in here, mate, instead of little bitch boys.” You hooked your arm through Dean’s and dragged him out the front door. He let you pull him away, but all the while throwing glaring looks between the manager and the man who had tried hitting on you.

You really did love your new life with the Winchesters, basically considered them your brothers now, but they tended to find their newfound protective role a little too seriously sometimes. You decided it wasn’t worth an argument this time, instead letting Dean cool down as you both made your way back to the bunker.

Chapter Two =>

Dean tags: @akshi8278

Divider credit: @firefly-graphics

#supernatural #spn #spn fanfic #dean winchester #sam winchester #a descent into insanity

36 notes · View notes

alias-b · 5 years ago

Text

angel cake.

Summary: Former enemies, now friends and maybe lovers, Billy Hargrove and Evie Fenny start teasing in a church confessional. Things take a turn for the heated when Billy's imagination gets away from him. ~Also posted on my AO3

Billy/plus size!OC. Fucking in a confessional. Sin. Filth. Thanks for reading. Weird to write them romantically bc the start of the fic is Rough. They have work to do. Billy Being Nasty In Church. Teaser at later stuff for my new enemies to friends to lovers Billy/OC Fic, Sins of My Youth, that I want to start posting. XOXO.

Billy Hargrove x Evie Fenny

angel cake. 🍰

“You really have to go to this thing?” Billy’s Camaro roared into a church parking lot. Looked out of place there. Multicolored tulips swept against the spring wind, too pleasant before the fender.

“Told mom I’d help out. I’m not staying for the festivities, they just need extra hands setting up the food and Easter egg hunt.” Aviators flashed at Evie in the passenger seat.

Billy with his arm propped in the window. Denim jacket and white button down tucked into tight jeans. Cigarette dangling out his lips. Exceptionally pretty, even against all the pastel flowers and banners set for the holiday.

“What a good daughter. Santa ought to put you on the nice list for sure.” He plucked the smoke out to exhale as she brought the car mirror down.

“Hell, I forgot I had red on today.You have napkins in here?” She opened the glove box to sift through papers. Billy extended his arm.

“Use the jacket, give me something messy to remember you by.” A wink followed before she took his wrist and smacked a ruby kiss into his forearm, printing the light wash. Eyes flicked as some of the red lipstick got swiped away, leaving a more pink tint behind.

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Red is the devil’s color, Evangeline.” Came some mocking in a horrid southern accent. She scoffed with her eyes elsewhere.

“You could always come help if you’re going to pout.” She dug around her purse.

“Not pouting. Churches and I don’t mix. It’s the one thing dad and I agree on.” Billy pulled his shades down and folded them into his front pocket with the cigarettes.

“Well, pick me up in an hour, we’ll go catch something scary and sinful.” She applied chapstick and rubbed her lips together.

“Sinful? I like that.” Billy’s fingers squeezed her thigh, hot on skin and just barely under the little black suspender skirt. Evie wore a brightly colored tee with sunflowers all over it. Her usual green bomber jacket covered in patches. “That new?”

“The chapstick? No, it’s tinted and smells like watermelon though.”

“Let me try.” Billy saw her offer the tube and instead pulled her in by the collar for a kiss. Mashing their lips together. He flicked his tongue out for good measure and heard her gasp against his ferocity. It still managed to catch her off guard. A light smack when he parted, tonguing his bottom lip. “Mm, tastes like watermelon too.”

“Billy, there are people over there.” She pushed his wandering hand out of her skirt.

“I’d like to see Jesus himself come out and...what the fuck is that?” Billy’s finger lifted so Evie followed it to see the Easter Bunny leaving a lone side door. Lavender fur with white tufts, huge goofy grin.

“Yeah, they have someone dress up every year for when the kids arrive, which is in about sixty minutes, so I gotta go.” Evie had Billy’s wrist again to check the time. Pecked his cheek and shifting before he about howled. “What?” Her body jumped at the sound.

“No fucking way!” Billy was scrambling out because the bunny head had come off so a quick smoke could be snuck around back. “No way! Hey, Harrington! That you, amigo? What’s up, doc?”

Steve spun on his heel, holding a cigarette in one hand and the bunny head under his other arm. His head fell back with a groan because Billy was leaning up against his chair, bent over to belly laugh.

“Hargrove?” Steve looked mortified, but played tough. “Are they really letting you within five feet of a church?” Billy was too busy cackling to retort. Fist clenched and head resting upon his arm on the Camaro.

“The fucking tail.” Billy wasn’t stopping so Evie crossed her arms.

“What happened to Gary?” Evie approached Steve, head cocking. “Ignore Billy.”

“I try to… And food poisoning. I dropped Dustin off at home yesterday to help Claudia out and she begged me last minute. I’m getting fifteen bucks for it though. Not bad for the Saturday before Easter.” He flashed a half smile. “Suit kinda smells like potpourri, I-...Is he gonna stop or what?”

“He’ll tucker himself out eventually.” Evie turned her head to see Billy unable to get air. “Billy, take a breath already before you pass out!” A huge gulp followed. More wild laughter. “Jeez.”

“I’m never gonna live this down, shit.” Steve mumbled around his smoke, flicking it. “Asshole.”

“Might want to get back in, Pastor will have a cow if he catches you smoking in the suit.” Evie took the head to help Steve back into it.

“See you, Hargrove. Remember to breathe, dick.” The bunny snuck back in the side door. Another round of laughs at the sight of the puffy tail.

“I wanna kick his ass so bad. You don’t understand.” Billy stretched out, eyes watering and cheeks blushed. Freckles glowing.

“You short circuiting still?” Evie peered down at her boots.

“I don’t know what Easter is about, but that...was the best shit I’ve ever seen.” Billy snickered like a little boy with his hand in the cookie jar. Evie only rolled her eyes.

“New beginnings, Billy.” Heels clicked up behind them so Billy straightened quick to get his composure.

“Hey, mom.” Evie leaned out from behind the boy.

Mona Fenny appeared from the main doors, her arms full of bags. Brightly colored plastic eggs packed with treats about to spill out. Hair pumped, unable to move, with a short 60s sheath dress clinging to her body. Yellow and orange print. Something that was definitely noted by the men around. Single and ready at all times. Evie felt her cheeks heat at her mother.

“New beginnings, Miss Mona?” Billy repeated, one hand sliding into his jean pocket.

“That’s what I always thought, sugar.” That southern twang thick beyond all reach.

Billy always liked to poke fun at Evie, she had the slightest Louisiana touch to her voice that came out when she was in a more fiery disposition. She swore it wasn’t true.

“Evie, they’re trying to get the dessert table set up. I didn’t realize Billy was joining us.” Mona continued.

“Oh, I-”

“You know, Billy was actually telling me he’s never been to a real Easter gathering before. Not a church event.” Evie’s sly smile crossed and he shot her a look. “I’m sure those big, strong arms you got would really help out setting up.” Evie came to him and gave his bicep a pat.

“That’s lovely, Billy. You know the kids just love this event, fun in the sun and more food than you’ll ever eat. Go on inside, you two. We have decorations to get going.” Mona clicked away, peppy in stride.

“I had a hair appointment.” Billy hissed through his teeth when Evie’s mother was gone.

“You want to tell my mother that you’re going to get your hair done somewhere that isn’t her salon?” Evie’s lips pressed. Billy’s face scrunched because she had him there. “I panicked, the people here are too much. Please stay.”

“Your mom never turns her volume down, does she? Looking more like a brunette Sharon Tate than a Dolly Parton.” Billy locked his car, stuffing the scorpion keychain into his pocket.

“Been like that since dad left, she’s...on the market. Trying to feel good. People notice and they say some not great stuff. She went from dressing like a nun to a model overnight.” Evie was holding her arms close to her chest still, making this unconscious patting motion Billy always noted like she was trying to console herself.

“Really bugs you, what people think.”

“It’s a small town, it bugs everyone.” Evie turned, skirt flitting while her curls bounced. “Don’t like all these guys ogling my mom.”

Doesn’t like that one might replace her dad. Evie peered back at Billy, lips pushed up to appear brighter. He decided he wanted to see her happier without force.

“I’ll stick around. You owe me.” Steps followed. One hand gave her bottom a firm pat.

“You know, the Easter Bunny has to do a dance before the festivities begin?” She whispered then. “It’s tradition.”

Billy perked up like a dog.

“Right, so, decorations?” He waltzed ahead with a giggling girl in tow. Spotted the moms passing boxes off. All stilling to see him there. Wind sweeping his blond locks like a beefcake out of a romance novel. Shirt open with his saint chain glinting upon his tanned chest. “Ladies.”

“Hi, Billy.” Came the chorus.

He ate that up a little.

Sunlight was barely felt through the spring breeze. Balloons and streamers glowed every direction. Twisted around Evie’s manicured fingers as she passed them up to Billy to be tied around the banner.

“Feel like I might float away here.” The wind swept up her unruly curls as she smiled below when Billy peered to see her. Pink and violet balloons. Yellow streamers. She looked like a piece of decadent candy there. “What?”

Billy snapped out of it.

“Why do I have to be on the ladder?” He snatched another bundle of strings from her to tie them up.

“I wore a skirt so I wouldn’t have to be.” Came the cheeky reply. Hawkins residents hurried all over to set up the grassy field.

“Let’s switch. Although, the view here ain’t half bad. I can totally see down your shirt.” His tongue swept over eager lips as eyes lowered to her breasts. Brows furrowed to glare at him. It was striking how cute she was, even angry. High, apple cheeks and pillowy lips. The sun brought some gold into lush, dark curls.

“Jerk.” An arm hanging with streamers covered her chest. “We’re standing next to a church. Behave yourself, you’re fixing to get smited.”

“God’s got bigger problems than me.” He shrugged, caught his tongue in teeth. Smirked. “Fixin’ to. Your Louisiana is showing.”

“Shut it, I got too much family down there still. Sometimes it jumps out. I don’t have an accent.”

“You so do. Just saying it’s cute.” He caught her cheeks flooding all strawberries and cream.

“Hey, I have to keep my clinically unapproachable ice queen reputation. You’re not helping.”

“Damn cute then.” Billy’s head cocked. A wink of those sinfully, long lashes. “Hand me another one.”

Evie’s hand came to his to offer a new bundle of balloons.

Green grass swept about as parents worked to hide eggs all over and a full spread of picnic food was set out on blue gingham tables. Kids started to pile in so Billy decided it was time to hide around the building after snagging the biggest piece of apple pie he could. Alone, they watched the crowds play beyond a row of vibrant tulips.

“One fork?” Evie leaned up against the wall.

“You had my tongue in your mouth this morning, don’t complain about sharing a fork.”

“Fair enough.” She let him feed her a bite. “That wasn’t so bad, time flew. You want to jet?” A bouncy tune played as Billy craned his neck around the corner after a huge bit of pie. Evie followed his line of sight.

“Easter is my new favorite holiday.” He let Evie snag the fork to finish off the slice, tossing the plate into the trash. Genuine laughter as Steve Harrington did a jig in his costume across the open field. Billy’s arm slid over Evie’s shoulders. “You think I can pay one of these kids to kick bunny in the nuts?”

“We’re leaving… Before you traumatize some child.” She tugged at his wrist to sneak in a side door. “Left my coat and purse over here.”

Absolutely empty and dim save for the morning sun spilling into stained glass. They passed rows of pews to the tables covered in empty boxes. Evie went for her purse and realized she already lost Billy, curiously rooting around.

“Hey, don’t touch that.”

“They actually have one of these things? I thought movies made this shit up.” Billy poked his head around the little confessional booth. Hardwood and sleek to touch. Ornate and out of place against bright blue wallpaper. Two doors on either side. “So, everyone’s planning on staying outside right? Should be entertained a few hours, hm.”

He went in and a lock clicked.

“Billy, hey.” Evie felt the urge to keep her voice low. “Get out of there. They actually don’t really use this thing anymore.”

“Doesn’t get use, eh? Too bad.” His snicker was muffled. “Get in the other side, Angel, confess your sins.”

“I’ll confess that I think the nickname is still silly.” She wiggled the handle and poked her head into the opposite side. Saw Billy’s pretty silhouette through the tiny mesh window. Both sides were cramped like an airplane bathroom.

“Roomier than I thought.”

“Some of us have hips here.” Evie huffed at him, the door shut while she slid inside. “Kinda creepy actually, let’s go.”

“You gotta confess first, it’s the rule.” His wild curls flicked so she plopped into the wooden bench.

“This is not even sexy, I feel like I’m about to be murdered here.” She pressed her hands on either wall.

“Better confess quick in that case,” Billy leaned in, she saw his lashes flutter, “what color are your panties today?”

“Billy.” She covered the mesh with one hand.

“Do they match the bra?” He continued, voice lowering.

“I’m not doing this.” Evie lifted her skirt and shifted a lacy pair of shorts aside to see. Billy’s breath drew heavier. “What’s it matter if they match?”

“If they match, you walked into this church thinking you’d be getting some later.” He said that far too matter-a-factually. “Sinner. What color? Describe them exactly.”

“You’re being gross.” She knew he heard the band of her little biker shorts snap. Caved. “Purple. Like a lilac.”

“Cotton?”

“...Satin.”

A lengthy hum from Billy at that.

“And the bra. I’m assuming the same.” He already heard Evie shuffling to check.

“Ah, shit.” She let her shirt go and he chuckled. “I didn’t even plan that. I wasn’t thinking about it.”

“Your subconscious knew, Angel. No denying it.” Billy propped his arm up.

“Okay, what do you have on?” The challenge was easily met.

“Nothing under the jeans, currently. You should try it.”

“In a skirt? Without my little shorts? My thighs would rub, I’d be miserable.” Came a whine.

“I’d massage your poor thighs, maybe blow the hot skin to cool it off if you like.” His suggestion wasn’t helpful. “Spread them and rub some ice to make you feel better. Few kisses all the way up.” That damn low baritone lingered upon the syllables like he might lick them. Evie gave a silent snort out her nose. “You’d probably squirm a little bit like you are now.”

“I am not squirming.” Evie’s chest lifted, eyes turned to Billy’s outline.

“Now, Angel, you can’t tell lies in here. The sins are just piling up for you today.” Billy peered around, couldn’t see much in here. Spotted her lips parting, but sound came out. “Betcha, you’re already soaked through those satin, lilac panties.” His purring was met with hard silence before a forcibly huff.

“Billy...quit it.” She bit her lip this time sounding like she’d smiled. Billy spotted her cheeks lifting, full and blushed all pretty he figured.

“I’ll confess, it took every ounce of fight in me to get you here on time. Lot of places in this town to stop and...park at for a bit. The one charming thing I discovered about this place.”

“How sunny side up of you.” She hummed.

“You would have let me have it because we would have parked for awhile. You’d be late. Probably left your wrecked panties in the backseat and walked around here with fireworks still going off under your skin. We both know it.”

“Probably wouldn’t have made it here at all.” Her slow reply was uttered and Billy grinned.

“See, I behaved.” He got closer to the window. “Confess, Evie.”

“Confess that you’re a total horn dog.” She drew in to meet him.

“Confess what you want me to do to you in there.” Billy murmured. She blew a curl out her face at that. “I got it, I want you to be my first.” He’d offered that with huge, glittering eyes she’d caught the glint of. Eyebrows jumped.

“What? Literally yesterday, we-”

“I never fucked in a church before.” He got her eyes rolling hard, almost to the back of her skull.

“Jesus Christ, Billy.” She covered the mesh again, heard him laughing on the other side.

“Not the name you need to be moaning right now.” Billy smacked the window closed and came out.

“Finally, we can go-” Evie had the door open. Still blushing. Chest puffed.

Billy appeared from smoke, had his hands on either side before he pushed in. Catching her lips on the way until the door could shut behind them. Cupping Evie’s face so she pressed into the wall. Back of her legs hit the bench and managed to not buckle. Palms felt around the hardwood for something to grab for until fingers bunched up Billy’s jacket.

She broke for air. Gulped on it before his tongue was back into her mouth.

“We should…” Lips swelled with kisses. “Go to the car.”

“Will you make that walk? I know I won’t.” Came the hushed reply. “We could cross something big off the bucket list.” Persuasive lips were already working on her neck, teeth tugged her ear and grazed back down. Billy got a handful of her tits and hummed.

“Not...Not sure it’s on my bucket list.” She just held onto him. Knees wobbling as Billy massaged through the bra.

“I’d add it now while you have time.” He pecked her throat. Felt the pulse under tender skin racing. “Confess.” It was a sinful purr. Evie’s head tipped back. Lungs starting to sputter. Billy made her heart a pile of volcanic mush.

“What if someone comes in?” She let him tuck her curls aside. Lips on her cheeks and jaw. Finding her mouth again. Tasting sweet sugar from the apple pie they shared.

“We’ll just have to keep it down and pray the party is entertaining enough to keep people outside.” He mumbled, coming out to pull the shirt from her skirt up over the pretty bra she had on.

Hands pulled her suspenders forth until Evie molded into him. Kissed back with the same fierce vigor he gave. Felt the chain around his neck while her fingers slipped under the collar of his shirt, four buttons already undone.

The hard lines of his body sweltered with fire. Whatever resolve she might have had melted away completely.

Evie liked how he always cupped her face to look at her features close between steaming kisses. Fingers trailed to work her bra down just enough for her to spill into his touch. Into his mouth. Bruising suckles. Teeth edging across silken skin. Tongue swirling one dark, rosy nipple than the other as she tried to quiet herself and ran fingers into his gold mane. A hiss and Billy’s eyes lifted. Evie’s head was turned aside, teeth in her bottom lip. Eyes shut.

“Cute when you try to hold it together.” Cool breath against her hard, wet nipple sent a vibration down her spine. Billy licked up her chest to inhale that amber perfume, a floral scent with a touch of vanilla from her lotion. Smelled lush to match him. She pushed his face back into her cleavage, partly to quiet him because he was too cocky.

Chuckling and breathless, Billy came up to tease her lips. Twisting her nipples just so to elicit a sigh. Low and even, Billy ran his finger over her mouth.

“Just confess, Angel, it’ll feel so fucking good when you do.” He caught her bottom lip and let it go.

“Promise?” Evie’s lips parted involuntarily at his touch, let his finger stroke her tongue and slip out.

“I promise.” That same hand already hiked her skirt to tug at shorts until they came down. His finger inched under the waistband of her panties, teasing sensitive skin. She pressed into his body, vibrating for more. Swaying. Arms snug around his shoulders to stay upright.

A shameless sound when her lips collided with his. Thigh hitching around his hips in a needy motion. Not shy about what she desired for one beat because he knew how to coax that side of her out. Billy teased lighter kisses, let his deft fingers dance along her inner thigh. Evie was stubborn and she knew what he wanted.

Confession.

A growl rippled out her tense vocal cords. Trying to reel sound in despite Billy’s inherent ability to make her see new sparks of vivid neon colors here in pure darkness.

“Okay…” She panted, pulling for him until their foreheads touched. “Okay.” A drunken moment where eyes could close. One beat of peace in obscenity. His free arm tightened around the small of her back so they were flush together. Perfect fit. Every curve to her body sloped easily into him. An almost Biblical fate because of how good they felt together. Evie parted her mouth to ghost it over his. “I sinned.”

“Yeah?” Billy’s palm inched up to reward her sighs. A smirk crossed. “How’s that?”

“Because I was hoping you’d pull over on the way here. Would have seen the new underwear in a better light. And I squirmed the whole way. Your loss.” All that cheeky strength simmered down when fingers pushed between thick thighs. Wet satin fabric slipped deliberately against her and Billy moaned at the mere feel. Rock hard.

“Fuck, you’re soaked, Angel.” His tone thickened.

Evie wasn’t able to articulate. Face in his chest with her needy fingers tight on his jacket. She played her demure self again. Billy felt her legs tremor, nudged them further apart with his boot.

“All for me? I wouldn’t call it a loss. You gotta hold yourself up a bit longer, open that mouth again.” He gave her two slick fingers to suck so he could kiss down her tits some more. Plucked and nipped at every sensitive part of her body. “Fucking god damn it, I might give religion a shot after this.”

“Yeah?” Evie licked the pads as Billy slunk down to marvel. Thought about taking her skirt off, but he decided he liked the way the straps framed her breasts partially spilling out of the bra.

One hand forced her thigh up until her foot hit the bench. Evie was curved back into the wall, holding the side frame and gripping Billy’s shoulder.

“Long as I get to go where you’re going, I don’t give a shit about anything else.” A chuckle warmed her leg as he pushed her skirt up out of the way.

“That sounded oddly sentimental.”

“Maybe I’ll bring you down to my level instead. Sinner.” Billy’s mouth placed one open kiss against her wet panties. Tongue following the hard swell of her bud. She decided she’d let him there in darkness. Every muscle in Evie’s body jumped at full attention. His divine and equally wicked mouth hummed blissfully. She craned to dig teeth into her own arm. Fists clenching.

Billy maneuvered her leg over to get the ruined fabric down. Tucked them into his coat pocket and she figured she wouldn’t be seeing them again. Kneeling, Billy scooted closer and pushed her thigh back up, baring her to his mouth.

A cry hitched, snuffing out immediately as he tasted her. Filthy, open mouth kisses until her fingers tangled into his hair. Pulled. Billy moaned into her folds. Squeezed her thighs and loved the feel of them. God, he really couldn’t get enough of this girl. Every whine she let him have. Every nerve that wanted him. Needed him to ease the frays and sizzling. He just couldn’t get enough and was fine with following her into the dark.

“Don’t stop.” Evie whispered. Hair falling into her face while her breasts rose and fell. She licked her lips and savored him.

The dirty sounds he made against her that barely carried outside the booth. Billy squeezed her breast once he was certain she could stay up so she covered his hand. Craned to suck fingers. A gasp left. Evie’s hips rolled into his mouth. Asking for even more until two fingers pushed inside.

Billy moaned when her walls clamped. Pumped through the resistance to massage her nice and deep. Evie was quivering there. Using both arms on the sides to stay up. Shameless working into him now. Billy made a vaguely amused sound and gave an obscene pop around her clit, leaning out with arousal slicking his pink lips. It was music, the sounds her body let flow into crisp air.

“Damn, no wonder you don’t go here anymore. Fucking yourself so hard and pretty on my fingers like this. You couldn’t make the nice list if you paid.” Being eye level with the sight had his cock twitching almost painfully. Evie’s head was tossed back. Clearly getting herself closer so Billy pulled away. Silenced her whine with a kiss. Let her suck and nip at his bottom lip. “See how fucking good you taste?”

Evie’s hands were opening his belt. Quick and eager. Billy hitched as one palm slipped in, fingers ghosting trimmed blond hair to ease him out of the denim.

“Confess, Evie, how bad you want me to fuck you right here.” He spoke as if he still had the upper hand.

“Bet you I can do it without words.” Evie had his hips, guiding Billy to switch so he could sit. The question died and buried itself the second she sank down to lick precum pooling at his tip. Billy’s hips thrust up, eyes heavy and hooded.

“That bad?” He shuddered, legs opening so she could lean into him. Evie unbuttoned the rest of his shirt to kiss the steel muscles. Twitching and molten. Nails scraped his skin. Stopped to stroke him idly. Kissing his abdomen, thighs, and tip. Evie traced the lines of vein and muscle. Down his shaft and back up his chest. So many sharp angles to explore.

Little butterfly kisses while she leaned in until his cock slipped snug between her breasts. Spit slick and beading clear arousal. Billy moaned at the sight and gave a rut as she noticed and started to come out.

Hands latched to her shoulders. Billy hummed and rolled her nipple. Felt the weight of her tits and pushed them to squeeze his shaft. Idle fingers stilled to tuck her hair back in a way that was almost tender.

“You’re pretty like this,” he said thoughtfully, “you’re pretty every which way.” Teeth tugged at her bottom lip. A shy kiss followed. Sometimes, he got so bold, she sank. Learned to savor it. Billy whispered against her. “Have I ever told you my cock looks great between your tits like that?” Frankly, he’d be happy to get off rubbing between her breasts or thighs alone. Fingers digging into supple skin. Evie had become a drug to him. Vanilla and amber immersed him in a high.

“The occasion hasn’t really crossed.”

“I’ll have to fix that next time I can lie you down.” Billy let her stroke him again and come up. Hesitating so he had to encourage her. “Get in my lap.” He was already pulling her into him. Smoothing hair back sweetly for lingering kisses.

She long stopped worrying about feeling too heavy for him. Billy threw her around a mattress like it was nothing. Spread her legs, bent them up how he liked. Marveled at her flexibility. Kissed her obscenely and told her how pretty and blushed she looked. She liked when he was ample with her body. The boy certainly lifted enough weights, a fuller girl with hips was nothing to that. Jeans shifted lower as she straddled him. A kiss before she sank down.

Billy moaned. A low honeyed sound into her ear. Almost musical. Arms wrapped tighter. Evie thanked God for birth control and moved at his coaxing.

“C’mon, fuck me. I want it.” Billy kissed her fiercely. Nipples. Collar. Throat. Jawline. Mouth. And each time, he felt that same thrill rush his bones. A palm smacked her ass, squeezed it. Got drunk off the pulsing and little whines she gave him as if they were gift wrapped. “Confession. I want pictures of you. Spread out with my cock in you every way you like. They won’t beat the real thing, but fuck, I can’t...stop with you. Don’t want to.”

Billy looked vulnerable when he moaned so pretty.

His knuckles traced the curve of her cheekbone. Evie bounced, gripped his shoulders to stay upright with her spine curving. Unable to respond to something so passionate. Billy had that mode on him, sometimes it came out in odd ways. Filthy words to match his obscene way of caressing and worship. His manner of making Evie feel bold and sexy. Cute. Pretty. Fierce. Desired. The fact that sometimes he’d lie still for once and seek out her fingers across his curls and her lips on his cheek.

Evie Fenny was a drug and cure to him, all at once. She gave back. Made Billy feel full and light. Made him feel present. Like he could shed his fangs. Lie back and feel the sun on his skin.

“Confession,” Evie said between quick kisses with her thumb tracing the edge of his jaw, “I want more of you too. After....”

“After?” He scoffed. “Like tonight?”

“Just… After.” She slowed to rock into him. Deep thrusts that made them both moan in sync. So close. “After what’s next for us. Life. High school. Whatever. I want you to be apart of my after.”

He could blame the sex for short circuiting her brain, he’d given it to her pretty hard.

“I don’t know what I’m saying.” She rubbed her eyes, laughed because it felt silly. Felt Billy swoop in to kiss her. Wordlessly validating it wasn’t silly at all. That was another thing they did, pumped life into hopeful hearts and dwindling thoughts of something more. Something that was waiting...after.

“We’ll deal with the after.” Billy skimmed a hand between them. Stroked her until she gave a cry into the denim of his jacket. A beautiful note. Evie thought she heard the twinkling music from outside, joyful and airy. Realized that maybe it was just playing in her head. “Right now, I want you to come.” He pecked her parted lips. “Cum for me, Angel.”

“Billy.” She found his mouth again. They shared a godly nectar in one kiss. He worked her hips into his as she climaxed. Lungs heaving with a great arch. Billy watched her tits bounce and found his own release quick. Let her slip into him as he fell back to the wall. Lungs tried to find some peace. That New Orleans accent laced her tone again. “God damn it, Billy.”

“Still a church, Fenny.” He massaged her thighs. Eyes shifting while she breathed even and fixed her bra. Tucked her shirt back in.

“I need a bathroom. This is about to be a mess.” She slipped off him, pulled her undershorts back on because he wasn’t giving her panties up. Thighs hummed, sore and blissful. Billy tucked himself away to fix his own clothing back. Evie poked her head out. “Coast is clear.”

Without thinking, she laced her hand in his. Hurried him out to the bathroom to pee and wash up. Saw her patchy, red cheeks in the mirror and huffed. Patted cold water on them. Billy finished at the sink and lit a quick cigarette by the window. That chipper music lingered outside.

“Your mom is going to be here awhile. I vote your place.”

“Movie on the couch.” She flicked hair aside. Billy flashed a smile, nodding as he snuffed the smoke out.

“To start, maybe.” Two fingers grasped her chin, angled Evie’s mouth for a slow kiss. Tasted sweet, obscene, and smoky all at once. Made her dizzy.

“I’d come back here under certain conditions.” He passed to go out with Evie behind him. She found her purse and coat again.

“Let’s go, you had your fun.” She chuckled as they rejoined the event outside. Wind and all.

“Uh, I think you did too.” Billy’s arm hung around her shoulder. Easy with their height difference.

“You two leaving?” Mona had called, edging from her conversation to cross once the teens were outside. Evie pressed her legs together. Smiled. The Pastor who’d been speaking to her mother followed too. Plastic grin upon his face.

“Ah, yeah, I’ll see you later, mom.” Evie had replied.

“Thanks for coming to help.” Mona beamed. “Pastor Ray, you know Billy. Our neighbor. He was kind enough to help out.”

“Mr. Hargrove. I’m surprised to see you here.” They shook tense hands.

“Only thing I like more than Jesus is Christ. Who doesn’t want to turn water into wine.” Billy’s sarcasm was almost charming. He got a flat look in return.

“I see...”

“Evie, can you take some of the food home, honey? We’ll feed the neighbors.” Mona grasped Evie’s arm to pull her forth. “Just put it in the fridge. I’ll organize later.”

“Sure.” Evie started to follow.

“Be sure to grab the cherry pie if there’s any left. The ladies outdid themselves this year. Billy, you’re free to take some food home, son.” The Pastor addressed him kindly again. Billy’s grin flashed shiny teeth.

“I love a good cherry pie, but I filled up on angel cake.”

He caught Evie’s head whipping toward him as she went. Eyes ablaze which made his smile bigger.

“Oh?” Ray’s head cocked. “I didn’t see that over there. Must have went fast.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe, sir.” Billy patted the man’s shoulder and sauntered by. “Nice church, by the way. Pointy.” Evie hurried to his car with her arms full of Tupperware and boxes. Settled them in the backseat.

“You’re so dead.” She looked sweet, waving at her mother across the lot. Billy laughed, starting his car. “I pick the music.” Her hand swatted his and a groan followed as she tuned the radio to some Etta James. Billy revved out of the parking lot, turning some heads as he went.

“Admit it, you wouldn’t change what you did today. Sinner.” Billy’s free hand found her leg out of his usual habit. “Made my first church going experience special.”

“Don’t turn on the waterworks just yet.” She teased back, sucking her cheeks in without looking at him. “Still mad at you.” A smile pulled her forcibly grumpy expression. Billy came to a stoplight. Tugged at a curl to let it bounce so she peered at him. Nose crinkling when she broke to chuckle.

“Admit it.” Billy gave her thigh a squeeze, vibrant eyes flickering.

“Make me.” Evie said, facing the road. “Later.” Lips lifted before the light turned green. His Camaro lurched forward.

“Happy to.” Billy caught the song change. “Hey.”

“Hm?”

“It’s that song you’re always singing to yourself.” Billy turned it up. Irma Thomas. “The mushy one.” Her favorite. He played like it was a careless thing, but Evie stared at him. Warming. Reeled in too easily.

Anyone…

“Shocked you paid attention to that.” She offered after a beat.

“I have to hear it every day I see you, Evie.” Billy snorted, ocean eyes intent on the road. Evie knew better. “Not like I have a choice. Singing and plucking that guitar constantly.” He peered at the trees. “That stuff you were rambling about during the sex high about after.”

“Sex high.” She scoffed.

“Was that the fucking making a mess of you?” Billy asked slower. “Used to hate me.”

“I didn’t hate you,” Evie paused when he shot her an unconvinced look, “we weren’t agreeable.”

“Agreeable? Okay, now you sound like that prissy Austen chick you like to read.” Billy’s retort made her giggle. These little details he picked up about her that stuck with him. It was true, their relationship used to be in the negative for good reason.

“I like when we hang out.” Evie shrugged. “Labels. Whatever. I just meant, we should...keep hanging out.”

“After?”

“After.” Evie produced simply. Billy twitched amusement at her, turned a corner.

“Well,” he parked, “I don’t know, good. I guess”

“Fine.”

“Great.” Billy cut back in, challenged.

“Wonderful.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic.”

Evie grasped his jacket, shut him up with a kiss. Made the boy breathless there. Billy’s blue eyes glimmered at her. Calm seas for miles. The sun shined into his car. Made the teens glow.

“Movie?” She unbuckled to get out with him following. “Gotta get this food into my fridge.”

“Only if I pick.” Billy stood there and let her set boxes into his arms before she grabbed the rest so they could walk up the driveway.

“Sure. Our tastes align.” Evie peeked back at him with doe brown eyes. “I trust you.” She’d offered that too casually, Billy stilled at the door to watch her unlock it. Blinked.

That was the thing about them, how nonchalant their hearts beat together. A totally on purpose accident. Billy remembering Evie’s quirks and her reluctance to show certain petals sprouting from her stem for fear the world might not like the colors. Budding to flash them with some fire and vibrancy because she had a boy who encouraged them despite it all. And she teased this incandescent quality back out of him with ease. Made him work to be still and feel the world turn once in a blue moon. Billy gave this little smile to himself without her noticing and followed Evie into the house.

They hadn’t trusted each other before. And now it was approaching the after. Whatever that meant. Evie glowed to beam at him there and few things were mattering today. New beginnings.

Billy let himself hope that the after would last.

#billy hargrove #Billy hargrove x oc #Billy Hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #Billy x Angel #writing #mine #Angel Fenny #SOMY

71 notes · View notes