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littlebeethings · 4 years ago

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Don't Say No Ricky

Part Four of the Hey Ricky Series Pairing: Ricky Hauk x Reader Word count: 3603 Warnings: Mentions of sex Summary: As your wedding night comes to an end, you remember how the ring came to be on your finger. Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Masterlist | Ao3

The speakers thumped softly as the song you and Ricky picked. Your guests stood around the dance floor but you didn’t notice any of them. All you saw was your college sweetheart, the love of your life, and as of this morning, your husband. Your whole body grew warm as you stared at him. Everything that has happened to you, to him, to your relationship has to lead to this moment. The rest of your life was waiting, hand out for you to reach out and take it.

The soft white lights guided you to him and you took his hand. Ricky pulled you close, one hand around yours and the other on your back. You rested your head against his shoulder and he leaned his head against yours.

“Is it everything you imagined?” He asked in your ear as you both began your first dance as a married couple.

“Everything and more,” you said. “I love you, Ricky Hauk.”

“I love you,” he said, whispering your name with Hauk attached to the end. It fell from his lips like sugar and you didn’t know how you had gone your whole life with any other name.

Ricky’s warm breath disappeared from your neck as he pulled away and spun you. You laughed, coming back to him with both hands on his chest. You could feel the steady thump of his heart beneath your fingertips. It reminded you of his vows, my heart has always beat for you, and today I vow it will forever beat for you.

You draped your arms over his shoulders as his hands came around your waist. “Will you dance with me like this when I’m old and gray?” You asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“What if you have to have a walker?”

Ricky’s warm laugh filled your ear, making you drunk on the sound. “Then I guess I’ll be the one leaning on you.”

“What if we are both in wheelchairs?”

Ricky kissed you beneath the ear. “Then you’ll sit in my lap and dance like that.”

You smiled against his shoulder. “Forever,” you whispered.

“Forever.”

:::

The apartment was so quiet in the mornings. You had to get up earlier than your roommate for your English class so it was just you and dawn. Sometimes you forget that other people were awake with you. The world was so quiet during this time that you felt alone, but the best kind of alone. You weren’t scared of it. You relished in these moments.

You filled your to-go mug with your favorite morning beverage, grabbed a small snack, and headed out the door.

What waited outside was one of the happiest surprises you ever received. Ricky was pacing beside his beat-up truck, his hands down in the pocket of his jeans. He wore a Fleetwood mac shirt and had forgone his baseball cap.

“Just go up there and knock on her door,” he said to himself.

You bit back the smile that was threatening to appear. He had come to pick you up. Ricky Hauk, the poet who you had a crush on, came to pick you up and take you to class.

“Ricky?” You said, causing him to stop his pacing and look up at you. His big brown eyes widened like a little kid’s would after being caught snatching a cookie they weren’t supposed to have.

“I…. I um,” Ricky stared up at you and when you smiled down at him he felt everything in him calm. “I thought you could use a ride seeing as your car is in the shop.”

“I would love that,” you said, coming down the stairs.

Ricky smiled and ran to get the door for you. He was so kind, taking your backpack from you and setting it beside his.

“Thank you,” you said as he climbed into the driver’s seat. “For everything.” “It’s nothing, really,” Ricky assured you.

“It’s not nothing,” you said. “A lot of people wouldn’t do this. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

The car was filled with conversation. It began with the assigned reading you had been discussing the previous evening, then about how parking on campus sucked.

“You should come to get lunch with me,” you told him as you walked to class.

“I don’t know if I’ll have time,” he said.

“You won’t have time for lunch?” You asked. “Come on. I owe you for the ride.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

You stop in your tracks and grab Ricky’s hand. He looked down at where your hand was softly holding his, then he looked at your big round eyes.

“Please don’t say no,” you said.

Ricky sighed, “Okay. Lunch.”

You smiled, jumping up and down a bit. “Yay!”

Ricky smiled as you swung his arm a bit.

“I know the perfect place off campus that serves the best tacos! You like tacos, right?”

“Who doesn’t like tacos?”

“Right?” You agreed. You had stopped bouncing but your hand was still around Ricky’s and you were swinging it back and forth.

:::

Almost two years later, Ricky is opening the car door for you. It’s late, the sun is down and the stars are out. The orange glow of the street lamps causes a little halo to appear around Ricky’s hair. You reach up and brush a curl from his face.

“What?” He asked after staring at you longer than normal.

“Nothing,” you said softly. “You’re just so handsome.”

Ricky’s lips curved up and his cheeks flushed. His eyes went from your to your lips before back to your eyes. He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.

“Not so fast,” you said, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him back in. His lips were perfect against yours. The way you moved together, you knew that you would never be able to kiss another person the way you kissed Ricky.

It had been a month since you had confessed that you were in love with your best friend and the two of you were making the most of your time together. Tonight, you had made a quick getaway while Joey, your third wheel, was over at a friend’s house.

“You know what I think will make this kiss even better?” You asked, finally pulling away.

“Hmm,” Ricky thought for a second. “Ice cream?”

“Ice cream!”

“Well then, let’s go,” he said, taking your hand and closing the car door. “It looks like they are starting to get crowded.”

The two of you walked across the parking lot hand in hand, you swung your arm back and forth. Almost two years of friendship. Almost two years of harboring massive crushes for one another. Finally, you were together and you weren’t going to let anything break that.

You each got two scoops of ice cream covered in your favorite toppings. After paying, you both decided that the small shop was too crowded to eat inside. So you went back out to the truck. Ricky held your hand as you climbed into the bed. You both sat, legs hanging over the edge, and ate your ice cream. You talked about the grad program you were applying to.

“It’s in England,” you told him. “You always wanted to get out of here,” he said. “I think it’ll be good.”

“But I won’t have you,” you said, setting your empty cup beside you and leaning against Ricky. “You won’t graduate until the winter after I do.”

“You’ll come back for Christmas,” he said, lacing his fingers with yours. “It will give me plenty of inspiration for poems about a beautiful girl exploring the world while I wait for her.”

“I’ve already applied for the grad program here. I’ll take it. Stay here.” “No,” Ricky said. “No, you won’t. You are going to travel and live the life you worked so hard to build.” “But what about you?”

“I’ll be here, waiting for you. When I graduate, I’ll join you.” “You promise?”

Ricky brought the back of your hand to his lips. “I promise.” His cheek gently rested on your head. “Besides, we still have your senior year together. And I plan to make the most of every second I have you here.”

:::

The beeping echoed in Ricky’s ears. He hated hospitals and looking back on his track record, you could see why. Ricky and his mom knew the ER like the back of their hands, having been so many times when Ricky’s father got too rough. He never thought he would be in one to see you.

You were laying there, hooked up to multiple monitors. Ricky watched your chest rise and fall. He slowly moved to your bedside, holding back tears. Your head was wrapped with gauze, hiding all the stitches but not the yellow and purple bruise on your forehead.

Ricky gently took your hand in his and squeezed. You didn’t squeeze back. He whispered your name. He whispered he loved you. You didn’t answer.

Ricky ran a hand down his face and sobbed. “I’m sorry. I never meant to scare you. I never wanted that.”

He wished you would wake up and brush his tears away. That he would wake up and what happened hours ago was all a nightmare and he could drive to your apartment. He would find you sleeping, with no bruise or stitches in your head. Ricky would be able to crawl into bed beside you and pull you close. You would stir and look up at him.

“What’s wrong?” You would ask, your voice heavy and raw. Your fingers run along his jaw.

“I had a bad dream. There was a man at the auto shop and he hit you with the gas pump. I couldn’t do anything but watch.”

You would sit up, the sheet falling from your body as you cradled his head to your breast. Your lips would press to his head.

“It’s okay,” you would whisper. “I’m okay. It’s okay.”

But that wasn’t going to happen. You would wake up and remember Ricky beating up a man and you would never look at him the same again.

Ricky pulled out a note he had written. He didn’t know how to say it so he put it in the only words he could think to write. Ricky left the note beside your hand, kissed your cheek opposite of the side that was swollen and bruised, and left.

Your roommate turned the corner and watched Ricky walk out of your room and towards the exit. She wanted to call out his name. She wanted to stop him, but she thought that maybe this was for the best. You would be leaving for a trip through Europe before grad school and she thought you were less likely to go if you had him.

She regretted not calling his name the second he disappeared behind the door.

:::

The leaves were beginning to turn and you were working hard to finish grad school. Ricky had moved in with you in your apartment in London, he had taken a job at a small independent bookstore and was writing a collection of poems, hoping to get them published. Your little life was perfect, and while you both had decided you wanted to settle in the states you made sure to make every moment here count.

Ricky was leaving to surprise his brother for his birthday. You couldn’t get away from classes but had Ricky take a large care package for Joey.

“He doesn’t need all of that,” Ricky said the morning before he left. He was sitting at your little dining table drinking his coffee.

“Yes he does,” you said, setting a book of Leonardo da Vinci’s inventions that you had found in a charity shop in the box.

“You spoil him too much,” Ricky said, standing up and moving behind you so he could rest his chin on your shoulder.

“Do you not like that?” You asked, putting some ribbon around the new sketchbook and pencils.

“I love it,” he said, kissing your neck. “How did I get so lucky to have a girlfriend who treats my brother like he’s yours?”

“He will be,” you said.

Ricky pulled away, tilting his head. “What does that mean?”

You shrugged. “Nothing.”

Ricky blinked a couple of times, your words replaying in his head. Then he was smirking and kissing your cheek.

“You're almost done getting it packaged?”

“Yeah. Are you packed?”

“Everything is by the door.”

“Good,” you finished packing the box, making sure the TSA could check everything.

“Are you going to miss me?” Ricky asked, his arms wrapping around you and leaving kisses across your shoulders.

“Not for a second. Stop!” You shriek as he pinches your side. “Of course I’m going to miss you, asshole!”

:::

Ricky had been planning to propose for a while now. The two of you had been dating for years but you had mentioned wanting to wait until after you finished your program before marrying. “One big life event at a time,” you had said. But now that your program was finishing up and you were set to graduate in the spring, and having dropped that Joey would be your brother, Ricky thought it was time to propose.

After celebrating Joey’s birthday, Ricky pulled his mom aside and asked about his grandmother’s ring. It was the only family relic they had and he remembered his mother showing it to him when he was little. He was surprised she had never pawned it for money but extremely glad she never did.

“I’m going to propose,” Ricky said as he took a plate from his mother and dried it with a rag.

She dropped the plate she was scrubbing in the sink and turned to him.

“Really?”

Ricky couldn’t stop his smile. “Yeah. I was hoping that I could give her grandma’s ring.”

His mom patted her hands dry on her apron before walking to her room. Ricky followed her and watched her pull out her jewelry box and inside was a small black box. She turned to him.

“I was hoping you would ask.”

Ricky took the box and opened it. It was just as he remembered. He stared down at it and he could see it on your finger.

“It’s perfect,” Ricky whispered.

“She’s going to love it.”

“What’s going on?” Joey asked from the doorway.

Ricky turned and smiled at his little brother. “What do you think?” He asked, showing him the ring.

Joey smiled, “Are you going to ask her to marry you?”

“Do you think she’ll say yes?”

“Eh,” Joey made a noise of uncertainty. Ricky playfully pushed Joey’s shoulder. “Yeah, she’s going to say yes,” Joey said with a smile.

:::

The apartment was quiet when Ricky arrived home. You would be studying in the library around this time so Ricky had plenty of time to make sure he had everything ready to propose to you tomorrow. He wanted to take you on a picnic to your favorite park at dusk and propose there. It was going to be intimate and perfect.

Ricky tucked the ring into the pocket of his coat that hung on the rack beside the door. He pulled out the picnic blanket from the closet and threw it in the wash, and made sure the basket was where it was supposed to be. He had a mental list of the foods he was going to buy and was looking through the wine shelf when he noticed that the new bottle of your favorite wine was missing. It was strange as you two planned on opening it together because you rarely got a chance to have a bottle. He checked all the shelves and the fridge but still couldn’t find it.

Where could it be?

Ricky began pacing back and forth, muttering to himself, trying to figure out how he would be able to get his hands on a bottle. It came from a small vineyard in France you two had gone to a few years prior. Shipping took weeks, it would be too late in the season to have a picnic. He leaned into the counter, staring up at the wine shelf.

Two arms came around his waist and he felt something press into his shoulder.

“I missed you,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his clothed shoulder.

Ricky sighed, leaning into you. “I told you.”

“You’ve been gone for a week and the first thing you say to me is I told you so?”

Ricky chuckled and started to turn to look at you.

“Not yet,” you said, raising your hands to cover his eyes. He smiled, “What are you planning?” “I should ask you the same thing,” you said, guiding him to the bedroom.

Ricky could feel his heart beating in his ears. His hands came out in front of him as he tried to feel where he was going. “Do you not trust me?” You whispered in his ear. Your breath was warm and sent a shiver down his spine.

“I trust you,” he said as you guided him into the bedroom. “Is this a sex thing? You must’ve really missed me.”

You giggled.

“No, it’s not a sex thing,” you said. “Keep your eyes closed.”

Your hands disappeared and you stepped away from him. You grabbed the little black book off the bed, careful of the glasses and bottle of wine.

“Can I open it?” Ricky asked.

“Not yet. I want to say some things.”

Ricky shifted a bit, worried what words could possibly fall from your mouth.

“Ricky Hauk. Love of my life.” You looked down at the book in your hands. You knew you should’ve written something down but you weren’t as good with words as he was.

“I know you’ve been planning, and I want you to keep planning,” you said, taking the book and sitting on the bench in front of him. “But I also want you to know how I feel. I want you to feel it.”

Ricky whispered your name. It was soft and warm.

“I’ve been in love with you since you sat beside me in English. I can’t imagine a life without you in it beside me.”

Ricky reached his hand out and you took it, squeezing tight.

“I love you so much and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Wherever you are, I want to be there. You writing and me doing my thing. Together.”

With your other hand, you traced the name engraved on the book. Ricky Hauk.

“Can I open my eyes?” He asked. “I want to kiss you.”

You laughed, but it was thicker than normal. Tears were streaming down your cheek. You swept your legs under you, pressing the book to his chest, you leaned up and kissed him. It was soft and sweet.

“Marry me, Ricky Hauk?” You whispered when you pulled away.

Ricky’s eyes fluttered open and he finally saw you. You were in a little blue dress you had gotten on one of your trips. It was his favorite. You had a couple of tears falling down your cheek.

“You beat me to it,” he whispered, wiping away your tears.

“I don’t want you to think I don’t want you to propose,” you assured him. “I just, I wanted to make sure you knew how much I wanted it too.”

Ricky kissed you again.

“Well?” You asked between kisses. “So don’t say no, Ricky.”

Ricky chuckled, dropping his head to your shoulder. “Yes,” he kissed the exposed skin. “Yes,” he kissed up your neck. “Yes,” his lips pressed to your jaw. “Yes,” he said, capturing your lips once more.

He pushed you back onto the bed gently.

“Wait,” you squealed as the bottle of wine rolled towards you.

Ricky grabbed it and set it and the glasses on the bench at the foot of the bed before crawling on top of you. You giggled as he kissed every bit of you followed by a soft “yes.”

Then he saw the book.

“What’s this?” He asked, taking it from you.

You sat up as he moved to sit beside you. Ricky looked at the book then up at you. You leaned into him and kissed his shoulder.

“It’s everything you worked so hard to write,” you said.

Ricky looked down at his name engraved into the black binding and the title of his first collection of poetry. His throat burned and a tear ran down his cheek.

“You did this?” Ricky asked.

“No,” you said, your hand coming up to cup his cheek. “You did this.”

Ricky opened the book and on the first page was a note you had written.

“I know I’m not the best with words,” you said.

“It’s perfect,” he said, kissing your forehead. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

“Not as lucky as I am to have you.”

The next day, Ricky took you to the park where he proposed just like he planned with his grandmother’s ring.

You said no.

Then you smiled and pushed him so he was laying down. You leaned over him and kissed him. “Of course, I’m going to marry you.”

“You’re such an ass,” he said before kissing you again, and again, and again.

:::

The party was coming to an end. You and Ricky were the only ones left on the dance floor. Your head on his chest and his cheek pressed against the top of your head. He swayed you gently back and forth. It was the perfect moment to just be husband and wife.

“I love you.”Ricky kissed your head. “I love you, too."

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #ricky hauk #ricky hauk x reader #touched by an angel

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yespolkadotkitty · 4 years ago

Note

PLEASE pluck Ricky from obscurity like you did Zach!!!

Right so you are all fairly keen on this guy because I also got these:

Pick You Up

Ricky Hauk x reader

Word count: 1700 ~ Warnings: None really. Light angst. Kissing.

Lovely gif by @ithinkwehitametaphor

You’ve not lived in this town long. The first time you use the gas station, the tall, skinny guy behind the counter glances at you from under his ball cap, the red brim only serving to bring out the slices of amber in his soulful brown eyes. There’s a crease in his cupid’s bow, the thumb print of a God proud of his work. He rings up your service, gives you a collection time.

When you park up back at home, you see it. A note under your unused windscreen wiper.

Autumn in her eyes

Her hair ropes of burnished gold,

Kissed by corners of the

Falling leaves. Will seasons pass

Before I look upon her

Once more?

The poem was from him. You know it. You know it because the next time you bring your car back, when winter’s starting to bite chunks out of the temperature, you see him write something on your receipt in the same loopy scrawl. He sees you looking. Ricky is embroidered on his navy blue overalls. A flush creeps up his cheeks, and you wonder how old he is. Twenty? You could cry over his perfect cheekbones.

“It should be more than that?” you ask when he rings you up.

The corner of his mouth curves up. “Returning customer discount. No one will miss a few quarts of gas.”

There’s a worn, tattered book propping up a wonky corner of the cash register. A Poem for Every Day of the Year.

And when you arrive home, there’s another scrap of paper under your windscreen wiper.

Winter’s grasp is far-reaching

Fingers dug in tight

But footprints thaw frozen ground,

A smile melts frostbite

Inch by Inch

You fold the paper carefully, tuck it under a magnet on your fridge, next to the one you already have. Wonder what it means. If he writes poetry for all his customers.

iii

Before Winter ends, your exhaust pipe crashes off the end of your car and you narrowly miss swerving off the road in shock at the huge bang it makes. You drive right to the service station, and like a dream, there he is, the huge roller door of the workshop open, and he’s bent over another car, his ball cap on backwards, overalls half-unzipped. Heat is pumping out of the workshop interior and you park your car. As you shut the door, Ricky looks up, and his face goes slack for a second, before he plasters a polite query on the handsome canvas. “Uh, hey. Can I help you?”

“Exhaust pipe fell off on the highway,” you sigh. “I know she’s a hunk of junk, but I just can’t afford to replace her, not yet.”

“I’ll give it my best shot.” Ricky holds out his hand for the keys, a smear of grease on his thumb, and you stare at his palm for a moment, wondering what his hands would feel like on your skin. If he’d leave a fingerprint of grease behind.

You wouldn’t mind much, if he did.

You have to leave the car overnight, eventually. Ricky comes into the tiny office with the noisy watercooler and tiny wall-mounted TV that only shows one God-awful news channel. His hands are shoved into his overall pockets and there’s a streak of engine grease on his cheek.

“Uh, I’m sorry, but she’s gonna have to stay in until tomorrow. My boss has gotta check the weld, and he’s stuck in the snowstorm one state over.”

“Okay.” You’re not cross with him. What would be the point?

Ricky looks from the clock to you. He probably has a hot date you’re keeping him from, you think with a little sadness. “Um, I’ve gotta lock up now. I can drive you home. If you want.” He jerks his thumb at the window to his right. A beaten up red truck sits outside.

“Thank you. That’d be great.”

The snow has started to fall in earnest. Ricky locks up the gas station and pockets the keys as the shutter finally closes up tight. He opens the passenger door for you, waits until you’re safely strapped in before he gets in on his side and starts the engine. “You’ll have to direct me.” He tugs off the ball cap and stuffs it in the glove box.

“Wait,” you say, as his hand hovers over the stick.

He glances at you with an eyebrow raised, that poet’s mouth set solemnly, his tiger iron eyes so large in his face, larger somehow with his thick hair sticking up at all angles, and he looks so young but like he has an old soul. Like he’s seen so much; too much, and he is so tired.

“Why did you write me those poems?”

Ricky looks away, chewing his bottom lip.

“You did, didn’t you?”

“So what?” he throws back, still not looking at you. “I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you wanna hear?”

Your heart cracks down the middle. “No, it isn’t. They were beautiful. I kept them.”

His gaze shoots to yours. “You are beautiful,” he says, very soberly.

And you lift your hand to his cheek and then he’s kissing you, earnestly, his lips soft and sweet and unpracticed. Not that you’re experienced, but you estimate yourself as perhaps half a decade older than him. He groans into your mouth and desire skitters through you. You part your lips for him and he finally touches you, just a hand on your thigh, his palm warm through your worn, old jeans.

The drive to your house is full of thick, syrupy tension. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t notice the way Ricky subtly adjusts himself during the ten minute trip.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to help him out with that.

He parks outside your building, and you kiss him again before you leave, nipping at his tempting lower lip, making him curse, low and sweet in that sinful, husky voice, still a little thready with youth.

“I’ll work on your car first thing tomorrow?” he half asks, half informs you, as you open the passenger door. The cold wind arcs in, biting at your skin. “I could pick you up. Early. If you want.”

You nod. “Okay. Thanks.”

Ricky catches your hand, tangles your fingers. “Guys like me write poetry about girls like you because it’s the only way we’ll be with you,” he mutters, and there’s something so sad and resigned in the depths of his butterscotch gaze.

You don’t know what to say, and if you kiss him again you run the serious risk of being arrested for indecent behaviour in his truck.

He’s early the next morning. You’re not ready.

“Come up,” you say through the buzzer, and in a matter of moments you’re opening your apartment door to him. He holds the service station ball cap in his hands, wringing it nervously, and his overalls are half-unzipped to reveal a plain white t-shirt. He smells of cheap cologne and minty toothpaste, and his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

“Want a coffee?” you ask. “I’ll be five minutes.”

“No, thanks. Uh, I’m fine.” He stands by the door, like he needs permission to sit down.

You rush around, calling your boss to remind him about your car situation. He’s stuck at home anyway due to a snowdrift, so he doesn’t chew you out.

Pulling on your winter boots - hopefully they’ll see you through to March - you step out of the bedroom. Ricky’s leaning over your kitchen counter, scrawling something on a post-it note. He jerks up, guilt sketched on his angular face.

“Sorry.”

“Not at all.”

He folds the paper over. “Don’t read it.. Til later.”

He turns to face you, hesitates, wariness and want and need laid bare in those gorgeous hazelnut eyes.

“Could I… kiss you? Maybe?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, and Ricky cups your face in his broad, callused hands, and lowers his mouth to yours, and the kiss starts soft and sweet, explorative, and then you slide your hands up his shoulders and tangle your fingers in his thick, tattered-silk hair, and he backs you into the wall, his lips urgent on yours, licking into your mouth, and you drink him in like you’re starved for the taste of him. He groans against your lips, one hand slipping down your back to palm your ass, and-

And your phone rings shrilly from your bag. Your work mobile.

You and Ricky spring apart.

“I’d better get that.”

It turns out to be a shitty sales call, but the moment’s been broken. You mostly manage to ignore the distended shape of Ricky’s jeans, but his face is red the whole drive to the garage.

When you arrive, a man who you guess to be Ricky’s boss is already there, opening the shutter. Ricky turns to you, his hand hesitant on your thigh. “Maybe…. Maybe you’d wanna see me again?

You cover his hand with yours, link your fingers. “I’d love to see you again, Ricky.”

His smile lights up the dreary winter day.

*****

Special thanks to @dornish-queen without whose watchlist, this fic would never have happened.

Tagging the Pedro pals! @gamingaquarius @a-seeker-of-imagination @songsformonkeys @alldatalost @dornish-queen @lackofhonor @alienprincesspoop @beccaplaying @cryptkeepersoul @keeper0fthestars @winters-buck @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @jaime1110 @nelba @heatherbel @thewayofthemandalorian @agirllovespasta @seawhisperer @holographic-carmen @mrschiltoncat @mourningbirds1 @emmy-dandiliom918 @trippedmetaldetector @starlight-starwrites @oloreaa @thegreenkid @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @buckstaposition @pedropascallion @pajamasecrets @knittingqueen13 @skdubbs @opheliaelysia

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fandom-imagines-stories · 5 years ago

Text

Bruises on the Page

Ricky Hauk x Reader (Pedro Pascal in Touched by an Angel s6 e22)

Words: 3732

Summary: The reader attempts to hide her abusive relationship from her best friend. Ricky conceals his true feelings due to his fear of losing everything that they have. As time passes, each secret digs them into deeper and deeper holes.

Notes: Okay, so I originally had no intention of ever publishing this. I figured writing an imagine for a character in a single episode wouldn’t be what people were looking for. But hey, it turns out there are some of you out there. Special thanks to my fanfiction writing soulmate @rae-gar-targaryen. (Also, please don’t tear apart my attempt at poetry. I’m really not much of a poet, but it fits the story.)

Warnings: Abuse and attempted assault

“Great,” You muttered, looking down at the empty foundation container in your hand. You couldn’t even get one drop out of it and you were catching a movie with Ricky later that night. You needed to find some way to hide the bruise. It was bigger than most of the ones you’d gotten before, stretching across your jaw in ugly purples and blacks. You’d have to run to the store to get something to cover it up. Which meant another round of looks from passing people with their fake sympathy and interest. Nobody really cared.

Except for Ricky. He cared about you more than anyone ever had. He had been your best friend since the two of you were kids. You were both ‘townies’ with absent fathers in the same neighborhood, so you naturally paired up. If he found out about Steve he would freak out and you didn’t need to add to his already growing list of problems. Besides, it wasn’t a big deal. Steve was just stressed out and your nagging wasn’t helping. Or at least, that’s what he’s been telling you.

You put on your trusted sweatshirt and kept the hood up as you walked to the nearby drugstore. You received a dirty look from an older woman in the check out line so you walked quickly back to the make-up section. The hood and your hair concealed the bruise well enough that nobody would notice unless they looked directly at your face. You grabbed enough foundation and concealer to cover your entire body and decided to pick up some snacks that you could sneak into the theater like you usually did. Ricky always brought the contraband popcorn and you were in charge of licorice.

“Y/N!” A young voice excitedly shouted from across the aisle. You winced.

“Hey, Joey.” You tried to pull your hair in front of the purple mark so he wouldn’t see it. His bright smile could light up the entire store and make you forget about some of your stresses.

“Ricky is helping me look for material for my next invention.” He pointed towards the red baseball cap peaking above the shelves in another aisle. You felt your heart rate pick up.

“Well, I’ll see you later when Ricky and I hang out okay?” You rustled his hair.

“Don’t you want to say hi to Ricky?” He wondered. You two were always together. You were basically a big sister to him. You shook your head, trying not to look panicked. Ricky couldn’t see you like this. Not without the makeup.

“I’ll see him tonight.” You shrugged, keeping your voice down so Ricky wouldn’t hear you. You gave him one last smile before half-sprinting to the check-out line and quickly ducking out of the store before Ricky could see you.

“Who were you talking to, buddy?” Ricky asked and Joey pointed to the retreating figure in the sweatshirt.

“Y/N. She was getting snacks for the movie you guys are going to. She looked like she was in a hurry.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well when I asked if she wanted to talk to you, she said she would see you tonight and went over to check out all of her makeup.” He shrugged. “Maybe it’s just a girl thing.” Ricky raised an eyebrow.

“Y/N doesn’t wear makeup.” Unless she was around Steve, of course. Joey just shrugged again.

“That’s what it looked like. The stuff that mom puts on every once in a while.” The stuff that mom used put on when she didn’t want him to see the bruises.

“You’re probably right. A girl thing.” Ricky lied, shaking those thoughts out of his head. If something was wrong, Y/N would have told him about it. They told each other everything. But ever since she started dating Steve, she had been more distant. She traded shifts at Taco Town because Steve would ask- no demand her to switch so that they could have more ‘date nights’. Ricky wanted to stay out of it. He knew how she felt about people butting into her life, but he just couldn’t help being worried. She meant too much to him. More than she knew.

“Are you sure I can’t come?” Joey pouted. He’d been trying all night to convince you to let him go to the movie with you.

“Sorry kid, but I don’t think that Final Destination is something you’re mom would want you watching.” You gave him a small smile. He tilted his head curiously.

“What happened to the color on your face?” He wondered, pointing to your chin. Ricky came out of the kitchen with a concerned expression.

“Color?” He looked over your features carefully and you felt your heart leap into your throat.

“Oh, uh, I was painting and I got some on my face.” You lied. Even with the pounds of foundation covering the bruise, it felt like Ricky could right through. “I hadn’t even noticed until I got home.” You laughed nervously and Ricky’s brows furrowed together. Joey turned to his brother.

“Come on, Ricky.” He whined. “Can I please, please, please, go with you?” His mother walked by and gave his shoulder a pat.

“You’re staying here with me and we’re gonna watch Back to the Future.” His frown immediately turned into a giant, goofy grin.

“With popcorn?”

“With popcorn.” She laughed, ushering him into the living room while Ricky grabbed the keys to his truck.

“Got the Red Vines?” He asked as the two of you went out the door.

“Of course.” You held up the bag with a mischievous grin. You’d been sneaking snacks into the movies since you were little, even though you knew that the owner totally knew about it. The guy who owned the theater lived down the street from you and he would occasionally discount your tickets.

“You two are basically one person anyway.” He would say with a chuckle.

The rumble of Ricky’s truck was one of your favorite sounds in the whole world because it meant that he was with you. You’d spent countless hours driving around town in this truck, listening to music, talking about absolutely anything and everything, or not saying anything at all. Most of the time, you knew exactly what the other was thinking without having to say a word. That’s why, as you looked out the window, Ricky knew something was going on.

“Joey said he saw you at the drugstore.” He started. “Is that when you had paint on your face?”

“Hmm?” You gave him a confused look.

“You said you had been painting. That’s why you had color on your face when Joey saw you.” He clarified.

“Oh, right, of course.” You’d forgotten your own lie and Ricky could tell. “Yeah, I saw him when I was getting the licorice.” You tried to sound nonchalant, but you fiddled nervously with your necklace- something you did whenever you were nervous. Ricky didn’t say anything about it. Instead, he just nodded and kept driving.

The necklace had been his gift to you on your 16th birthday. The chain was simple, but the pendant was something only Ricky could have known to give you. When you were little, on the days that his dad had hurt him, he would run over to your house and the two of you would hide in your ‘bandit cave’, which was just the old shed in your backyard. Inside the cave, you had a little garden, your favorite flower being the daisies. You couldn’t count how many daisy chains, daisy crowns, daisy anythings that you had made. So dangling on that small gold chain was an intricate metal daisy. You held onto it whenever you felt like you had nothing else to hold onto.

When you reached the theater, Ricky went around the truck to open your door, but he didn’t move out of the way to let you out.

“What are you-”

“Are you okay?” He interrupted. He just couldn’t sit by anymore when he could tell something was wrong.

“Yeah, of course.” You scoffed, trying to move around him. He grabbed your arm, trapping you in. His touch was gentle, but you still flinched away, instead feeling Steve’s iron grip. “Get off!”

“Okay, I’m sorry.” He held up his hands, palms by his face and his shocked eyes. You were breathing too fast, your shoulders shaking with every breath. “Hey,” He cautiously put his hands down, but kept his distance. “I’m sorry.” You stared as the shock in his expression mixed with worry and hurt. Hurt that you thought he would ever do anything to harm you. Hurt that you were hiding something. You wrapped your arms around yourself and turned away.

“Let’s just go see the movie.” You stormed away and disappeared into the doors of the theater. Ricky was more worried than ever. The look in your eyes. He knew that look. It was the look his mom had when she remembered the days with dad. A look that you used to see in his eyes when he talked to you about his father.

When he eventually trailed after you, finding you at concessions buying a soda. One of Steve’s friends, Grayson, was working and decided that he wanted to mess with you. He gave the Coke bottle a good shake before handing it to you. You didn’t notice.

“Can we talk?” Ricky begged, tickets in hand.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” You shrugged. “You just freaked me out, that’s all.”

“What are you hiding from me?” His voice was pleading and you could feel the tears building up in your eyes.

“Ricky, please, just drop it.”

“We tell each other everything, Y/N. This isn’t like you.” He didn’t mean to sound angry, but all of the hurt and confusion were just building up inside, making his blood boil. “Honestly, you haven’t been acting like you ever since you starting dating-”

“I said drop it!” You twisted the bottle cap and the sticky, sweet soda spurted out all over your face and clothes. Grayson laughed from behind the counter.

“You should see the look on your face.” He snickered. Ricky grabbed handfuls of napkins, giving Grayson a furious glare.

“You’re a dick.”

He gently pressed the napkins to shirt and face, trying to wipe off the cola before it could stain too terribly. You didn’t think about your jaw until you saw the napkins come away covered in the foundation that was now rubbing off of your face. Ricky’s brows furrowed and he took more care around your jaw, watching your skin change to a dark purple-ish black.

“Y/N?” He said softly, the knot in his stomach twisting even more. So it was true. He had hoped beyond hope that his theory was wrong but now there was undeniable proof in that horrible bruise.

You looked horrified, quickly covering the spot with your hand, but it was too big to fully conceal. Ricky’s hand reached up to yours. He didn’t even realize he was moving as his fingers lifted your hand away, giving him a better look at the bruise. You couldn’t stand the look on his face anymore so you ran. You ran from the reality that you had let this happen. That you had hidden it from him and you were now too broken to deserve his sympathy. Too broken to deserve him.

Your petals once were white and delicate

They reached hopefully towards the sun

And they brightened every minute I shared with them

Now they are wilted

They shy away from light

Through all my thoughts, I have but one

They are still beautiful

You are still beautiful

Ricky let his pen flow across the paper without having to think about the words. While he could never truly capture how he felt seeing the bruises on the page of the notebook that Monica had given him, he had to get his emotions out in the only way he knew how. He felt useless, like he was that little boy watching his father hit his mother, unable to do a thing to stop it. Only now, he could do something. He’d tried calling you, but of course, you didn’t answer. He tucked the notebook into his pillowcase and climbed out of his window.

You were sitting in your room at home, arms wrapped around your knees as you cried. Your mom had the night shift at the hospital like she usually did so you were left alone like you usually were. Most nights you would go to Ricky’s and the two of you would talk until the sun came up. Now you were left to deal with your guilt.

You met Steve when Ricky convinced you to take classes with him at the college after that strange woman helped him realize his potential as a writer. Steve seemed like another passionate bad boy that you were bound to fall for. After seeing each other for a week or so, he started to change. He was angry and controlling and hardly let you out of his sight. The first time he hit you was when you said that you were eating dinner with Ricky and his family. He said that the only person you should focus on was him. It was more often after that. If you didn’t do what he wanted, right when he wanted it. If you talked back. If you said anything about Ricky or any other boy, for that matter. You should have stopped him before it got this far. You just didn’t know how.

Your window shimmied open and you half expected to see Ricky climbing in, ready to save you. Instead, Steve crawled into your room with an angry, hungry look in his eyes. You scrambled to the corner of the bed, the furthest spot from the window.

“What’s wrong baby?” He sounded so innocent. “I thought maybe you’d be feeling up for a little fun.”

“Not tonight, Steve, I really don’t want to-”

“All the guys were talking about how hot you looked in that cute little dress the other day. The one you were when we went to lunch.” It was like he hadn’t heard a word that you said. He crept onto the bed, coming closer and closer until he was almost on top of you. At this proximity, you could smell the ungodly amount of alcohol on his breath.

“Steve, please, leave me-”

“What’s the matter, baby? Let me make you feel better?” His lips made their way to your neck and you squirmed as his hands tried to get under your shirt. You knew that if there was ever a chance to stand up for yourself, it was now.

“I said stop it!” You screamed, using all of your strength to push him off of you. His sick smirk turned to a furious scowl.

“Grayson said that you were at the movies with that townie loser again. I thought I told you to stay away from him.” He latched his fingers around your necklace and snapped it off your neck. He pushed you violently, your head slamming into the wall and leaving you dizzy.

“Give that back, Steve.” You demanded, refusing to back down despite your blurred vision. “Give it back and get out.”

“You think you can tell me what to do, trailer trash?” He sneered. You’d never seen him this angry. “I’ll make you regret everything!” He threw the necklace at your head, hitting the picture frame behind you. Glass shattered all over the floor, falling around the necklace. You didn’t think before grabbing the metal daisy, feeling the sharp sting of small shards piercing your palm and fingers.

Steve started to charge towards you at a terrifying speed. You sprinted down the stairs, slamming every door that you could behind you until you got out the back door. You went to the one place you always felt safe. The bandit cave. The shed felt so much smaller now that you were grown, but the lock on the door still held up.

“Get out here!” Steve screamed, pounding on the shed’s walls, looking for another way in. You curled up in the corner, praying that he’d give up and holding onto the daisy pendant like your life depended on it.

Ricky was at your front door when he heard the noise. Luckily, the fence to the backyard had a hole in it that he’d been sneaking through since you were kids. He found Steve outside the shed, kicking and screaming obscenities.

“Get away from her!” He called, storming across the lawn. Steve turned around with a drunken smirk.

“If it isn’t Wonder Townie here to save the day? Y/N, you can come out now!” Steve stumbled towards him. Ricky was surprised he could still stand. Steve held out his arms. “You know what? You can have her. I’ve had my share, and let me tell you she is-” Ricky didn’t let him finish. He tackled him to the ground, holding him down by the color of his stupid polo.

“You’re going to listen to me or I’m going to make sure that pretty-boy face ends up behind bars for assault.” Ricky growled. “You’re going to leave Y/N alone and never, ever come near her again. If I find out that you’re even talking about her with her permission, I will make sure that you suffer for it. Got it?” Seeing Ricky like this genuinely scared the crap out of Steve, so as soon as Ricky let him go, he scrambled over the fence, although his level of intoxication made it an entertaining sight to see.

As soon as he was gone, Ricky found the spare key to the shack underneath the flower pot. When he opened the door, you were underneath the table, holding a garden spade up to defend yourself, even though your eyes were screwed shut.

“Please, just leave me alone,” You sobbed, “Steve, please, don’t hurt me anymore.”

“It’s not Steve.” Ricky’s voice sounded like angels singing to your ears. You jumped up from the floor and ran into his waiting arms like they were the safest place in the world. Ricky held you up as you cried, your tears soaking the front of his shirt and your legs wobbly beneath you. His fingers ran soothing strokes through your hair as he whispered. “It’s okay. He’s not going to hurt you anymore. He’ll never hurt you again.” He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

He pulled away to look at your injuries, slowly opening your tightly closed fist. Inside, speckled with glass fragments and drops of blood was the daisy necklace.

“He tried to take it from me.” You sniffed. “When I told him to get out, he threw it and broke a picture. That’s what the glass is from.” You choked back a cry. “I’m sorry. This is all my fault, I should have seen this coming. I should have said something sooner-”

“Hey, don’t you dare.” Ricky lifted your chin up to look him in the eye. “Don’t you dare blame this on yourself.” It was what he used to do, what his mother used to do, when his dad would beat them. He always felt like he had done something wrong. But he hadn’t. “Steve is responsible for everything. You did nothing wrong.” He put his hands on your cheeks and his voice cracked. “You did nothing wrong.” Your lip trembled and he took a shaky breath, tears streaming down his face as well. “Come here.” He pulled you back to him, his hand cradling the back of your head and keeping you close to his chest. You never wanted to leave those arms.

He took you back to his house, not wanting you to stay home alone. The two of you hole up in his room with some bowls of mac and cheese that his mother made. She had questions, but she knew by the look on both your faces that it would take time to answer them. You told Ricky everything, sparing no detail. All of the shame you’d felt washed away and all that was left was the love you felt for your best friend.

“I just felt like I didn’t have a choice.” You admitted. “Like no matter what I did, his anger was my fault. He made me feel like I deserved it.” Ricky tenderly ran a finger down your cheek, brushing softly against the bruise on your jaw.

“Nobody deserves that. Nobody.” You fell back onto his bed, your head knocking against something in his pillow. “Oh, sorry.” He pulled out his notebook and opened up the nightstand drawer. You put your hand on his before he could put it away.

“Can I read?” He’d let you read a few of his poems before, but something was telling you that you needed to read the most recent one. The corner of his lip lifted into a nervous, crooked smile and he handed you the small black book.

Ricky fiddled with the lampshade as your eyes flitted across his words, your heart skipping a beat with every stanza. You are still beautiful.

“Oh, Ricky,” You cried, wrapping your arms around his neck. “The flower’s a daisy, isn’t it?” Of course, it was about you, but seeing him nod and his lips give you a small smile gave you the courage that you needed to capture those lips in yours for a kiss.

You slept on top of the covers, tucked safely in his arms. Just before you both fell asleep, you felt Ricky’s chest move as he took a deep breath.

“Hey Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.” It was something he’d been waiting to say pretty much since the day he met you. You snuggled closer to him.

“Hey, Ricky.”

“Yeah?” He sucked in a nervous breath and you couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“I love you too.”

It was the most peaceful sleep you’d had in nearly a month, in the embrace of a boy who really, truly loved you. Sure, from the perspective of most, you were just too fatherless kids, barely making enough money to take a few classes at a college that you couldn’t afford. But to the two of you, you were a couple of townies taking on the world.

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#pedro pascal x reader #ricky hauk #touched by an angel #i love him so much #enjoy #angsty angst #ricky hauk x reader #he's so cute

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