#this is a stupid piece but hey hopefully someone here besides me finds it funny | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

soyouthinkucanwrite · 3 years

Text

What did he say? - Daniel Ricciardo one shot

Update: I just realized it's Carlos' birthday TODAY! I'm so so sorry hahaha I feel like a jerk, but it's just play pretend ok?

Guys, this is based on a dream I had but listen, it’s so weird cause I KNOW this is not like Carlos AT ALL. He’s kind of the vilan in this one... Please don’t be mad if you’re a Carlos fan, it’s just for fun, I swear. I’ll even try to write something with him later to make it up to you guys! Also, I clearly don't know how vacuum works in racing, so again, just humor me and pretend I got it right, ok?

As always, please take the time to let me know what you think, means a lot to me (even if it’s constructive criticism)! And thank you so much to everyone that always does! 💕 Your lovely messages always motivate me to keep writing!

Warnings: angst, jealous Daniel, kind of a dick Carlos (again, sorry! I know he’d never)

I was in the “side stage” at the press room for the Austin GP, the first I ever went and of course, the first with Daniel, as his girlfriend. He was answering questions along with Pierre Gasly on stage. There were a few people besides me, including some of the drivers, waiting for their turn to face the press.

"Coco, ¿quién es?" I heard Carlos Sainz whispering to his cousin, nodding his head in my direction.

"No conozco. ¿Creo que es periodista?" his cousin answered looking at me. I just acted like I wasn't listening, or understanding, not sure why though.

"No, si fuera periodista estaría allá fuera, haciendo preguntas" Carlos continued.

"Sí, pero no me parece estar perdida" his cousin commented, they kept whispering but I could hear them very clearly.

"Qué pena, no me importaría darte direcciones" Carlos said with a smirk and I felt really uncomfortable at that, which only made me stay even more frozen in place and wish Daniel came back sooner.

"Si no te conociera, diría que acabas de romper una relación. Ni siquiera puedes ver a una chica alrededor" his cousin said hitting him playfully in the head.

"¿Y te parece esta una chica cualquier? Siempre debes andar con supermodelos, ¿no?" Carlos joked back.

"Vale, tienes razón" his cousin answered him and I was counting the seconds for Daniel to come back now.

"Pero sin duda es nueva aquí. Me recordaría de algo como eso. Tampoco pienso ser americana, ellas no tienen esta-" Just then someone called him.

"Sainz, you're up next" Daniel walked out, coming by my side. "Hey" he said to me and I smiled. "They just asked to wait 5 minutes, something about changing the batteries of the mics" he said looking back at Carlos, his cousin, and Kimi, who was going to be pairing with Carlos in the press conference and was just hanging in the corner by himself this whole time.

"Alright, thanks mate" Carlos answered.

"Hey, have you guys met (y/n)? Carlos, Carlos, (y/n)... (y/n), Carlos, Carlos" Daniel made the introductions grinning like a teenager, probably finding it super funny that they had the same first name.

"¡Hola! Mucho gusto en conocerlos, soy (y/n). ¿Como están?" I extended my hand to greet them, feeling much more confident now that I had a 5' 9" Australian by my side. They looked startled at me and then at each other.

“¿Hablas español?” Carlos asked me.

“Sí, y compreendo muy bien también” I told him and my tone made it clear I knew exactly what they were talking about earlier and didn’t like it a bit.

"Carlos, Kimi, they're ready for you" an assistant called.

"Good one kid" Kimi said to me when he walked past us, winking at Daniel. Carlos followed him to the stage and since I didn't want to just stand there in the remains of the awkward situation with Dan and Carlos’ cousin, I just walked in the opposite direction, outside the press room. Not too long after, Daniel walked after me.

"Hey, what was that about?" he asked, still smiling. Boy, he wouldn't be smiling for too long after I told him what that was about.

"What?" I asked, trying not to make a big deal. He reached for my hand, taking it in his.

"You know what. Come on, what happened back there? Did you guys know each other?"

"No!" I have to tell him now, or he'll think I have something to hide. I took a deep breath. "They were talking between themselves before you come out, in Spanish. And I don't think they thought I could understand" he looked at me confused but then it hit him and his expression changed from confusion to rage.

"What did they said?"

"Nothing, it's not a big deal ok? I just wanted to let them know I could understand, so I just said 'hello' in Spanish, that's all" I said, walking away from the place where we were standing and pulling his hand. God knows I didn't want to be there when Carlos walked out, or better, for Daniel to be there.

"I figured that much. But what did he said? Just tell me" Daniel looked at me.

"Let's just go? Please? It's not worth it. What are you going to do? Sucker punch him?"

"Do I need to sucker punch him? Is it that bad?"

"No! Dan, please, let's just go. This is not going to lead us anywhere"

"(y/n)"

"I'll tell you. Promise. Back at the trailer, okay?" I tried to negotiate.

"Fine"

When we stepped back inside his driver's room, Daniel closed the door and looked at me.

"Alright. Spill it"

"Promise me you won't do anything to him"

"Absolutely not. The longer you stall me, the more pissed off I get"

"Okay” I knew I had no choice and honestly, why should I protect him really? I’m just worried about how this might make Daniel feel. “They were wondering who I was, his cousin was teasing him saying he was only interested because he just ended a relationship"

"That's not all" he said and I didn't answer, just looked away, shaking my head. "Alright. I'm sorry you had to hear that. But you can tell me these things ok? I want to protect you baby" He said stepping closer to me and hugging me.

"I don't want you to cause trouble for something stupid"

"Hey!" he said pulling away a bit to look at me. "This is not stupid. Nothing about you is stupid. It's a big deal baby, that’s plain disrespectful. I want you here with me, always. And I want you to feel comfortable here, okay?"

"I feel comfortable now" I said hugging him closer. He smiled and kissed the top of my head.

"Fuckers" he whispered to himself.

"Promise me you won't confront him. He'll deny, or start a fight. Or both. And besides, it’s not so much what he said, it’s more like how they were eyeing me. And I don't want you to get involved in a scandal" I said pulling away and sitting down in a chair. Daniel leaned against the table, looking at me.

"A scandal?" he laughed.

"You do know gossip is the major product of motorsports, right?" I smirked at him.

"Fair enough" he agreed. "Fuck baby, the things I have to deal with for having a goddess as a girlfriend" he was joking now, so the mood seemed lighter, but knowing Daniel, I knew he hadn't completely let that go yet. I just rolled my eyes at him. Hopefully, the events of the weekend would be enough to get his mind out of it.

Friday and Saturday kept us busy enough so that we didn’t touch the subject anymore, but I could still catch Daniel staring at Carlos here and there. And I could definitely see Carlos staring at me too, which I tried to avoid at all costs, staying out of his visual field. If Daniel saw that, I don’t know if I’d be able to hold him back again.

On Sunday I’d be watching from the garage with Michael and Blake, which was super exciting, to see all the action from the front row. But I didn’t want to disturb Daniel’s routine, so I tried to stay back a little. Yet, he kept coming to steal kisses and joke around. He seemed really relaxed and confident. He was P5 and I took the care to see that Carlos was P8, so I knew they might race each other eventually but I also knew that Dan would be much more preoccupied doing what he does best and overtaking the 4 in front of him to even think about whoever was behind. Everything was going to be fine, no harm done.

“Alright. Time to go” he announced to me. “Kiss for good luck?”

“Good luck. Just go and do what you do best, okay? And try to come back in one piece” I smiled through the kiss and then watched him take his helmet from the table, wink at me, and turn to walk towards his Mclaren. My chest was tight but I could only pray and hope now.

The cars were already outside the garage for some reason, so Dan was walking out when Carlos passed in front of the orange crew. He stopped to greet some of them and that would be fine, except he was not paying any attention to the people he was talking to. He was looking inside the garage like he was looking for something, or rather someone, cause when he saw me he nodded like he was greeting me and checked me out, head to toes. Dan saw it and looked back inside just in time to see me step aside, behind Michael, clearly uncomfortable with the whole thing.

“Hey... man” Carlos greeted Daniel. And his tone made me sure that it wasn’t even about me anymore. Carlos knew how much it must be bothering Daniel and was clearly using it to try and get him pissed off and unfocused. The thing is, very few things were capable of getting Daniel out of his “all good all ways” vibe, but when they did, you definitely don’t want to be on his way. I’m actually a bit worried about the other drivers now, Carlos included, because Dan just turned back to his machine, like he knew exactly what he was going to do and nothing would stop him, getting inside the car a mere formality. He didn’t even bother to take a second look at Carlos.

“Oh boy” I commented.

“Yeah, I saw it” Michael said to me. “What was that about anyway? I thought they got along fine”. I don’t say anything else, and from that moment on my eyes are glued to the screen in front of us, following any micro movement Daniel makes.

They go for the warm-up lap, which feels like it takes forever, and then, finally, Grid formation. That sign must be broken cause the lights also took hours to change.

3, 2, 1... there they go. Thank god we’re wearing masks, otherwise, my nails and fingertips would be long gone.

The first turn is a sharp one and Daniel had an opening to overtake Perez, the first driver in front of him, we could see it clearly from the drone view, but he didn’t take it. What is he doing?

“What is he doing?” Somebody in the garage voiced my thoughts.

“You had an opening Daniel” the engineer said on the radio.

“All under control. I know what I’m doing. How far are the others behind me?” Daniel answered.

I hoped he wasn’t doing what I thought he was doing but I already knew he was. Being the risk-it-all-idiot he was, Dan was waiting for Carlos to catch up to him. Knowing him, I knew he wanted to race and beat him personally, which was crazy stupid, but wouldn’t take long since Carlos had already overtaken Gasly and Alonso, and was now only a few nanoseconds behind Daniel.

“Come on Dan” I said to myself.

“Come on Daniel” Blake practically yelled at the screen.

I feel like throwing up. He’s gonna get hurt and jeopardize all the work the team put into the weekend just to... to what? I don’t even know. If he gets out of this race alive, I’ll personally kill him.

The race’s still going, no major changes after the first turn. Then suddenly Daniel seems to remember he had a gas pedal, finally getting speed in the big straight and leaving Perez behind. Carlos followed him, seeming to use the vacuum in his favor. Everybody in the garage celebrates, but I’m too focused to cheer along. He’s so close to the podium now. Just keep it up, baby. Carlos is still on his tail.

“Good job mate” the engineer says on the radio. “Watch for Sainz on your right. Bottas’ next”

“Keep me posted on Sainz’s time” it’s all Daniel says.

A couple more laps go and he’s really trying to overtake Bottas, not playing games anymore. Carlos doesn’t seem to try to overtake him even once though, he’s too far behind still.

More laps go by and I can’t standstill. When they’re in the 19th lap, with Max and Hamilton battling each other and taking turns in the lead, Daniel’s voice comes on the radio.

“Let’s be the first to box” I’m not sure what he’s playing at, as it’s still too soon to box, but the team seems to agree.

“Copy that. I’ll let you know when. Let’s get a couple more laps in. Keep this up for now” his engineer answers.

“Understood” Daniel’s voice come through the radio. “How’s Sainz time?”

“At least 1.5 seconds behind you” the engineer informs him.

“Understood” Daniel says.

He’s planning something. Not sure what, and I don’t know if I even could, not knowing much about racing strategies, but it definitely has something to do with Carlos and what happened earlier.

“Ouch!” I hear Michael say and nod towards the screen, making me focus on the race again, and not only on Daniel. Max and Hamilton had touched tires. “They're really going at it, definitely using way more tires than necessary"

"If Dan box before them..." I begin to ask.

"He needs a fast box, gaining speed later and for their box to be slower, but yeah, that's his best shot at them" Michael explains to me.

"Come on baby" I whisper to myself.

Daniel seems to finally get close enough to Bottas, but the Finnish guy won't make it easy for him. Turn 11 on sector 2 will be his best shot now and it's getting closer.

The garage and the radio go silent. Feels like the whole world is holding their breaths while Daniel smoothly overtakes Bottas from his left. And then I almost go deaf with all the cheering around me, it's a podium for Daniel, for now.

Unfortunately, that doesn't seem to last too long, cause once he comes to the box all the other drivers will pass him. It's just so frustrating.

"Good job mate. Spectacular time. Box now" the engineer informs on the radio.

"Box confirmed. We need to ace this, boys" Daniels says.

Not even a full minute later, I hear his car and see it on the screen. I look outside to see the orange machine with the big 3 in front of it, but I don't even have time to try and take a look at him, cause 2.3 seconds later (or at least that's what the TV tells me) there he goes again. The good news is, only Bottas passed him. The bad news is he almost crashes into Carlos when he comes out of the Pit Lane.

Some of the crew were still celebrating the fast pit stop when they realized what happened. I let out a gasp. They touched tires but Carlos seemed to have managed to get away from Daniel, quickly returning to his side a moment later but struggling to keep it up. Dan, on the other side, seems unbothered. He keeps gaining speed, even though the pit exit is right on the first turn.

"Take it easy now mate, even if Sainz passes you, his time is not enough to stay in front" the engineer informs Daniel, clearly worried that the risk doesn't justify the ends.

"Understood" Daniel responds.

We're on lap 30 now and just as the engineer said, Carlos is a full 2 seconds behind Daniel. Bottas still in front of him (which is frustrating for me because he had just overtaken him before the pit stop), then Hamilton, and finally Max.

"Daniel" the engineer calls him. "How're the tires?"

"All good"

"Good. Ready to race, mate? Hamilton's going to box now"

"Before Bottas?"

"Yes, that's confirmed"

"Understood"

I listen to the conversation between Daniel and the engineer closely, but I can't say I know exactly what the implications are.

"Bottas' going to second, Daniel to third again. Let's hope for a slow pitstop for Hamilton, so when he comes out, he comes in third and races Daniel. That's the best-case scenario, so he needs to gain speed now" Blake explains to me.

"Got it" I confirm to him. "What about Bottas? He should box on the next lap right?"

"Yeah. If Daniel overtakes him still on this lap, the difference will be too big for him to recover after his pit stop. Hopefully" He tells me.

There's a lot of 'hopefullys' and 'best-case scenarios' in this conversation, but I'll take it. I start to silently pray right away, eyes glued to the screen to see exactly what Blake predicted unfold: Hamilton pit stops, Bottas and Daniel are the firsts to go up on the positions, then Carlos, Alonso, and Gasly. The first turn comes again and Dan seises the opportunity to overtake Bottas, who, to his credit, is fighting real hard, but Dan isn't letting him take back his position.

Dan is P2 now. Max is almost 3 seconds in front of him. Hamilton comes out of the pit lane behind Gasly, it should take him long to again his positions.

"Bottas to box on this lap mate" the engineer announces.

"Not worried about Bottas. What about Max?" Daniel answers. A few moments of silence follow.

"Box confirmed for Max on this lap as well. Just get closer to him" the engineer instructs.

"Understood" Daniel answers.

"Come on, baby" I cheer silently again.

"Fuck! He's gonna make it" Michael yells. "Come on Daniel!"

Bottas is 2 seconds behind Daniel, and on the big straight Daniel manages to shorten his time difference to Max to 1.8 seconds. The next thing I know, Max is coming down the pit lane, quickly followed by Bottas. Daniel is P1. I can't believe this. Carlos is P2, but he hasn't boxed yet. Surprisingly enough, Alonso is P3 and, not so surprisingly, Hamilton is already P4 and gaining speed.

"Alonso hasn't boxed yet" Blake comments. That's bad news if we were hoping for him to defend his position against Hamilton. I take a look on the TV and they're showing the conditions of his tires, which to me doesn't mean anything.

"Will he be able to hold him?" I ask Blake.

"Not sure, he's tough though and doesn't want Hamilton to win, that's for sure" Blake answers me.

Then we hear Max passing outside, had almost forgotten about him.

"That took him longer than normal" Michael comments and we look at the screen, his pit stop was 3.6 seconds long. An eternity for the Redbull team. But awesome news for us. Bottas had already left the pit lane, his pit stop was 2.4 seconds long.

The grid is now Daniel, Carlos, Alonso, Hamilton, Bottas, and then Max. Alonso is still holding Hamilton back. Normally, I'd guess Carlos would box soon and maybe even Alonso, but since I know Carlos has some personal motivation against Daniel, I feel like he's going to hold on the longer he can and the same goes for Alonso regarding Hamilton.

We're at the final 10 laps now and nothing has changed, except Carlos is dangerously closer to Daniel now. Alonso still hasn't let Hamilton go by him, repeating the Hungaroring events. I hear the signal of the radio, indicating we're about to hear some communication between Daniel and his engineer, and my chest tightens. It's Daniel's voice that comes on then.

"Something wrong. I'm losing power" Fuck. No.

"Sainz is at your tail. Can you hold on?" the engineer asks.

"I don't know. Fuck. It's just not working. How much's the difference?"

"Less than 1 second"

"Fuck. Why hasn't he boxed yet?"

"His tires are in real bad condition. But I don't think he's going to do it now"

"I'll put some pressure on him"

"Negative. Negative. Stay away"

"Not going to touch him. Pinky promise" Bastard. I can hear the smirk in his voice, even though this is extremely dangerous and insane pressure, Daniel's still having the time of his life.

9 laps to go.

8 laps to go.

Carlos almost overtakes Daniel.

"Engine's not good. Can you do something?" Daniel asks.

"Negative. 7 laps to go mate, just hold it"

"Understood"

On the big straight of the 51st lap, Carlos overtakes Daniel, but then on the next turn, Daniel takes back his position. The sequel of turns that follows is the most nerve-wracking thing I've ever seen in my life, they're so close to each other, and at such a high speed that if they simply touch tires they would fly off the track and everything would be lost to both of them, maybe even their lives.

"Hamilton passed Alonso, mate. Watch out" the engineer informs him, and I look at the screen. Fuck.

"Fuuuuck" Daniel says on the radio.

It's the 52nd lap now, only 4 more to go and Carlos doesn't even signal a pit stop. He's going to try to make the whole race without it.

"Ferrari is not happy with him" Michael laughs a dark laugh. I knew he had a history of being stubborn but this is too much.

"His tires are at less than 10% integrity. How is he still going?" I ask.

There's the big straight again and Carlos falls a bit behind Daniel, but I've watched enough to know that that doesn't necessarily mean a good thing. Just as I predicted, he tries to use Daniel's vacuum to gain more speed and overtake him, Daniel doesn't let him through and get in front of him, making him almost go off track. That would be a "normal" movement, except Hamilton was using Carlos' vacuum in his favor and, when Carlos is forced to change directions, Hamilton hits his back left tire, which makes it blows off and it's a mess from then on.

Daniel is far from the whole ordeal by now, safe and sound, thankfully. But Carlos spins in the track, taking Hamilton with him. They both go off track and Max flies by, followed by Bottas, Charles (where did he come from?), and then Alonso.

"Are they alright?" It's the first thing that comes up to me to ask.

"Fuck! That was crazy. Is everyone ok?" Daniel asks on the radio.

"Positive. Everyone's ok. Keep going, mate. 3 more laps to go" the engineer informs him.

"Who's behind me now? Bottas?" Daniel asks.

"Max. But he's at least 2 seconds behind, we should be fine" I hear the engineer say and it's like I can almost breathe again. Daniel's going to win this thing. He's so close now.

"It wasn't Daniel's fault, was it? Can they punish him in some way for the accident?" I ask Michael.

"Don't know. He was defending his position, but he's been closing in Carlos ever since the begging of the race. Depends on how Ferrari and Mercedes spin this, they'll try anything that favors them" Michael explains to me in a worried tone.

They're in the final lap and Daniel's been clearly losing speed. Something's wrong with the engine. But it's the final lap, just a few more moments, come on baby, you can do it. Max is so close to him though, I wouldn't be surprised if the winner was declared based on the replay of the finishing line. The big straight comes up and Dan has to stay out of Max's front, so as to not give him any advantages.

I can barely see it, but at the same time, I can't take my eyes off the screen.

"Full force now mate, final sector. You can win this" the engineer says on the radio but Daniel doesn't respond. Max is right by his side, he's going to pass him.

There's smoke coming out of his car, the whole thing is going to blow off any second now. Oh my god, please just a few more seconds.

5 turns to go.

4 turns to go.

3 turns to go. Max overtakes him. Shit.

2 turns to go. Daniel wins his place on the podium back.

Final turn. Daniel's in the front, barely. They cross the finish line and the whole garage explores with cheering. There are people running outside to wave at him. I can only smile and hold my own head like it would fall off otherwise. He did it. He fucking did it.

"Woo-hoo! Yes! Yes! Fuck yes!" I can hear Daniel on the radio, screaming his lungs out.

"Good job mate. Spectacular work. First-class, really! Well done!" the engineer cheers on.

The next thing I know, Michael is hugging me and lifting me from the ground just to puck me back down and Blake lift me up again. I can only laugh at their excitement. I'm so happy for Daniel I can barely grasp it!

"Let's go!" Blake puts me down and runs outside the garage. I follow him out, to the place where Daniel is stopping the car, a bunch of smoke coming out and some people with fire extinguishers around it.

He's got his fists up, celebrating. But is still inside the car. Then he takes off the steering wheel and handles it to one of the mechanics waiting outside. He gets out of the car and stands on top of it, smokes still coming out from behind. It's a nice picture. I just hoped he got away from that thing before it explodes, but it's a nice picture, can't deny it.

Then he jumps down and run towards the crew, jumping over them, helmet still on. Everybody is celebrating and cheering, I can only laugh and clap at the scene before me. So much joy and happiness going on, the energy is amazing! Then I can see Daniel looking around, but since his helmet is still on, I have no idea what he's doing. Somebody seems to understand though and they wave at me, calling me to come closer. I approach, but I'm still unsure, don't want to get in the middle of the team's celebration. But Daniel grabs me, pulling me closer and hugging me. I just laugh, can't barely see him with the suit and helmet still on. He's saying something, but I can't understand a thing.

"What?" I laugh at his attempts to communicating with me. He opens his helmet visor and repeats.

"I fucking won baby!" He yells laughing.

"I know! I know! You won Dan! I'm so proud! You're the best baby!"

"I need to get this thing off" he says struggling to get the helmet and the balaclava off, when he finally manages to do it, he jumps over the fence that was separating us and hugs me again, lifting me in the air and kissing me deeply, making everyone around us cheer even louder and I smile against his lips. I wrap my legs around him and he keeps kissing me, only after a few seconds do I pull away to breathe and he touches our foreheads. I laugh again, just enjoying the feeling of pure happiness for him.

"I'm so proud of you. You were so good. This is crazy" I whisper to him.

"Get used to it, cause there's more where it came from" he answers kissing me again.

#daniel ricciardo #Daniel ricciardo fic #daniel ricciardo one shot #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 one shot #daniel ricciardo fluff #daniel ricciardo x reader

191 notes · View notes

alltooreid · 4 years

Text

Call It What You Want

Everyone around them is trying to discover the true nature of Y/N and Spencer’s relationship. Little do they know Y/N is trying to figure out the exact same thing.

A/N: Sorry this took a lot longer than I wanted it to.... Mental health is hard but here it is!! I hope you guys love it :)) Additionally I added a lil garvez to this... but for it to work with the timeline we’re all just gonna pretend Lisa doesn’t exist... ok great!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (with a little splash of implied Garvez content for my personal joy)

Requested?: Yes!! :)) “can you do a one shot based off call it what you want??”

Type: Fluffiest Fluff

Word Count: 3K

Content Warnings: None!

“My baby's fly like a jet stream High above the whole scene Loves me like I'm brand new So call it what you want, yeah, call it what you want to”

The team was sure something was going on between Y/N and Spencer, they just weren’t sure how to prove it.

Every sign pointed to the two dating, but the pair hadn’t said anything about it. Maybe they were trying to keep it a secret, but at the same time they didn’t appear to be being very secretive about it.

So ever since Penelope saw Y/N giving Spencer a ride home a week ago, she has been determined to uncover the truth, and hopefully the truth was her two best friends were in the world’s cutest, most perfect relationship.

She was using her technical brilliance to gather data when she was caught by none other than Luke Alvez.

“What are you doing in here?”

“This is my job Luke, I have to be in here,” she rolled her eyes.

“Well, I know that! I mean what are you doing right now, we don’t have a case.” he smirked “Are you committing any cyber crimes? You know you could get in a lot of trouble for those, the FBI won’t help you. You should let me help.”

She smiled, “You do know I got my job here from committing cyber crimes right? I don’t think I would need your help. Besides, I’m working on a personal project.” After some thought she decided Luke might actually be helpful “I’m trying to find out if Spencer and Y/N are dating.”

“I swear I saw them leaving together yesterday, that seems like pretty good evidence! I could be very helpful to you.”

“I’m way ahead of you, but I guess you can help,” she pulled up a new tab, quickly constructing a timeline while Luke pulled a chair next to her. “So our favorite pair’s relationship would, based on my intense experimentation and surveying, begin here,” she traced a circle around the start of the timeline with her cursor, “on that night we went out after the case and then wouldn’t stop talking to each other.”

Luke and Penelope discussed all the things they saw that led them to believe that Y/N and Spencer were more than just friends, from how keen Y/N was to listen to anything that came out of Spencer’s mouth no matter how difficult to follow, to Spencer’s willingness to touch her. After about 15 minutes however they were interrupted by none other than Y/N herself. Penelope quickly switched tabs, so that it now appeared she was just showing Luke a funny kitten video.

“Hey guys! What are you doing in here?” “Oh you know, just wasting time. . . What’s up?” said Luke.

“I was just checking to see if you wanted to go to lunch! If you have any opinions as to where that would be great too because no one out there can make a decision . . .”

“Of course I want lunch! I’ll be out there in just a sec,” Penelope smiled and started closing her work done as soon as Y/N left, almost forgetting Luke’s presence.

“Um, Penelope?”

“What is it Luke?”

“Do you think you’d ever do anything like what Y/N and Spencer are doing?” he asked.

“Like what? Keep a secret? You know I’m terrible at that stuff.”

“No, no I mean like . . .” he took a deep breath, “You know, like dating a coworker?”

“What does that have to do with anything? Now hurry up and come to lunch, we can keep working afterwards,” she replied.

Luke awkwardly smiled, and they both left.

Little did Luke and Penelope know that as they debated and pieced together aspects of Y/N and Spencer’s relationship, trying to uncover if they were dating, Y/N was doing the exact same thing.

Her and Spencer had been on three dates, each more boyfriend and girlfriend than the last. They got coffee one day, then went to a movie, then a nice restaurant for dinner. Tonight Spencer wanted to keep it a surprise, but that just made her even more confused.

Sometimes her and Spencer would sit next to each other at the round table, and now when they did that he would reach over, not to hold her hand, but just to link their pinkies together.

She didn’t know what that meant.

Sometimes Y/N would go on a tangent and realize she had been talking for almost an hour about nothing in particular, and when she realized Spencer was the only one still listening would apologize for wasting his time. To which he would reply, “Why would I be upset about spending time with you?” She didn’t know what that meant.

And one time, on her and Spencer’s first “date” they were about to part their separate directions, and Y/N had no idea what to do with her body or her hands, Spencer wrapped her into a hug, and she swore she felt his lips brushing against the top of her head.

She really didn’t know what that meant.

Which is why she continued to let Penelope and Luke have their fun trying to decipher her and Spencer’s social cues. She knew as soon as she was about to enter to ask about lunch, Penelope was not exactly quiet and Luke wasn’t any better, but she let them believe they were being sneaky.

Besides, maybe if they found the answer they could let her know.

When the team returned from lunch she couldn’t help but continue to contemplate this issue further, Spencer hadn’t really said anything to her at lunch. Were they still just friends? Were they dating but not telling anyone? Were they going to tell anyone?

“Y/N! Are you excited to hang out tonight?” Spencer asked.

Hang out. So it definitely was not a date. . .

“Of course! Right after work right? Your place?”

“Yep! It’s a date,” he smiled and walked away, leaving Y/N in a state of confused panic. What was this? For someone so logical and scientific, Y/N wished that Spencer Reid would just tell her the kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, and genus of their relationship.

Maybe then she could stop dissecting it to try and figure it out.

　♡　　♡　　♡　　♡　　♡　

As Y/N stood outside Spencer’s apartment building, she struggled to muster up courage to go inside. It’s not that she was nervous to hang out with Spencer, it was just Y/N knew she needed to have the “what are we” talk with him for her own personal sanity. And she just wasn’t sure yet what his answer would be.

She had made her way into the building and gotten to Spencer’s floor when she ran into the man of the hour himself.

“Oh there you are! I was about to come down and get you,” he said.

Y/N glanced at her phone, “I’m sorry, am I late?”

“No, no, no. You’re perfect, I just got excited.”

That confused Y/N even more, she couldn’t decide if that leaned more towards friend or date territory. However all of her anxieties were forgotten for a moment as soon as she entered Spencer’s apartment.

Almost all the lights were off, except for several strings of lights shaped like stars, strung in different directions across the room. In the corner were several folded up blankets and sheets, and pillows were spread out across the room.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it, although if I’m being honest I don’t really know what it is . . .”

“13 months ago we were on a case, the one were the unsub was killing couples when they went out camping so that no one would look for them for days, and you said that you used to go camping all the time but you didn’t think you could go anymore. So I bought stuff so we could go camping together, right here.”

Y/N was left almost speechless, “I- I don’t even know what to say, Spencer this is incredible.”

He beamed, instantly satisfied with that answer. “I tried to find a tent, but all of the stores I went to said I should order one online . . . I figured it would be more fun to build a fort instead.”

Spencer brought over the supplies he had bought and gathered, various sheets and comforters, pillows, his leather couch cushions, sleeping bags, a large collection of clothes pins, and some more lights. Except Spencer left a single bag in the pile, the only one from a craft store.

“Do you want me to grab that one?” Y/N asked.

“Oh um, no don’t worry about that one. I saw something stupid on that site JJ and Garcia really like while I was passing JJ’s desk. . . Pinterest? Yes that’s it. And I tried to make it but even though I memorized the instructions I couldn’t get it to work. . . I kind of just gave up and threw everything in there.”

“Can I try it?”

He nodded, and Y/N got up and glanced into the bag, in it was a push light, warm toned tissue paper and a couple empty paper towel rolls, all stuck together, but also somehow falling apart. Y/N couldn’t help but smile, “Were you trying to build me a campfire Dr. Reid?”

“Well you said that your family used to have this big bonfire every year, and that it used to be one of your favorite traditions until you couldn’t handle going anymore, so I thought I could make one that would be a little safer for you. Turns out that you actually need four PHDs to be good at crafts though.”

“Spencer this whole date is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me . . . Thank you.”

“Of course, I really want you to enjoy yourself when you're around me Y/N.”

“Spencer, I’ve never not enjoyed myself when I’m around you, and you were with me when I got shot. You’re my favorite person, you do know that right?”

He blushed, “You’re my favorite person too Y/N.”

So the two lovers built a blanket fort, draping sheets over string lights and shoving the inside full of pillows and blankets, giggling the entire time. Y/N taught Spencer the simplicity of DIY projects, and how sometimes the directions needed to be adjusted slightly based on personal preferences and ability. Soon the pair were cuddled up together on the ground, no other space to be except for right next to each other, as the rest of the fort was covered by snacks, pillows, their homemade campfire, and Spencer’s vinyl record player.

“Did you do this on purpose? Making me be so close to you?”

“No, I would never, it’s not my fault this area is so small . . . “

“Mhm, although I’m sure a genius like you could figure out how to make an adult sized fort, I’m very glad you didn’t,” she said, giggling and squishing herself closer to him. They smiled and kissed each other, before Spencer spoke.

“You make me so, unbelievably, happy. I never thought I could feel like this until we met Y/N.”

Y/N smiled even bigger, “Spencer I really, really like you,” she paused, it was now or never, “but um, what do you want to call this, like what we’re doing.”

“Well what do you want this to be? Because I want you to be my girlfriend.”

She smiled, “I want you to be my boyfriend.”

“Well then that’s what we’ll be,” he said, kissing her on the forehead.

“Well you do know the team, particularly Penelope and Luke have the exact same question.”

“Well I think more than Luke wondering if we’re dating, I think he’s just wondering if Penelope will date him. . . So I say let them have their fun for a little while, before we tell everyone.”

She smiled, “Perfect. They’re profilers, they’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Well, I think we should watch a movie. . . Although I mostly enjoy my cinema in Russian, tonight is about you and I don’t want to give you a headache. What’s your favorite?”

“You’re going to laugh at me.”

“I promise I will not laugh at you darling.”

“High School Musical 3.”

　♡　　♡　　♡　　♡　　♡　

So Y/N spent the rest of that night explaining the plot of the first two High School Musical movies, then explaining why the third one was the clear winner, and then finally showing Spencer the third one off of her phone, where she had it saved to her cloud for emergencies.

And although singing and dancing adults pretending to be teenagers was not exactly Spencer’s favorite genre, he loved how happy the series as a whole made Y/N. So he latched onto it, and learned as much as he could about it.

One particular scene however, in one of the earlier films, seemed to make Y/N extra excited, as she spent the longest amount of time talking about it. So Spencer decided he knew exactly what to do to prove to her he was in this relationship for the long haul.

Spencer could tell she was anxious before their date, and it didn’t take him long to guess that it was because she didn’t know how serious everything was to him. Yet, he didn’t want to be too obvious that he wanted her to be his, because if he had assessed wrong he would make a complete fool out of himself.

But when she asked him, she seemed so nervous, so small, he knew he had made a mistake in waiting, and now he wanted to make it up to her.

So as she was walking in the next day he caught her. “Y/N!”

“Hi Spencer! What’s up?”

“I have a present for you. . .” he said, handing her a small box wrapped in shiny gold paper.

“For me? Why?”

“Oh you know, just because. . .”

As Y/N unwrapped the box, Spencer got more and more nervous… What if she hated it? What if she thought it was stupid or too soon or didn’t get it or-

“Oh my god Spencer I-”

“You know what it’s stupid, I don’t even know why I got it for you. I can return it and find you something you’ll actually like-”

“I love it Spencer, it’s perfect. Will you put it on me?”

Spencer hooked the chain around his new girlfriend’s neck, the small “S” pendant shining in the light.

“It’s like Gabriella’s. . . I love it. I can’t believe you would care to remember something like that…”

“Of course I would remember that. I have an eidetic memory. Did you know that although the original purpose and origin of initial jewelry was largely unknown, they date back to the 14th century?”

“No, I just mean… It’s very thoughtful Spencer.”

He smiled, “Well I’m sorry to kill the mood, but I really have to go to the bathroom. I drank 3 cups of coffee this morning and I was standing here waiting for you for 18 minutes and 4 seconds before you came in.”

She laughed, and then hugged him, “Well don’t just stand here! Go!”

Spencer ran off, leaving Y/N to walk into the bullpen alone. As Y/N was making her way to her desk, she was stopped by none other than Penelope Garcia and Luke Alvez, Penelope up front, Luke standing a foot or so behind her, ready to back her up.

“Y/N! We know your secret, you and Spencer are secretly dating. . . We figured it out this morning. You can’t hide from us anymore,” Penelope said, Luke nodding behind her.

“Well yeah we’re dating, but it’s not a secret.”

“What? Excuse me? You haven’t told anyone!”

“Yeah but we haven’t really made any effort to hide it? We told everyone about the time we went to the movies?”

“Yeah but- Um, we just thought we were being sneaky. . .” Penelope said.

“You might wanna get a little better at that guys, the Bat Cave is not soundproof.”

“Dang it, I really need to work on that…” Penelope said. “Well Luke Alvez, I suppose our quest has been conquered.”

“See! We were right, I told you I’m great help,” Luke said.

“Oh don’t get it too twisted, this was almost all me.”

After a moment of playful banter, Y/N stopped them “So when are you two going to start “secretly” dating huh?”

“Uh hmph, I don’t know what you talking about. I would never,” Penelope said.

At that moment, Spencer returned from the bathroom, and came up upon Y/N hugging her from behind and leaning to rest his head on her shoulder. “What are we talking about?”

Penelope threw her head back in defeat, “Nothing, 187, we were just talking. . .”

“Don’t you think Luke and Penelope would make the cutest couple Spencer?” Y/N smirked.

“You know what? Yeah I do!” Spencer played along, “Have you guys ever thought about that?

Luke was beaming behind Penelope, while she looked like she was trying to hide her enthusiasm. “No actually I haven’t,” she said.

“Well you definitely should,” Y/N said, giggling as her and Spencer walked to his desk.

“Hey, wait come back here! What does your necklace have on it?” Penelope asked, half running after them, Luke closely behind her.

“Whatever you want Penelope, whatever you want.”

“I want to wear his initial On a chain round my neck, chain round my neck Not because he owns me But 'cause he really knows me”

Thank you so much for reading!! Please reblog and let me know what you think :)))

holly’s tiny taglist: @reidingmelodies @hercleverboy @rigatonireid @muffin-cup @takeyourleap-of-faith @wheelsup @s1utformgg @averyhotchner @widow-cevans @rotinireid

please let me know if you would like to be added or removed :))

487 notes · View notes

ptergwen · 3 years

Text

web of lies

take a leap. if you start to fall, the net will appear to catch you.

photographer!peter x journalist!reader || masterlist

w/c: 7.1k

warnings: swearing, one drinking mention, descriptions of anxiety, and angst if ya squint

summary: peter can’t stop holding your hands, betty and ned are the modern day bonnie and clyde, ned is a terrible guy in the chair, the osborn’s are up to something, and mj hates you all

a/n: y’all i’m super excited about this series like i haven’t had an idea i’ve really loved in months? so it’s good to be back !!! there are tons of things i have planned and i can’t wait to share them with all of you hehe i really hope you enjoy part one <3 happy reading

to be honest, which is what you do best, you’ve had a thing for peter parker your whole time at the daily bugle. you actually almost told him once.

a couple months ago, peter walked you home on a night you worked overtime. he’d came in last minute to leave some pictures on your boss’s desk. no one else but you was there, hunched at your computer in the dim office lighting. peter was pleasantly surprised to see you, yet concerned for your well-being. you had to put your finishing touches on a story.

he didn’t feel comfortable letting you travel alone at that hour. so, he went with you when you were ready. his company was more than welcomed. you told peter about your article while you two sat on the subway. he’d listened intently, your head resting on his shoulder and his arm around you. he made sure you got to your apartment building alright as well.

“hey, peter?” you’d asked, halfway up the steps. he was waiting until you were inside and safe to leave. “hm? you good?” he’d smiled sort of expectantly. “yeah. i... i wanted to say...”

your words got caught in your throat when he gave you the softest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. you couldn’t do it. for some reason, you were too scared to confess how you felt. “thanks again for walking me home,” you’d settled on. he’d seemed disappointed that was what you wanted to tell him. nevertheless, he said not to worry about it before taking off.

that one moment perfectly captures it all; how yours and peter’s narrative plays itself out.

—

“we’ve got an update on hydra v. the people!”

“those freaky giraffes escaped the zoo... again.”

“shoot one more spitball and it’ll be your last.”

“does anyone have an aspirin?”

welcome to the daily bugle, where the chaos never ends and the calm never starts. you’ll find new york’s finest writers, publishers, and creatives of all kind right here. that would include you. you’re one of the top journalists in the whole building, according to mr. norman osborn. he’s the brilliant and slightly insane man who runs this place.

although it’s rare for someone in your field, you were hired straight out of college. norman read a few pieces you’d written and loved them so much that he offered you a job. full time, full benefits, no questions asked. there was something special about the way you wove your words together. your writing had its own voice. a strong voice, one the paper was severely lacking.

you’ve been with the bugle for just over a year now. it’s not the quiet, nine to five gig you were initially expecting it to be. you’re each very unique individuals in your office, and there’s never a dull moment because of it. your coworkers can be found hosting debates on the riskiest topics or tackling each other for blueberry muffins, and that’s just a regular tuesday. the place is stranger than strange. but, it’s become home.

thanks to mr. osborn being so accommodating, you actually settled in rather quickly. another big help has been the friends you’ve made. your first was michelle jones, who prefers to be called mj. she’s a fellow journalist with a wickedly dark humor that trickles into her writing. if you had to describe her in one word, it would be blunt. mj is as real as it gets, and also eternally loyal. she keeps her circle small, so you’re honored you get to be in it.

mj sits right next to you, which means you’re always talking through your days. that’s due in part to the way your office is set up. there aren’t any cubicles, tables and swirly chairs taking up their space instead. norman heard it was more progressive, probably from his son harry.

harry is about your age, only a couple of years older. he hangs around quite a lot, but doesn’t do much with his time besides that. according to norman, he’s still seeking out his passion. he’s banking on him finding a suitable career at the bugle. he’d like to pass this all on to harry some day, hopefully sooner than later. either way, you don’t mind having harry here. he’s super funny and friendly with everyone.

there’s also ned leeds, who’s an editor and reviews most of your pieces. he’s sweeter than candy, even when he’s ripping your grammar to shreds. on the rare occasions you’re not discussing breaking news, you two talk about movies. ned is a film buff and gives you the best recommendations. you’re convinced he was a critic in his past life.

last but so from least is peter parker. he only works for the bugle part time, since he’s still in school. you both graduated from your respective colleges the same year. peter wants to get his masters degree, though. he’s a photographer who’s aspiring to be a cinematographer. him and ned have their passion for the industry in common, and that’s what makes them such great friends.

you learned this and more from the times you and peter have partnered up on stories. he’s one of your best friends not only at the bugle, but in your entire life. the many long nights you’ve spent collaborating have brought you close to each other. they consist of drinking and deep talks, along with some actual work. he takes the pictures, you do the writing. you’ve been told you make a lovely pair.

peter says it himself, too. you’d like to believe he means it as more than coworkers. he’s so caring, and smart, and pure, and peter. yeah, you like him an awful lot. you can hardly stand the feeling of it sometimes.

the fact that you you haven’t come clean already is ridiculous.

“goddamn. not again,” you mutter out. “em, you better come look at this. it’s bad.” mj wheels over to you in her chair with a puzzled look. her eyes follow yours, landing on your computer. “leeds just sent this? to everyone?” she questions, your reply a short hum. you’re both staring daggers at the email your screen displays.

ned is responsible for assigning each journalist their own topics to cover. he’s been lacking a bit recently, having you write up think pieces on fluffy things. in other words, stuff that no one cares about. he asked you to compare oat milk and almond milk just last week. you’d hoped this week would be better, but here you are.

“this is ass. who does he think we are, buzzfeed?” mj scoffs at her own words. the daily bugle prides itself on being a reliable news source, on paper and tv. you’re starting to stoop down to the low level of your competitors. “he assigned me some tiktok dance trend. i’m not writing a single word about that app.” she sets her elbows down on the table, head in her hands.

“aw, why not? grandma mj isn’t down with the kids?” you tease and click out of the upsetting email. “i don’t write for kids,” mj deadpans. she pushes her glasses up on her nose. “what’d you get?” “the evolution of memes,” you gloomily reply. you’re surprised norman has been approving these topics. then again, ned is the head editor. he can do whatever he wants regardless of approval.

mj glares over at the kitchen, where betty brant currently resides. she’s making two hot chocolates instead of her usual one. “i blame her,” mj mumbles to you. your eyebrows furrow. “dude, what? betty is an angel. she doesn’t even work in editing.” betty is the bugle’s highest rated anchorwoman. her and her news team are on people’s televisions every night.

“no, but she has been spending a generous amount of time with leeds,” mj grumbles. she’s admittedly very nosy. the upside is that she tells you any juicy office drama there is. “my theory is betty’s making him give us crap stories so she can report the good ones.” she glances over at you to see what you think. “no way. that can’t be allowed... or legal,” you laugh back.

as if on cue, ned appears next to betty in the kitchen. he takes the extra hot coco that’s piled high with whipped cream. betty tucks a sheet of paper into his suit pocket and kisses his cheek, then he’s gone. you can only gasp as you watch this unfold. what has she done to poor, clueless ned?

“not such an angel anymore, huh?” mj smirks in satisfaction. “suddenly, she has red horns and a pitchfork,” you bitterly agree with your tongue in your cheek. betty waves to you two on her way back to broadcasting. mj gives her a fake nice finger wave, you ignoring her. “we can’t sit back and let this happen, em. we have to do something,” you decide. “let’s tell norman.”

uninterested, mj takes off her glasses and starts to clean them. “like he’ll believe us. yeah, golden girl betty brant is sabotaging the writer’s room,” she rewords her previous statement to put its stupidity in perspective. you throw your hands up. “she is, though! we literally watched it happen!” mj puts her freshly wiped glasses back on and sighs.

“i doubt norman would care, y/n. every newspaper to ever exist is corrupt somehow.” your pessimistic old pal has a point. however, you’re not so willing to accept it. “why can’t we be the first one that isn’t?” you offer a small smile. mj snickers, wheeling back to her own computer. “those are words of the innocent.” she’s already tapping her fingers across the keyboard.

“i thought you weren’t doing the tiktok piece,” you say under your breath. you’re slightly pissed mj turned you down, since she’s the reason you know about betty’s meddling. “i’m not,” mj answers sharply. “i’m gonna email quentin and ask if we can change our topics. happy?” quentin beck is another editor in the building. he’s not bad, but he is intimidating. no one typically goes to him as their first option.

“i’m thrilled,” you confirm and grin at mj to emphasize it. “thanks for stepping up. you’re forgiven.” “i didn’t realize i had to be sorry,” mj notes, this time in a playful manor. she shakes her head as she begins writing. “you and your morals.”

what you value most in your career is honesty, under any circumstances. of course, the other daily bugle writers are the same. norman strictly prohibits clickbait and crazy headlines because that isn’t real news. you leave that to companies like buzzfeed. you’re honest in the sense that you say whatever has to be said, what everyone else is too afraid to. you’ll speak your truth no matter who tries to stop you.

it didn’t used to be that way. there’s some childhood trauma that remains deep in the back of your mind. you’ve left that behind you now, having over a decade to cope with it. hey, they say the past is in the past. what’s important is your takeaway, that you would never let yourself or anyone else be silenced from there on out. never again.

quentin ends up giving you the okay to write different stories. he lets you and mj choose choose your own because he’s got “better things to do” and you’re “big girls.” what a peach he is. mj goes with how capitalism is continuing to provoke global warming. she has something to say about every major world issue, and you admire the hell out of her for it.

you’re a bit stuck when it’s time to write your article. it’s terribly ironic because you pushed for this. you aren’t too worried, though. the city is crawling with material, so you’ll find what you’re looking for eventually. lucky for you, some much needed inspiration comes skipping out of the elevator.

“morning, peter,” you hear liz greet him at the front desk. she’s your floor’s receptionist. her wisdom and patience keep this place going. “hi, liz. how’s it going?” he asks. “things have been quiet... mostly. can i do anything for you?” liz peers up at him. peter sports a shy smile. “uh, yeah. mr. osborn wanted to see me?” “right. hang on.” she nods, dialing his office phone number.

it’s endearing how peter calls him mr. osborn, seeing as the rest of you go with norman. he’s probably the politest guy you’ve ever met.

grinning, liz puts down the phone. “you can go in whenever you’re ready. good luck!” peter laughs nervously and turns to leave. “thanks, you too.” his face falls when he realizes his mistake. “wait, i- i didn’t mean to say that. that was stupid. you’re not-“ “it’s fine, peter,” liz reassures him. his anxiety makes him trip over his words sometimes. that, and he’s a bit dorky in general. you find it rather adorable.

you also wonder what exactly he needs good luck for. he’s not even supposed to be working today, so your curiosity as to what’s going on has been piqued.

“um, i’m gonna go now. bye!” peter rushes off, his face tinted pink from the embarrassing encounter. you’re hoping he’ll stop and talk with you for a little while, but he heads straight to norman’s office. your whole body deflates at that. mj notices from her peripherals.

“what’s the matter? missing your hubby?” she coos, her words dripping in sarcasm. “no,” you lie. “i’m... i don’t know what to write about.” ok, there’s some truth. mj gives you a couple pats on the shoulder. “ask parker for help. you two work... well together. don’t you?” this must be the zillionth time you’ve heard that.

“we do,” you murmur and glance at norman’s closed door. peter is hidden behind it. “i just don’t wanna bug him. he has finals soon, and whatever norman is putting him up to. it’s my job, anyway.” mj pokes your arm. “those sound like excuses to me,” she concludes, still jabbing at you childishly. “you really just don’t wanna tell him you like-“

“can you keep it down?” you hiss, yanking your arm back. “he’s literally right over there.” peter stands up and shakes norman’s hand. you catch it through the blinds on his window. “y/n, you were drooling over his mere presence only minutes ago,” mj prefaces, a smile pulling at her lips. “you can handle three little words. i like you, that’s it. spit it out already.”

you’ll never admit this to mj, but she’s right. you lost your momentum after your first failed attempt to say the three little words. you’re still not sure what stopped you. you’d shared the details of that faithful night with her, and she’s been pushing you to try again since.

the door to norman’s office opens, and out walks peter. he’s beaming after their conversation, which seems like a good sign. harry passes peter on his way in to pay his dad a visit. he claps him on the shoulder, peter happily accepting before continuing his stride back into the main office. it takes a moment to register that he’s coming towards you.

you quickly set your focus back on your computer so he doesn’t think you’ve been watching him. even though, you definitely have.

“y/n!” peter calls your name. he’s on the opposite side of your table, in front of you. “peter!” you match his tone. “i was just dropping by. i thought i’d say hey while i’m here.” he’s still grinning. “what’re you doing?” he looks cute as ever in an oversized and cream colored sweater. his curls are slicked back with a tad too much product, cheeks rosy. you gaze up at him when he rests his arms on the table.

“pretending to be productive,” mj answers for you, pressing her lips together. peter cocks his head to the side. “pretending?” “ignore her. she’s being a shit stirrer today,” you explain. “like every other day,” he jokes, earning a laugh from you. mj just tuts and keeps writing. “talk about me like i’m not here,” she mumbles to herself, then gets back into her article.

“anyways, i thought you didn’t work today?” you ask to take the attention off yourself. also, because you’re curious. “oh! get this.” peter perks up even more, if that’s possible. he has energy like no other. “you know alex in broadcasting? betty’s camera guy?” “what about him?” you wonder. “he called in sick earlier this morning, with the flu or something.” he’s oddly excited to announce this. that prompts you to make a funny face.

biting back another smile, peter elaborates. “mr. osborn needed someone to fill in for him, so he picked me. i’ll be here all week.” it makes sense, since peter knows how to work a camera and does so wonderfully. you give him a celebratory push at his chest. “peter, that’s amazing! this is the perfect way to transition from pictures to film, right?” he’s nearing his finals at school, which consist of more movie-like projects. the news will be great practice.

then, he’s off to hollywood. you’ll put that out of your mind for now.

“exactly! i think it’ll be a good place to start. the pay isn’t bad either.” peter wiggles his eyebrows at you, you giggling once again. you do a lot of that when he’s around. that’s going to be more often now. “plus, i get to see you. everyone wins.” he squeezes your hand that was just on him. your heart begins to thump. “except alex,” you challenge, playing with his fingers. “but, for real. i’m happy you get to do this and that we’ll be spending more time together.”

“thanks, y/n/n. me too.” peter grins and leans over, taking a peek at your computer screen. there’s a blank word document on it. “you never told me what you’re up to,” he chuckles. “guess mj was right... nothing.” “i’m always right,” she chimes in from next to you. you look between the two of them with a scowl. “i haven’t found my story yet. i don’t know, this never happens.” peter nods as you share your dilemma. “no good ideas are coming to me,” you murmur.

“they will. you have a way of attracting things.” he licks his lower lip, your heart completely stopping this time. “well, i gotta go set up for rise and shine with betty brant.” he waves his hand like he’s presenting his words. that’s what betty calls her morning news segment. “be careful with her. she’s being really sketchy these days,” you warn peter, mj grunting in agreement.

confused, peter purses his lips. “really? ned says she’s a sweetheart. they’ve been going out for a while.” mj pops her head up and adjusts her glasses. “did ned also tell you she’s bribing him to give her all of our scoops?” she’s asking rhetorically because she already knows the answer. of course he didn’t. “it’s one thing to not like her. you’re just making things up now,” peter huffs.

mj kicks your foot under the table. “i told you no one would believe us. not even peter gullible parker.” “it’s benjamin,” he corrects her. “whatever,” she brushes it off, resuming her work.

peter does tend to be sort of naive, to only see the good in things when there’s plenty of bad. you’re the same in that way, unless you hang around mj for too long.

“is that true? betty’s stealing your stories?” peter turns to you and asks. you gesture to your screen. “i don’t have one, so you do the math.” he hums sympathetically. he’ll listen to you, never mj. “i’m sorry. thanks for telling me, y/n. i’ll watch out for her.” he bends his fingers to look like goggles, putting them around his eyes. you sigh lightheartedly.

“are you twenty two years old or twelve?” mj remarks, but not without a comeback from peter. “you’re, like, eighty five. worry about that.” they’ve had this type of banter for as long as you’ve known them. it’s equal parts amusing and exhausting. “don’t be late on your first day.” you snap peter out of it with a knowing smile. he returns it.

“i hope something crazy happens so you can write about it.” he’s walking backwards now, towards the elevator. “see you later, pete,” is all you say back, yet another laugh threatening to escape you. “see you. bye, michelle,” peter says just to bug her. “it’s mj,” she groans without looking up. he shrugs. “not so fun, is it?”

after peter is gone, you try to get back into work. or rather, you try to start your work. what he said about you having a way of attracting things keeps ringing in your head. was he flirting? no, he couldn’t have been. peter parker doesn’t flirt. words aren’t his strong suit, and you have countless memories that prove this to be true. earlier with liz, for example.

you’re probably reading way into this. peter was simply doing what any good friend would do and gave you advice.

it’s late in the afternoon when anything worth mentioning happens again. peter is still with betty, as far as you know. they’re probably preparing for the nighttime news now. all you’ve done since seeing him is nibble on snacks and bug mj, who’s almost done with her story despite your distractions. this is really bad, considering your deadline to submit is at the end of today.

you’ve never missed a deadline.

mj emails her work to quentin while you repeatedly bang your head on the table. she hits send before deciding to entertain you. “whatcha doing over there?” she cautiously prompts, powering off her computer. “trying to get an idea. i’m desperate, if you couldn’t tell.” your voice is muffled. “i could.” mj grabs your shoulders and pulls you back so you’re sitting up. you childishly pout.

“y/n, the only thing that’s gonna give you is brain damage,” mj says sternly, then softens her tone. “why don’t you ask for an extension? norman gives me them all the time.” whining, you slump down in your chair again. “yeah, but you’re you! we do things differently, have different expectations put on us.” she’s back to cold mj after you say that. “alright. at least i did something today besides pine over that little-“

mj’s insult for peter is interrupted by harry. “ladies, what’s shaking?” he comes up to you two with a the hint of smirk on his face. you manage a nod to acknowledge him. “oh, hey... harry,” mj unenthusiastically replies. she’s the one person who isn’t really a fan of him. “not much. y/n was just having a tantrum.” “she was not,” you dismiss her. “it’s work stuff. you know your dad.”

harry clicks his tongue in a teasing way. “yep, the grind never stops in this joint. boss man is...” he does the sign for cuckoo with his finger. you laugh a little at that. “in a good way,” you add on. mj only watches you two, blinking blankly. harry gives you a definitive pat on the back. “before i forget, he wants to see you.” that gets mj talking. “norman?” she questions. “your dad?” you choke out at the same time.

“who else? he said you two have to talk.” harry flashes you a weary smile. “have fun in there, old sport.” you’re too busy biting the skin off your bottom lip to respond. “mhm... she will,” mj speaks on your behalf. even she sounds worried. saluting you both, harry leaves to go pester your other colleagues. you’re completely and totally fucked.

“that’s it for me!” you grin sarcastically, freaked out by harry. “i’m fired, aren’t i? i’m definitely about to get fired, and it’s all because-“ “relax!” mj cuts off your rambling. she reaches down and grasps at your wrists. “get it together, y/l/n. you’re the best we have, okay? you aren’t going anywhere.” your grin becomes a frown. “then why does norman wanna talk to me? and, why don’t i have a story?”

mj always has the answers, but this time is the execption. she lets out a breath. “i don’t know. you’ll go find out and tell me what happens.” there’s no use protesting. you’re going to have to face whatever you’re about to at some point. “ok,” you give in, defeated. “i’ll be back soon, i hope.”

the walk to norman’s office feels like a walk of shame. mj can do nothing but sit back and observe it. if this ends the way you think it will, you’ll be collecting your things and won’t ever return. norman is a kind man, and he’s usually pretty understanding. he doesn’t mind the workplace shenanigans as long as you get your job done. unfortunately, you haven’t today.

you hear your boss’s booming voice when you approach his door. inhaling deep, you knock on it, and the room goes silent. “come in,” norman responds after a few seconds. mustering up a smile, you open the door to be met with your doom. “hi, am i interrupting something?” you check. “not at all! you’re just the person i wanted to see. sit, sit,” he beckons you over. he’s not using his angry voice, so maybe you’re in the clear. you enter the room as told.

you’re shocked to see a terrified peter is already in one of the chairs. he visibly relaxes a bit now that you’re here. what the hell is happening? whatever you were expecting, this was the last thing.

taking the armchair next to peter, you sit facing norman’s desk. you nudge his arm to get his attention. his big brown eyes lock with yours. “what’s going on?” you whisper. “no idea,” peter whispers back. the two of you turn to norman again when he claps his hands. he’s plopped down into his cushy leather seat.

“so,” he begins, gaze flicking from peter to you. “you kids know why you’re here?” “is it because i missed my deadline?” you blurt out. you’re once again a nervous wreck. peter doesn’t speak, just winces. “not that. although, i did hear from ned that you turned down his assignment.” norman flicks at a post-it on his desk. “i asked quentin for one instead. me and mj,” you explain, peter’s eyes going wide.

“you talked to quentin? that guy’s bad news,” he murmurs to you. “how so?” norman questions, since it’s his employee. “he- he, um,” peter clears his throat before answering, “he’s super critical, you know? hates all my pictures.” “i love your pictures,” you assure him, the corners of his lips turning up. “your style is so cool. yeah, though. quentin’s pretty bitter.”

considering this, norman drums his fingers on the desk. “i’ll look into that. but, that isn’t why you’re here. i’m letting you off the hook this time.” your whole demeanor changes and a huge weight lifts off of you. “really? you are?” “i have a scoop of my own that i want you to cover,” he continues, peter bumping your knee happily. a toothy grin takes over your face.

“since peter will be sticking around for a while, i want him to join you.” norman waits a beat in case you have any questions. it’s been a minute since you last worked together. peter laughs in disbelief. “you want me to take over for alex and do this?” norman nods proudly. “y/n will need the extra hands, if you have them.” “yes, sir. i do,” peter immediately confirms. “my last class is next thursday, so i have the time.”

“wait, so you’re almost done? that’s awesome!” you bump peter’s knee this time. “yup, all that’s left is finals... and studying.” he mindlessly takes your hand, lacing your fingers together. you’re enjoying his gentle touches. “thank you so much, norman. seriously, i appreciate this a lot,” you tell him and mean it. “hey, no problem,” he chuckles at your eagerness. you grip peter’s hand tighter.

“what’s the story?” “ah, yes. the most important part,” norman starts, peter sharing an excited look with you. “how familiar are you two with spider-man?” his excitement fades at the question posed. it’s unbeknownst to you, caught up in the moment. “uh, same as everyone else, i guess,” you casually reply. “how come?” “he’s your subject.” norman points at you both. “you’re gonna study him over these next few months.”

peter’s hand goes limp in yours, and he gulps hard, throat feeling dry. “you mean, like, an exposé?” “no, no. there will be no exposing,” norman clarifies. “i’m sure he wears the mask for a reason.” that settles peter only slightly. you’re not sure why he’s so tense all of a sudden. “what’s our aim here, then?” you steer the conversation.

“see what new york’s favorite hero gets up to every day, how his life is beyond the crime fighting,” norman further describes your task. peter exhales a shaky breath, shifting away from you in his seat. the golden sun hits his face and reveals a bead of sweat dripping down it. you stare at his figure in worry. “you okay, peter?” “fine. i’m just... hot,” he murmurs back. his sweater does look pretty heavy, so you concede.

getting back to norman’s story, you grimace at the idea. “do you really think people will want to read that? for lack of a better term, it sounds kind of...” you pause. “basic.” “i thought the same thing at first,” he surprisingly agrees with you. “harry pitched the idea to me this morning. you won’t believe it! the other night, he caught spider-man hanging outside his window.”

“harry... harry saw him?” peter squeaks out. he uses the wool material that feels like it’s swallowing him to dab at his forehead. “he stopped on his balcony. must have been pretty late, the kid’s a night owl,” norman says about his son. your face lights up as you listen to him. “he took some shots of spidey in action, when he swung off. i saw a few. they were pretty great.” he’s grinning at his son’s success.

“maybe he’ll get into photography with you, pete,” norman suggests. peter gives him a weak smile in return. “we’d be happy to have him.” he usually has a lot more to say about his career than that. his behavior is starting to genuinely concern you. “anyway,” norman gets back on topic, “it got me thinking. how much do we really know about this guy? we’re supposed to blindly put our trust in him?”

you’re beginning to see the appeal now. you’ve written your share of pieces on the avengers and their methods, tackling the same questions norman just asked you. spider-man shouldn’t be overlooked, especially when he operates so close to your home. this could be another revolutionary superhero story in the making. and, you get to bring peter along for the ride.

“you know what? this has a lot of potential,” you smile at norman, then peter. he has his phone in his lap, fingers flying across the screen. it must be something important. you’ll discuss with norman while he takes care of that. “we could make it a weekly thing, about spider-man’s adventures. find out what we can about the man behind the mask...” peter shoots up in his seat. “without taking it off,” you finish, putting his mind at ease.

“see, i knew you were gonna love it! it was a blessing in disguise, you missing that deadline.” norman bangs his fist on the table with a hearty laugh. “what do you say, peter? you still in?” peter slips his phone back in his pocket. his tongue pokes out to wet his lips. “oh, of course. i can’t wait to work with you, y/n/n,” he speaks in a monotone voice, adding on, “again.”

something is definitely bothering him, and it isn’t the weather.

“i gotta go. betty needs me upstairs, so,” peter moves to get up, his body stiff. you assume that’s who he was texting. “thank you again, mr. osborn.” he’s rushing out of the room just like that, until you call after him. “um, don’t you wanna set a time to meet up? so we can get started?” you reasonably ask. “i... i really gotta go. find me later,” peter tells you, giving you both a tight lipped smile and running off.

“the dynamic duo is back!” norman announces to you. you’re disappointed you can’t share that sentiment with peter.

he’s absolutely booking it down the stairs, not bothering to wait for the next elevator. this is bad. this is a nightmare.

peter went from having one of his best days in a while to the worst in not even a full round of work. today started off fine, and got better when norman promoted him. it got way better when you came along. he saw your smile that makes his insides tingle, heard your laugh that’s the prettiest sound to grace his ears, held your hand that he never wants let go.

things went a bit downhill after that. betty was pushy and yelled at him a lot, demanding he only film her good angles for the segment. you and mj weren’t wrong when you told him to be careful.

later on when he saw you again, everything was okay. he was physically shaking as brad told him mr. osborn requested to see him. brad is mr. osborn’s assistant. a try-hard for sure, but good at his job. why did mr. osborn call him in? did betty complain already?

they’d been sitting in mostly silence, save for small talk until you came knocking on the door. simply being next to you was enough to ground peter and his racing thoughts. it was enough, then it wasn’t.

the whole day had gone to shit after he found out you were going to be writing stories about his alter ego. not only that, but he was helping. during the pitch, he’d texted ned to meet him in the bathroom. he was really anxious and needed a friend who understood why.

ned accidentally found out peter is spider-man last year. it’s a long story that involves peter hiding from some bad guys in the building and ned shrieking so loud the lights flickered. they’re cool now that peter talked things through with him. his secret has been kept, from what he knows.

pushing open the men’s bathroom door, peter is a mixture of sweat and ragged breaths. he’s panting from his fast descent down the staircase. he takes in his disheveled appearance using one of the mirrors. his styled hair is now damp and undone, hands trembling and palms sweaty, chest heaving. here’s his daily reminder that anxiety is not cute. as if he didn’t know.

his stupid, gigantic freaking sweater is only making things worse. it’s suffocating him. no one else is in here, so peter pulls it over his head and tosses it to the ground. he’s got a t-shirt on underneath that happens to be black. what a convenient day for him to wear the hottest material there is.

peter splashes his face with some cold water next to try and cool himself down. that doesn’t do much for him. his face still feels like it’s on fire, but now it’s wet. he takes his hands through his mop of curls, backing away from the sink.

“fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck,” peter repeats to himself. he’s silent for a moment, then rage overcomes him. he kicks open a bathroom stall. “shit! i can’t do this. what am i supposed to-“

the door creeks open, so peter shuts up in case it isn’t ned. it thankfully is, and he wears a deep frown at the sight of his best friend. “dude, what happened? you look...” “terrible. i know,” peter finishes for him. he tugs at his locks in another attempt to tame them. ned approaches him carefully. “you’re not, like, dying... are you? because betty was telling me you have to-“ “of course you were with betty,” peter exhales in frustration. “no, ned. i’m not dying.”

in ned’s defense, the text he received was very alarming. all peter wrote was, ‘EMERGENCY. SOS.’

“i mean, yeah. it was my break.” ned sits on the ledge by the window, close to peter. “you do the same with y/n.” the mention of your name upsets peter all over again. he hides his face in his hands as ned watches. “if you’re not dying, then what’s the problem?” ned finally asks. “me and y/n...” peter removes his hands from his face, meeting ned’s worried eyes. “mr. osborn wants us to do a project together.”

“uh, peter? you’ve been saying how much you miss her forever, dude! you’re not excited?” ned snorts at him. he means well, but he has no clue what he’s talking about. “no. it’s supposed to be about spider-man,” peter answers angrily. this isn’t the support he was hoping for. realizing the severity of the situation, ned gets serious.

“oh... but, you’re still doing it?” he questions. “i didn’t have a choice,” peter scoffs out. “i can’t let either of them down.” “you’ll expose yourself!” ned escalates things further. “it’s not like that. we’re gonna follow spider-man around and post updates on him,” peter says, technically in the third person. he’s given an are you insane? look from ned.

“you are spider-man! and, no offense, but you’re not so good at hiding it,” ned refers to himself finding out. “how are you gonna be in two places at once?” damnit, peter hadn’t thought about that yet. he can’t be taking pictures of spider-man and swinging from building to building simultaneously. “i- i’ll figure it out,” peter stammers, unconvincingly.

ned looks him over in a disapproving way. “jeez. you’re really putting your life on the line for this girl-“ “woman,” peter interjects, not loving ned’s attitude towards you. “have some respect.” unfazed, ned gets up from the windowsill. “speaking of women, remember betty? you’re still on the clock,” he changes the subject. peter nearly forgot he has to go film her segment.

“i’ll head up to her now,” peter gives in. he scoops up his discarded sweater, not bothering to check his appearance again. ned follows behind him to the door. “we wrote her script together, you know,” he gladly informs peter, who already knows from you. “not really a flex,” peter mumbles his response. “peter, lighten up.” ned hits at his shoulder. the two of them exit the bathroom.

“you’ll figure this out later. i can always help.” he shoots him a sugary sweet smile. “thanks, ned. for talking with me and everything.” peter doesn’t smile back. they do a quick bro handshake, then they’re going their separate ways. “have a good show, dude!” ned yells back, to which he doesn’t get a response. peter doesn’t have it in him.

he allows himself to take the elevator back up to broadcasting. he’s so drained from the several anxiety attacks he endured. while peter waists for the elevator, he contemplates all the issues he’d better solve. it’s a relief to hear it ding because it brings him back to earth. that doesn’t last long because both you and betty are there when the door opens.

you’d each had the same idea, to find peter. unlike betty, your intentions were good. you asked liz if she saw peter leave. she told you he went downstairs, so you did also. betty was already in the elevator when it got to your stop. she was looking for him because, you guessed it, he had to record the news. the small space was filled with tension as you and betty occupied it.

“perfect. we’re going right back up,” betty beams, motioning for peter with her index finger. “hop in!” “coming,” peter does as told, going to stand between you and betty. she presses the button for your floor and theirs. the doors close. “pete?” you speak up, voice soft. “you kinda ran off earlier. i thought you were with betty.” “clearly, he wasn’t,” betty sneers.

you’re less concerned with her and more with peter. the sweater he looked so huggable in is now folded in his arms, his face splotchy and jaw clenched. he must have gotten triggered by something back in norman’s office.

“are you sure you’re okay? you... you can talk to me about it.” you take a step closer to peter, your doe eyes searching for his. he meets them with a tiny smile. at least, it’s real this time. “i’ll be fine, y/n/n. ‘s nice that you came to check on me, though.” “don’t mention it.” your arms loop around his neck and bring him into a hug. peter hugs you back by your middle, chin resting on your shoulder, breathing out in relief.

you keep your hands on his shoulders when you pull back. his stay on your sides, a lopsided grin now crossing his features. “spider-man...” you quirk an eyebrow. “how are you feeling about that?” “should be cool,” peter somehow maintains himself. “i’m mostly looking forward to doing it with you.”

listening in, betty joins the conversation. “what’s happening with spider-man? anything i should know?” her hand reaches into her bag and emerges with a notepad. does she ever think of her own content? “she’s nothing if not persistent,” you grumble to peter. chuckling, he pulls you into his chest. if he didn’t hold you back, you would’ve pounced on her.

“we’re gonna do a piece on him,” peter tells her. “you can’t copy or steal this one because it’s already been approved,” you contribute, smiling smugly as peter holds you tighter. betty is taken aback. “are you accusing me of stealing? who said i-“ “ned ratted on you... sorry,” peter says in a sing song voice. squealing, you jump away from him. “he did? we were right?”

“mj’s never wrong,” he reiterates. “mj knew about this? oh my god, i can’t believe her!” betty stomps her foot. “we got you on candid camera.” you make a clicking noise with your mouth. peter mimes taking a picture to back you up. “alright, alright. i won’t do it again,” betty mumbles, turning away from you two in annoyance.

“finally!” you hold up your hand for a high five, which peter gives you. “we really do make the best team,” he hums. your fingers intertwine with peter’s, and he lays his palm flat against yours. he prays extremely hard you don’t notice that it’s sweaty. you do, but you couldn’t care less.

“i was wondering when you’d wanna start our... research?” peter asks you, his lip between his teeth. “you were saying something earlier. maybe we could make a schedule.” “how elaborate of us that would be,” you tease. that earns a breathy laugh from peter. with a knowing smile, you put your free hand back on his shoulder.

“what are you doing tonight?”

peter parker taglist

@saturnpeter @tpwk-grande @itstaskeen @missyouhollnd @becicamina @dummiesshort @zspideyy @watchitimreadinghere @my-patronus-is-mabel-pines @dpaccione @karispotters11 @theofficialzivadavid @thehumanistsdiary @kelieah @aayaissaa @petersgroupie @annab-nana @tayyx @swtltlmrvlgrl @magicalxdaydream @haoluvver @kjune113 @captainamirica @marvel-dork98 @emmastarz @killingbxys @viriditie @misshale21 @veryholland @liliswifts @tommydarlings @rebelemilu @peterspideysense @cr-uelsummer @dreamy-clousds @quaksonhehe @quxxnxfhxll @blackbat2020 @babyblue19 @falconxbarnes @zachary-s @dirtytissuebox @dracoswhore007 @heavenlyholland @thsquad @etheralholland @dhtomholland @awh-lilies @tomshufflepuff @multifamdomfan12

if i forgot you please lmk!

#peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker smut #spiderman #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic

450 notes · View notes

wildlittlefoxsworld · 3 years

Text

I have a crush on you

Hey there, I post another fanfiction in the Harry Potter universe, well, have fun :)

Pairing: George Weasley x female!reader

Words: 2.6k

Summary: You’re best friends with the Weasley twins. The Yule Ball is coming soon and you don’t have a date yet. You have crush on George since forever, but you don’t think he likes you back, but it seems that you’re wrong, because George is asking you to be his date for the ball.

Warnings: I don’t know... fluff, a bit steamy kissing, that’s all :)

Harry Potter Masterlist

***

Saturday afternoon in late September, it was still warm and you enjoyed the last ray of sunshine. You were happy to have a bit time for yourself, but this only last for a few minutes, because the Weasley twins knew the meadow near the lake was your favorite place. It would have been only a matter of time until they joined you with biscuits and pastries from the school kitchen.

“Y/N, we are really sad that you didn’t invite us to spend the afternoon with you,” Fred complained with a fake pout, but he looked adorable when he did it.

“That was the point. I want alone time, but here you are,” you huffed laughing and shook your head when the twins sat down on either side of you on the blanket.

“Oh, that’s rude. You’re hurting our feelings, Y/N,” George responded and laid his hand above his heart. You could only roll your eyes about their behavior.

“Yeah, Georgie is right. We want an apology,” Fred demanded chuckling and poked you into your ribs with his pointy finger.

“Ouch, that hurts.” You rubbed over the point on your side.

“You’re just too weak,” Fred observed and you shoved him hard on his shoulder that he fell backwards.

“Hey, what was that for?”

“For calling a girl weak,” you replied sassy.

“Fine, you aren’t weak, but you shoved like a girl.”

You smacked him on the back of his head and he hissed from the slight pain.

“Why are you attacking me?”

“You’re the one who is mean to me.”

Fred clicked his tongue. “I am mean to you? You’re hitting me.”

“Stop this nonsense. I have a peace-offering,” George disclosed and opened the basket with biscuits and pastries.

“Oh, yummy, you bring me lemon cake,” you cheered and took one of the little cakes in your hand. You bit in the delicious mass and the flavor of citrus fruits exploded on your tongue.

“So good,” you mumbled and ate the piece in two more bites.

“Are you two friends again?” George chuckled.

“Okay, we have truce, but only if he doesn’t start his childish behavior again,” you said with your mouth still full of lemon cake.

“Before you speak, you should gulp your food. It’s impolite,” Fred remarked with a grin.

You turned your head to him with widened eyes. “You’re the one with bad manners.”

“Can we have at least one day without the both of you teasing each other?” George huffed laughing and nudged you in the side.

“We’re not teasing each other, that’s how we’re showing our affection to each other,” Fred explained and you nodded eating another lemon cake.

“Alright, and how do you show affection towards me?”

You licked a few crumbles from your lips while George watched curiously. “You couldn’t handle me being mean to you, so I’m very friendly to you, and you’re the nicer twin by the way.”

“I can hear you,” Fred exclaimed beside you, but you just gave him a side-glance and shrugged your shoulders.

You talked with the twins about the last lesson in Astronomy and if you already wrote the essay for the next Potions’ lesson. You were already done, but you wanted to reread it this evening, because it was due tomorrow. Like always Fred wanted to copy your homework, but you denied it like always.

“You are the smart one of us, Y/N. Why don’t you help me?” Fred fake cried and you shook your head again.

“Who said you’re not smart?”

“You, yesterday, remember?”

“You’re both are smartest guys I knew, except for Hermione.”

“Hermione lives in the library, of course, she’s smart.”

You three laughed at George’s comment and you ate your third lemon cake.

“You should be careful with eating so many cakes,” George said with a concerned tone in his voice.

“And why is that so?” you asked slightly offended. “Want you say that I’m fat?”

George held his hands up in defeat. “I mean you should consider the thought. The Yule Ball is in a few weeks and you want to fit in your dress, right?”

“Oh, shut up, who says that I’ll go to the ball?”

“Why not, Y/N? Don’t you have a date already?” Fred asked curiously.

You snorted through your nose and ate demonstratively a fourth lemon cake.

“Is that a no?” Fred asked again.

“Why are you asking anyway, Fred?” you replied a little mad. You didn’t really want to talk about the Yule Ball and who would be your date to the ball. Fred knew exactly that you didn’t have a date; you would have told both of them. The twins were your best friends since your first day in Hogwarts, if something special like that would happen they would be the first to know.

There were a few boys who had asked you, but you declined every invitation politely. You waited for special guy to ask you, but you weren’t very hopefully that this would happen.

“I’m just curious,” Fred answered shrugging and you frowned at his words.

“You know you could go with us,” George suggested from your right side and you frowned even more.

“Don’t you have other options then to go with your girl best friend?”

“Oh, we have a lot of options. Fred is burning to ask Angelina, but he’s too afraid to ask.”

You burst out into laughter. “Fred Weasley isn’t brave enough to ask a girl for a date?”

You couldn’t stop the laughter, but Fred looked really offended by your words.

“That’s not funny, Y/N,” Fred uttered seriously and you sensed immediately that he wasn’t joking.

“I’m sorry, of course, it’s not funny. But why are you scared? Just ask her. She can’t say more than no. I mean that would be sad, but I’m sure you will find someone else to ask.”

Fred made an unpleasant noise. “That’s-+ not so easy in practice.”

“Fred likes Angelina. He likes her in a romantic way,” George whispered in your ear and your eyes widened in surprise, but then you began to smile softly. You laid your hand on top of Fred’s and he looked up after his eyes were glued to his shoes.

“You should ask her. She will say yes, Fred. Trust me,” you encouraged him and Fred’s eyes lighted up with hope when he processed your words in his mind.

“Are you saying that she likes me too?”

“Yeah, she fancies you a lot. So go on, mate, before some other guy will ask her. Angelina is a popular girl.”

“Get her, Freddie!” George shouted after Fred ran back to the castle, but before he was gone he kissed your cheek to thank you.

“I didn’t know he liked Angelina so much. How long does he feel like this?” You asked George frowning and feeling bad that you didn’t notice anything.

“Oh, I think since second grade. Don’t feel bad, I can see it on the tip of your nose. He didn’t show any signs until they announced that there would be the ball. He told me when we talked about who we should ask for a date. You see I didn’t know either.”

You took a deep breath and thought that even your best friends had secrets. That was okay actually, because every person had secrets that they kept to themselves. Even you had a secret. Your sight wandered to George and you watched his profile. The red, messy hair, the straight nose and his full lips, the freckles around his nose and then he looked at you with his deep brown eyes.

You turned your head away very quickly and you didn’t see the smug grin on George’s face, because he definitely knew that you stared at him.

“So, Y/N, what about you? Did anyone ask you already?” George wanted to know and you just shook your head.

“No one or no one you liked?”

“Ehm, no one I liked so far, but I have still a few weeks. And what about you?”

You wanted to change the direction, so that you wouldn’t talk about you anymore.

“My invitation was serious, Y/N. If you want I can go with you to the ball,” George offered and you quirked an eyebrow.

“Wouldn’t that be weird?”

“Why would that be weird?” George asked and rolled onto his side to look at you directly.

“I’m your best friend. You should go with a girl you have a crush on,” you considered and laid your head down hoping this conversation would be over soon. You wished that you would be this girl for George, but you were sure he only saw you as his best friend and he shouldn’t go with you to the ball out of pity.

“There is no other girl I have a crush on,” George answered casually and smiled gentle at you.

“Of course, there’s a girl you must have a crush on. Who is it? You know all the boys like Fleur Delacour apparently.”

“Yes, Fleur is beautiful, but she doesn’t appeal to me.”

“Well, who is it then? Is it maybe a muggle girl from your home town. I know you can’t ask her, but…”

“Y/N,” George said more vigorous and you shut your mouth. “Like I said there is no other girl. There’s only you.”

You watched him confused and wanted to say something, but you didn’t trust your brain to say something stupid.

“Me?” you could only say flabbergasted and George nodded chuckling.

“Did I miss something? Are you joking with me?” you considered carefully.

George stroked your cheek with his thumb, the touch felt light as a feather, and he wandered further to trace your bottom lip. Goosebumps spread over your naked arms and your breath went slightly faster. George never touched you in this way and you were only more confused.

“No, I’m serious. You’re the girl I have a crush on.”

“What… but you never… no… why… You like me?”

You were utterly shocked for a moment. The boy you had a crush on since the first day of school, confessed that he had a crush on you too. It sounded unreal to you, but George just smiled at you the whole time and you didn’t think that he was making fun of you.

“I really like you, Y/N. Do you want to have a proof?”

“What?” you asked confused. His words confused you more and more.

“Okay, wind back and stop. Can you just explain me why you are suddenly like me?”

“I don’t like you suddenly. I like for quite a while, to be honest I fancy since the first year here.”

“Why you didn’t then say anything?”

“Because you always treated me like a brother. But since we know that there will be a ball, you started to look different at me. Little glances when we were sitting in the class and you smiled differently at me. Not the sassy one you always have, your new smile was more dreamy and… longing.”

You didn’t know you were so obviously in your behavior towards George. You felt embarrassed and the blood was rushing into your face.

“Don’t be shy, Y/N. I like the way you look at me and I don’t want it to change. I hope you only look at me like this for very long time.”

You bite your lip while you thought about his words. You believed him, but his words only encouraging you to be more yourself and not some shy girl. You weren’t the bashful type and George knew this.

“I’m never shy, Georgie. So, what proof do you have?”

“Aren’t my words enough?” he teased you and you laughed at his half-grin.

“Oh, I believe you, but you talked about a proof, so?”

George’s grin grew wider and he wiggled his eyebrows. “You asked for it, don’t forget.”

You giggled, but you were interrupted when he cupped your face with one hand and pressed his mouth to your. Your eyes closed automatically and you felt nothing else than the gentle pressure of his lips, they were warm and a little wet, just liked you imagined many times before. George was really kissing you, and now you were overwhelmed by your feelings. You didn’t know if you should wait until he break the kiss or if you should go further and deepening the kiss. You decided to be brave. You opened your mouth experimentally and kissed him back slowly. You began to massage fondly his lips to test if he liked to join you and George didn’t hesitate to intensify your kissing.

His lips were slightly chapped, but you liked the rough feeling and you changed the angle of your head to kiss more passionately. Finally came movement in your limbs and you buried your hands in the soft strains of his long hair.

The only thing you could think of his warm hand on your cheek, the hot breath against your mouth, and he moved slowly to lay more on top of you, so he could place his other hand in your neck.

All of this felt like a dream to you and you were afraid that could wake up every second.

You never thought that George was a so good kisser. Well, it wasn’t your first kiss, but it definitely felt better than any kiss you’ve ever had.

George got more courage and he showed it when the tip of his tongue licked your upper lip. Your body shuddered from this sudden action, but you allowed him the access. Tentatively he explored your mouth with his tongue and caressed yours gentle. You moaned when your tongues played passionately with each other.

The noise you made went straight to George’s core and he pressed his body closer to you. Your smell was intoxicating for him and he couldn’t get enough of your taste, but he knew that he would have to stop soon, because he didn’t want to go further without your permission and he thought that it would be still too early.

Slowly he ended the kiss and leaned his forehead against yours. You were both panting slightly and he pressed another kiss smiling on your lips.

“Y/N, oh dear, I thought about this since… I don’t know, but I wished to kiss for a very long time.”

You chuckled at his words and caressed his cheek tenderly.

“I feel the same, George, and yes, I’ll go with you to the ball.”

George raised his head to look you properly in the eyes and he beamed at you with happiness.

“You make me very happy, sweetheart. Can call you that?” he asked only to be sure.

“You can call me sweetheart, honey, dear, darling, baby. Whatever you like,” you assured him and he leaned down to embrace you in a tight hug.

You enjoyed to lay with George there for a while in silence and played with the hair in his neck. Both of your breathing were frequent and you listened to the noises of the nature around you.

“Do you think Angelina said yes?” George asked curiously.

“Well, let’s find out. I think it’s time that we go back, there will be dinner served in the great hall very soon.”

You loosened your embrace and George put the food back in the basket while you rolled the blanket up. You were both smiling and holding hands when you were walking back to the castle. If felt right and you knew that bond between the both of you were something special.

Fred already sat on the Gryffindor table and showed you a thumbs up and George hold your intertwined fingers in the air.

#Harry Potter #harry potter imagine #george weasley x reader #hp imagine #george weasley #george weasley imagine

104 notes · View notes

dilly-oh · 3 years

Text

Laundry Day

It had been building for weeks now. Piling up, bit by bit. Iruka ignored it for as long as he could, shoving it to the back of his mind and going about his daily business, teaching at the Academy and pulling shifts at the Mission Desk like nothing was wrong. But eventually, even he could deny it no longer. When he checked his closet and found that all he had to wear was a single ketchup-or-maybe-blood-stained crop-top, tight yoga shorts, and flip-flops, he knew it was finally time to stop putting it off. There was no other choice left.

He had to do laundry.

“Oh my God, who did you kill?” Anko asked as he dragged the bulging laundry bag down the hallway of his apartment complex.

“You, if you don't back off,” Iruka snapped at her. “There's just enough room in here for a body.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” Anko said, cocking an eyebrow at the huge bag. “Seriously, what gives? That thing must be, like, a hundred pounds. Is this some kind of new training craze?”

“It's laundry day,” Iruka stated. Anko blinked. “I haven't done laundry in two months,” he went on impatiently. “It's kind of hard to find the time between my job teaching, my job at the Mission Desk, and my other job keeping Naruto and Sasuke from killing or kissing each other in public, and since they all count as full-time jobs with none of the benefits, I literally have nothing else to wear.”

“Ah. That would explain the booty shorts.”

“They're called yoga shorts, and they're comfortable.”

“I don't care what they're called, your ass looks amazing in them.”

“Stop ogling me!” Iruka barked, his cheeks flaming. Anko's eyes didn't move. “Am I gonna have to go have another talk with HR?” Anko paled.

“Oh, God, please don't. Last time I had to watch a three-hour film on sexual harassment in the workplace. I had to take notes. There was a quiz after.”

“Then stop. STARING.” Iruka gave Anko one last glare, then continued on his way, dragging his laundry bag after him with all the dignity he could muster. Which wasn't alot, considering the bag was heavy as fuck and he'd kinda been neglecting his standard workout routine. Because, you know, three jobs or whatever.

There were quite a few laundromats scattered about Konoha, all stocked with specialized, heavy-duty cleaning supplies for shinobi needs (to aid in the removal of blood, guts, and other icky bits picked up from slaughtering enemies and whatnot). The one Iruka usually frequented was located about ten blocks away, which normally wasn't too bad, especially if Iruka went by rooftop. However, that was quite impossible at the moment, considering his giant bag of dirty clothes was hefty and ungainly enough that it would probably squirt right out of his arms and kill an unfortunate pedestrian below. Also, it was the middle of summer and the sun had decided to be an asshole that day, blazing down like some kind of fire Jutsu and scalding every living thing in sight. To make matters worse, the laundry bag seemed to grow heavier with every step until it was like dragging Hokage mountain down the street. So by the time Iruka finally managed to heave the bag halfway across Konoha and up a flight of stairs into the laundromat itself, he was a hot, sweaty mess, his ponytail half-undone and hanging in his face, damp clothing sticking to his skin.

Which was exactly why Hatake motherfucking Kakashi was in there, of fucking course. There was no way Iruka's silly little crush wouldn't be in the one place he'd hoped he wouldn't be.

Iruka wanted to crawl into the nearest drier and turn it on.

Maybe he won't see me, he thought as he quietly slipped inside.

“Hey, Iruka!” Kotetsu shouted from across the entire laundromat. “Nice shorts!”

Everyone immediately turned to look.

Well I know who I'm going to kill now, Iruka thought to himself miserably as he was ogled by every shinobi in the room. He made a mental checklist and vowed to prank each one in retaliation. His body was a temple.

“You know you could have just stuffed that in a scroll,” Genma said after peeling his gaze off Iruka's thighs, twitching his senbon at the bulging bag.

“I'll stuff you in a fucking scroll,” Iruka hissed at him, wiping a sweaty strand of hair out of his face.

“Ooh, baby, talk dirty to me,” Genma cooed.

“You're disgusting,” Iruka said flatly. He glanced around, looking for a table with any inch of free space, perfectly willing to fight someone for it. There, in the back, he spotted one last table...right next to Kakashi. Because, you know, this day couldn't get any worse. Iruka debated waiting an extra ten minutes or so to see if the laundromat emptied out a bit, saw Genma wiggle his eyebrows suggestively at him, and decided anything was better than this. Steeling himself with a deep breath, he dragged his bag over to the open table beside Kakashi and started dumping clothes out.

Kakashi, thankfully, didn't respond to his sudden arrival except for a polite grunt and nod in greeting. Iruka nodded back, then focused for the next several minutes on organizing his dirty clothes, intent on ending this humiliation as quickly as possible. As he worked, he couldn't help but sneak glances at Kakashi while he sorted his lights and darks. The man was busy folding his own laundry, bent over the table, his movements precise and methodical, done with the utmost care. Iruka almost suspected he was using the Sharingan to achieve such perfect folds. He glanced down at the clothes themselves, expecting combat fatigues or maybe a pair of well-worn sweats.

Instead, he was surprised to discover Kakashi was folding almost two dozen miniature flak jackets with some kind of funny emblem on the back.

“Did...did you accidentally shrink that in the drier or something?” Iruka blurted out before he could stop himself. Kakashi looked over at him, blinking lazily, then chuckled, a husky sound that made Iruka's knees weak.

“Of course not,” he said, his voice warm with amusement. “This is my ninken's laundry.”

Iruka had to hold in a snort. The famed Copy-Nin of Konoha, scourge of all enemies, feared by missing-nin, doing his ninken's laundry? It was ridiculous! It was absurd! It was...

Adorable, quite frankly. Iruka's heart melted a little at the sight of him carefully piling up their little vests, careful not to crease them.

“It's a pain,” Kakashi went on. “They're so picky. I have to use unscented detergent and dryer sheets or they complain.”

“Too bad they don't sell a fresh cat-shit scent,” Iruka chuckled awkwardly before biting his lip.

Kakashi, however, took no offense, throwing his head back and laughing aloud.

“Ha! They'd like that! Maybe they have a three-day-old steak one, too.” He grinned at Iruka through his mask, one visible eye twinkling. Iruka flushed, and he quickly turned back to his laundry, realized he was holding a pair of underwear, and flung it away, his face flushing darker as he busied himself with sorting again. “You've got quite a load,” Kakashi went on after a moment, nodding at the mountainous pile in front of him.

“Yeah, I've been putting it off for a while,” Iruka grumbled distractedly, searching for a stray sock's missing partner with no luck. “This is literally the last thing I have to wear, so I either do laundry today or go into work tomorrow naked.”

“I knew I should have finished that mission report,” Kakashi said under his breath.

“Very funny,” Iruka scoffed in annoyance, shoving his first few loads into the nearby washing machines.

“Oh, I'm dead serious.”

The annoyance turned to anger, and Iruka looked over at the other man to give him a piece of his mind, only to find him staring right back, his warm grin having grown into something much more inviting, bordering on flirtatious. Iruka's sharp comment died in his throat and he cleared it roughly, feeling hot all over. Awkwardly, he reached for change in his pockets, then froze. He looked down and swore. He didn't even fucking have pockets. Stupid booty- YOGA shorts. He'd forgotten the quarters, and he didn't dare leave his clothes unattended for fear someone like Genma would be a creep and steal a pair of underwear or something. Also, Izumo and Kotetsu had a habit of borrowing things and never returning them, and he could see them eyeing several of his favorite shirts from across the laundromat. He'd just have to pack everything up and return home. What a waste, the whole trip had been for nothing-

The clink of coins snapped him out of his mental cursing, and he looked up in shock to see Kakashi paying for his loads.

“Oh no,” he sputtered, “please, Kakashi, you don't have to-”

“It's fine. You can pay next time,” Kakashi said with a wave.

“But I...well...oh, alright, fine.” Iruka sighed, giving in. “Thank you.”

“So it's a date then,” Kakashi said. “Which cycle do you prefer?”

“Cotton cycle, cold water, extra rinse, please,” Iruka said automatically, then blinked. “Wait, I'm sorry, did you say-”

“See you next week,” Kakashi was already halfway to the door, his ninken's clothes tucked under his arms and a pile of quarters left on Iruka's table for the rest of his loads. Iruka gaped after him in shock.

Had that...really just happened? Had he really exchanged pleasantries with one of the most infamous shinobi of Konoha while folding laundry? Or had it all been merely a dream, a figment of his imagination-

“You washing those shorts, too?” Genma asked hopefully, leering like a hungry wolf.

Nope, he was definitely awake. Iruka threw some Tide-pods at Genma to chase him away before turning back to his loads, shaking his head in wonder.

He'd definitely be doing his laundry more often from now on.

(Written for @kakairu-fest KakaIru Month 2021, Day Ten Prompt: Laundry)

#kakairu #KakaIru Month 2021 #naruto #hatake kakashi #umino iruka #laundry #laundromats #but seriously how else does Kakashi clean them little vests #i want answers

69 notes · View notes

purrincess-chat · 4 years

Text

My Chosen’s Keeper CH3 (FINAL)

Here is the last chapter of the petty kwami AU. I have basically this whole week off because of Hurricane Sally, so I decided to go ahead and post the last chapter since I finished it up. I’m so happy you all enjoy this fic, and I hope you like the conclusion!

Read on AO3

Chapter 3

After a week, Lila stopped scheming against Marinette. In fact, she’d stopped doing much of anything. Every so often she’d look over her shoulder as if expecting someone to be following her, and she flinched every time she opened her locker or her bag.

Tikki was satisfied enough with their efforts, though she worried they’d gone too far when Lila spun around on poor Nathaniel walking behind her to his seat. Her goal was to inconvenience Lila, not scare her out of her skin, and now her stomach was churning too much to enjoy her morning macaron. She popped into Adrien’s bag where Plagg was dozing in an empty Camembert carton and shook him awake.

“Plagg, do you think maybe we went too far with all of this?” She asked, but Plagg simply shrugged his shoulders and burped.

“Relax, sugar cube. That girl got what was coming to her.”

“Yeah, but she’s petrified now, and people are starting to notice,” she said with a nervous glance up at the open zipper. “I think we should stop.”

“Fine,” Plagg yawned, and Tikki prodded his side.

“I’m serious, Plagg. No more pranks.”

“Okay,” he said, and she sat back, antenna pressing low against her head.

“Good,” she said with a nod.

As the bell rang, Tikki slipped back into Marinette’s bag before her owner noticed her absence. She tried to push the whole situation from her mind, but when Alya leaned against Marinette’s neighboring locker, her nerves only worsened.

“Lila’s been acting super paranoid today. I wonder what’s bugging her,” Alya whispered, casting a glance at their classmate across the room.

“Nathaniel told me she thinks she’s being haunted,” Marinette said. Even she seemed concerned, and Tikki shrank deeper into her purse.

“I mean, a lot of crazy stuff has been happening to her, so maybe she is,” Alya said with a wince.

“I wouldn’t doubt if she’d made a spirit angry,” Marinette mumbled, and Alya leaned in closer.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“I feel kinda bad for her. I saw her dozing off in class earlier. She must not be sleeping,” Alya said, biting her lip. “Hey, why don’t we all plan a sleepover? Maybe if a group of us supports her then she’ll feel safe enough to sleep.”

“Uhh, yeah, sure,” Marinette said, sounding anything but willing. “You plan it, and I will definitely not think of an excuse not to go.”

“I’ll ask her this afternoon. It’ll be fun.” Alya nudged her with her elbow before they headed to their next class.

To Tikki’s horror, not only did Lila accept the sleepover invitation, but somehow, she managed to convince them to host it at Marinette’s house. Lila had a way of backing people into corners, and Marinette didn’t really have a choice in the matter. Tikki was equally as unenthused. Just what she needed—another reason to get involved.

“Plagg, what am I gonna do?” Tikki asked that afternoon in art class. “I know she’s up to something!”

“Do you want me to leave stinky cheese in her locker again?”

“No!”

“Good because it’s a terrible waste of perfectly good cheese.”

“Plagg! I’m serious. What if Lila does something to my owner tonight?” Tikki said, tugging his arm. “Help me!”

“I thought you wanted to be done with all of this? No more pranks?” Plagg said, and Tikki averted her gaze, antenna lowering.

“I do, but she’s coming into her personal home. What if she finds her diary and learns that she’s Ladybug? Or what if she just so happens to steal her earrings? Or what if-”

“Don’t worry, sugar cube. I’ll help you tonight. Lila won’t get away with anything, okay?” Plagg said, patting her head.

“You mean it?”

“Have I ever lied to you?” Plagg asked, and Tikki’s eyes narrowed. “Okay, bad question. I promise I won’t let you down—this time.”

“Thanks, Plagg.”

Later that evening, Tikki chewed her lip as Marinette tidied up for her guests. She’d helped remove any lingering Adrien pictures despite her friends all knowing about her crush, but Marinette was just as wary of having Lila over as Tikki. As a result, she was taking a few extra precautions like hiding her diary and anything else Lila could use against her. It eased some of Tikki’s worry, but not all of it.

“Are you really going to have that girl over?” She asked as Marinette locked her important belongings in her chest.

“I couldn’t exactly say no. Lila is too good at manipulating everyone. If I had said no, she would have made it seem like I hate her,” Marinette said, leaning against her fist.

“But you do hate her.”

“Yeah, but I can’t prove why I hate her to everyone, so I don’t have a choice,” Marinette sighed. “We’ll just have to be extra careful tonight. I doubt Lila will try anything with all of the girls over.”

“Yeah. Hopefully.”

Thankfully Alya arrived first to help set up because Lila was the first after her. She seemed surprised and slightly annoyed to find Alya there as well, and Tikki’s blood boiled at the sight of her. She popped up to the roof, tapping her paws together as she peered out over the street. The night was calm and quiet—a direct contrast to the storm brewing inside her. Where was Plagg?

“Ya know, you really worry too much.”

She spun around to see him lounging on the chair with a cheese danish from the bakery. Relief flooded her mind, but it was quickly replaced by annoyance. “Where have you been?”

“Relax, sugar cube. I was doing some important reconnaissance,” he said around a mouthful.

“You mean helping yourself to whatever your greedy stomach wanted?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You are so selfish!”

“Oh, then I suppose you already know that Lila has a lockpick in her bag?”

“She- you- oh…Well, then we should-”

“Already did. And her toothbrush just for fun,” he snickered, and Tikki lowered onto the chair beside him. “I’m a little insulted that you don’t believe in me.”

“Dinosaurs, Atlantis, the Black Plague…”

Plagg bit off a chunk of his pastry and chewed it grumpily. “We never talk about your mistakes.”

“Thank you, Plagg,” Tikki said, and he blinked, swallowing the rest of the danish whole. “For everything.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get all sappy on me.” He turned his back to her and waved it away, but she could see the smile tugging on his lips. “Now come on. We’ve got work to do.”

The girls were gathered in Marinette’s room when Tikki and Plagg snuck in and took position on Marinette’s bed. Marinette had strategically positioned herself on top of her locked chest, and partnered with Plagg’s disposal of Lila’s lock pick, it eased some of Tikki’s nerves. At least her secrets would be safe, but that didn’t mean Lila didn’t have other tricks up her sleeve.

After a while, they moved downstairs to watch a movie, and Mr. Dupain brought up homemade pizza. Plagg groaned beside her as the girls pulled apart stretchy strips of cheese, and Tikki restrained him from flying down and helping himself.

Halfway through the movie, Lila got up to go to the bathroom, and Tikki followed. Just as she feared, the moment the door closed, Lila set to work silently opening cabinets. Tikki had half a mind to spray her with the sink nozzle again, but after a few minutes of searching, Lila found what she was looking for—a metal nail file. She pulled a bobby pin from her hair and tucked them both into her pocket.

Back out in the main room, she announced that she was going to go upstairs and call her mom who was traveling overseas on some important ambassador thing, and she only had a short window in the evening to talk to her because of timezones or something. It didn’t matter the reason because it was a lie. Marinette’s glare followed her up the stairs with Tikki right behind it.

“Plagg?” She hissed, glancing around for that lazy black cat, but she didn’t have to guess where he was. “I told you not to touch the pizza!”

Plagg clung to the piece he was greedily stuffing in his mouth as Tikki tugged on his tail. “Oh come on! Mr. Dupain makes his own mozzarella. I couldn’t resist!”

“Lila is on the move! She took a nail file from the bathroom, and now she’s upstairs! Come on!”

Plagg caressed his slice of pizza one last time before Tikki dragged him up the stairs. Lila was already kneeling beside the chest, nail file and bobby pin at work.

“Come on, stupid chest. I know Marinette is behind all of the weird stuff happening to me lately,” she grumbled. “I just need something to blackmail her with to make it all stop. Just open!”

“Plagg, what are we gonna do?” Tikki whispered, and Plagg was already surveying the rest of the room.

“Follow my lead,” he said, darting for the nearest mannequin.

Lila nearly had the lock open when a stack of shoeboxes toppled over, and she jumped. Seeing that it was only boxes, she took a deep breath and turned back to her work.

“What?” She gasped when her makeshift lock picks were no where to be found.

“Lila…”

She startled, jumping up and spinning around, but no one was in the room. No one she could see anyway.

“Liiiila…”

“Very funny, Marinette. I know it’s you. It’s been you the whole time. I don’t know how, but you won’t beat me,” she said, but the way her eyes flicked frantically around the room betrayed her true fear.

“Leave her alone…”

The mannequin by the chaise, surged forward, and Lila’s scream filled the house. She scrambled for the trapdoor, but it wouldn’t budge no matter how hard she tugged. The girls rushed up the stairs, Marinette at the front. She pushed the trapdoor open easily to find Lila curled into a ball on the floor, tears streaming down her face.

“What are you doing?” Marinette demanded, and Alya crawled up to wrap an arm around Lila’s shoulders.

“The mannequin!” Lila wailed.

“What about it?” Marinette asked.

“It-It talked and moved and-and-” She pointed across the room, but the mannequin had returned to its original place. Even the shoeboxes had righted themselves. “But…”

“Maybe we should all just go to bed,” Alya suggested, and Lila grabbed her shoulders.

“But it did move! I swear I’m not making it up,” she said, gripping her shirt so tightly that Alya swatted her hands away with a hiss.

“I think you’re just tired-”

“Or crazy,” Marinette mumbled, masking it with a cough.

“Sleep deprivation can make you see weird things,” Alya said. “Come on. Let’s get you some sleep.”

As the girls moved downstairs again, Marinette eyed her chest, but her secrets were safe. Tikki still stayed up all night to make sure Lila didn’t try anything again, but their ghost stunt seemed to have scared her off the idea.

When morning light streamed in from the windows, Tikki sat back with a yawn. Curling in next to Plagg snoring loudly on Marinette’s chaise, she slipped off into sleep with the reassurance that Marinette was safe.

***

The Monday after the sleepover, Lila entered the school on a quest for vengeance. Dark bags hung under blood-shot eyes, and her whole demeanor was slightly unhinged as everyone hung out in the courtyard on break. Tikki knew she was going to target Marinette again, so she lingered close by—waiting.

Marinette was sketching on a bench by herself while a maintenance man repainted the railing to her left. When he reached a stopping point, he scooted the ladder next to the bench and took his break, but Marinette never looked up from her drawing.

“Hey, I heard about the sleepover. What happened?” Adrien materialized at Marinette’s side, startling her out of her skin. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Marinette relaxed. “I don’t know. I knew she was up to no good, and while we were all watching a movie, she went up to my room to ‘call her mom’ then she just started screaming and freaking out,” Marinette said, shooting her a glare across the courtyard. “I don’t really know what happened, but she swears my mannequin talked to her.”

“Do you think she’s doing it all for attention?” Adrien asked, but Marinette pursed her lips.

“I don’t think so this time. She seemed really freaked out when we found her. I think she’s actually losing her mind,” Marinette said.

“You don’t think she’s really being haunted, do you?” Adrien’s green eyes clouded with worry.

“I don’t know,” Marinette said with a shrug. “Maybe she is making it all up for attention, or maybe all of her lying is finally catching up to her.”

“Let’s hope this convinces her to start telling the truth whatever it is,” he said. “I’m just glad she didn’t do anything to you. I was worried when I heard she was coming to your house for a sleepover.”

Marinette’s cheeks flushed at that, and she took her eyes off Lila. Adrien was the perfect distraction, but Tikki wasn’t so easily deterred because Lila was watching them too. Their friendly smiles and close proximity drove her over the edge. When she dashed toward them, Tikki braced herself, but Lila wasn’t aiming for the bench.

Tikki glanced up at the paint can resting precariously on the top of the ladder beside them, recognizing the intent in Lila’s eyes.

“Oh no you don’t,” she said, flitting up to the bucket.

Lila rocked the ladder, but against the laws of natural physics, the can twirled around and dumped on top of her. The courtyard fell silent as the can clattered to the ground, and Lila wiped green paint from her face.

“That’s it!” She screeched, pointing a finger at Marinette. “This is all your fault!”

“Lila, Marinette didn’t do anything. I was talking to her the whole time,” Adrien said, holding up cautioning hands.

“No! Everything is her fault!” Lila stomped a foot. “I don’t know how you keep doing it, but I know it’s you!”

“Lila, what are you-” Alya started, but Lila lunging at Marinette cut her off. Nino and Ivan caught her, and Adrien took a defensive stance in front of Marinette.

“How did you do it, Marinette?” She growled. “I put those test answers in your schoolbag, but they weren’t there when Mlle. Bustier checked! I planted my necklace in your locker during lunch, but somehow you put it back! How did you do it?”

Marinette and Adrien cupped hands over their mouths as the weight of those words settled among their classmates. Confusion and anger snaked its way onto every face, and more classmates joined Adrien guarding Marinette.

“Wait, you tried to frame Marinette? But why?” Nathaniel asked, and Lila shot him a glare.

“Because I hate her! She’s always getting in my way and ruining my plans. I’d have you all eating out of the palm of my hand if it wasn’t for her!” She said, shoulders heaving. She ripped away from Nino and Ivan and kicked the paint bucket with a shriek.

“Whoa, so all those times Marinette said you were lying…” Nino said, lowering his gaze.

“She was right,” Adrien spoke up, and all eyes turned to him. “Lila is a liar. Nothing she’s ever said is true. She just wanted to use all of you for attention.”

“So, you’ve never met Jagged Stone?” Rose deflated.

“And let me guess. You’re not really bffs with Ladybug,” Alya said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Of course I’m not friends with that stupid insect! I hope Hawkmoth takes her Miraculous and rids the world of her stupid face!” Lila shouted.

“What’s going on here?” Mr. Damocles demanded as he and Mlle. Bustier approached.

“Karma,” Marinette said with a grunt.

Lila glanced between each face glaring back at her, the rage-induced fog clearing enough for her to see the damage she’d inflicted. Her eyes widened, and her shoulders shrank. For the first time since she’d stepped foot in their school, Lila was exposed. Powerless. Small.

“My office. Now.” Mr. Damocles barked through gritted teeth, and Lila followed behind him quietly. She had nothing left to say. No more lies to tell.

“M, are you okay?” Alya pulled her best friend in for a tight hug. “I’m so sorry I never believed you.”

“Yeah, we should have known better. You never trip out over anyone unless there’s a reason,” Nino said, ruffling her hair.

“We’re sorry, Marinette.”

“Yeah, we shouldn’t have doubted you.”

“It’s fine,” Marinette said, cutting everyone off. “Really. I’m not mad at you. Lila manipulated all of you. It’s not your fault she can’t tell the truth.”

“Marinette…” Alya cooed, and all of their classmates huddled around her.

When the bell rang, they all dispersed, heading to their next class, but Marinette excused herself to the bathroom. Tikki slipped back into her purse, relieved that it was finally over and that she hadn’t been caught. Or rather, she thought she hadn’t been caught until Marinette ripped open her purse and dumped her out into her waiting hand.

“I thought kwamis weren’t supposed to meddle,” she said, quirking a brow, and Tikki shrank guiltily.

“I’m sorry, Marinette! I just knew she was up to no good, and I couldn’t let her frame you,” she said, pressing her paws together.

“Putting the test answers back and moving the necklace are like you, but exploding milk cartons and mannequin ghosts?” Marinette cocked a hip. “Plagg, I know you helped too.”

A sinister chortle echoed above them as Plagg floated down beside Tikki. “I couldn’t let sugar cube have all the fun.”

“We’re really sorry,” Tikki said, lowering her head.

She braced for her punishment, but instead, Marinette lifted the two of them to her lips and planted a soft kiss on each of their heads. “Thanks, you two.”

“You mean you’re not mad?”

“Nah, Lila deserved it,” she said with a shrug.

“I’ll accept my reward in the form of one of those tasty cheese danishes your dad makes,” Plagg said, puffing his chest out, and Marinette scratched under his chin with a giggle.

“You can have all the cheese danishes you want,” she said. “It’s nice to know you two have my back.”

“Of course,” Plagg said, draping an arm over Tikki’s shoulders. “If someone wants to mess with the Bug, they’re gonna have to go through us.”

“We’ll always make sure you’re safe,” Tikki added, and Marinette held out a pink with a smile.

“Bien Joué!”

#miraculous ladybug #tikki #plagg #marinette dupain-cheng #lila salt #petty kwami au #my writing #uninteresting tidbit #chapter 1 was 1k chapter 2 was 2k and now chapter 3 is 3k #this was unintentional but i find it amusing #anyway #enjoy #hiatus cat

271 notes · View notes

iguessweallcrazyithinktho · 4 years

Text

Love connection

Summary:

It's about the reader being pregnant with Chris's child, but they're not together. The reader didn't tell him because he dumped her, but Chris finds out later on in her pregnancy.

Warning: it's a surprise, read it

Part: 6th

Word count: 1.1k

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader

Masterlist • love connection masterlist • requested closed momentarily. Don't send any. Tag list open!

Please don't post any of my content anywhere else without my permission. Comments and reblog welcome!

Chris's heart was thumping hard against his chest. So hard it felt like it was going to escape his chest. "Uh…" he walked towards you, his eyes never leaving the box in between your fingers.

"It was for… y/n, I can't tell you that." He breathed through his nose, taking the box from you. You looked at him, you weren't sure if you were pissed or confused by his choice to not tell you, but you weren't going to stop bugging him until you got an answer.

"Chris why won't you tell me?" You shutted the dresser drawer, regretfully kinda hard. "Is there someone else that lives here? Are you seeing someone?"

You looked around for some signs of another woman. "I can stay at a hotel. I don't want to interrupt your rela-,"

"Hey!"

Chris stopped you before you could finish the word relationship. He cupped your cheeks, looking into your eyes. "Y/n, there's no one else okay." He let go of you and looked at the box.

"The ring… the ring was for you."

Your eyes widened at his words. "For me?" Your hormones were making tears form in your eyes. You walked closer to him, Chris looked at you. "Yeah, I was going to give it to you, but I let my stupid mind get to me." He shook his head, chuckling slightly.

" I was going to give it to you on Valentine's day last year, after dinner. I was going to get on one knee like this," Chris lowered himself onto his right knee. He didn't dare take his eyes off of yours.

"And then I would've opened the box and said a cheesy speech that I know will make you roll your eyes. I wasn't sure what your answer was going to be bu-,"

"My answer would've been Yes Chris." You rushed out. Chris looked up at you. "Oh ok. Well," Chris stood up. "It's too late for that now I guess. I already messed it up."

You laughed slightly making Chris look at you. "What's funny?" He asked, really confused. You took a step closer to him, your bump stopping you from going further. You looked into his blue eyes, the one thing you missed about this man.

"It's not too late." You breathed out. Chris couldn't hold himself back anymore. He was close to you, something he's been wanting back for a whole year. His hand was cupping your jaw before his soft lips were on yours.

You missed his lips. His soft, plump lips moved with yours like they were puzzle pieces. Chris backed you up, moving you to the bed. You sat on the soft comforter as Chris hovered over yours.

His kisses were starting to become sloppy. A lot more tongue was being added,and Chris's moans increased. being pregnant made you extremely, you needed Chris. You needed his touch, you needed him inside of you like before.

"Chris." The sound of your soft voice pulled Chris away from you. "Yes?" He mumbled as he began to kiss your neck. "I want you inside me. I want to feel you stretch me."

Chris pulled away from your neck and looked at you. "You sure? Is Finley going to be okay?" He was in the heat of the moment, but that didn't stop him from making sure your baby was going to be okay.

"Yes, Finley is going to be fine." Chris smiled softly, taking your word. He pulled down your pants in one swift movement, next your panties. The shirt came next, revealing your breast.

You could hear Chris hiss as he looked down at the swollen globes. He took your right breast in his before he wrapped his mouth around them. You hissed as he sucked at your sensitive nipple.

Your hands ran through his hair as he enjoyed your body. After 2 minutes Chris pulled away from you. He pulled his shirt off over his head before tossing it to the ground.

You ran your fingers over his muscular torso; his abs made you wetter in between your thighs. Chris chuckled as he pushed your thighs open. He could see how damp your panties are and it made his cock hard.

"All wet for me huh?" You looked up at his now dark blue eyes, "Yes, all for you." Chris leaned down, inches away from your face. "Let's see how it feels around my cock."

He pulled away and pulled down his jeans. He pushed his boxers down releasing his excited cock. You were so needy you couldn't resist stroking it. His shaft ran in between your like velvet. You moaned, your tongue poking out as you touched him.

"Let me fuck you sweetheart." Chris panted out. You let go of his member and let Chris take control. He took your panties and pushed them to the side before he slid his cock in you. Your walls squeezing around him went deeper and deeper.

The room was filled with moans that you both just couldn't contain. Chris took your legs in his hand before he thrusted out. "Fuck." You groaned. Your eyes were shut as you enjoyed him inside of you.

The bed was practically leaving a dent in the wall from how hard Chris was fucking you. Chris watched you. The way your breast bounced as he thrusted into you. The way your back slightly arched off the bed and the way your moans fell from your throat at what he was doing to you.

"Take my cock, that's it." Chris' hand ran over your belly before they found your breast. He squeezed at them earning a gasp. You opened your eyes looking up at him. "Are you going to make me cum?" You squeaked out. Chris chuckled at your question."

"Yes I'm going to make you cum so hard."

Chris speed up; he was now brushing against your cervix. You moan louder at how close you were getting. "Chris… make cum. Please make me cum." Chris loved it when you begged for it. It sent his cock twitching. "Cum sweetheart, cum on my cock."

Chris hitted your g spot so well, that it made you cum with a Loud scream. You gripped at his bed sheets as Chris Came not so far behind you.

Both of you moaned mixed like a symphony of music, but it was only for the both of you to hear. Your mind was blank and your vision was clouded with stars.

When you were down from your rollercoaster, Chris pulled out of you and laid himself beside you. Turning to the side, you looked at him. "So I think we should give us another try. What do you think Chris."

You pushed his damp hair from his forehead making him look at you. "I uh, I think we should try that."

He smiled at you before he leaned in to kiss you. His hand trailed up to your bump before he cradled it in his hands. Hopefully you were going to be happy like this forever now. But couldn't predict the future, who knows what bad things will happen.

*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

I can't make promises about this ending. I know I'm a tease hehe

@chris-butt @princess-evans-addict @patzammit @bval-1 @irespostthingsiwanttoseelater @raveviolet @rynabarnesrogers-reading @enn-j @london-dreamer71 @harrysthiccthighss @captainamerica-is-bae @la-cey @weirdowithnobeardo @lovepeacefood @baby-i-am-fireproof @denisemarieangelina @evans713 @smyfmj @thereisa8ella @marajillana @rororo06 @keiva1000 @ughitsnic @kianifan @adriannajackson @boojack73 @marvelnaturalock @notyourtypicalrose @dummiesshort @onetwo3000 @i-lie-here-charmed @hhiggs

love connection tag list: @acciolove724 @dwights-new-plague @thevelvetseries @idk123906 @kawairinrin @citivaz @danie1432 @justwistfuldaydreams @scarletsoldierrr @cristinagronk16 @titty-teetee

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans imagines #chris evans x plus size reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans smut #chris evans x black reader #chris evans series #love connection

255 notes · View notes

suphoshi · 4 years

Photo

THE SUN, THE MOON, THE STARS | Byun Baekhyun x reader

PART I | PART II

Genre: Best friends to lovers AU, angst, some fluff, v v small amount of smut (i mean nearly non-existent, but def there)

Warnings: Horrible coping mechanisms (lots of drinking ((small mention of underage drinking)), making out/sex with strangers), possible trigger for depression, assault

Baekhyun holds the sun, the moon, and the stars in his eyes. How could he ever expect you not to love him?

click here for part I

PART II

Word count: 10,617

“Are you coming to the party next Friday?”

Sehun caught you walking home later that week and insisted on walking with you despite all protest. You had been avoiding everyone again, but most of the time Sehun slithered his way into your life regardless. He was like a parasite.

You met him through Baekhyun, another failed experiment at getting you a boyfriend or any other friend besides him. You did like Sehun, liked how sweet and caring he was, how soft. But still… it didn’t work out in the long term. He knew your heart only bled for one person.

“I didn’t know about a party.” You said, lifeless. He matched your pace even though his long legs usually had him speeding past you.

“Baekhyun’s having a party, like a coming home thing and he’s gonna play some of his music for everyone. You should come. He would want you there.”

You stopped in your tracks and he didn’t notice for a little while, turning back a few feet away. You stared at him with accusation. Annoyance.

“How would you know what he wants? We don’t even talk anymore. Why would he want me to come?” You spat out with frustration. Sehun sighed and walked closer, hands tucked in his pocket.

“I just... I know him. And I know he would want you there, okay? You’re his best friend.”

You laughed at that and felt your eyes roll without a thought, arms crossing over your chest.

“No. I was his best friend, past tense. We’re both different now. And he’s moved on.” Your heart stuttered as you spoke, but you pushed past it with a stoic face. “I’m fine with that, so don’t bring it up again.”

You moved to brush past him, but his hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you back to face him.

“He asked about you.” Your world froze over at his words. He looked at you with such sincerity that it made your nerves tremble. “In all of his letters to me, he always asked about you, but asked me not to tell you.”

You couldn’t peel your eyes from his, waiting for the punch line to his very obvious joke.

It never came.

“He did. He always asked if you were okay. If you were eating well. If work was too hard. He asked about everything.”

Standing there on the sidewalk with Sehun, it felt like you were suddenly you were thrust into some type of twilight zone and your chest was aching again. Confusion flooded your features as you looked at his hand still wrapped around your wrist, tears filling your eyes.

“W-why would he ask about me? Huh? Why? Why couldn’t he just talk to me?” You asked and he shrugged, shaking his head.

“I don’t know.”

That look on his face, too genuine, too caring – It made you want to scream. Made you want to run and hide and never come out again.

“Can I… see them?” You asked despite your mind’s screaming protest. Sehun stared at you for a minute, as if he realized he may have made a mistake before nodding.

An hour later, you found yourself in the middle of Sehun’s room reading Baekhyun’s letters. He was being honest when he said he always asked about you. He talked a lot about training and writing music, adding lyrics here and there for Sehun to discuss with him. You smiled reading them.

‘Your love was what I needed to breathe

A rope to pull my two hands above water,

I was drifting in the middle of an ocean

And you were the heaven that let me live’

When you got to the end of each letter, your heart broke piece by piece.

‘How’s ____ doing? Don’t tell her I’m asking; she’ll get upset cause I’m not writing her myself. She looked sick the last time I saw her. Is she losing more weight? Make sure she eats well. She’ll get sick if she loses anymore weight. And tell her to stop drinking, she drinks too much. Hopefully, she doesn’t hate me. I’ll write you again next week.’

Sehun had left you to read them on your own, and you were grateful. Tears fell down your cheeks at an alarming rate, heartbreak overtaking you with each scratch of his pen.

‘If she won’t listen, maybe you should take her to the hospital. She’s going to go into liver failure, I’ve never seen someone drink like she does. Or call her mom, she’ll lock her up for sure, then I won’t have to worry about it. I’m kidding, but can you please keep an eye out for her? Don’t let her drink alone anymore, she deserves better than that. Hey, next time, will you send me a picture of her? Not for anything serious, I just… kind of miss her smile. Kind of. Anyways, I hope she’s doing well. And you, too. Send me a picture. See you soon.’

You smiled at the thought of Sehun sneaking a picture of you while you were together. Baekhyun hated when you drank, but the only thing you did when you were with Sehun was drink. Hopefully, he got one before you were two bottles deep at dinner and acting like an idiot.

You folded the letters back up and put them in the box they came from, opting out of reading anymore. Putting your heart through more useless turmoil didn’t seem necessary.

“You okay?” Sehun asked when you exited the room. You let out a deep sigh and sat on the couch beside him. His eyes remained fixed on you, and it was hard to even form a coherent thought over the racing questions you had flying through your mind.

“I can’t believe you wouldn’t tell me.” You mumbled. It was the only thing you could think of. The only words you could form after the bomb he had dropped.

“Don’t be like that. He was my friend before you were.”

You rolled your eyes, turning to fix your stare on him. You were confused. Lost. Not a single thought coming to mind on what to do.

Sehun gave you an encouraging smile, pinching your cheek lightly. “Come to the party on Friday. He’d want you there.”

You stayed silent for a long time, waited for Sehun’s hand to drop back down before you stood up and walked towards his door in silence. It was while you stared at the deep cherry wood that you made your decision.

“Text me the details.”

The following Friday came too quick, not giving you enough time to mentally prepare for seeing him again. You had made a vow to avoid him for the rest of forever, but now that didn’t seem possible. He must have missed you to ask about you; must have wanted to write you himself but didn’t. You wanted to know why, had to know why. It felt like if after that night, you couldn’t answer that question, your life would be over. Your friendship. Your love. You both deserved the chance to explain.

Sehun had texted you the bar he was performing at earlier that week and you arrived early so you could take a couple of shots to boost your confidence. Not ideal, but effective.

Baekhyun’s solo career had started to become popular over the years, after a lifetime of hard work and failures, it seemed like he was making it. That’s why it didn’t surprise you to see a few reporters standing outside. You had always been proud of him, but since he was finally getting the recognition he always wanted, it was a new form of pride. Sometimes though, you wished you could go back to the days when he played music just for you, too shy to show anyone else. Those were your favorite days. Him biting his lip nervously while he watched you put his headphones on before pressing play. The smile he beamed when you started nodding your head along with the beat. You loved that he could smile at you like that, even if it was years ago. Sometimes you would nod your head along without listening, just so you could see him smile.

When you made it inside, you found yourself engulfed in a crowd of people, body relaxing immediately with the bass of music that rattled your bones. It was funny how when you were a teenager, that same loud music used to scare you beyond belief. Now you relished in it.

You sent a text to Sehun to let him know you were there and shoved your way to the bar, ordering a drink. The smooth alcohol settled your nerves almost instantly, body relaxing despite the anxiousness you had been feeling earlier that day.

When Sehun found you thirty minutes later, his hand wrapped around yours and he led you to the booth he had secured. Everyone seemed familiar there, Chanyeol, Sehun, and a few other friendly faces. They all smiled at you, kissed your cheek, patted your head. It was a normalcy you didn’t realize you were missing.

“Baekhyun!” A shouting voice diverted your attention from your drink, looking up to find the man of the evening. He looked so perfectly Baekhyun that it made your heart swell up. His hair was short, styled differently than you were used to, but you loved it. The smile that settled on your cheeks was involuntary.

He smiled and greeted everyone, eyes settling on you for only a few seconds, a look of confusion and something else you couldn’t pinpoint ringing through. It was gone just as quick though, nodding his head and turning the conversation back to everyone else. You needed to talk to him. Needed to tell him about the letters, ask what they meant, needed to tell him that you missed him too.

Your heart sank when Yuna came a few minutes later. She clung to his side like a koala, arms wrapping around his while she smiled up at him like he was her sun. As if she could see everything inside of him like you did, all of his constellations, all of his galaxies. When she pressed a kiss to his cheek, you noticed the way he glanced towards you, but chose to ignore it, downing the rest of your drink.

You hated that she was perfect, all long legs and sparkling eyes. You suddenly felt stupid in the dress you had bought that morning. Small. Insignificant.

All too quickly, Baekhyun was saying goodbye to everyone, catching you by surprise. You thought you had more time. When his eyes landed on yours, you waved at him, forcing a smile to your cheeks despite the desperation you felt in your chest. Your questions, they would have to wait until later.

It was the strangest thing. His eyes were angry. Frustrated. Concerned. Upset. All at you. Like you had done something wrong. Like you had made a mistake, but as quick as it was there, it was gone. Again. Forever hiding his feelings from you. You watched his back as he walked away and wondered for a moment if you should leave. Wondered if you should run and never look back.

You didn’t.

You had always loved watching him on stage. Loved that everyone else loved him too. He worked so hard to tell people his stories through songs and his voice was so pretty. When he finally came on stage, you danced with Sehun, Chanyeol screaming from across the table like he was in a stadium. It was nice. Normal.

Everything was normal.

You were happy.

When he announced his last song, you whined, drinks making your head swim as you remembered the way Baekhyun used to ruffle your hair when he heard you whine like that, laughing at your pouty face, pinching your cheeks. The memory alone made you smile, but it was quickly stolen back when he began speaking again.

He called Yuna to the stage to sing with him and your heart sank back into reality. He was never yours. Not really. She sang so pretty. You almost wanted to close your eyes and be carried away by her voice. But you didn’t. You couldn’t look away. Couldn’t tear your eyes off what was happening in front of you. They sang their love story, one you never got to see.

‘You’re a part of me I can never lose’

Everything hurt. You watched the way they smiled at each other. Watched how Baekhyun kissed her knuckles and she blushed. She intertwined her fingers with his and you wanted to vomit. Wanted to sink into the ground so deep that the earth’s core enveloped you in its flames and made the pain stop. Made everything stop.

As the song was ending, Baekhyun reached into his pocket and you already knew what he was reaching for. You knew it like you knew the color of the sky. The grass is green. The ocean is blue.

‘I think he’s going to propose’

Your hands were shaking, eyes wide and full of tears at the scene playing out before you.

‘I just want you to be happy’, words you said just a few days before echoed around in your mind and with every inhale of air that came into your lungs, you wished your heart would just stop. He got down on one knee and you felt the crippling heartache take over your limbs, tears filling your eyes and falling in a matter of seconds.

Sehun grabbed your hand but you felt suffocated, the world drowning you from the inside out, so you pushed your way out of the booth, feet pushing forward despite the crowd of people around you.

“Yuna, will you-”

His voice was cut off by you slamming your hands over your ears, trying to desperately shove your way out. The sobs you tried to hold in until you made it outside were slipping now, heart pounding in your chest.

Marry? Why would he marry her? Sure, she was perfect, she had a good job in the same industry as him, she was pretty. But marriage? It was too permanent for you to handle. You shouldn’t have come. You should have run when you saw the turmoil on his face and never looked back. Never ever looked back.

There were too many people and you tripped on someone’s shoe, falling to the ground as your own shoe came off. Someone’s hands grabbed your arms, pulling you up and you saw through wet eyes that it was Sehun.

“Are you okay?” He asked and you shook your head, a sob escaping your throat while he pulled your head to his chest.

“I can’t breathe,” you choked out. “I can’t breathe.”

The panic you had been encasing for weeks, the anguish, the sorrow, it all ripped through you right then and there, a tornado turning towns into desolation, leaving you in ruins.

Sehun took your other shoe off and dragged you through the crowd, hand wrapped around yours so tight that you were sure it was the only thing keeping you from dissolving into nothing. Once you made it outside, he walked you to his car and buckled your seatbelt while you let it all go. The choked back sobs came out freely, tears pouring down your cheeks while you clutched at your chest. This was not how life was supposed to be. Baekhyun was supposed to marry you, he promised when he was 10 that he would after you beat up a kid who called him ugly. He promised over and over again that he was yours and suddenly he wasn’t. Suddenly he promised someone else forever and how was that fair? How was any of it fair?

You looked out the window after a few minutes and saw Sehun arguing with someone, only realizing once he walked back to the driver’s side that it was Baekhyun. He stared at you through the window, eyes worried. Scared. Sad. As if he cared.

You looked away, leaning your head back against the seat as the next sob wracked through you. You had never felt so alone.

Sehun took care of everything. Walking you up the stairs to your apartment while you moved on autopilot. Unlocking the door, taking off your shoes, hanging up your jacket. He opened the door to your room and guided you inside before standing back uncomfortably, hands stuffed in his pockets. He didn’t know how to handle you like that. How to hold you while you cried, how to hold you when you were broken, no one did. No one except Baekhyun.

The thought alone sent you in a rage, eyes locking on the picture you had kept up on your nightstand. Despite everything, all of the time you had spent apart, you never found the courage to let it go. A photo of you and Baekhyun from years before, you on his back, arms wrapped around his neck. He was smiling. You were smiling. You remember being so happy. So warm. It was a dream. It was always a fucking dream.

You moved in a blind fury, lifting it up and throwing it at the wall while a scream paralleled the shattering glass of the picture frame. It wasn’t enough. You shoved past Sehun and into the kitchen, took out your first aid kit and emptied it into the trash. Grabbed the overwhelming amount of tea cups from your cupboard and threw them at the wall one by one because all you could think of when you saw them was tea and honey and the way he was supposed to heal you and never ever break you.

You sobbed as you threw them wildly, ignoring the way glass cracked under your feet as you tried to find a way out of the heart shattering disappointment that washed over you like a hurricane.

You turned to grab more and found the cupboards just as empty as you wished to be. Knees falling to the floor, head falling into your hands while you cried, rocking back and forth; you begged for God to take it away. Begged him to leave you empty forever if it meant you could avoid this pain.

Sehun’s arms wrapping around you brought back a sense of reality that you weren’t prepared to face. The ground beneath you shook as you let him pull you into his chest and hold you like a child, pet your hair, hush your cries despite the fact that it felt like you wouldn’t ever stop.

Hours passed before you picked yourself up off the floor, untangling yourself from his arms. You moved into your room and stared at yourself in the mirror for far too long, wished you were anyone but you. At the sight of your lip quivering, eyebrows scrunching up like you would cry again, you moved to the bathroom.

You stood in the shower until the water ran cold and even then, you sat there until your fingers were wilted and your limbs were shaking. Turning off the faucet was a task on its own, let alone climbing out onto the cold tile. Your limbs felt like cement as moved, leaving a trail of water behind you. You felt pathetic wrapping yourself in a dry towel, somehow finding more tears left to cry as you exited the bathroom. Pathetic when you saw that Sehun sat just outside the door, waiting for you. Pathetic when you pulled one of Baekhyun’s t-shirts over your head. Pathetic when you dragged Sehun into your bed and asked him to hold you.

He rubbed circles into your back, apologized over and over for something that wasn’t his fault.

“He was supposed to love me.” You whispered.

He didn’t reply.

When you woke up the next morning, he was still there. You laid in silence next to each other, staring at the ceiling as if all the answers were there. As if you could fix every problem, solve all of life’s riddles with the secrets trapped in the chipped white paint.

“I think I’m gonna go home.” You said softly and Sehun looked at you.

“Home? Like... Home-home?”

It wasn’t something you had considered ever since you left.

Life wasn’t always simple with Baekhyun, but he made it seem like it could be. Maybe that was why you loved him so deeply. Your family was toxic and manipulative, always trying to force you into a life you never wanted, a high-class lifestyle that came with devastating cost. You never wanted it, and your parents despised you for it.

Your father arranged for you to marry a man before you made the decision to leave, gave you no options, left you no room for an opinion.

‘He’s over 40 years old dad, I’m 21. I can’t marry him- I won’t.’ You remember the finality in your tone – the severity, but somehow, he found it amusing, a chuckle escaping him as he stabbed a piece of food, chewing on it like an animal. He made you nauseous.

‘You will if I say so. That’s what you do for family. You yield.’

It never occurred to you until then that your father never loved you. Never cared about you more than an inheritor to a business you never wanted. A life you never claimed. You’d always thought that if it came down to it, he would choose you before anything else, but suddenly it was crystal clear. Money is power. Respect. Assets. You gave him none of that. Why would he have ever loved you?

The first few times you met him, the man he wanted you to marry, he was nice. Took you to dinner, bought you gifts, sent you encouraging messages about school and work. You would never be attracted to him, never have kids or sleep with him, but you thought that you could get away with marrying him despite that. To make your father happy. To get him off your back. It was nice for a while.

After a few months though, he started taking you to bars with his friends and getting drunk, trailing his hands over your hips like you were a possession. Like he was staking his claim. It made you feel small.

You went to a company dinner with him one night and he pressed you against a wall, vodka breath dripping down your cheek where he kissed you. You told him to stop, but he wouldn’t. He gripped your arm tighter, kissed your neck, traced his hand down to the hem of your dress where he hiked it up despite your pleas.

You were able to wriggle your hands free from behind you and clawed at his face before he finally backed up enough for you to run.

When you made it home, you cried to your father, told him everything that happened, and he didn’t once ask if you were okay. Didn’t apologize. Instead he looked you up and down and chuckled, eyes turning back down to the paper he was reading.

‘Well look at how you’re dressed. How would he know what your boundaries are?’

Embarrassment crept up your cheeks. Shame.

You never knew what it was like for your father to love you. Never knew what it was like for him to care or worry. But somehow, his words still left a hole in you that would never be filled.

You cried in your room for hours that night. Alone, afraid of what life held for you.

It was almost midnight when there was a knock at your window. Baekhyun always came in through the window. Your parents hated him, hated that his parents weren’t as successful as them, hated that he was your friend and hated that they couldn’t get rid of him, no matter how hard they tried.

‘I’ve been calling you for hours, don’t you check you phone?’ His voice came out harsh initially, but he paused, spotting you at the bottom of the bed. You looked up at him, mascara running down your cheeks, hair a mess, a disaster in a cocktail dress that wished life had been different. Wished she had parents who loved her, wished she had anyone at all that loved her.

‘What happened?’ He asked, stepping closer and kneeling down beside you.

The concern that radiated off him warmed you from the inside out, and you wondered if you deserved it. Wondered if you deserved the gentleness in his touch, the kindness in his voice. Your own parents didn’t care about you, why should he? Why should anyone? You watched his eyes scour your tear-stained expression, watched them land on the bruise that was forming on your arm, and you sobbed.

His hands grabbed your face, thumbs brushing your tears away and you shook your head, unable to speak. You simply cried harder at his silent understanding. He sat down and pulled you into his lap, hugging you so tight that you couldn’t fathom the thought of him ever letting you go. Your hands gripping his hoodie, nose buried in his neck, he breathed life into your soul. Made you feel safe.

He let you cry into his shoulder until you fell asleep, rubbed gentle circles into your back, let you stay pressed against him like that for hours, past his legs going numb, past his arms stiffening and growing tired where they held you. When he finally built his energy back up, he lifted you off the ground and laid you in bed. You gripped his hand tightly as he pulled the covers up over your shoulders and stared at him with wet eyes, fear gripping your vocal cords.

‘Please don’t leave me alone…’ you whispered. His eyes. He really looked like he loved you. He climbed in beside you without hesitation, pulled you into his arms and held you without contempt. Without shame. He ran his hands through your hair, whispered the sweetest things to you all night until you fell asleep again.

You moved to Seoul the next day. Left without a goodbye, without a second glance back. Your parent left you cruel messages, made you feel like garbage and promised you would come crawling back, but none of it mattered. You had Baekhyun, so it was okay. Your parents didn’t care about you, but he did. You knew he did. So, you got a job at a marketing company and worked your way up the ranks, rented the cheapest apartment you could find, made life work so that you could stay with him. When Baekhyun finally debuted, you were there, just like you had always been. You were there when he failed, when he failed again, when he cried, when he laughed. You were always there, through everything. He was supposed to be your forever person.

Now he was someone else’s.

You looked back at Sehun and smiled sadly.

“Yeah... Like home-home.” You mumbled and tears filled your eyes again.

He looked at you like you were broken, pulled you into his chest like a child, kissed the top of your head and told you everything would be okay when it so obviously wouldn’t. “I’m sorry, ____…”

Everything felt so wrong. Empty.

Over the next week, you made your way back home more, visiting your father at work, learning a lot about the company. It was the lidocaine that your soul needed.

Sitting around the dinner table with your parents was so strange. It was like sitting with two strangers. You didn’t know them, and they certainly didn’t know you.

“I think you should move home this weekend. Stop with the back and forth. You can come back and work for the company, I’m getting old and you need time to learn the ropes.” Your father said without looking up from his plate of food. You felt the uncertainty fill your veins and rested your silverware down, looking at him.

“I’m not sure yet. I really like where I’m working right now, so I want to be sure before I leave.” You replied, dissecting his expression.

Indifference. Frustration?

He sighed and looked up at you, a feigned smile taking over his features while he pretended to hear your concerns. Why did everyone feel the need to lie to you?

“Well now that Byun Baekhyun is getting married, I was hoping you would have no further ties.” The way your mother said his name sounded like she was spitting out bad food. Of course, she knew. It was her life’s work, minding everyone’s business but her own. She prided herself in it.

You looked towards her and met her cold stare; the same one you had been seeing since you were a child. It reminded you of something old, a memory you had nearly forgotten. You were sick. Stomach screaming, body shaking with pain, you threw up on your pink fluffy pillow and somehow found the strength to walk to their room. You held your hand up to the doorhandle and almost turned it, but fear froze you. She had yelled at you that day, told you to stop being such a bother. Such a nuisance. You almost walked in. Almost told her that you didn’t feel good and needed help, but her eyes. Cold and scary, empty. You couldn’t move.

The housekeeper found you passed out on the floor an hour later in front of their room.

Appendicitis. You sat in the hospital for days getting antibiotics after surgery.

Baekhyun came every day. Your parents never did.

“Sorry to disappoint.” You mumbled and she scoffed.

“If you’re sorry, then stop being a disappointment.” She said before taking a sip of her wine.

“Come home, ____,” you looked back towards your father, his firm words coming before you could say anything in response to your mother. “It’s what’s best for the family.”

You stared at him and debated the idea of coming home. It wasn’t like you belonged anywhere else anymore. Like you had any other responsibilities to keep you away from the one you were born into. At least there, you would eventually have control, some say in the way your life would go.

The ringing of your father’s phone snapped you out of your thoughts, shaking you back to reality, and you cleared your throat, standing up from your seat.

“I should get home. It’s late.”

They didn’t walk you out. Didn’t ask when you would be back again. Didn’t ask if you had a way to get home.

You walked to the bus stop a few blocks away and laid with your head pressed against the window, flashing lights nowhere near distracting enough for the ache you felt in your heart. Once upon a time, you thought someone cared about you, but that was no longer a truth you could live with. Would you ever belong anywhere? Would anyone ever really want you?

“Let’s have ice cream before bed!”

You watched a little girl tug on her mother’s hand with a bright smile and couldn’t help but wonder what that must have felt like. To have a mother who held your hand. A mother you could smile at.

“Should we?”

The little girl nodded her head wildly and you smiled involuntarily. It was sweet. But it was also bitter. Left you feeling incomplete. Unfulfilled.

You got off of the bus a few blocks from your apartment, not ready to be home yet. Instead, you found yourself wandering into a convenience store. It was late and cold, and no one was out at that hour, but still. At least it wasn’t as quiet as being in your apartment.

You bought a few bottles of soju and drank them outside, eyes focused on the cement ground to keep yourself from looking at the sky. You couldn’t bear to look at the stars for a while. Couldn’t bear to see them for the reminders they brought, the never-ending sorrow.

You drank for hours alone, until the world felt a little lighter. Like you could breathe again without feeling so desolate.

When you pushed up from the table you were sitting at, you had to wait a few minutes to regain your balance, but once it returned, you walked with no set course in mind. The sound of the river had your heart thumping, so you walked closer, hands stuffed in your pockets, chest warm and fuzzy with excitement.

The twinkling stars that blurred into Han River left you feeling magical. Like thousands of tiny fairies floated under the moonlight, dancing, and twirling to a song you couldn’t hear. You sat down on the grass and watched, wished you could be a part of that magic so that you didn’t have to feel so alone.

You laid back and found yourself staring at the clearest sky you had seen in weeks. Fairies danced up there too, shooting back and forth, putting on a show just for you. You found yourself smiling, cheeks warm and red. You wished and wished, as hard as you could, that they would let you dance with them, suck you up into the sky and hold you close, never let anyone leave you feeling lonely again.

Your phone started buzzing in your hand and you answered it blindly, holding it up to your ear while your other hand reached up towards the sky.

“Where are you?” Sehun’s voice bled through your phone, but it did nothing to break you from your conversation with the stars.

He sighed on the other end. “I’ve been waiting at your house for an hour and you’re not here. It’s 1am.”

You smiled at the sky again and felt the moon coming closer, ready to answer your prayers and take you home (home?)

“Does your mom tell you she loves you? Your dad?”

He disregarded your words and you heard him sigh in the background.

“Are you near the river? I hear water, where are you? It’s freezing out, you should come home.”

The concern that radiated through his tone made you smile even bigger, but somehow the hollowness continued to rattle around inside of you.

“Mine have never told me they love me. I don’t think anyone has ever told me they love me.”

The realization had your throat swelling up, childish tears falling down the sides of your face while you let your hand fall back down from the sky.

“I don’t think…” Your face crumpled, lip quivering, a cloud blocking the view of your moon. Your stars. “I don’t think anyone loves me.”

Sehun began speaking again, but you couldn’t hear him over the screaming in your heart, the ache in your chest. You hung up his call and cried at the midnight sky, sobbed to your hearts content, and still found the tears to continue crying. It left you exhausted. Drained. Empty.

Your vision seeped black, and somehow, the cold air comforted you, made your eyes feel so heavy. It blanketed you in indifference and welcomed you like a friend.

You didn’t know how much time passed when your eyes opened again, voices shouting in the distance, but it was still dark out. Cloudy skies still covered your view of the moon, but it hardly mattered anymore. You felt cold, uncomfortably so. When did you start shaking so hard that your bones ached?

The shouting grew closer, but you couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. You felt frozen in place, hands buried close to your chest, legs stiff as ice.

When you heard a familiar voice, you wanted to ignore it. Wanted to disappear behind the clouds with the stars and never come back. But it was his voice. The voice that belonged to the only person you loved. He shouted your name, and you craned your neck towards his voice. He was far away, but you’d recognize him from a different planet.

“Baekhyun…”

He saw you at the same time that you saw him, your whispered voice carrying yards away, and he ran to you. Ran like his life depended on it.

He stooped down on his knees above you, pulling your face into his hands, eyes frantic and worried.

“What are you doing? What happened?!” He pulled his jacket off and covered you up, arms wrapping around you and pulling you into his lap. He was shouting the same questions over and over and if you weren’t so cold, you would have told him to be quiet, but God, you were freezing.

Sehun ran up behind him seconds later, but it was Baekhyun who picked you up off of the ground. You closed your eyes and time seemed like a dream, the walk to the car, your head on his lap, his hand in your hair.

When he carried you into his house (you knew it was his because he and Sehun had argued about it on the ride there), he took you straight into his room and laid you in his bed. His sheets smelled like home (home?), and that meant too much, brought tears to your eyes, but you didn’t object.

It was still too cold, and your toes felt numb, arms wrapping around yourself tightly with a whimper. Baekhyun looked back and quickly said goodbye to Sehun before closing the door and walking back to the edge of the bed. He looked down at you for a few seconds, looked at you shake, and felt his heart break at the tear that slid past your closed eyes. He pulled off his sweatshirt and climbed into the bed beside you, covering you both up with his blankets before wrapping his arms around you and pulling your head into his chest.

Being that close to him for the first time in so long, it was too much, but still not enough. To smell him, to feel his hand on the back of your neck.

“Why did you do that? Huh? Why would you sit out there like that? You could’ve died.” He said and you felt sick to your stomach, eyes squeezed shut, hands against his chest.

“The stars…” you mumbled mindlessly; exhaustion overtaking you. “I miss your stars.”

Despite everything being so wrong, it still felt right. Being in Baekhyun’s arms felt right. Like the earth finally met her sun after eons and got to feel it envelop her from the inside out. Worlds colliding.

You drifted off for who knows how long, heart at ease, but woke up feeling completely different. The alcohol no longer settled in your bones. The cold no longer numbed your senses. Your eyes fluttered open and you were met with the sight of his chin. His golden skin dripping down his neck, your hands gripping his shirt, as if he were still yours. As if you had the right to cling to him forever.

It was the second that the thought hit you that you found his arms around your waist too heavy. His breath too close. You tried to peel yourself away, but his arms didn’t yield, just pulling you closer in response.

“Don’t go. Not yet.” He mumbled and your throat burned with tears. Didn’t he know how destructive this would be? How damaging?

“I can’t stay.” You choked out, voice thick with panic and dread. He pulled back some to see you and his hand rested on your cheek for too long. His eyes raked your face, and you searched his expression over and over, pretending not to see the guilt in his stare. The devastation.

Tears slipped down your cheeks and he wiped them away just as quick.

He took a deep breath, and it came out too shaky. Too honest.

“Please stay.” He whispered, and you shattered.

You met his gaze again and you saw all of the stars in his eyes that you dreamed of as a teenager and he let you in. Let you dance among the starlight like it was the only place you belonged.

Cassiopeia.

Hydrus.

Orion.

Andromeda.

It was everything you dreamed of.

You cried harder when he kissed you. Cried when you realized, those were the gentle lips you had dreamt of for years. His fingers pressed against your cheek, hair brushing against your forehead. He fit with you so perfect and it broke you. Left you like ground out glass that would never be the same again.

He pressed you onto your back and pulled your shirt over your head, ignored the blush in your cheeks when he kissed your neck. You moaned out his name over and over and he praised you for it, rewarded you with his touch each time. You prayed he would never stop.

He was just as soft as you imagined. He held you, kissed you, told you over and over how perfect you were. How beautiful.

When he let you on top, you couldn’t help but smile at how needy he was. You kissed his jaw, his neck, the small freckle just above his clavicle. He whined when you stopped, and you couldn’t help the laugh that fell from your lips.

He didn’t let you stay on top for very long.

He took you with his mouth pressed against yours, breath hitching, eyes glazing. He mumbled sultry words in your ear (‘you feel so good’) and you loved him. You would love him forever.

After you both reached your peak, he tucked you safely back into his chest and you loved that you could hear his heart beating his chest. Loved the way he tangled his hand in your hair and kissed your forehead. He breathed you in and you did the same, hand on his waist, heart in the sky.

You drifted off in his arms again and didn’t even notice him get up. Slept for hours despite the cold beside you and when your eyes finally opened again, finding him gone, you kind of expected it. You pulled your clothes back on and tried to ignore the chill in your bones because, everything was okay. It should have been okay.

You tip toed out into the hallway and watched him in the dark, him leaning against his couch, hand rubbing his face while he spoke hushed words into his phone.

You leaned your back against the wall away from him, stared at the gray paint in front of you and wished you could feel shocked. Surprised. Hurt.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t come tonight…” he said softly, and you wanted to leave. Wanted to avoid any more of his words, his lies, protect what shreds of heart you had left, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t move. Couldn’t think.

“Yuna don’t be like that. I can’t come because I’m busy. I’ll come tomorrow.”

How funny, you thought. That your heart could still bleed even though you had nothing left to give. You felt embarrassed, ashamed, and you couldn’t even blame him. You knew he wasn’t yours. He would never be yours.

“Yes, I promise. Bye.”

You could see him out of your peripheral vision, the toss of his phone on the couch. Running his hands through his hair. The deep sigh he let out while he looked up at the ceiling.

You wished things had been different. Wished you were nine years old again, running around your room and playing dragons, fighting off demons that made sense with the boy who breathed sunlight.

When he turned to walk back to the room, you could imagine the shock on his face when he saw you in the shadows of the hall. The worry. The regret. You stared at the wall across from you like you could hide in it, camouflage yourself for years and never come back to reality.

He stepped in front of you, hands gripping the sides of your face, lips pressing to yours and kissing like he actually meant it. Like you weren’t already gone. He pulled back after a few seconds and watched the way you withdrew. The way the light left your eyes when it had been right there an hour before.

“Let me explain.” He started, and your hands wrapped around his wrists.

He looked so desperate that you almost wanted to listen, but you couldn’t. Fear. It gripped you from the inside out and you couldn’t find the courage to hear him. You couldn’t handle the build-up, the continuous let down, the never-ending cycle where only you ever ended up losing.

It had to stop.

“No.”

You pulled his hands away, let them fall back to his sides, chose to stare at his chest to avoid the tears in his eyes. Panic rose in his features, but he couldn’t speak. Eyes darting back and forth as if he could search yours for an answer. As if he could build a place for himself inside you the way you continuously tried and failed to do the same with him.

“I’m done.”

It was amazing, that you still had tears left to cry, despite the emptiness that seeped back into your soul. You clawed you’re way back to empty. Back to the nothingness that creeped around you like an old friend because it was better than the heartbreak. The devastation.

You left the apartment without and word, and he didn’t follow.

The way the wind blew through your hair reminded you that you’re small. A tiny insignificant piece of the universe that meant close to nothing, but it just didn’t feel that way. The crack that spread through every fiber in your heart felt as though it mirrored in the way the wind broke through the trees. You felt like God knew how broken you were, and he let Mother Nature play out your heart break for all of his angels to see. Taught lessons on how to grow roots deep in the earth so they couldn’t be knocked down as easily as a stupid girl whose heart felt too much for a boy who couldn’t give her everything.

You wiped the tears from your cheeks and looked up the sky, but the stars weren’t there to greet you anymore. It was just darkness left, mirroring the way you felt, and it was okay.

The stars didn’t exist for a girl who deserved nothing.

Two weeks passed by like it was nothing, and you impressed yourself each day. Get out of bed, shower, brush your teeth, go to work, eat, sleep. You followed each step as if it were your religion, never stepped out of line, never tried anything new. You stopped talking to your friends, blocked everyone’s calls, everyone’s texts. You even stopped drinking. Stopped dreaming about your future, stopped smiling.

It just… it was better that way.

That’s why the world felt like it was ending when you left your apartment one morning and your father sat outside of your building in his car. You didn’t want to see him. Didn’t want to talk to anyone or explain your absence, especially to someone who didn’t care, but it was unavoidable.

If you didn’t talk to him then, he would hassle you forever.

You got in the car after a few minutes hesitation and the driver immediately took off down the road. An hour later, you sat with a napkin in your lap at a too fancy restaurant for 10 a.m. on a Wednesday. You nudged your salad around with your fork and wished he would speak. Get to his point so you could get back to your schedule, your new normal.

“Come home. You can pack your things and I’ll have someone pick you up tomorrow.” His voice came out harsh. Careless. He didn’t seem to mind the hollowness in your cheeks. The dark circles under your eyes. It was only ever about the business. Family. “I let you have your fun for two years and you haven’t accomplished a thing besides embarrassing yourself as a groupie for an unsuccessful musician with no talent.”

You didn’t want to argue. Didn’t want to talk about any of it. So, you stayed quiet, eyes trained on the plate in front of you without answering him.

“I talked with Mr. Ahn a few days ago and he’s still willing to marry you. I think it’s what’s best for us.”

Your fork clattered on the glass as shock jolted through your limbs and you looked up at him for the first time. “Mr. Ahn?”

You could practically feel his lips on your neck again, the sight of his glassy eyes that didn’t care how much you said ‘no’. How much you begged him to stop. His fingers digging into your arm, pulling up your dress.

He hummed in response and you couldn’t help the scoff that left you. He looked up for just a moment, and the absolute lack of empathy that resided there made you sick.

“After what he did to me, you think I would still marry him?”

He smiled as he cut into another piece of his steak, but it didn’t meet his eyes. “I think I mentioned it before, years ago…” You stared at him with amazement and wondered how you got there. How you got through life with a parent like him, a soulless human being with no care for anyone but himself and his money. “for family, you yield.”

The feeling that sunk in your chest was more upsetting than his actual words. Disappointment. Pity. You didn’t feel sorry for him, but for the ten-year-old girl in the hospital with no parents. No gifts. Your heart broke for her, her loneliness, and you wondered how you let him control your life through that. How you ever let him take you over and make you into the lonely mess of a human being you were now, when that ten-year-old girl deserved so much more.

Anger raged through your stomach at the memory of your young eyes in the mirror, the emptiness you always felt.

‘I don’t think anyone has ever told me that they love me’

You blamed him.

The fake laugh that took you over came in waves, red filling your vision like a fog, the feeling that you would explode any second nearly crippling. You stood up from the table and grabbed your bag, no more restraint to keep you there. No more ties.

“There’s a reason why we’re so different, ____.” He spoke, halting your steps as you turned away. “You’re weak. Always have been.”

You turned back and found it shocking that he actually looked at you. Saw you. You shook as you faced him fully and spoke even though you found it difficult to breathe.

“I’m weak?”

He nodded and wiped his lip with a napkin, looking out the window beside him. “I knew it as soon as you brought him home. Byun Baekhyun.” Disgust filled his features. “Like a lost puppy you had found in an alley. I knew you would abandon us for him. Neglect your responsibilities.”

You hated that he knew his name. Hated that someone so dark knew that someone so light existed. Someone so loving and kind and caring.

“You fall too easily. Too unrelentingly. You yield for something as minute as love but overlook the importance of family, the only bonding thing on earth.” He paused, looking at you again. “You are weak.”

His words were pointed spears, aiming to take you down, ruin you from the inside out, but it didn’t hurt. Didn’t leave you crumbling like he thought it would. Like you thought it would.

“Yielding for something you believe in, something you love-” you smiled though a tear slid down your cheek, courage you’d never felt in front of your father before surging through your words as you took a shuddering breath. “I have never felt weak with Baekhyun. He held my hand when I cried. Kissed me when I felt like dying. Made me laugh when I thought I would never laugh again. When I’m with him, I can see every star in the galaxy, and he has never made me feel as small as you do. He has never made me feel like I was just a pawn, a character in his story, as if I don’t have my own. So, don’t you dare say that my love for him made me weak.” You wiped the tears from your cheeks and stared at him resolutely, gaze unwavering. “My love for him is the only reason I survived the hell you put me through.”

You turned to leave, but paused, looking back at your father one more time. “Don’t ever come near me again.”

You watched him stiffen, brows furrowing, fists clenching.

That was the last time you ever saw him.

It was Sehun who picked you up down the street, let you sulk in silence on the way back to your apartment. You sat in front of your building for far too long, not ready to be alone, but still not ready to speak.

“Baek-”

You cut him off immediately, rocks in your throat “Don’t say his name.”

Your heart ached. Beat with trepidation, hesitancy, as if simply existing was too much for you to cope with at that moment. Your breathing grew heavier, eyes burning.

“Your parents made him push you away.”

The world reset.

The cars outside slowed down and moved in reverse, rain started falling against the car, beating lightly against the windows, mirroring the silent tears that fell down your cheeks.

You turned to look at him and felt dread settle in your bones. “What?”

His expression grew darker, hand clenching around the steering wheel as you tried to make sense of what he had said.

“In eleventh grade. They called him over to your house and threatened to uproot his life. His family. His music. All because they knew you would never leave him if he didn’t let you go.”

Your eyebrows scrunched together, pain ripping through you like a knife, bleeding you dry, sinking deeper and deeper as the world began catching up to you.

Suddenly everything that made no sense, made perfect sense. The years when he would hold you and keep you safe and brush away your tears in comparison to the recent ones, when he left you alone, begged you to leave, always rejected your advances. The years you had spent with him holding you at arms-length. The too often times he shut you out and pretended you didn’t exist.

You couldn’t breathe.

“He’s loved you since you were eight.”

His words were the last push you needed, peeling yourself out of his car and sprinting down the street as if you were flying. You couldn’t see faces as you passed them, couldn’t make out street signs or hear anything over the blood rushing through your head. His apartment wasn’t close enough, miles in between you and the words you needed to hear. The truth.

The rain fell upon you like in a downpour; wet slaps against the cheeks that masked the tears that flew down even faster.

When you sprinted up the stairs to his door, all you could hear was Sehun’s voice echoing in your head.

‘He’s loved you since you were eight’

You pounded on his door with no shame, yelling through choppy breaths. You called his name over and over, until your throat grew hoarse. Knocked for so long that your knuckles turned red.

“Baekhyun, it’s me! Please, open up!”

No response.

“Please, I’m sorry! Sehun told me, I’m so sorry!” You pressed your head against the cool wood of his door and covered your face with your hands.

‘Does he hate me?’

You turned around and sunk down onto the floor, let your knees fold into your chest so you could rest your head on them.

Memories of the days when Baekhyun would pull you into his chest and hold you there for hours floated through your mind and after all the years that you thought he was blind, you wondered how you could have ended up the same.

On your sixteenth birthday, Baekhyun woke you up with a kiss. You had wished for it the night before, always dreaming of your first kiss being him, but never expecting it would happen. He insisted over and over that he didn’t do it, but you could feel the press of lips against yours, like a ghost – there one second and gone the next. When you asked him about it, he laughed, ‘why would I kiss you?’.

The memory broke your heart. Not just for you, but for him. How terrifying it must have been to continue caring for you even from a distance when someone was threatening to destroy his life for it. Someone like your father. Your mother.

More tears filled your eyes and you sighed with embarrassment, exhaustion settling in as your shoulders sagged.

The beeping of a keypad had your eyes fluttering open sometime later and your heart fluttered at the feel of a hand running through your damp hair. You looked up with tired eyes to see Baekhyun and thought it was a dream, his had resting on your cheek. The overwhelming guilt took you over from the inside out and tears immediately filled you up you as he crouched down in front of you.

His eyes were so soft, so gentle, so loving.

You reached timid fingers out and touched his cheek, watched him lean into you without fear or resentment. You wanted him so badly, wanted him wholly and forever. Couldn’t you have him? Couldn’t life be simpler?

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked with tears dripping down your face, throat tight and forehead crinkled together.

His eyes shimmered with sadness, eyebrows furrowing together as he swallowed hard.

You were the most pitiful thing he had ever seen.

He hooked an arm under your legs and pulled you to wrap your arms around his neck before hauling you off of the ground.

You held onto him so tight, probably too tight, but he didn’t complain. He walked you straight to the bathroom, sitting you on the toilet and stripping your rain-soaked clothes off before replacing them with one of his sweatshirts. He took your hand and led you into his room, helped you into bed before climbing in beside you.

You couldn’t bear to look him in the eye. Couldn’t bear seeing his stars and fearing they would show his resentment. Scared that he would hate you the way that you hated yourself.

“Look at me.” He said softly, and you shook your head, heart beating too hard against your ribs, like it was trying to break free.

It was too much. It was all too much.

His hands found your cheeks, tilting your head to look up towards him. You bit your lip uncomfortably, tried to avoid his eyes for as long as you could, but it was pointless.

“Sehun told me.” You started, eyes flickering up towards his. “About you and my parents.”

He was expressionless. For the first time in so long, you couldn’t understand anything he must have been thinking.

You looked back down at his chest and tried to keep your composure. “I’m so sorry.”

He pulled your face into his chest and immediately hushed you, kissed your forehead. Comforted you when it was the last thing you felt you deserved.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

You grounded yourself with the sound of him breathing and told yourself over and over that it was okay because he was there. He was there and holding you and life made sense. This made sense.

When he pulled away, he brushed the tears from your cheeks and pressed the softest kiss to your lips. Sweet and tender and loving and Baekhyun.

“Don’t worry about the past. Let’s just worry about now, yeah?” He asked and you tried to understand, but you couldn’t.

“What if they ruin everything? What if my dad takes your music away?”

His smiled melted you, had your cheeks warming, heart racing. He reached soft fingertips up and brushed a few stray hairs out of your face. “You’re the only music I need.”

Your stomach fluttered with thousands butterflies that you’d buried years before at his words, the sparkle in his eyes. And then you remembered.

“What about Yuna?”

He sighed at your words, cinnamon breath washing over you like a welcome home. “I broke up with her the day before I found you at the river.”

Your eyes widened a little, confused. “But I heard you on the phone-”

“I was meeting her so she could get her stuff from my studio.”

A weight you didn’t realize was there lifted off of your shoulders and fluttered away.

His lips curled up into a knowing smile and you couldn’t find the heart to match it. All of the years you had spent blinded by your own love you couldn’t even see how much he was doing for you. How he was putting his life, his family’s life, in your father’s hands every time he picked you up while you were drunk. Every time he spent the night watching movies with you when he didn’t want to. Every night that he held your hand when life got too hard for you to handle alone.

“Hey,” his whispered voice called for your attention and you gave it willingly. When your eyes met his, your lip trembled. “can I tell you something?”

You nodded your head immediately, probably too eager.

He smiled and you watched the stars float from him. Watched them swirl with magic and pull you in the way they always did. Every milky way, every planet, every sun, every moon, all of the stars.

“I love you.”

They swallowed you up and welcomed you home.

Words you were hearing for the first time, swimming through your mind, from the only boy on Earth you ever wanted to hear them from. And they were real. And suddenly you realized it wasn’t the first time you had heard them before.

He loved you when you punched that boy in the face who called him ugly.

He loved you with tear stained cheeks in the hospital with no one left to hold your hand but him.

He loved your whiskey stained breath washing over him the first time you kissed him and hated himself when he pushed away.

He loved you with sand coated cheeks and messy hair crying in a sandbox at age eight.

“I’ll love you forever.”

His words settled into the deepest caverns of your heart, sprouted light and sunshine from your insides and suddenly, you were one of the stars he held inside. You were his sunshine in the same way he was yours. Type la supernova. Two stars colliding and bleeding their love for the entire galaxy to see.

Your fingers brushed against his cheeks, soft skin melting with the tips of your fingers. You pressed your chest impossibly closer to his and fell so far in love with the way his heartbeat matched yours. His eyes raked over you with curiosity as his hand traced down to your waist, noses bumping. You pressed your lips to his and felt your worlds colliding, not a single care for the destruction it could reap elsewhere.

Your parents didn’t matter. All of the longing, all of the tears, all of the heartbreak. None of it mattered when Baekhyun was there, and you swore that no matter what happened, you would fight for his sunshine. Through every lifetime, every hurricane, every avalanche that would try to break you, no matter what.

Baekhyun would be your galaxy until the end of time.

‘I’ll love you forever’

A/N hi. it me.

I really hope you guys enjoyed this story, my bby Baekhyun is literally one of my soul mates, I know that (he doesn’t know it, but I KNOW it ok? ok.), so I literally LOVE writing about him. Please leave your girl some messages/likes/reblogs, you guys left me so much love this last time I literally bragged to all of my friends how sweet you all are!! Thank you so much for supporting me, on the days that I feel low or less than, I come back and read through all of your comments and just fall in love all over with every single one of you. Have the best day y’all, I know you deserve it!!

#PART 2 #exo fic #exo imagine #EXO baekhyun #baekhyun fic #baekhyun angst #baekhyun fanfic #exo fanfic #exo angst #exo fanfiction #baekhyun fanfiction #exo imagines #baekhyun imagine #baekhyun fluff #exo fluff

162 notes · View notes

neon-junkie · 4 years

Text

Duality - Chpts 1,2&3

Summary: There's a handful of things you hate, like the men who continue to pester you at the Saloon after you've told them no, or the way strangers look at you when you decide to wear pants. But the one thing you hate that most is Micah Bell. But if you hate him so much, then why are you allowing him to wrap his hand around your neck as he grinds his crotch down against yours? Is he using you? or are you using him?

Pairing: Micah Bell x f!Reader

Word Count: 8837 (ongoing work)

Rating: NSFW Warnings: Depictions of Violence (Reader is fine)

Tags: Dead Dove: Do not eat, Fights/Arguments, Slow burn, Hate sex, Enemies with benefits, Enemies to lovers, Pity sex, Vaginal sex, Outdoor sex, Creampies, Blood kink, Knives, Choking, Breath play, Rough/Manhandling, Heists & Robberies, Nipple sucking/licking, Making out, Sloppy kisses, Dirty talking, Grinding.

Notes: This fic was inspired by the gang of children that recently decided to start hurdling abuse at me simply because I enjoy Micah character. If he bad then why he make my pussy go brr?? I ain't ever gonna stop writing for him, somebody's gotta love the ratman so I guess I'll volunteer as tribute. This piece is inspired by @deputytrash and their work called ‘Micah Bell is a Rat Bastard,’ that I can’t actually link here because Tumblr hates links:))) so please go stalk them for the original fic. shoutout to all the other Micah fuckers out there; we're kinda fucked up but hey, we ain't hurting anybody<3

[Chapter 4]

Some men are born with the purest of hearts; they're full of good intentions, kindness, willingness to help others. They want to see the world go round, they enjoy watching the days go by with their loved ones around them. They want nothing more than love and equality, happiness for everyone, and they strive to achieve that. Those men, such as Arthur, are ones that you obviously enjoy for such reasons, and you enjoy watching them on the sideline, smiling at the way they make everyone happy. You've tried dating those men before and something felt... off about them, almost fake; you wish to enjoy such relationships with the purest of men, but you've never been able to sit in that saddle comfortably. The leather smells off and something constantly jabs at your tailbone. It's fine, honestly, to not sit comfortably in that saddle. Others can enjoy those men, ones who deserve them, ones who are just as pure and wholesome as those men they seek out. You're happy for them, you enjoy seeing them enjoy each others company, they really do deserve it. Only that leaves you with the problem of 'who the hell am I meant to fall for?' There are others who are sometimes split down the middle, with good and bad intentions, men such as Dutch who eventually crack under so much pressure, as expected. But these men have never really taken your fancy either. You curse the Gods for creating you with no intentions to seek out those pure of heart, or even slightly pure of heart. Why can't you be considered normal? You're a good person, yet you don't long for someone as good as you.

Instead, those who have only ever walked the darker path take your fancy. Those men who have no good intentions in them, who only look out for themselves and sometimes (but rarely) the few people closest to them, if you're stupid enough to get close to them, to begin with. You enjoy the challenge, you enjoy taming the beast, being the one person that someone so wild can trust. It's a generic trope that you've read in romance novels where the princess falls for the villain, but they always seem to have the happiest of endings? and the stories themselves are so juicy, so rich and full of layers. The generic happy couple trope gets so boring, nothing to read into. But if you're given a story about a well-layered villain who softens out within time then you'll eat said story off the dirt if you have to, it's always so rich and fulfilling, though you never expected to end up in one. "Which book are you reading today?" Mary-Beth asks you as she joins you on the beach, leaning back against the log you're leaning against. You do miss sitting on the cliff at Horseshoe Overlook, peering up at the landscape whenever your eyes need a break from being so engulfed in whatever book you were reading. But there's something just as good as looking out at the water, hearing the waves lapping against the shore as you read, enjoying the river breeze on a hot Lemoyne day. "The same as last time, that one centered around the villain," you tell her, your eyes momentarily peeking up to watch as she sits down beside you. "Still? Oh, you and your dark fiction," Mary-Beth replies with a laugh. She'd given your book that nickname after you explained the plot to her. Mary-Beth, as wholesome and pure as she is, couldn't quite understand why you'd get so engulfed in a book where the princess falls for the villain, completely ignoring the stud hero and running off with the bad guy instead. After explaining how layered the villain was, and how his actions were the result of past trauma, she somewhat understood but decided that she's happy with her sappy romance novels. That's understandable, your taste isn't for everyone, and you'd both agreed on that. "Like I said, I just find it more interesting," you reply, your eyes trailing over to the landscape. "Which book have you got?" you ask. "Oh, the same still. I've almost finished it! The poor man in it has finally been turned away from that woman, though they're both in love," she replies. "But from what you've told me, she's not exactly... the best person in the world?" you ask. "I guess not. Maybe I am into a little bit of dark fiction then, hm?" Mary-Beth questions with a soft laugh, finally opening her book to pick up from where she left off. "Maybe-" you begin to speak, but the sound of shouting draws your attention back to camp. You and Mary-Beth peer over your shoulders to watch the commotion in the distance. Ugh. It's Micah again, screaming at Bill for being so kind to the poor dog Jack had found, Cain. He's hollering away, something about not being soft on strays, that they'll only follow you around for food, whatever. You try to hold in your laughter when Micah does the last thing you'd expect, literally barking at Bill before storming off. "That man sure is evil," Mary-Beth comments. "I still ain't sure why Dutch allows him to follow us around, a bit like Cain really," she frowns, turning her gaze away. "He is, funny that he can't see just how much of a dog he is," you laugh along, returning your focus back to your book. "Has he bothered you again recently?" she questions, knowing that your last run-in with him was only a few days ago. "No, he ain't spoke to me, he ain't even looked at me." "Good, probably because he's still got that black eye you gave him," Mary-Beth replies, trying to hold back on her laughter. "Well, he did deserve it." Micah had pestered you a few days ago, stirring up some shit simply because he was bored. You were sat by yourself in camp, playing a solo game of solitaire whilst the wind was quiet, your cards not blowing away for once. He waltzed over, as always, looking like he owned the place; he only acts that way because he sucks up to Dutch, a bit of a teachers' pet, though he's definitely never stepped foot in a school. "Hey," Micah says to you. Well, you were unsure if he was speaking to you as your head was down, focused on the cards, so Micah quickly snapped when you didn't reply. "I said hey. You deaf?" he asks, lightly tapping the back of your shoulder. You let out a long sigh as you roll your eyes and look up. "I didn't know you were speaking to me, Micah," you reply. "Well, who else would I be speaking to, doll? There ain't anyone else around here," Micah says with a laugh, waving his hands about to gesture that nobody was nearby. "I can see that now," you sigh. You begin to put your cards away, knowing that if Micah's here then there's no way you'll be able to play this game in peace. Whatever, you were stumped anyway, considering calling this game quits, and Micahs appearance had encouraged you to do so. "What're you doing?" Micah questions. "I was playing solitaire," you reply, shuffling the cards back together and returning them to their container, an old mints tin that you found fits the cards much better than their old paper box. "And why have you packed up, hm? Is it 'cause I'm here?" Micah asks, knowing the answer. "It is," you say as you stand and put the tin in your pocket, beginning to walk off. The last person you ever want to talk to is Micah, but it seems he really wants to talk to you as he begins to follow you. "Where're you going? I ain't that bad. I know we don't exactly get along but you can't fault me for trying to right these wrongs with you," Micah begins, playing the white knight card as always, batting his lashes as if he hasn't made a handful of remarks towards you in the past, ensuring there's a thick barrier between the two of you. "I ain't interested in making friends with you, Micah. Now leave me be," you snap back, picking up the pace as you storm past Dutch's tent, hoping he'd pick up on the small commotion but his head is buried deep in his current Evelyn Miller book. "Such mean words coming from such a pretty face," Micah pouts, still on your trail, letting out his generic laugh. "Wouldn't you rather have friends than enemies?" "I'd rather have nothing to do with you, Micah," you tell him as you come to a halt, stopping in the dead center of camp. If Micah won't leave you alone then hopefully someone will step in, as their eyes had begun to peer over to the commotion; even Dutch has put his book down. "Easy there, sweetheart," Micah coos with his generic laugh. He goes to speak again but you're quick to cut him off. "I ain't your sweetheart, Micah. Quit calling me those names," you huff. "Of course, you ain't. I like a bit of fire in my women but you're just a bit too reckless for my taste," Micah tells you, his tone slowly turning to frustrated. He's quit the innocent act, lowering his hands as he had them raised as he followed you throughout the camp. If he can't win you over then he'll ensure you never even slightly consider him a friend, beginning to insult you to burn whatever was left of that bridge. "Good, I'd hate to be your taste. What an unlucky woman she must be for the likes of you to have eyes on her." Micah lets out another laugh as he takes a step closer to you, a little too close, and you're quick to cut him off before he can open his mouth. "Back off, Micah. Don't you try and get close to me," you order him. "Why not, hm? You scared someone is finally gonna put a woman like you back in her-" That's enough. Without hesitation, you clench your fist and swing for that vermin of a man, if you can even be kind enough to call him a man to begin with. You were aiming for his nose but hit his cheekbone instead, which is just as good as his eye had swollen up from the impact. Micah stumbled back and hit the ground with the most satisfying thud you'd ever heard, the sound still making you smile whenever you think about it. You didn't stick around much after that, burning the image of Micah lying on the floor clutching his eye into your memory before turning heel and marching off, wandering off into the trees so you could cool yourself off and devilishly admire your bruised knuckles. You refused to bandage them up, even after Charles had practically begged you, but you were eager to show off your trophy, even flaunting it at Micah from a distance whenever he came into your line of sight. His eyes hadn't met yours since, but you could feel his burning glare on you whenever you two were within ten feet of each other. You'd even overheard him attempting to bitch about you to Kieran, who simply nodded along to prevent himself from getting pulled into this mess. Needless to say, you and Micah do not get along. There's a handful of camp members that don't get along, but your burning hatred for each other seems to stand out the most. You're always eager to step in whenever Micahs attempting to chew someone's ear off, and he always gives you that same laugh as he attempts to mock you, but he often turns heel and storms away, calling you a bitch or whatever petty insult he has on his mind. But since that interaction, Micah has stayed well clear of you. Dutch probably told him to stop pestering you after you'd almost knocked his lights out, though you doubt that as Dutch ended up doing something that only seemed to make your 'friendship' worse. ----------- Another day, another dollar, or whatever the civilized phrase is. It's a quote you've heard within towns and cities, something bosses drill into the minds of their workers to stop them from realizing that they're being used as workhorses for less than pennies. At least out here you can work on your own terms, your only boss is Dutch and he always ensures that everybody gets a fair cut. Why slave away in a factory when you can rob some folk that needs robbing and make a few hundred off them? Dutch has a heist planned for you today, one that he says needs a woman touch. Karen is the only other gunwoman in the camp but Dutch has told you that she's a little too reckless for the job. Dutch knows that Sadie is also a gunwoman but she's still in mourning, arguing with Pearson every so often, but she isn't ready to step up to that rank yet. "And that's why I need you for this job. It's genric and old fashioned of us, but there's a payroll heading up into Rhodes and I was thinking you could play the damsel in distress, hunched over at the roadside, pouting sweetly as you ask them for a ride into town," Dutch tells you outside his tent, a week or so after your last run-in with Micah. "And if they don't stop?" you question. "Why would they not stop? A pretty lady such as yourself asking for a ride? When they're already heading that way? They must be some cold-hearted folk in order to turn down such a simple request," Dutch explains. "What will you and the others be doing?" "We'll be hiding nearby, waiting for that opportunity to rob them. Once you're on board then they should hand over the cash, I don't see why they'd want a poor innocent woman to be hurt. Hosea will be waiting in Rhodes to bring you back to camp, and you won't need your guns for the job. A kind, working woman such as yourself wouldn't carry them anyway," Dutch replies with a grin, stubbing out his cigar with the toe of his shoes. The plan seems simple enough, and what have you got to lose? So, you agree to the heist, heading into your tent so you can change your appearance to look like the average working woman. You dress in a simple skirt and shirt, your hair neat and your makeup simple, just how the women in Rhodes dress. Arthur gives you a ride to the location, your horse staying back at camp, as well as your guns. You feel a little uneasy heading out of camp without them, but the boys are hiding behind what's left of a wall nearby. You overheard Arthur protesting with Dutch, saying they shouldn't be robbing folk so close to camp, but Dutch assured them that this would be fine. Dutch has brought along Arthur and Lenny, and unfortunately, Micah, who still hasn't spoken a word to you, but his eye is now unfortunately better. Dutch didn't even mention to you that Micah would be coming along, seeing as your paths weren't meant to cross. This was meant to be a simple holdup job after all, only this gang seems to be cursed as things always go wrong. You're walking along the road, acting as if you're exhausted. The sound of a wagon approaching can be heard, and you peer over your shoulder to see it coming into view. You begin to wave your arms, signaling for them to stop, and thankfully, they do. "Are you alright, Miss?" one of the men questions, the one driving the wagon. There are two more men on horseback behind them, not many guns for a wagon that's carrying payroll. "I do apologize to ask such a request but my horse bucked me a while back, I'm only trying to head into town. Are you heading that way? Would you be able to give me a ride?" you question. You play out the usual body language, slouched shoulders, batting your lashes, and pouting your bottom lip. This is a mans world, after all, but you know exactly how to play the game. The driver and the shotgun speak to themselves quietly, clearly bickering about the fact that they're carrying payroll, but they eventually come to an agreement. "You're welcome to climb on the back of one of the horses, though we can't let you on the wagon, Miss," he replies. Well, that's good enough, at least you're still somewhat of a hostage. "Oh, thank you! I really appreciate it!" you smile sweetly, heading over to the nearest hired gunmen and climbing on the back, loosely holding onto his shirt as you get comfortable on the horse's rear. They return to their journey, barely making it a few meters down the road when one of those slimy Lemoyne Raiders appears from behind a boulder and attempts to hold them at gunpoint. Your eyes peer over to where the gang is hiding and thankfully, Dutch steps in, one gun pointed at the driver and the other at the rival gang member. You're still unsure on what Lemoyne Raiders are. Inbred? Wannabe military? Either way, they're stupid enough to fire without warning, and completely miss Dutch, though Dutch doesn't miss him. The plan goes to shit and you're caught in the middle of the gang war, your gang and the Lemoyne Raiders fighting each other, as well as the wagon. The gunman that you were holding onto slouches over his saddle, a bullet ripping through his side, thankfully missing you. You think Arthur had shot him, but either way, you're pushing his body off and stealing his horse, riding out from the commotion. What help are you now without your guns? It's best that you run away and fast. As you near the camp, you notice a small group of white hats approaching round the bend - lawmen, so you decide to keep riding forward towards Braithwait Manor, dipping off into the trees before they can notice you. You'll find somewhere to hide out until nightfall, riding through the thick forest until you find a shack down south, close to Shady Belle, but far enough from the commotion so the law shouldn't tread down here. The stolen horse is hitched by a tree and you're about to head inside, but the sound of hooves approaching startles you. You hide behind the tree, not providing much cover, but hopefully enough so you can decide how to approach the incoming stranger. If it's a lawman then you can simply burst into tears whilst saying that the horse bolted and you couldn't steer it up into Rhodes, and if it's a fellow gang member then you'll be fine. Well, it is a gang member, just you were hoping for anybody but Micah. He slows Baylock to a halt as you come into his line of sight, stepping out from behind the tree looking like an angry kitten. "You alright?" Micah asks, swinging his leg over the saddle and hopping off his mount. "Go away, go find somewhere else to hide. Shoo," you wave your hands at him, only making Micah laugh instead. "What's a matter? Can't I hide here with you?" he questions as he approaches you. "No, you can't. Go bother someone else, you're the last person I'd ever want to hide from the law with," you huff. Micah isn't budging, he continues to approach you until he's stood in front of you, grinning from ear to ear as he lets out that awful chuckle of his. "You don't mean that. Besides, how're you gonna defend yourself without your guns, huh?" Micah questions, resting his hands on his gunbelt. "Well, you know that I can swing a punch, can't you, Micah?" you tease, giving him a smug smile which wipes the grin off his face, turning into a frown. "And here I was just tryna look out for you. Nasty thing, aren't you?" Micah spits. "I am, and I ain't welcoming to you, Micah," you huff again, resting your hands on your hips. "Now, I'm gettin' real sick of the way you talk to me, girl. I ain't been nothin' but nice to you," Micah tuts, taking another step towards you. He's pressed up far too close to your chest, puffing his own out as his icy blue eyes scowl into yours. "You may be a big girl in the eyes of Dutch, but you ain't to me." "I don't care, Micah. I don't need your approval, nor your company, so scram!" This time, Micah goes for you, reaching out to grip ahold of your arm. He takes a firm grasp of you but before you can find out what he was planning on doing, you're pushing him away, shoving him back by the chest. He stumbles backwards but doesn't slump to the ground, catching his own fall as he glares at you. His death glare makes your face turn sour and you begin to foresee that one of you isn't going to make it back to camp. Micah lunges for you again, grabbing onto your shoulders as he begins to try and tackle you to the ground. You manage to shove him off and land a punch to the same cheekbone, only it's not enough to stop him. He continues to fight you, eventually managing to shove you to the floor. He tries to climb onto you, attempting to pin you to the ground but you land a swift kick to his baby balls. He lets out a choke as his body goes limp and you jump at the opportunity to shove him onto his back, pinning him down instead. Micah attempts to grab onto you but you're quick, taking his own knife from its holster and pinning it beneath Micahs chin. He stops, freezing up and removing his hands from you, lying in the dirt with his swollen eye locked onto yours. There's silence, no words spoken from either of you, just heavy panting and the sound of the trees rustling. Micah licks his lips, tasting the blood that has trailed down from his nose, and eventually speaks. "Go on, girl. Do it," he tells you, his Adam's apple bouncing against the blade as he speaks. You don't reply, so Micah jumps down your throat again. "I said do it! Show me what a big girl you are," he says with a laugh. "If I am to kill you then I'd rather do it with my bare hands," you spit at him, pressing the knife sharply on his neck. From the way Micah attempts to flinch back, you're certain you've managed to cut him. Good, he deserves it. "Do it then. Go on, get rid of me already. Just do everyone a favour," Micah replies, his hands raising yet again, doing that generic innocent pose even as he has a knife held to his throat. As much as you'd love to, you know the consequences for killing other camp members. You could say he died in combat but Dutch knows that Micah can take on a bunch of Lemoyne Raiders with his eyes closed. Plus, it's far too suspicious for you to be the one breaking the 'bad' news. But you might as well scare some sense into Micah, maybe choke him unconscious then bail back to camp before he can wake. Hopefully, he'll finally get it into his thick skull to stay away from you, though you doubt it, but at least you'll have fun. You remove Micahs own knife from his neck, stabbing it into the earth beside his head. He watches you with wide eyes, attempting to look at his knife but you grip onto his throat. You know how to choke someone to death, and you know how to choke someone unconscious, so you go for the second option and tighten your grip under his jawline, avoiding his windpipe so that he doesn't stop breathing. He lets out a choked exhale as you begin jabbing your fingers into his throat, pushing more than hard enough to eventually knock his lights out. You know you look a mess, covered in dirt with scruffed up hair, a glare on your face that could easily kill a man; Micah looks up at you through half-lidded eyes, keeping his gaze locked onto yours as he attempts to breathe. You can hear the pressure on his throat with every breath, his lips remaining parted, blood still trickling from his nose, and his eye swelling up more by the second. His clothes are just as dirty as yours, his hat has fallen off his head a long time ago, his white pants are almost brown from rolling in the dirt, and his red shirt is missing a few buttons from where you've grabbed him. Micahs parted lips quickly turn into a grin as his eyes begin to fall shut. You've never seen him pull a face like this, but he looks... pleasurable. He somehow has enough energy to reach up and grip onto the waistband of your skirt, trailing his fingertips along the band before settling each hand firmly on your hips. He's... enjoying this, isn't he? Your thoughts are confirmed when Micah opens his eyes again; his pupils are blown, wide and full of lust, gazing up at you like a piece of meat, ready to pounce on you (if he could.) You want to feel sick. Why don't you feel sick? Why isn't your stomach turning at the sight of Micah taking pleasure in your attempt to kill him? You push down harder on his neck, wishing you were gripping onto his windpipe instead. His smile eventually fades away, his eyes rolling shut as he lets out slower muffled breaths. His grip on your hips falls limp and you know he's finally unconscious. This was meant to be the part where you run, heading back to camp before he can wake, praying he never even looks at you ever again. But you remove your hand from his throat, noticing how his body twitches as he begins to breaths properly again, and using the same hand that you just choked him with, you land a harsh slap right across his face. It's loud and sharp enough that it echoes throughout the forest, startling the horses and scaring a few birds away. You instantly regret your decision, your hand throbbing from how hard you slapped him, but the way Micah jolts awake gives you a sickly satisfaction. He begins coughing, propping himself up on his elbows as he attempts to catch his breath. You don't move off him, sitting back on your knees, his legs beneath yours, watching in delight as he returns to the conscious word. Micah lies back down, his deep breaths eventually turning into a chuckle as his eyes meet yours. "I knew you were just like me," Micah says with a sniff, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. His nose is still bleeding, turning his moustache red, and now his cheek as he's smeared his own blood across his face. "I knew you were sick..." he laughs. "I ain't sick, Micah," you frown. "If you ain't then you won't enjoy this-" Micah somehow has enough energy to flip your bodies over, pinning you down to the ground, narrowly missing his knife that is still jabbed into the dirt. You attempt to push him off, trying to kick him in the balls again but he's pinned you down as well as you had pinned him down. He does exactly what you feared he'd do, wrapping his own rough hand around your neck, pressing on those spots under your jawline that you unfortunately enjoy. You try and fight it, attempting to gulp down air, attempting to push him off. But the more you fight him, the more he holds you down, and the more you find yourself enjoying it. "Give in to it, sweetheart. Just let it happen," he tells you, the words that you didn't want to hear, but only because they're sickly yet tempting. Micah adjusts his grip and finally hits the nail in the coffin, your mind turning cloudy, the blood pulsating through your brain. That feeling in your stomach begins to burn, trailing down your body and making your pussy clench. You hate this man so much, yet you're allowing him to do this to you. "Atta girl," Micah praises you as you stop fighting him, letting your eyes shut and your mouth part. You're weak enough for Micah to shift his weight, parting your thighs with his knees and sitting between them after he bunches your skirt up. One hand remains on your neck whilst the under sneaks underneath your waist, pulling your hips up onto his knees. His crotch pushes against yours, his hand trailing over your clothed thigh, moving up to your knee as he adjusts your legs so they're wrapped around his waist. For some reason, you cross your ankles, only encouraging him to grind his crotch against yours, rutting his hard-on against your pussy. The mewl that escapes your lips is definitely accidental, but Micah tilts his head up to let out a hum of approval as he watches the colour continue to drain from your face. "Such a pretty sound coming from that pretty face of yours. You're goin' pale tho, darlin'. Least you ain't still spittin' venom at me," Micah smirks. The blood from his nose drips down onto your own face, painting your cheek, and the sight of his blood on you makes his pupils turn wide again, licking his lips as he finally removes his hand from your throat. You gasp, gulping down air, letting out a few coughs as you manage to fill your lungs back up. Micah barely gives you enough time to come back to reality before he's crashing his lips against yours, pinning your hands on either side of your head, grinding his crotch down hard against yours. You let out a whimper as he manages to brush his crotch perfectly against your clit, making him chuckle against your lips as he kisses you. Are you kissing him back? Unfortunately so, but only because the taste of his blood on his lips is making your arousal grow, and he's grinding against you far too perfectly to ignore. You eventually lap away at his blood, his nosebleed finally coming to a halt, and the feeling of his prickly moustache becomes more and more prominent. It's far too annoying for you to make out with him and ignore it, and it eventually irritates you to a point that you break the kiss. "What'cha stopping for?" Micah pouts, halting his grinding for the moment. "Your 'stache is too long, it's itchy," you tell him. "Well, I'll make sure it's trimmed for next time," Micah replies as he rolls his eyes. "There ain't gonna be a next time, Micah," you scowl back. "Oh, that so?" Micah chuckles, doubting your claim. "Well, I'll just have to make this worthwhile," he informs you. Micah moves his hands off your wrists, sitting up on his knees and pulling his knife out of the ground. He wipes the dirt off on his jeans then grips onto your undergarments, pulling the fabric away from your skin so he can slice down the crotch, ripping apart the garment and leaving a large hole right in the middle of them. "Micah!" you snap as you sit up on your elbows. "I'll buy you a new pair," Micah monotonously replies, a large lack of sympathy in his voice. You could have sworn he rolled his eyes as well. He holsters his knife and rips apart the hole even more, almost ripping the garment in two, exposing your pussy for his pleasure. Micah hums in appreciation as he gazes at the sight, pushing your thighs apart as he dips his head down and spits onto your folds. You'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy it, and Micah picks up on the glisten in your eyes as he straightens his back up and begins to unfasten his pants, leaving his gunbelt on the ground beside you. Micah pulls out his cock, an average looking one, rock hard and flushed pink at the tip. You're surprised that his pubes are neatly trimmed, just as dirty blonde as his hair, but he keeps his pubes neater for whatever reason. He ruts his cock over your folds, slicking himself up with his spit and your juices; to say you aren't wet is also a lie, you've been soaking the second he put his hand around your throat. Micah finally pushes into you, slow and steady, letting out an "ooh" once he's fully sheathed inside of you. "It's always tighter if I don't finger you," he comments, licking his lips as he moves his hands underneath each knee, spreading your legs apart as far as he wants. Why are you allowing this man to fuck you? You're not sure, though you don't regret it, especially when he begins to thrust into you, surprising you with the way he rolls his hips, the tip of his cock hitting that spot inside of you with every thrust. If someone had told you this morning that you'd end up spending the evening with Micah Bell thrusting inside of you, after the two of you had had a fight and ended up aroused by it, then you probably would have punched them too after informing them that they're drunk. But here you are, allowing Micah to fuck you senseless, pounding you into the dirt as he lets out surprisingly pleasant sounds. "Shit!" you gasp as Micah shifts his weight, moving his hands off your knees to wrap around your waist. He pulls you up into his lap, lifting your ass off the floor and angling your body perfectly so he's directly hitting your g-spot with every roll of his hips. Micah's fucking you like a rabbit, fast and unforgiving, eager to make your walls tighten around him so he can fill you up with his cum. Micah begins to bare his teeth, hissing through them as he pounds you. You're a moaning mess beneath him, not holding back on the volume of your moans as nobody is nearby, and your volume level is filling Micahs ego more and more by the second. "That's a good girl," he tells you, his hazy eyes meeting yours. "I always knew you'd be a good fuck, the feisty ones always are," he chuckles. You roll your eyes at his comment, making him laugh instead. Ugh. That stupid laugh of his, the one he always drags out only because he knows it gets on everyone's nerves. You think fast, moving one hand back onto his throat to cut that dreadful sound out. His lips remain parted, slightly smiling as he continues to fuck you, enjoying that irritated glisten to your eyes. You tighten your grip on his throat, forcing a choked moan from Micahs lips. Micah's already hunched over you but you pull him down to your level, speaking right against his lips as you order him to "fuck me harder." "With pleasure," Micah manages to reply, gasping and straightening his back the second you let go of his throat. Micah keeps one arm underneath your waist, holding you firmly on his lap, whilst the other moves between your legs. His hand rests on your stomach, his thumb moving down to begin massaging your clit, flicking the bud in circles, his cock throbbing every time your muscles begin to shake. He's returned to letting out moans, followed by the occasional grunt through gritted teeth. You've seen Micah come undone before, you've seen that feral look in his eyes as he loses his cool and guns down an army of people. But this? This was a different look, just as feral but fueled by a mixture of lust and spite. Is he just using you for a fuck? Yes, but you're doing the same with him. And do you think you'll end up fucking him again? Possibly, but only if you can watch the life drain from his face again. It's sickeningly arousing, but Micah seems to enjoy it too. "You're gonna make me cum," you sigh, your thigh muscles beginning to shake, your eyes scrunching shut as your head rolls back in the dirt. "I know," Micah confidently replies, rubbing his thumb even firmer against your clit. What a cocky piece of shit, though you admire the confidence. You can't believe you're moaning his name as you orgasm, panting and shaking, wrapping your legs even tighter around Micahs waist as he pushes his cock deep inside of you and earns his own release. His hands grip onto your hips, his forehead eventually slumping on your chest as he pants and groans, filling you up with god knows how many months worth of cum, maybe longer, depending on whoever else has been stupid enough to sleep with him. Micah eventually straightens his back and pulls out of you, letting your legs slip from around his waist as you untangle your body from his. He looks debauched, his hair and clothes scruffy and dirty, not to mention the dried blood smeared across his face and moustache. You're certain you look just as bad, spending your evening rolling about in the dirt with the man you hate the most. Hate? Or hated? as you somewhat like the sight of Micah like this. Maybe you could tolerate him under these terms, and only under these terms. You attempt to sort your appearance out as you stand up, stretching your legs, hearing your knees click after being bent for so long. Micah does the same as he pulls himself up, tucking his cock away then picking his hat up. He whistles for Baylock who had wandered off into the forest, probably not wanting to be around... that. The horse you'd stolen has managed to unhitch itself and disappear, and you honestly don't blame them, but that means the only way back is hitching a ride off Micah or walking for an hour. "Looks like you're riding with me," Micah tells you. "I don't want to be seen trailing into camp with you, not when we both look like this," you tell him as he mounts Baylock. "How's about I drop you off on the edge of camp then spend a few hours away? Would that make you happy?" Micah offers, holding out his hand at the same time. "It would," you tell him, swatting his hand away and climbing up onto Baylock on your own terms. "So, you'll let me fuck you but won't even take my hand?" Micah chuckles as he clicks his tongue, letting Baylock go at a soft pace as you ride side-saddle. "Yep, and don't forget that you owe me new underwear," you remind him. "Oh, I won't forget to buy you some new panties, Miss. I'll buy you a whole set of lingerie if it means I get to cut it off your body," Micah teases but you know he's serious. "If that's what you want," you reply with a shrug. "You'd let me?" he questions, peering over his shoulder at you. "I would," you reply. For some reason, you lick your thumb and attempt to wipe some of the dried blood from his cheek. Maybe the sight bothers you, but Micah doesn't seem to mind as he lets you clean him up, his eyes occasionally flicking onto the road. "You wanna give me a kiss when you're done with cleaning me up?" Micah asks with a smirk. "No," you frown, pushing his face away from yours. He laughs as he looks forward, returning his focus back to driving. You and Micah don't speak another word on the short journey back, apart from a "thanks," from you as you slide off Baylock. He drops you on the edge of the forest, letting you walk down the path back into Clemens Point. You manage to sneak back into the camp; the only person who saw you in your state was Charles who simply said "I won't ask," when you gave him a look that said 'please don't.' You feel much better once you've cleaned yourself up and got cozy in bed, though your body aches from fucking in the dirt, and you're almost certain you're going to have bruises around your neck by the time morning is here. But the fresh memory of having hate sex with Micah only seems to arouse you again; just like Micah said, you are sick, just as sick as him. But if this unspoken arrangement is a good way of letting out anger then why not continue it? --------------- It's been a week since your accidental encounter with Micah. He's still not replaced your underwear, nor has he spoken a word to you, but you've picked up on those disgustingly arousing glances he sends you from across the camp. You've been tempted to chew his ear out about not paying you back yet, but he's not been in camp often, and when he has been in camp, it's been during the day and around others. The bastard knows what he's doing, and he definitely knows that you're still angry that he hasn't repaid you yet. You've been assigned guard duty tonight, doing lap after lap around the outskirts of the camp until 3am, which is when you can tap Bill awake and send him on his way to take over. Well, 3am is here and that's exactly what you're doing, prodding Bill awake and handing him the shotgun. You somehow didn't notice that Baylock had appeared amongst the horses, but you do notice that distinct white hat on the edge of camp. Micahs stood on the beach, looking out at the water with his arms crossed, a cigarette between his fingers. Finally, the opportunity to chew his ear off. You stroll over, ensuring nobody else is awake, not wanting to question why you're eagerly approaching the man you despise. "Micah," you greet as you stand next to him. "There she is, just the girl I was looking for," Micah greets you as he exhales his cigarette smoke. "You ain't looking for me, Micah. You're stood here having a smoke," you roll your eyes. "I was hoping I would have fucked that attitude out of you. Seems I ain't fucked you hard enough," he says with a laugh. You peer over your shoulder, reminding yourself that nobody is awake, nor nearby, but you don't want to risk your chances. "We don't talk about that in camp, alright?" you threaten. "Fine, whatever you want," Micah shakes his head as he finishes off his cigarette, flicking it onto the floor and stomping it out. You're about to begin questioning him on your missing underwear but he begins to walk off, heading further along the beach. "Where are you going?" you scowl as you follow him. "Over here so I can sit down. Was gonna ask if you're joining me but it seems you are," he says with a laugh, leaning back against a large boulder. You frown at him but settle beside him, turning your attention to him again. "I only came over here to ask you-" "-s'on your bedroll," Micah tells you. "What?" you question. "That new underwear I promised, I've just placed it on your bedroll whilst you were on guard duty. Plus a little something extra to make up for how long you've waited for it," Micah answers, his eyes fixated on the water. "Hmm..." you ponder, unsure if you believe him. "What? Don't you trust me?" Micah questions as he finally looks over at you. "Not at all," you scowl again. "Well, you'll see that I'm telling the truth sooner or later. Go check now if you want, I don't care," he shrugs. You stare at him again, trying to look for any signs of lying, but he gives you none; his nose doesn't twitch, his eyes stay glued to yours, he doesn't rub the back of his neck. Micah is probably telling the truth, knowing that you'll whack him over the head with a bottle next time you see him if he lies to you. "See, told you I ain't lying," Micah snickers as he looks back out over the water. You don't reply, you just lean back against the rock and turn your attention to the landscape. Your brows remain furrowed, arms loosely crossed, enjoying the sound of the waves lapping against the shore, the moonlight only just providing enough light as you're far enough from camp. A few minutes pass and Micah turns his attention back to you. "Why're you still here?" he bluntly asks. "I ain't sure, I'm going to bed," you shrug. You begin to stand, barely getting off your ass when Micah reaches out and grabs you by the waist, pulling you back down onto his lap with a slight thud. "What do you want?" you snap, picking his hands off your waist in disgust, making him laugh at the sight. "Just wanted to spend some quality time with my favourite camp member," he replies, though you're unsure if he's being sarcastic. "Well, you ain't my favourite," you huff. "Always so feisty towards me, ain'tcha? What's wrong? You still hate me even after you let me fuck you?" Micah questions with a throaty laugh, grinning from ear to ear. "I hate you even more now," you tell him, shuffling about on his lap until you're straddling him, one leg on either side of his hips, your chests almost touching. "That'd explain why you've just got comfortable on my lap rather than walking away," Micah chuckles again, knowing he's damn well in the right. He slips his hat off his head, placing it on the ground beside him, not wanting it to get in the way. You let out a sigh as you roll your eyes. "Ain't I allowed to just take some attention from you, Micah?" you question, batting your lashes and removing the frown from your face. "You're allowed to take whatever you want from me, s'long as I get something in return," Micah tells you as he wraps his arms loosely around your waist. "So it's agreed? That we'll just... enjoy this pity sex? But only because it lets off some steam," you place the offer down, finally trying to decide on this agreement. "It is agreed, sweetheart. You can call it pity sex or whatever else you want, but maybe I'll just fuck you so good that you'll end up likin' me?" Micah chuckles, pulling you onto his lap more as he speaks to you in a husk tone. "I ain't your sweetheart and I ain't ever gonna like you, Micah Bell," you spit. "Sure you ain't," he grins. So, this is what it's come to. You're sleeping with the enemy, pity fucking the man you hate the most, allowing him to pry into your private life and between your legs just for a little bit of satisfaction. Do you care? No. Should you care? Probably. But you're getting pleasure, finally, after waiting for so long. The gang is always on the move, running from the law and whoever else is chasing you, depending on where you are and who you've pissed off. You've flirted with other gang members before but it's never escalated anywhere, so if sleeping with Micah means you'll finally stop humping your pillow every night then why not? And maybe you can fuck some sense into him, maybe a bit of kindness of basic respect? You doubt it, but it'd be nice. A life where Micah isn't chaotic would be perfect, or one where he entirely didn't exist. But this is the way the world currently is, so you'll just have to make do with what you've got. You're still going to bark back at him whenever he kicks up a fuss in camp. If anything, you're eager to put him in his place. Maybe you can punish him every time he steps out of line? Maybe this... enemies with benefits, or whatever you want to call it, could whip Micah into shape and prevent him from being such an annoyance towards everyone. Probably not, but you can still hope. Micah tightens his grip around your waist as he lets out a pleasing hum, tugging you down to his level so he can kiss you. You're reluctant as his moustache was so irritating last time, but to your surprise, Micah has trimmed it to prevent the irritation, his 'stache brushing against your upper lip rather than prickling it. Micahs kisses are a lot more tender this time, not covered in blood and heavy breathing, not battling for dominance whilst both your minds are hazy from all that choking. Micah moves one hand up to entangle his fingers in your hair, cupping the back of your head. Your lips soon slide open, your tongue greeting Micahs. He bites your bottom lip softly, letting the skin slowly slip from his grasp before kissing you again, earning himself a soft moan as you shuffle onto his lap more. Things are slowly turning heated, Micahs kisses getting sloppier yet firmer by the second, drawing more moans and whimpers from your lips as he continues to make out with you. You pray that nobody has woken up, not wanting them to see... this. How would you attempt to explain this? Could you say you tripped and fell into Micah after not seeing him sat there, and you'd just accidentally kissed him on the way down? Could you say this way a new way of fighting, to show him what he's missing out on if he'd just be a good boy? Yeah, those excuses are rubbish. But you're sure you'd hear anyone approaching, not unless they're stealthy. Micah moves his hands to your chest, unbuttoning your shirt, stopping at your lower ribs. He breaks the kiss so he can pull your shirt open, cupping each of your breasts and leaning his head into them. His mouth latches onto one of your nipples, sucking at it surprisingly gently, flicking his tongue over the nub, tenderly kissing it. His hand massages them, kneading them softly. Micah moves onto your other nipple, repeating the process, sucking on your tits as he lets out a satisfying hum. "I ain't sure what my favourite part of you is, these things, or that nasty bite of yours," Micah says with a soft laugh between kisses. "Oh, you have such a way with words," you roll your eyes. "You know, I think we'd get along much better if you'd just tease me with these things in camp," Micah replies, returning his focus to your breasts. "I'll remember that in the future," you say, making a mental note. Maybe you could find a way to manipulate him? Using your womanly charm to tame this beast? It's a push but it's worth a try. He continues to suck at them, making your arousal grow, and you know he's getting aroused as you can feel it pressed against your thigh. Micah moves off your breasts and gently pulls your head down, enjoying another kiss, still tender, not the style you expected a man such as Micah to have. Micah breaks the kiss, urging you off him. "Now, come on. Before I start thinkin' with my dick and fuck you right in the middle of camp. But you'd like that, wouldn't you, you whore?" he questions, buttoning up your shirt for you. "You admit to thinking with your dick, yet I'm the whore?" you smirk, pointing out the flaw to his logic. "Real smart, ain'tcha girl?" Micah mocks, shooing you off his lap once your shirt is fastened. Micah stands first, pulling you up afterward. His hand lingers for a little too long in yours, though you don't move your hand away either. He begins walking with you back to camp, readjusting his hat as he walks. Micah dips before you approach camp, not wanting to risk anybody latching onto your agreement. Thankfully, nobody is awake, but you head straight to your tent anyway. You fasten the tent flaps behind you, lighting your lantern, and begin getting ready for bed. You notice the tailor box on your cot and open it up, revealing the replacement underwear, as well as the 'little something extra' that Micah had promised you. It's a full set of lingerie, an expensive-looking set too, a frilly white chemise, corset, and stockings. The chemise is definitely that short for a reason; you wonder what Micah's planning, though he did say that he wanted to cut it off you. You hope to at least get some use out of it before he does that.

94 notes · View notes

beclynn-herondale · 4 years

Text

In Another Universe: Chapter 9 - The Greenhouse part 2

(characters, tsc, and tmi belong to Cassandra Clare, it's also similar to the original)

After Hodge had fixed Jayce and Simone up, Jayce went off to shower and mysteriously disappeared. Isidore was sitting in his bedroom throwing knives at a target he had in there, when someone knocked on his door. He got up with a sigh, walked over and opened, there was his big sister, looking angry and upset, she tried her best to hide her emotions but so often they were written plain on her face.

"Can I come in?" she asked. He gestured her inside, it was often she did this, usually when Jayce made her upset, unfortunately Jayce made her upset quite often these days. "What's up?" he asked. "Jayce is nowhere to be found, I think she's avoiding us." "Of course she's avoiding us, we both have been picking arguments with her and you know when she gets into these moods, she doesn't like to argue with anyone, well not really."

"I did something stupid, and if she finds out she'll hate me." "Oh?" "I— I slammed Clar against a wall and may have threatened him." Isidore let out a whistle. "Why?" "He knows about me." "I know." "Wait, you knew that he knew?"

"Yeah, he figured it out but I made him promise not to tell anyone." "Well he did, he told me. I want him to leave, to go away and never come back." "Me too, but we're stuck with him for now," he said. "So do what I do my dear sister and throw knives at your walls while pretending it has the face of your arch enemy." "Why are you like this?" He shrugged

They sat in silence for some time. "Hey, Alec?" "Yeah?" "What do you think will happen with Clar when mom and dad get back?". "I don't know," said Alec. "I suppose if he asks for a place to stay, they would have to let him, since he's a Shadowhunter and it would be technically against the law to turn him away."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. So I guess we're stuck with him." "Yeah," she said bitterly. "Maybe he'll grow on us." "Maybe not." "Well, for now we gotta put up with him," he said. "I am tired, so unless you plan to sleep on my floor, cause I do not intend to share my bed, you should go to your own bed and try to sleep a little." "Yeah," she said half heartedly. "Give Jayce time, let her cool off from everything that happened." "You're probably right." "Of course I am," he said, and winked at her.

——————

Jayce opened the door, she took in the familiar smell of the plants, the smell of earth and the sweet smell of the flowers. She looked behind her and saw a look of awe on Clar's face. "Wow," he said, very slowly. "It's so... So beautiful at night." She grinned at him. "And we have it to ourselves. Alec and Iz don't dare coming here, they have allergies."

"What kind of flowers are these?" asked Clar, pointing at one of the shrubs. She shrugged and sat down. "I don't know. Do you think I pay attention in botany class? I am not going to be an archivist. I do not need to learn these things." she may have been slightly lying about not paying attention in botany class. "You just need to have all the knowledge of killing things?" She smiled at him again. "Exactly right," she said as she pulled a napkin wrapped sandwich out if the paper bag. "I also happen to make a badass cheese sandwich. Here ya go." She handed it to him. He smiled at her and sat down across from her.

Jayce pulled some apples, a chocolate bar that had nuts and fruit in it, and a bottle of water out of the bag as well. "Not bad," said Clar admiringly. She pulled her bone-handled knife out of her pocket, Alec had given it to her forever ago. She picked up one of the apples and started carving them into eighths. "It may not be birthday cake," she said, handing him slice. "But hopefully it is at least better than nothing at all.". "I was expecting nothing, so thank you." he said and took bite of the apple piece.

"Everyone should get something on their birthday," she said as she started peeling another apple. "Birthdays are special. My birthday was the one day of the year my father said I could do or have anything I wanted to." "Anything?" he asked with a laugh, his laugh was different from other's laughs. "What kind of anything are we talking here?"

"Well, when I was five, I asked if I could take a spaghetti bath.". "He said no, right?" "No, that's the thing. He let me, he said it wasn't expensive, if that was what I wanted? He had servants fill a bath with boiling water and spaghetti noodles, and after it cooled down enough. . ." she gave a shrug. "I took a bath in it."

"And how was that?'. "Very slippery.". "I am sure." He looked to be in thought for a moment. "Did you ask for anything else?". "Weapons, pretty much," she answered. "Which probably isn't a surprise. Books. I read many books on my own.'. "You didn't go to school?" They were heading to a topic she did not want to venture down. "No," she said slowly.

"But what about friends—" "I didn't have any," she said. "It didn't matter, it had always just been me and my father. He was all I ever needed.". "None at all?" She met his eyes with a steady look. "When I first met Alec," she said. "I was ten years old, that was the first time I'd ever met another person my age. She was the first friend I ever had."

He looked down now. He looked sad and sorry for her. "Don't feel sorry for me," she said. "He gave me the best training, the best education. He took me to see all kinds of places. London. Saints Petersburg. Egypt. We traveled a lot. I've barely left New York at all since he died.". "You're so lucky," Clar said. "I've never left New York. My mom wouldn't even let me go on field trips. I suppose I know why now, though.". "She was probably afraid you'd freak? And start seeing demons in museums?.". "Are there demons in museums?". "I was just kidding," she said and gave him a shurg. "If there were, I am sure someone would have mentioned it."

"I think she just didn't want me to be too far away from her. She changed after my dad died." Jayce raised her eyebrow at him. "Do you remember your father, at all?". "No. He died before I was born.". "You're lucky," she said, she could hear the loneliness in her own voice. "You don't have to miss him, I mean.". "Does it ever go away?" he asked. "Missing your father, I mean?" She didn't answer him, but no it didn't. "You thinking about your mother?". "No. I was thinking about Luke.". "That's not actually his name though," she said and took a bite of apple. "I have actually thought about him. His behavior just doesn't add—". "He's acting like a coward," said Clar bitterly. "You were there, you heard what he said. He won't go against Valentine. Not even if it's for my mother."

"I don't think that's exactly—" The bells started ringing. "Midnight," said Jayce, she set her knife down and got to her feet, she held her hand out to help him up. "Watch." She could feel Clar beside her, but she didn't look at him. She stared at the medianox flowers. She didn't know why she didn't look at him. She recalled the first she had ever saw the flowers bloom. Hodge had woken her, Alec and Iz up at midnight to watch them bloom. She was in the middle between Alec and Iz. The flowers usually only grew in Idris.

She remembered catching her breath at the surprise and beauty of the flower. Alec and Isidore had not had the same reaction, Alec had never been a night person and had fallen asleep against Isidore's shoulder. and Isidore lost interest after he found out it had no lethal uses. She worried perhaps, Clar would be the same: find them interesting, perhaps pleased. But not be enchanted by them.

She wanted him to feel the way she had about the flowers. But she couldn't say why exactly. Then she heard him say a soft "Oh!" As the flower bloomed, opening up, and shimmering with it's golden pollen. "Do the flowers bloom every night?" "Yes, but only at midnight."

She felt relief wash over her. And looked at him, his eyes shining, his fingers flexing unconsciously, they did this she had started to notice when he wished he had his sketchpad, when he wanted to capture an image. She wished she could see the world as he did: see the world as a canvas to be painted. And at the moments when he looks at her that way, as of he were taking her apart, piece by piece to be separated and painted. Almost an emotionless analysis of her — she caught herself on the verge of blushing. Such a strange feeling, so strange she almost didn't know it. Because, Jayce Wayland did not blush.

"Happy birthday, Clarus Fray," she said. He smiled at her. "I got something for you," she said and fumbled slightly reaching for her pocket, he didn't seem to notice though. She pressed the witchlight into his hand, and she was conscious of his hands, Artist hands, delicate but strong, he had calluses from holding paint brushes for hours, he had slight paint stains on his hands. And she wondered did his pulse speed up as well when they touched.

She supposed not, because he drew away quickly, looking at the runestone curiously. "You know when someone says they want a big rock they don't mean literally a big rock." That surprised a smile out of her. Which was odd in of itself, usually only Alec or Iz could surprise amusement out of her. She knew Clar had been brave since she first met him, going after Isidore into a closet unharmed like that took guts. But that he made her laugh was still a surprise.

"Very funny, my sarcastic friend. It's not a rock, exactly. Every Shadowhunter has a witchlight stone.". "Oh." He looked at it with a new curiousity in his eyes. He closed his hands around. "It will bring you light always, even among the darkest of worlds." That was what her father had told her when he had given her first witchlight runestone to her. What other worlds? She had asked, Her father only laughed though. There are more worlds a breath away this one than there were grains of sand on a beach, he had told her. She sometimes wondered about those other Jayces in those worlds, were they happy? Were they sad? Were they dead or alive? Was she by chance so different in one that she could be a boy? Would his name be Jace? And did they wonder about her? Were their parents alive?

Clar smiled again and made a joke about birthday presents. "thank you, it was nice for you to give me anything," he said. "Much better than a spaghetti bath.". "If you share that personal information with anyone, i may have to kill you." she said darkly. "Ok, well, when I was five, I wanted to go inside the clothes dryer and spin round and round," he said. "The only difference is, she said no.'. No"Probably because getting inside a dryer to spin around is very fatal," she pointed out. "But pasta is rarely fatal. Unless Isidore were to make it."

She saw the petals were shedding now. "Then when I was twelve, I wanted to get a tattoo" he said. A strand of hair fell into his eye and like the afternoon he had fallen asleep she wanted to push it away but fought the urge. "Well, usually most Shadowhunters get their first marks at twelve. Maybe it was just in your nature.". "Maybe. But I don't think many Shadowhunters want to get a tattoo of Dontello from teenage mutant ninja turtles on their left shoulder." He had that fond look on his face that he had when talking about something she couldn't quite understand but interested her. It sent a spark through her veins. A kind of fear, but what fear? That he would one day go back to the mundane world and leave her behind in her world of hunters and demons, battles and scars, and do it gratefully?

"You wanted to get a turtle on your shoulder?" He gave her a nod. "I wanted to cover this scar on my shoulder that I got from chicken pox." He pulled his shirt up to show her, there was a scar, it reminded her of something but she wasn't sure what. But she saw more than the scar, she saw the freckles that he had on his back, his shoulder blades. She took the moment to see his eyelashes that were a coppery color, his red curls like fire, the curve of his lips. Some kind of desire swept over her, one she had never felt before, she had desired people in a certain way before, but never in this way. Not in a way that cut through her like fire, and left an almost nervous tremble in her hands.

She looked away and shook her head slightly. "We should probably go back down stairs." He gave her a curious look, his green eyes on her like he could see through her. "Have you and Isidore ever dated?" Her heart still beating too fast. "Isidore?" she echoed. She thought, what does Isidore have to do with this? Why mention him? "Simone was curious," he said, and she disliked the way her name sounded as he spoke it. She had never felt this way before: never anything that could unnerve her like Clar did. She remembered that day back at the coffee shop when she wanted to lead him away into her world, away from the dark haired friend of his, lead him away into her world of shadows. She had a feeling even then he belonged where she did, not with mundanes who did not know the full truth of the world.

This boy right her and his green eyes that pinned her to the wall like a butterfly, was real, so very real. He pierced the distance she had put up so carefully to keep others away. "No, the answer is no. Maybe a time the thought crossed our minds but we're like siblings so it would be weird." "So you and him have never—" "Never," she said. "He hates me, you know." "No, he doesn't," she said, wanting to laugh like a sibling would, knowing their other sibling so well that you knew when they were frustrated. "You just make him nervous, he's always been the only boy in the crowd of our group, getting the attention and now he isn't." It was true, Isidore being the only son the Lightwoods had, was always adored and he got used to it.

"But why? He's so beautiful, and talented, what would I make him nervous about?" "You are too," she said automatically, it surprised herself. His face changed, but she couldn't read it. She had told people they were beautiful before but it was always calculated. This was not, this time she wanted to go to the training room and throw knife after knife at targets, wanted to kick and punch until she was exhausted and bloody. This boy making her this way.

He looked at her not saying anything. Ah, the training room it is. "We should go down stairs," she said again. "Okay." She couldn't read his voice either, she was usually good at reading people but her ability to do so has apparently deserted her and she doesn't know why.

They started to make their way out when she saw something flash a light and Clar backed up bumping into her slightly, he turned around to her and the next thing she knew she was throwing her arms around him to pull him down and kiss him, she was kissing him. She was shocked by herself, she didn't work this way, she always had control over her body. It was an instrument, like the piano. It didn't move without her permission, never. Here she was though, running her hands through his hair and kissing him hard, she ran her hands along his arms. He wrapped his arms around around her and leaned down a little, he ran a hand through her hair, then ran his hand down her back, he smelled like citrus, she tasted the apple on his lips, somewhere for a moment she lost herself. Understanding now why kisses were described the way they were in the books. She was slightly unsteady and she clung to him, he held her weight. She remembered the first time she saw the midnight flower, and thought it was something beautiful that belonged in the world.

She heard a rush of wind, and drew back from Clar, to see Hugo watching them. She still had her arms around him and they were still leaning on each other. His eyes were half closed still. "Don't freak, but I think someone is watching us," she whispered to him. "If Hugo is here that means Hodge is not far behind him. We need to go" He opened his eyes all the way, and looked amused. Shouldn't he be more flustered after that kiss? But he was just grinning. He wanted to know if Hodge had been spying on them and she assured him no, but she felt his laughter through their joined hands and didn't remember how that had happened.

They made their way downstairs. And as they did, hands still interlocked, she understood why people held hands, she had always thought it was something like saying this is mine. But it wasn't like that at all. It was speaking without using words and saying I want here with me and don't go. Suddenly she wanted him in her bedroom, not in that way — nobody she had ever been with had been in her bedroom. It was her safe space, it was special to her, her sanctuary. But she wanted Clar there. She wanted him to see her for who she really was, not the image she put on for the world. She wanted to lay in bed with him and just be snuggled up together. Wanted to watch him sleep and breathe softly. She wanted to see him and have him see her. So even when they got to his bedroom door, and he thanked her for the night again, she hadn't let go of his hand.

"Are you going to bed?" she asked. He looked down at her. "Aren't you tired?" She felt different now. "I have never been more awake." She stepped up on her tiptoes, pulling him down a bit to give a light brush of lips.

Then at that moment Simone flung the door open and came out into the hallway. Clar pulled away from Jayce hastily, and turned his head to the side looking at Simone. She felt a sharp pain, like ripping a bandage off. Simone was saying a bunch of angry words. And Jayce thought back to all the times that she'd been kissing someone in a club against the wall or in a alley behind a bar. And their significant other or the person who thought there was a chance staring at them like someone had ripped their heart out. Jayce had always felt sorry for them, but in a distant way, like in the plays when they were acting out a heartbreak scene.

But now as she looked at Simone she realized she would never have to wonder what it felt like again. Because the look of regret on Clar's face as he looked to Simone, made her realize Simone wasn't the one going to get her heart broken and shattered to pieces. It was Jayce.

Oh, Jayce what have you done now, she thought.

——————

Clar stared at Simone with regret, he knew what was going to happen, something else was going to blow up, and so much had blown up today. He was going to hurt and piss off more people and he had already done that in these last 24 hours as well, he wished he could disappear.

"What the fuck!" said Simone. "Simone! I— I mean I thought that you were—" "Sleeping?" she flushed with anger. "I was asleep, but then I woke up and you weren't there."

He didn't know what to say, he should have known something along the lines of this would happen. He wondered why he hadn't asked to go to Jayce's room, and the thought of that made him blush and want to kick himself more. But the worst part is that he hadn't thought of it because he had forgotten about Simone.

"I am sorry," he said, though not sure who he was apologizing to or for what.

He looked at Jayce from the corner of his eye and thought she looked angry for a moment but he looked again and she looked as she always did: composed, confident, easy, a little bored.

"In the future, Clarus," she said. "It may be a wise decision, to mention you already have someone in your bed, we could avoid situations such as this one.". "You asked her to bed?" asked Simone looking shocked. "Simply ridiculous, right?" said Jayce. "There's no way we could all have fit.". "I didn't ask her to bed," he snapped. "It was just kissing." "Just kissing?" said Jayce mockingly. "How quickly you dismiss our love.". "Jayce. . ."

He saw the malice in her eyes as she trailed off. "I'm sorry we woke you." "Me too," she said and went back into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Jayce had a bland smile on her face. "Go after her and tell her how she's your special girl. Isn't that what you always do?". "Would you stop that," he said. "Stop being like this." She widened her smile. "Like what exactly?". "If you're upset, just say it. Don't act like nothing touches you. You seem like you never feel anything at all.". "Maybe," she said. "You should have thought of that before you kissed me." He couldn't believe she just said that. "I kissed you?" She looked at him with malice. "It wasn't that great for me either, don't worry," she said.

She walked off and Clar wanted to run after her, mostly to shake her and ask why she is like this. But he knew that would fill her with satisfaction, so he didn't, instead he went back into his room.

Simone was in the middle of his room, she looked to be lost. He heard Jayce's words replay nastily in his head. He stepped forward but stopped when. He saw what she was holding. His sketchpad, she had it opened to the drawing he had done of Jayce early.

"Nice drawing," she said. "All those art classes are paying off, I see." Usually Clar would be going off on someone who was looking at his sketchpad without his permission but it wasn't the time right now. "Look, Simone—" "I know how pathetic I look going off to sulk in your room," she interrupted as she threw the sketchpad on his bed. "But i needed to get my stuff."

"Are you going?" he asked "Yes. I've overstayed here. and besides, mundanes really don't belong here, anyway." He let out a frustrated sigh. "I wasn't planning on kissing her, ok? It just happened. I know how much you don't like her.". "That's where you're wrong," she said. "I don't like flat soda. I don't like traffic. I don't like terrible boy band pop. I don't like math. I hate Jayce. There's a difference, see?". "She saved your life, you know," he said but felt terrible for it, because she did it so she wouldn't get in trouble with the clave if either of them got killed.

"Slight details," she said dismissing it. "She's an ass, like those girls in highschool we always avoided, because they thought they were so much better than everyone else. I just thought you were better than actually hooking up with one of them."

Something about that made his temper rise. "Oh, yeah. You're sure on a high horse," he snapped at her. "Talking about going to ask the guy with the best abs to the fall fling." He mocked Erica's tone. Simone's mouth thinned. "So what if she's a jerk at times? It's not like you're my mother or sister, you don't need to like her. I've never liked anyone you dated, but at least I was nice enough to keep it to myself."

"This is different," she said. "How, Simone? How is this in any way different?". "Because I see how you look at her!" she yelled. "I never looked at anyone I dated like that! It was something to do while I waited—'. "For what? Waited for what exactly?" They had never fought like this, all their fights were always about who hate the last cookie or which anime character was better. But he didn't stop, and wanted to again kick himself. "For when Isidore came along? You're lecturing me on Jayce when you have been mooning over him like a foo!' he realized he yelled it.

"I was trying to make you jealous!" she yelled back. "Sometimes you are so stupid, Clar. you can't even see what's in front of you." He just stared, what did she mean by that? "Make me jealous? But why?" He saw the look on her face and realized that was the last thing he should have asked. Bitterly she said. "Because, I've been in love you for the last ten years. I thought maybe I should see if you felt the same. But I have my answer now."

She might as well have punched him. He searched for a response but couldn't find one. "Don't even try. There are no words for you to say," she said sharply. He watched her walk away not being able to move, as if he were paralyzed. What was he supposed to say "I love you, as well"? But he didn't. right? She paused at the door for a moment to say. "You want to know what else my mom said about you?" He shook his head, but either she didn't see it or ignored it. "She said you were going to break my heart."

She left, the door shut behind her, and Clar was alone with everything that had happened in such a short amount of time.

Everyone hates him, he thought. He wanted Joan to be here so bad, at least she wouldn't hate him.

Tag list: @khaleesiofalicante @chibi-tsukiko @spotsandclawsthings @megs-readstoomuch @replayfootsteps @magnus-the-maqnificent @jazzkaurtheglorious @simply-ellas-stuff @bookfast-at-tiffanys @my-archerboy

28 notes · View notes

hausofackerman · 3 years

Text

Hunter x Reader

Summary: You are a Jedi general who has been sent to her home world to try to convince the king to not join the separatists. You where assigned to clone force 99 and some troops. After two months of working together certain feelings for the Sarge start to bloom. But those feelings have to wait. When find out the king has decided to join the wrong side. The Council orders you to take out as many refugees as you can. Just when you tought the victory was yours a whole company ambushes and the bad batch you as you prepare the retreat.

Pairing: Hunter x Fem!jedi Reader

Warnings: Angst maybe (idk if that's how i would call it) Y / N being attacked, fisical violence against the protagonist.

Word count: 2.5k

Disclaimer: Yes, this one shot based off an Outlander episode. But I adaptated it.

‘I will let your men go, if you but come with me.” the soldier’s voice stopped your next move. You still wielded your lightsaber at shoulder height protecting you and the squad behind you.

“Why do you need me?” you tried to sound as confident and firm as you could.

“The captain might want to share a few words with you.” this strange soldier still had the steady face he had placed since the beginning.

You let out a sigh, and backed down a little. “You give me your word? That you will let them go?

“I promise. We only want you.”

You turned to see the batch for a second, Hunter was the only one with his helmet off and he was looking at you with such a concern in his eyes you have rarely seen before.

“Fine” you extinguished the lightsaber. “I’ll go.”

“No, wait” Hunter finally stepped in and placed himself in front of you. “If you go, I’ll go to.” thankfully he understood that refusing the deal wasn’t an option since they would let the Republic troops go willingly. And take the refugees out of the planet.

Once again, the soldier let out a defeated sigh and agreed. “Only you?” he asked tiredly.

Hunter thought about out for a brief second and then call to Wrecker to come along.

“Great. Now can we go?” the soldier’s tone was starting to sound rude.

Before anything else happened, you run to Tech and handed over your lightsaber. “Take care of this, please. I don’t want their hands on it.”

“I'll keep it safe” he said while taking it.

You glanced at Crosshair and notice the killing gaze in his eyes, you nodded trying to communicate him that everything would be fine. He nodded back even though you knew he didn’t believe you.

“Let's go.” you shouted to the soldier and the three of you start walking behind his company. Hunter took a quick look at you but you were so immersed into your thoughts that you didn’t even notice.

You were questioning yourself what would happen next. And if you should have stopped the guys from coming; after all, your people were known for their hatred towards the clones. And now you did not involve one, but two of them with the royal army.

Your hands were shaking by just thinking about it.

Funny thing it was that for the very first time you were completely surrounded by your own kin, still you could not feel less comfortable. You were scared and worried about your troops. At least you had achieved your goal's mission and all the refugees were getting out of here safe.

Hopefully.

Everything depended on whether your kin’s promise to the enemy was worth something.

“Hey” Hunter’s voice attracted your attention as a lifeguard in the middle of an ocean, where you couldn’t swim. “Look” he said gently while pointing at the ships taking off and slowly disappearing into the atmosphere.

You felt like you finally were able to breath, the mission was complete now. All that was left, was to survive to your probably-upcoming interrogatory. You didn’t miss the fact that only four of the ships that have come with you took off. One had been lost while merely arriving and the other missing one was the Havoc Marauder. Your way out.

Oh, the way you were going to hug Tech if you managed to get out of here in one piece.

A little smirk appeared in your face at the thought. Hunter noticed it and relaxed a little. Yet his right hand still danced around the knife case in the opposite hand.

As you walked into the town where you were supposed to meet the captain the smirk faded quickly, in other circumstances you would have admired every single detail, the buildings, the decorations the people. Your culture.

But right now, your mind was busy still thinking about keeping alive the two men that were with you.

You knew they were perfectly capable to defend themselves. But you knew too, that they would do absolutely anything to keep you alive. And that was the thought that kept you away from enjoying the ride.

After a few minutes of walking through the crowded streets the soldier –whose name you still didn’t know- stopped in front of a tall and grey building, it must have had at least six floors, and for that planet, that was too much.

He dismissed his men and invited, Hunter, Wrecker and you inside.

Once in, you went up the stairs for what seemed like three floors that led you to a big and fancy door which the soldier opened and got in after asking you to wait a bit.

You took advantage of the time that the soldier gave you to make some things clear for the team.

“Okay listen to me.” Hunter’s and Wrecker’s eyes where now on you waiting for your upcoming words. “It doesn’t matter what happen, if the things get bad for you, I want you out of here before someone has a chance of shooting.”

“Do you realize what you are asking us?” the Sarge’s voice was coming out moderate, as if suppressing the urge to scream.

“Yeah, that’s not how we make the things... General.” Wrecker grunted, quickly remembering who he was addressing.

“If anything goes wrong, there are less chances that they would kill me. At the end of the day, I’m one of them. You on the other hand...” there was no need for you to finish your argument, the three of you knew exactly what you were talking about. Besides before you could, the soldier stepped out of the door asking you to come in.

“General, we can’t...” Hunter’s hand grabbed yours in a last attempt to make you change your mind. An unsuccessful attempt.

“Sargeant,” your voice cracked as you let out your last words to him before getting in the room. “Don’t make me make my request an order.”

He finally let go and you walked away from them while listening to the Wrecker’s complains.

You were not going to lie to yourself, you hated to take that kind of position with the batchers, especially with Hunter, but you were not letting them risk their life in a reckless way. You couldn’t. Why? Where you being selfish? The jedi needed you, your service. And you kept putting your men’s life first. And you were not going to change that. And less if it was about Hunter.

“Ah a jedi General.” a man with the same long purple robe as the soldier you already knew, received you with an energetic grin. “You have no idea how much I was looking forward to meet you.” the captain you deduced. You’ve heard from him before. A lot, actually. One of the most feared kings' men in the entire planet. There we’re rumors that he had played a big role in the decision to join the separatists.

“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t say the same about you.” you tried not to sound aggressive, but your last words to Hunter didn’t get you in the right mood.

“Of course, not you exactly, one of you.” His voice was raspy and deep but you didn't let him intimidate you. His way of talking, on the other hand, was very curious, he had a noticeable accent. And you wondered for a second: if you had never been taken to temple, would you speak in the same way? “Please take a seat, I have some questions you may want to help me to answer.”

You did as he told you and take a seat in front of him, at the other side of the long table. And so, he did.

You didn’t take any time to examine the room you had entered. First mistake.

It only had one window that faced the left side of the table, and in consequence your left side. Behind you a little bookshelf adorned the wall and besides it another young, shaky, soldier stood guard. The look on his face was stupid and scared, so you didn't pay him much attention.

On the right side a big display case, which stored different types of bottles, occupied all the space from the wall to the door.

One way in and one way out. You resumed.

“As far as I know, you honor your word and let my men leave your planet. So, I will be happy to answer the questions I can.” you state trying to set the terrain for a friendly exchange.

“Good.” the captain still conserved that grin. “Perhaps I should start with...” He stroked his chin thoughtfully, but to your eyes he didn't seem genuine. The question had been on his mind since you entered the room. “The fact that you, one of our kin, are helping this republican scum, to conquer us, again.” It wasn’t the statement what scared you, but the calmed and serene tone that remained at his voice.

“Excuse me?” you shoot back quickly. “That is completely out-”

“Let’s promise to tell the truth, okay?” this man didn’t seem completely sane to you, so you proceed carefully.

“Listen, sir. I am a jedi. My alliegance doesn’t bow to this planet nor it’s government. If that’s what you are implying.”

“Oh, but the problem here it’s that I don’t believe your little jedi portrayal, you don’t trick me.” The captain had left his seat and now was coming closer to you.

“And I look more like a civilian to you.” you mocked him because if you both were honest you didn’t. And you put all your faith in that argument. You cursed down your breath for not bringing your lightsaber. What on earth were you thinking!? With it you could've been able to change his mind about you being a jedi, one way or another

“Of course not.” he granted “You look more like a spy to me.” and there you had enough. The fact that this captain had only summoned you so he could start pointing and blaming at you for nonsense –and very quickly, truth to be told- was freaking you out.

“Look, Captain” you tried to pull out your most charming smile. “As much as I would like to continue playing the trivia game with you, I have responsibilities to attend. So as you have no excuse for keeping me here, I would like to-”

“Please don’t get up” his grin finally disappeared “You promised to cooperate.”

“That was before you started taking me as a traitor.”

“And you aren’t a traitor?”

“No more than you are for handing over your homeworld to the wrong side.” you didn’t notice but you were screaming.

The captain sighed and then giggled. As he leaned against the table. “You are really making me regret to have let your men go” He stood right and started to roll up his sleeves.

You didn't know if it was the fear or the sudden reminder that Hunter and Wrecker were still outside but it was like if you were glued to the chair.

“Corporal Keeps” he called out for the soldier behind you without taking his gaze out of you. “I'm going to need your collaboration for a moment here.”

The order, of course got you scared instantly, so you stood up from your seat and as soon as you turned to get out of the room, a big fist collide with your stomach, taking all of the air out of you. You could not make any sound for all trace of your breath had disappeared. You sat on the floor, bent in two, trying to recover the air. You were completely shocked, not because of the pain that was becoming more and more present, but because the blow had taken you completely off guard.

The captain came over and grab you by the hair, lifting your head so your gaze met his. “So? Ready to confess that you're a spy?”

If you would've had a little more air inside you, you would have probably spit on his face. But you were still under the effects of the punch so you simply put the head back down.

“Okay then.” he stood on his feet and called for the Keeps soldier. “Corporal. Have you ever kicked a woman?” If the soldier was shaky when you entered the room, he now looked like if a damn earthquake had taken over him. He stared at the captain with his jaw shaking more than any other body part.

“Captain I-I” the corporal managed to say.

“Do it, please.” the captain commanded.

With a grimace on his face and eyes closed he barely moved his feet against you, yet it didn’t hurt you let out a small moan, you hadn't been able to get enough air back yet.

“Come on, you can do it better.” the captain stood there, merely staring at your agony.

This time this corporal kicked you like a real soldier. And it hurt like hell. You were barely gaining enough strength to move, but with that strike you were out of your senses again.

“Again.” the captain ordered.

You closed your eyes getting ready for the corporal to fulfil the order, which you were sure would leave you unconscious.

But before he could go any further the door was slammed open and Hunter and Wrecker entered with the guns drawn.

Wrecker quickly got closer to the corporal and without saying a word made him stand back and run to hide behind the captain.

“I don’t recall requesting your presence, clones.” the captain said calmly.

“Up you come, General. You're done here.” Hunter said as he put your arm around your neck helping you up.

Meanwhile four more soldiers enter the room trough the already-opened door.

“Hold! We didn’t come here to fight. You tell your men here to step aside before I lose my temper.” dropped the Sarge addressing to the captain. Meanwhile Wrecker put his helmet back on ready to strike.

“You have no right to that woman, not while she’s being questioned by one of her kin.” answered the captain as if he was holding back a big laughter.

“She is a General of the Grand Army of the Republic.”

“She’s a native subject first.” the captain barked. And if you weren’t so dizzy and hanging over Hunter you would have punched him so hard, he would not talk like that ever in his life again.

“She was brought here under the protection of a war bargain.” Hunter started moving with Wrecker behind him.

“And I’m afraid that she didn’t honored her part of the bargain. She didn’t answer my questions.” this man was completely crazy.

“And she won’t, unless you want to be in the middle of a siege to this territory in less than an hour.” Hunter’s words shut the captain up and with a move of his hand, the soldier stepped aside and let the three of you get out of the room.

Once out, Hunter put a hand under your legs and the other one under your back carrying your whole-body up, you rolled your arms around his neck still feeling your stomach aching.

“I believed I asked you to do something.” you hissed.

“I’m sorry, General. But you should have given the order.” Hunter answered endearingly. “But I guess it wouldn’t have helped a lot. There is no way we’re leaving you behind."

#sergeant hunter #sergeant hunter x you #hunter #sergeant hunter x reader #hunter x reader #hunter one shot #hunter bad batch #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #hunter tbb #tbb #star wars tbb #bad batch x reader

17 notes · View notes

scrtxai · 4 years

Text

BOKURA NO MONOGATARI (BLACKPINK X FEMALE READER)

Blackpink members : Roseanne Park x Fem reader

Genre: Angst, Hanahaki Au, Adapted from Anonymous by Kaito (Vocaloid)

Grammar mistakes ahead

_____________________________________________

STORY #1: ANONYMOUS

credit to the owner

I'm on my knees, getting the papers that scattered on the floor. It's not just a paper...

I was standing alone in the room, papers everywhere and still waiting for someone.

It was a letter from me to her

My crush...

Roseanne Park

I knew she never notice my existant. I'm just an anonymous. An anonymous fell in love with a blonde tall girl. The popular girl in my school but I'm scared that she will say I'm such a creep if she knows that I'm watching her from a far.

As I trying to get the letter, the wind gushing making the letter fly away and getting myself struggle until my body on the floor with huffed comes out from my mouth, annoyed with wind.

After done I collected all the letters...

My final letters...

I take my coat and scarf, get ready to send all of these letters to her. I walk to the park beside Han river, the leaves started to fall knowing this month will be in autumn season. The wind became a bit cold and I looking around, taking a chance for the last time I saw all of this beautiful environment.

But she is more beautiful than this...

I walk again and I remember how joyful she is here, enjoying the beauty scenery of Han river with her best friend. I decided to put my first letter on the branch then I walk away.

I went to the playground, sitting on the playground swing alone. This is the place where the first time I saw her. The first eyesights of hers which make my heart started to fluttered. The playground swing also her favourite place she likes to play. I sigh as I knew she is barely here. I had waiting for her about years but she never notice about me. I get up from the swing and put my second letter at the chain, tying it up and leave the playground.

I was standing alone on the pedestrian bridge. This is the place where Rosé loves enjoying the beautiful scenery of the house and the vehicles passing by below her. The pedestrian bridge were above the road and she loves to watching it without knowing the reasons why.

I coughing badly as the disease taking over me once again and yes I forgot to say something... But I don't want to tell it. I ignore something in my hand and make it fly away. I make the paper plane and the wind hitting my pale face, the cold makes my muscle face numb and a bit pain. My hair waving and I think it's a good time to let my third letter fly in the sky and hopefully she will notice it.

"Right now..."

I was standing at the house. Which it's her house. I knew it's creepy when I standing here but I just want to send final letter to her. I feel my breath hitched and short. My heartbeat fastened feeling something piercing. My eyes started blurring but I must to endure the pain. I put my final letter into her mailbox and walk away leaving alone. I know she's not home yet because she hangout with her friends and her boyfriend, Chanyeol.

Well... I feel my time is near...

I look into the sky with tears on my cheeks. My love actually were unrequited and I hate the fact this disease of mine cannot be cured.

I let it taking over me and I'm gladly to be gone...

Who am I to force her to love me?

Did you forgot?

I'm just an anonymous to her?

She will never know my name at all

No... She will never know my name...

-----------

"Hey, I found something!" Thai girl saw a letter on the branch. The blonde look and she take the letter from her best friend. Rosé open the letter and read it.

"It's been running through my mind

I wanna say it one more time

But when I try to speak the words just fly away from me"

- An Anonymous

"Wow, this person must have a hard time" Lisa said to her. Rosé felt something unpleasant but sometimes it's make the blonde determined. "It must have something behind this letter" Rosé said. Lisa shrugged off as she lazy to thunk about it.

They went to the playground and wanted to play swing, Rosé saw a paper tied on the chain. She take it and she look it was another letter.

"So I'm taking the chance to write it down

And send it out into this lonely town

And hope that you'll see it somehow"

- An Anonymous

"Another letter? What the heck?" Lisa look at the letter and obviously it from the unknown person. Rosé take the first letter and she read both of it, trying to solve those mysterious letter.

They walk along the street on their way to going home after buying the foods for dinner, Rosé saw a paper plane flying through her and fell on the floor. She taking it and open it.

Again... Another letter from an anonymous.

"I know that I could never hide

The little things I felt inside

And like the days grew long it just kept growing stronger

So if one day it finally reaches you

And you can feel what I was feeling too

Remember what I said to you"

- An Anonymous

Another letter makes Rosé felt so determined. What is the meaning behind this letter? A lot of questions pop out inside her mind like fireworks.

"Can you just throw that letter and let's go home in happily?" Lisa irritated with Rosé as the blonde busy with the letters. Lisa sigh as blonde become addicted to the unknown letters.

As they come home The Ambulance passing by then stopped about three house gap away from theirs. The employees rushing and they went inside the house. Rosé felt something went wrong. She ever knew that house. It was a lonely girl in her school. She don't know her name at all but she felt something strange about that lonely girl. She walk towards that house and she saw that lonely girl on the stretch, taking away by the employees in rushing. The mother crying a lot as the ambulance started driving away.

"That girl must be sick" Lisa said standing beside Rosé. Rosé just sigh and she asking Lisa to come inside her house now because it's getting dark outside.

---------------

The time went fast and the news spread like wildfire. What the news about?

Well the lonely girl, Kwon Y/N, died because of disease.

They felt sympathy with the mother. Y/N was the best student in the high school and she's the one and only child. The hope of the school and now there is no more best student. No one could beat Y/N's geniuses but the fate are cruel as Y/N were no longer to lived.

Rosé says sorry to the mother. The mother just sadly smiles and she told Rosé that she accept her child's gone.

As Rosé reach her home, she open her mailbox and saw an unknown letter. Her eyebrow raising in determination. She take that letter and going inside her house.

The night comes, Rosé take out the envelope and she read the letter. As she read the letter, her hand covered her mouth and her eyes started glossy.

"Dear Rosé,

I know it's a bit stupid letter I ever made knowing myself that you will never read it at all.

I wanted to say that I like you. I fell in love with you at the first sights. I saw your beautiful smile happily playing together with your friend at the play ground make my heart fluttered. At first, I try question myself if I have feelings on you. I tried to deny but it failed.

The more you appeared, the more my feelings on you grower. Every single day, I waited for you at the play ground but it seems you barely there, I saw you at the park near Han River. You loves to enjoy the freshness of air at the park.

I thought I can get to know you at the park so I try waiting for you at the park and unfortunately, you were never seen at all.

It does not mean I will giving up. I remember the time you always standing alone at the pedestrian bridge above the road. You always been there every evening, watching the vehicles passing by. I don't know why you did that but who am I to judge people?

Then I thought you will be there to the next day but yeah it's still the same thing.

You were never seen over and over again.

I always put the chocolates and sweet letter inside your locker. I feel happy as your smiles created on your face as you read that letter I gave to you. I think it maybe my chance to make you notice me so I did it everyday.

But the things turned...

The day where you and the popular basketball player guy started dating. You thought all this day, it was him who gave those chocolates and sweet letters. But you don't know...

He just did that only once...

My heart broken into pieces knowing you were straight. I huffed in lose but my feelings on you still strong.

And it hurts me.

The day by day, disease started to taking over me. It comes out of nowhere and it's funny that when I coughing, it have flower petals? I laughed myself that I cough the beautiful flower petals.

It's rose petals.

And it so painful

The thorn, the roots and the flower started growing leaving me coughing. I can't deny it. This is because my feelings on you still inside my heart. This disease appeared as my love for you unrequited.

I can't blame you because you don't know me at all.

I'm just an anonymous to you.

Every single day the flowers blooming, making me cried in pain but I didn't mind at all. I deserves to have this rather than get humiliate by people.

I rather die in bloom than die in human's harsh words.

Yes I'm gay for you and I secret it. Only myself know about my sexuality. I better kept it because people are cruel in other way.

For the last words I write this letter to you, I wanted to say that I love you more than anything. I hope you be happy with him and always be.

If you find this message that I left behind. You'll know that time has pulled me away from you and though I know who you are and I am far away, I love you all the same.

Even though you will never know my name..

If you find this world is leaving you behind and feel like time is pulling away from you, Just believe in who you are and know that far away...

I love you all the same.

- Y/N (An Anonymous)

She finally realise something, All these days, Rosé always thought that Chanyeol gave sweet letters and chocolates to her everyday but her thought was wrong.

She finally knows that an anonymous who gave the letter to her is from Y/N. All of these things that she had was from Y/N herself. She cried more and mistakes taking over her. She felt guilt the she was the cause of Y/N's death. Rosé look at the night sky and closing her eyes. Her heart started to feel the pain and her breath hitched.

"I finally know your name"

Rosè smiles with eyes closed knowing Y/N looking at her from above smiling at her.

She once again opened her eyes, smiling at the sky.

"I finally know your name, Y/N"

------------

#blackpink x reader #blackpink fanfic #blackpink au #rosé x reader #vocaloid #angst #hanahaki #blackpink angst #rose x reader #blackpink #blackpink oneshots

83 notes · View notes

baritonechick · 4 years

Text

Gabriel’s Love Letter

Reader writes notes to Dean, Sam, Cas, and Gabriel

Loosely based on “To All the Boys I’ve Loved”

“What’s this?” Jack pulls a small, decorated box out from under your bed. He tugs at the top before you can run over and stop him.

“Jack, don’t touch that,” you warn, desperately trying to reach for the container. The nephilim’s strength keeps you back and he begins pulling out the letters.

The letters to all the boys you’d loved before, well, essentially the boys in the bunker you’d had a crush on at one point. Sam, Dean, and Cas’s were all from the past, but Gabriel’s was fairly recent.

Thankfully, your room was one of the few ones warded against angels of all kinds. Jack could pass by because of being half-human.

“What are these?” Jack inquires curiosly, peeking into Cas’s letter to read it.

“They’re letters, Jack. And they aren’t supposed to be read by anyone,” you huff, once again trying to grab the paper from his grasp.

His eyes skim over the words on the page, and his eyes widen.

“You like Castiel?”

“Give me that,” you frown, snatching the note from him.

“There is one for Sam, Dean, and Gabriel also in here, too. Why haven’t you given them these?”

Your expression turns fearful immediately.

“No, Jack. These aren’t for them, or for you, to read. It’s a way for me to get over liking them. We all live together. It’d be awkward for me to have a crush on any of them.”

Jack’s eyebrows furrow, his nose scrunching up.

“But isn’t love what drives humans? What if one of them likes you back!”

“Shh,” you hush him, stuffing the letters back in the box and shoving it back under your bed.

“None of them like me, Jack. Go back to your room and get some sleep,” you sigh, standing up from the floor.

The nephilim copies your movements silently. He heads for the door quickly and exits your room with a look of dejection and sadness.

Thankfully, he is out of your hair about the letters. Those are very private and go into extreme detail about your crushes on the boys. And now, with all the people living in the bunker, it has made things much more chaotic.

You climb into bed, realizing it’s quite late now. You’re able to fall asleep with little worries.

Your phone buzzes violently, alerting you that it’s time to get up. You’re glad that you let yourself sleep in this much. It’s almost 10:30.

You’re clad in warm pajamas and a fluffy robe as you head for the kitchen. Thankfully, it’s almost midday, so hardly anyone is in the way of you and the fridge. However, you do notice Sam reaching for a mug from the cupboards. He’s the only one in the room with you, so you mumble a “Good morning”.

It’s as if a ghost had scared him with the face he gives you.

“O-oh, morning,” he smiles awkwardly, grabbing his cup and quickly leaving.

What the hell, you think, tugging open the refrigerator’s door. A chilling gust of air hits you, and you fight back a shiver. Maybe Sam’s just skiddish after everything that occurred in the apocalypse world.

There’s little to no food stocked up; someone would hopefully be on a supply run by now. You opt for an apple, closing the fridge.

Your body turns around just as Dean comes walking through the doorway.

“Hey, what’s going on with Sam? He’s acting weird,” you ask, taking a bite of the apple in your palm.

“I’m sure Sam’s fine. Listen, Y/n, we’ve got to talk,” Dean lets out a deep breath, leaning against the counter away from the exit. The tone in his voice means something’s wrong.

“We’ve been through a lot, and you’re like a little sister to me,” he pauses to make sure you’re listening and understanding.

“Yeah, I got it, Dean. What’s the issue?”

“I don’t like you... in a romantic sense.”

The realization hits you, and it hits hard. Your mind is reeling. Jack must have told them all, that’s why Sam was acting so odd when you talked to him. Or even worse, maybe Jack had given out the letters.

“Dean, I don’t like you, well, not anymore. What did Jack tell you?”

Dean’s eyes narrow in confusion and he crosses his arms.

“He didn’t tell me anything, just gave me a note from you.”

Your eyes widen into the size of golf balls, At least, that’s what you imagine happened. You quickly push past Dean, shouting, “I’ll explain later,” and rushing down the hall toward your room.

You spot Cas and Gabriel down the hall talking, their conversation being stopped short as they both turn to you. Your mind goes straight into panic mode.

“Hey, Y/n, you got a second?” Gabriel calls, motioning for you to join them. The option is there, to get it all over with and to explain the situation to both of them. However, your brain wants to take a different route.

Without thinking, your cheeks flush red and you duck into your bedroom, slamming the door shut. You’re safe in here, the angels can’t get past the sigils.

Your feet carry you to the foot of your bed and you kneel down to pull the box out from under your bed. Maybe Jack only gave out Sam and Dean’s as a funny prank. An awful, demented, torturous funny prank.

Slowly, your fingers brush the edge of the lid. You carefully lift it up, gazing down into a completely empty container. It’s all over.

You fall back onto your butt, pulling your knees up into your chest. Your arms are wrapped around your calves and you can’t help the sobs spilling from your mouth.

Everything was ruined. The boys will all hate you if they don’t already. You’ll have to move out and live on your own again, hunting by yourself. You don’t want that, you have it so perfect here. And these stupid letters are going to be the end of that.

You force yourself to take deep breaths, not allowing for a panic attack right now. Think, Y/n, there has to be a way to fix this before it gets out of hand.

What if Jack hadn’t gotten to Gabriel and Cas, yet? You’ve got to act now.

You clamber up, wiping the spare tears away on the sleeve of your robe. You groan, realizing you haven’t changed from your sleepwear yet. There’s no time for that right now.

Upon opening the door to your room and peering out, it seems Gabriel has disappeared and now Cas is by himself. He leans against the brick wall with a confused look as he stares down at a piece of paper. His brow bone arches downwards as he strains to read the words on the page. Your bare feet hit the cold tiles of the floor with each quick step.

“Cas, hey, um, can I take a look at that paper?” You smile nervously, as your words register in the angel’s head. He peers up and holds the note out for you to take.

You snatch it, letting out a thankful sigh.

“I’d just finished reading it. I’m glad you see me so fondly, Y/n. It proves our friendship is very strong,” Cas gravelly voice speaks, and you mentally face-palm. Of course he didn’t understand that you meant it romantically at the time.

“Yea, we’re really good friends, Cas. That’s all I meant with that. Say, do you know where Jack went? I have a letter for him, too.”

Oh, you had a letter for him. You really wished you had a book to smack him upside the head.

Cas nods, pointing down the hall, the opposite direction of your room.

“He said he was looking for Gabriel, who also headed that way.”

Your head is spinning now, it’s hard to concentrate on the task at hand. You could chalk up Sam, Dean, and Cas’s letters to accidents that were very far in the past. But Gabriel’s, you can’t deal with that heartbreak.

“Thanks, Cas,” you reply with a small stutter, rushing off to find Jack.

“Jack! I’m gonna kick your little, half-angel ass!” You shout, loud enough for anyone in the bunker to hear. The pitter patter of your feet clicking on the floor is enough to drive someone insane, especially with the given situation.

The hall eventually opens up into the library, where numerous groups of people are scattered, discussing various hunts and cases. Off to the side, you see Gabriel in a conversation with other world Charlie, both laughing at something one of them said.

In the corner of your eye, another figure is moving toward the pair. With a quick glance, you’re able to pinpoint the person as Jack, effectively about to ruin your whole life by handing Gabriel the note.

Everything starts to slow down, and you can see Jack ducking around people to reach Gabriel. You move as quick as your human legs can go, now only a few feet from the laughing pair.

Unfortunately, you’re not able to stop in time, completely and utterly colliding with Gabriel’s body. You fall to the floor with him underneath you like some cheesy romantic comedy.

Your face is bright red and burning, less than a foot away from the archangel’s below you. This is not how you imagined this day was going to go.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize profusely, forgetting for the moment about Jack’s mission to torture you.

You pick your self up, dusting off the dirt from your embarrassingly casual attire. Gabriel’s wearing a small smirk, chuckling as he too stands back up.

“What are you in a hurry for?” He asks nonchalantly, as if you hadn’t just ran him over.

“I, uh,” are the only words that can form in your head, which is now spinning from the impact.

As you’re struggling to find a response, Jack pops up beside you, smiling cheerily.

“I’ve got something for you, uncle!” The nephilim says, shoving the note into Gabriel’s chest.

The archangel’s attention turns to his nephew, who’s beaming at the fact that he’s about to completely ruin your life forever.

Gabriel slowly reaches for the piece of paper, but you’re quick enough to snatch it away. He’s surprised that you’ve taken it, retaliating by raising an eyebrow.

“Why did you just take that from me?”

You squirm under his and Jack’s intense, celestial gazes, “You don’t want to read it. It’s just some dumb story I wrote that Jack wants to share with everyone.”

The nephilim’s name comes out as a hiss from your mouth.

Gabriel’s confusion, and now curiosity, springs to life. You can tell he’s thinking about all of his options.

“There’s something you’re hiding from me, Y/n. You really don’t want me to read that,” he smirks, offering you a chance at a response.

With the letter in hand, you feel confident and care-free. The world is on your side for once.

You need to drop yourself from the conversation as soon as possible so you can tear up and burn this piece of paper.

“I already told you, Gabriel. Anyways, I’ll see you all later.”

You turn your body completely around, ready to head for your bedroom. Adrenaline is pumping through your body, but you take deep breaths to calm yourself down. You glance at the note in your hand... and it’s gone.

You’ve never spun around so fast in your life. The action isn’t expected by your body, and now you’ve acquired a hard headache.

Gabriel has a letter, his letter, in his hand, taunting you by waving it around. Your eyes widen, but there’s nothing you can do against an archangel’s curiosity.

“Gabriel, please, do not read that letter,” you plead, screaming at him in your thoughts to forget it. Of course, Gabriel was always too stubborn for anybody’s good.

A pair of reading glasses comically appears on Gabriel’s face as he opens the note although you’re horrified with embarrassment at what is about to take place.

“Dear Gabriel... blah blah blah cute blah blah blah funny,” Gabriel nods, “blah blah blah... love.”

He’d read it all, all the way to the end. The look of amazement on his face makes the panic set in. If you run back to your room in time, maybe you can lock yourself in forever. Right before you strangle Jack.

You quickly set a pace for your bedroom. The long hallway is torturous to run down. There are no footsteps following you, and no sound of wings fluttering. That means you must have scared Gabriel off for good and you’re heartbroken by the thought of it.

Your exhales get longer as you slow down, coming to a halt in front of your bedroom door. The only problem is, there’s now an archangel blocking the way.

“Gabriel, I don’t know what to say,” you blurt out, unable to form a coherent sentence to explain the letter.

Gabriel’s letter was current, all the other boys’ letters were from years ago. You had just written the letter addressed to Gabriel a few months ago.

You’re watching his demeanor, and the way his body is entirely still, while his bright, golden eyes are digging into your skull. He’s a few feet from you, leaning against the wall rigidly.

“Is this letter true?”

His voice came out deeper than normal, and it sent chills down your spine.

You gulp and manage to whisper, “Yes.”

Gabriel closes the gap between the two of you. His steps are deliberate and nerve-wracking, making you breathe heavy. The archangel wraps a strong hand around your waist, the other reaching up to cup your face. His thumb runs over your lips and his eyes are glued to the same spot.

Oh my GOD he’s going to kiss me.

Gabriel leans forward, slowly pressing his lips against yours. They’re soft and you can faintly smell chocolate. Your whole body relaxes into him, reveling in the feeling of his body so close to you. Moments pass till you’re wondering where this may lead and you’re hoping it’s the bedroom.

Gabriel gently pulls away and chuckles lowly. There’s a smirk on his face and a tension in the air.

“Y/N! Where are you?” Loud shouts can be heard echoing down the halls and you recognize them to be Jack.

You smile evily, sending a wink to Gabriel.

“We’ll finish this later. I’ve got a nephilim to smack,” you say, racing down the halls.

#gabriel #gabriel x reader #spn #supernatural #baritonechick posts #gabe #gabe x reader #spn gabriel #spn gabriel x reader

163 notes · View notes

anactualcaseofthetruth · 4 years

Text

Friends Can Break Your Heart Too > Chapter 3 Archive Of Our Own Link

Catch Up: Chapter 2 Chapter 1

Summary: Mia Flores flees to Santo Padre for one reason and one reason only: her godfather and the man who raised her, Bishop Losa. The last thing she expects is for Angel Reyes to come into her chaotic life and just maybe be the one thing that starts to make sense.

Chapter 3:

“Pizza!” Letty calls out as she enters the house just a few steps ahead of Mia.

Immediately, all construction noises cease, the small hand tools are dropped, and they are closing in.

“Fucking finally,” Coco says as he takes the pizzas from his daughter. “I was starting to feel like we’re working in a real fucking sweatshop, like no food or breaks until you’re done, you know?”

“Dude, you take a smoke break every fucking five minutes, calm down,” Angel instructs while freeing Mia’s own hands of the small pizza and box of Styrofoam on top without a word.

“Hey! These are for me and Letty, you each got your own pizza,” Mia complains with hands out.

“What, I’m not allowed to help? Be nice?” he questions and holds the food above his head so she can’t reach.

“Fine. Thank you, now give it back!” she whines and follows him to the kitchen to join the others, jumping for it the whole way.

“No, I don’t like your attitude.”

“Angel! C’mon, I’m hungry!” Mia exclaims with hands on her hips and a frown on her face

“Apologize first,” he says, and their audience laughs.

“I’m going to slap you,” she counters grumpily.

He looks her up and down, noting her ripped jeans and a tight, white tee matched with a black jacket and black and white sneakers on her feet. “Can you even reach without heels on?”

Mia’s eyes turn to slits before tapping him in the balls. It’s not so hard to hurt him, but enough to put him into defensive mode and lower the food. “Now, was that so hard?” she asks sweetly while handing the Styrofoam off to Letty.

“You better watch your back, Flores,” he warns, ignoring the snickers around them, and reaches for his pizza.

“Oh, but you’re so much better at it than I am,” Mia teases in return.

Angel nods as he swallows. “Can’t argue that. Hey, prospect, beer?” he asks of his brother a moment later.

EZ turns from his own pizza and takes enough out of the fridge for all of them besides Letty. She gets a bottle of Coke instead.

“Wait, you guys have beer here? While you’re working? I’m doing to die in a house fire, aren’t I?” Mia sighs while looking down at her white spinach pizza.

“Nah, there was nothing wrong with the wiring, so we haven’t had to mess with it. You’re safe from house fires,” EZ assures her.

Coco, on the other hand, makes an unsure noise and shrugs. "That’s not saying the crackheads who lived here before didn’t fuck with it. So, if you do die, it wouldn’t be on our consciences."

“That is what I was worried about, how you all would feel if something happened, not about actually dying,” Mia tells him in monotone.

“Good looking out, no worries, we’d be alright,” Coco insists, and the group laughs some more.

Upon further inspection to Bishop’s rental, her godfather decided a small remodel was in order before she could move in. “Nothing huge,” he promised her, “just some paint and maybe new carpet.” Well that was a month ago, and she has yet to move in.

What he meant by ‘nothing huge’ is repainting every single room, new molding, replacing over half the light fixtures, a few new windows, and a completely redone bathroom upstairs. Then, after finding hardwood in good condition under said carpet he decided he wanted certain rooms without carpet at all which meant pulling up good carpet that wouldn’t have even needed replaced. The kitchen, luckily, was the best-looking room in the house when they started, having been redone before the last tenants moved in, so all he insisted on was a fresh coat of paint, a few new appliances, a couple tiles replaced, and a good cleaning.

Mia’s been told the upstairs is ‘almost done’ and they are finishing up the living room now.

She has also noticed new pieces of furniture showing up when she isn’t around. Which, that isn’t hard to do since she only stops by once or twice a day to feed the guys and ‘make sure they are doing their fucking work’ at Bishop’s request. A new queen-sized bed appeared two weeks ago, a dining set a few days later, and after commenting on how comfy his couch is one similar has taken residence in the garage, not that she is supposed to know about it.

Mia's done her best to not argue with Bishop about all of it. She knows he means well, however, when she looks around all she sees is her godfather silently pleading with her to stay, possibly forever, but when asked about long-term plans she avoids giving any real answer.

It’s not dependent on her, not really, it depends on whether her past catches up with her.

“So how much longer until you guys are finally done with this place?” Letty asks as she eats her chicken fingers. “I can’t wait to have a sleepover.”

Mia smiles at the younger girl and pushes all thoughts of her ex away. Over the past month the two of them have formed a close bond. She sees a piece of herself in Leticia—being one of the few Mayan daughters, having mothers who barely cared, and men who aren’t quite their fathers as their sole parent. Coco is actually Letty’s dad, but she didn’t know that until a couple months ago, so it’s still ‘completely weird’ according to her.

She hopes to be the female figure she needed when she was stupid teenager for Letty. Growing up around these guys isn’t easy. It’s certainly never dull, but Mia remembers how kids at school used to look at her, with that mixture of fear and pity, of jealousy and hate. She remembers what boys thought of her, that because of how women are around the MC that she would be both easy to sleep with and manipulate.

That last part wasn’t entirely wrong, but she wants it to be different for Letty.

“Well, Prez is supposed to have a walk-through in a day or two. If he doesn’t see anything else wrong with it, hopefully next week,” Gilly says when no one speaks up.

Mia likes Gilly, she likes all the guys, but these four are a package deal. Angel is the ringleader, EZ his sounding board, Coco the one who challenges him when necessary, and Gilly is the silent partner. He only really speaks when spoken to, but is always listening, and is very much a protector.

“You guys said that last week,” Letty reminds them.

“Girl, you know we had the Vegas run and it set us back. Stop pushing,” Coco warns her. “It ain’t even your house.”

“No, but we’re going to have a sleepover the weekend she moves in,” Letty tells him like its common knowledge. And honestly, she’s been talking about it so much it practically is.

“Really?" Angel questions with a playful look towards Mia, never one to pass up an opportunity to give her shit, or flirt with her. Sometimes both happen in the same sentence. "Anyone else invited to this sleepover?”

As always, she decides to play along. “Why? You need a facial? We can buy extra masks.”

“It’d be nice to be thought of, that’s all,” he insists. “Besides, it’s not me that needs the facial. EZ’s skin is shit compared to mine.”

“Hey,” his little brother speaks up and it sounds so pitiful Mia can’t help but laugh.

“Shoulda seen his face in junior high. Pimple fuckin’ city,” Angel goes on. “Our mom had to buy him special cream and everything.”

“Can we stop? Like, that’s the point of this?” EZ asks as he turns just a little red.

“The point is mine was clear and yours wasn’t,” Angel responds.

“And when we were kids you were fat and I wasn’t,” EZ says with arms crossed. “So, shut up.”

Everyone laughs as they eat, but Mia is practically jumping up and down with joy. “Oh, my God, please tell me you have pictures. I want to see pictures of little chunky Angel,” she pleads.

“Stop, it wasn’t that I was fat exactly,” Angel tries to stop her giggles. “I wasn’t! I was a little late to puberty, alright?”

“Dude, you were definitely chunky,” EZ states. “Accept it.”

“No, I just didn’t grow for, like, a year, that’s all,” Angel argues. “You, quit laughing,” he demands while staring Mia down. “I’m serious, I was pretty much the same height for a year. Ezekiel was almost as fuckin’ tall as me, and he’s two years younger than me. Then, I shot up, like, six fuckin’ inches.”

“And you lost all your baby fat?” Mia asks, still snickering.

“As a matter of fact, yes, I did, and now look, all muscle, baby,” Angel says and lifts his shirt to show the abs that he knows she’s fond of. And, sadly, she’s not allowed to touch them because no one knows they are sleeping together.

“Damn,” they all hear Letty mumble and Mia can’t stop the laugh from bubbling up her throat. She would have said the same thing if she hadn’t seen them before.

“Alright, put that shit away, I got a kid here,” Coco urges and throws a napkin at Angel’s chest.

“What, this shit?” EZ asks while lifting his shirt too.

“Hold on, I gotta get a picture of this,” Letty says, her phone already in her hands.

Coco smacks it away. “Stop, they are like your uncles.”

“No, they definitely aren’t,” she counters, making the brothers laugh while dropping their shirts.

Mia gives Letty a pointed look that the girl ignores. She knows all about the younger girl’s crush on EZ, and she also knows how completely unattainable and stupid it is. Letty will grow out of it eventually, probably when she gets a crush her own age. At least, her next crush better be someone her own age.

“You’re real funny. You get that shit you needed for school?” Coco questions as he stands having eaten his whole pizza save three slices. Letty nods with her mouth full. “Good, we should get going. You got school in the morning and I got my own shit to do.”

“Yeah, what’s her name?” Angel asks innocently while picking up another slice.

“Ew,” Letty mutters as the others laugh. “Let’s go before this conversation continues. Is your car unlocked, Mia? The stuff for my project is still in it.”

“Yeah, it’s open, help yourself.”

“I’m going to head out too. I told Pop I’d stop by before he went to sleep,” EZ mentions.

“Let me know if there’s anything good on the history channel,” Angel jokes.

“Don’t worry, I know how you feel about a good Vietnam documentary,” EZ assures him and the brothers share a laugh.

Everyone starts getting up and throwing away their paper plates and saying their goodbyes. For now, anyways, since most of them will meet up back at the clubhouse before the night is over.

Mia’s just finishing up putting all the leftover pizza slices into one box for the boys to fight over tomorrow before she brings over their lunch when Angel comes back into the kitchen.

“I locked your car,” he says, and she jumps about a foot in the air. “I know it’s a piece, but you still shouldn’t leave it unlocked like that.”

She turns with a hand over her heart. “Don’t do that, I thought you were leaving,” she scolds him.

“When did I say that?” he questions with a crinkle to his eyebrows.

Mia rolls her eyes. “I don’t know, maybe when everyone said they were leaving, and you walked out with them?”

“I never said I was leaving. Besides,” he starts while approaching her and sets his hands on her hips, “I can’t say goodbye before I get a proper hello.”

“Oh, a proper hello?” Mia asks as his head dips in closer to hers. “What would that entail, exactly?”

“This,” he says and lifts her onto the island, their lips already connected and tongues threatening to meet.

His beard brushes against her chin and she reaches up to lightly scratch at it. “Mm, scruffy,” she murmurs, having admitted her liking his beard to him before. He does, in fact, use a special beard shampoo and pomade in it.

He smiles at her and lifts his chin so she can have better access. “I swear, if I was a dog this shit would make me do that kicking leg thing,” he mutters with his eyes closed.

“Hm, you’re cute,” she tells him as his chin practically sits in her hands, his face the picture of peace.

She’s not ashamed to admit that Angel quickly has become her best friend, not only in Santo Padre, but in general. Of course, she’s never been one to have many friends. Growing up other kids were weary of her, of Bishop rolling up in a Harley to pick her up from school, and their parents only saw the kutte on his back.

When it came to the club, there weren’t many other Mayan kids. Most of them, like Coco with his other two that aren’t Letty, pay for them but aren’t really involved in raising them. Sometimes, when it was a son, they’d come back around during their teen years, want to be like their biker dad, and prospect once they hit eighteen.

Her best friend was Marcus Alverez’s son Esai, but she hasn’t spoken to him since she left Oakland when her and Bishop had their big blowout. Cutting the club out of her life included Esai, and no matter how much he tried to claw his way back in she didn’t let him. That’s a bridge she hasn’t repaired yet.

“You look tired, osito,” she whispers and his eyes pop open.

Angel smiles lazily. “Is that what I am to you, huh? A teddy bear?”

“My teddy bear,” she corrects.

“Let’s keep that between us, huh?” he murmurs when his eyes slide closed again as she continues to scratch at his chin. “Wouldn’t want the guys to know how sweet I am on ya.”

Mia holds back a laugh. “As far as they're concerned the only thing you’re sweet on is my ass.”

“Ain’t no hiding that, querida,” he agrees. After a few minutes Angel’s eyes open and his face breaks out into a smile. “I have a surprise for you.”

“Is it shiny or is it chocolate?” she immediately asks, making him laugh and lift his chin from her hands.

“Neither it’s upstairs,” he replies and turns around to signal for her to jump onto his back, and she does, happily.

Mia tightens her hold around his shoulders. “Ooh, a sex swing? I’m in, but Bishop might be pissed."

Angel's laugh in return is loud and boisterous. “Nah, not that, but I can always add one later if you want,” he says and begins making his way up the steps. “Remember last week when Bishop told you to think about colors for the house? And you weren’t sure about what you wanted to paint your bedroom?”

“Uh, yes,” Mia confirms as they reach the top. “But Bishop said I had time to choose, that painting was the last thing you guys were going to do and I had colors for all the other rooms so you guys could get started.”

“It is, but” Angel stops at the master bedroom and lets her slide down his back until her feet touch the ground. “I got an idea. If you hate it, I can fix it, make it whatever you want, I just,” he sighs, his nerves obvious.

“Hey,” Mia says and grabs his hands so both of them are intertwined, “I’m sure I’ll love it, whatever it is, just because you did it,” she assures him. “Unless it’s just plain white, then that’s kinda lame and I’ll probably laugh.”

Angel chuckles and shakes his head at her. “It’s not white, promise.” He opens the door hesitantly with an unsteady breath. “Just… don’t lie if you don’t like it, okay?”

“Promise,” she echoes back to him and he flicks the lights on before ushering her inside.

Mia finds the room painted a pink-orange shade, the kind in a sunset, but it’s the ceiling that makes her gasp. It’s blue, dark blue, with slashes of different shades throughout to resemble the night sky, along with some yellow and gold. It’s very Van Gogh, but of course not Van Gogh.

“Oh, my God,” she whispers with hands over her mouth.

“And, uh, there’s this too,” Angel tells her before slapping the lights off and the ceiling lights up. There are glow in the dark stars on it. Not enough to be childish or make the room bright, but just enough to look like stars faraway in the sky.

“Angel,” Mia sniffs.

“I remembered how much you liked looking at the stars when you first moved here,” he explains. “And I woke up last week to some stupid infomercial on the TV in the middle of the night. They were selling some Starry Night knockoffs and the idea came to me. I hope you don’t mind or, I don’t know, if you don’t like it I can—”

“Stop,” she insists with a hand on his chest as she looks up. “It’s… it’s—I don’t even know what to say, Angel.”

“You like it?” he asks, and his voice is so soft, so vulnerable Mia’s heart tightens.

For a moment all she can do is nod. “I love it,” she finally manages and blinks to stop the tears from forming. “I’ve never had anyone go out of their way for me like this except Bishop, at least, not unless it was some sort of apology from a boyfriend at the time.” The lights come back on and Mia turns to face him, but Angel is looking anywhere but her. “Did you do this yourself?”

He nods and looks up at the artwork, still avoiding eye contact. “Yeah.”

“How did you—I mean, how?” she asks with a knot in her throat.

“I used to paint when I was a kid, and into high school. I, uh, stopped when my mom died,” he confesses with his eyes now on his hands as he plays with his rings. “I was rusty as fuck, but I don’t know, I think it turned out pretty good.”

“Hey,” Mia urges and lifts his chin until their eyes meet. “I love it.”

Angel nods and licks his bottom lip. “Really?”

“I absolutely adore it,” she promises, her voice low and gets on her tip toes while wrapping an arm around his neck to pull until their foreheads are touching. “And the fact that you did it yourself? That makes it so much better. You’re very talented, mi osito.”

“Again, with the teddy bear? You’re gonna fuck up my rep, querida,” he teases.

“Well, the rep you have with me is being almost too good in bed and possibly the sweetest man I know, so,” she stops with a shrug and starts backing him up until he hits the bed half-covered in plastic.

Angel falls on the bed with a laugh and shoves at the plastic covering until it hits the floor. “Almost too good? Damn, gotta step up my game then.”

Mia moves to straddle him. “Please don’t,” she replies with her hands on his chest. “I would end up ugly crying, like, all the time.”

“Ugly crying, huh?” he asks and removes her hands from underneath his shirt where she had been trying to push it up. “Now I know what the goal is.”

“I am serious, Angel Reyes, do not,” she warns and starts fighting for control of her hands so she can continue to undress him. “Let me go! I want to make it up to you,” she insists as they begin to wrestle.

Angel rolls them over and pins her hands above her bed. She tries extremely hard not to get turned on, but fails miserably. “I don’t want you to make it up to me,” he tells her once she stops struggling. “I did this out of the goodness of my heart and making it up to me implies that I did it for something in return.”

Warmth spreads from Mia’s chest down to her toes. “Okay, then, can we fuck just because I’m horny then? It has nothing to do with me being incredibly grateful for what you’ve done.”

“You sure?” he questions and tightens his hold when she begins to resist again.

“Nothing at all,” she confirms as she squirms. “I just realized why you’re so good with your hands and I want to feel them all over me.”

“Alright then,” Angel lets go and sits back on his haunches. “Strip, everything off.”

“You’re sitting on me,” Mia reminds him with a raised eyebrow.

“I’ll help with the bottom stuff, but I think you can handle the top,” he tells her while pulling his own shirt off. “Hurry up, I wanna see if I can get you to do that ugly crying thing.”

Mia glares at him once the top is over her head. “Do not. This mascara is not waterproof.”

“Not my problem. I’m always prepared,” he replies while flashing a condom in front of her face, “it’s time you start to be too.”

She rolls her eyes while undoing her bra. “I can’t believe you’re about to get laid after saying that.”

Angel grins and starts to take off her pants. “I’ve gotten laid after saying tons of dumb shit. It’s the pretty face that gets the panties to drop,” he says before sliding her cheeky lace underwear down. “What my mouth can do helps though. So, get up, you’re gonna sit on my face.”

“Geez, bossy,” she mumbles but readily slips out from underneath him and onto her knees.

“You’re into it,” he murmurs before pressing his lips against hers as his hands slide down her bare sides.

“Only when your mouth or dick are involved,” Mia says, breathless, when they pull away.

Angel grins as his hand slides between her legs. “We’ll see about that.”

About an hour later, Mia makes her way downstairs looking for Angel. Guys have it so much easier, she thinks. All they gotta do after sex is get dressed. Being the handsy motherfucker her boy is, Mia looks like she’s been through a tornado after they’re done, and needs put together, not to mention a moment to pee. He just throws away the condom and zips up before sauntering off.

“Angel?” she calls after not seeing him in the living room or upon entering the kitchen.

“Outside!” she hears and notices the back door slightly ajar.

Mia finds him outside on a lawn chair, the kind people lay out on next to a pool, apparently something else she has inherited from Bishop’s previous tenants. Angel is holding a beer in one hand, a cigarette in the other. “Room for me?”

Angel tilts his head back to look at her before parting his legs. “Always for you.” She lifts a leg of her own and swings it around to straddle his hips. “Beer?”

She nods and takes a sip before handing it back. “So,” she starts and stares at him expectantly.

“Sooo?” he echoes while taking a swig.

“So, you paint?”

Suddenly, the beer becomes interesting, as it’s all he can look at now. “I did.”

“Osito, you just pulled a Michelangelo on my bedroom ceiling. You paint, present tense,” Mia insists.

“I… relapsed,” he attempts to joke, but Mia shakes her head and lifts his chin.

“You know you can talk to me, right? We don’t just have sex, at least, that’s not all this is for me,” she admits with a tint of pink in her cheeks. “You’re like my best friend and I don’t say that easily. I’m not really one for friends.”

“I don’t believe that shit for a second,” Angel immediately disagrees with one last puff of his cigarette before flicking the cherry off the tip and turning his head so the gray smoke doesn’t hit her face. “But, if you gotta know, and I know you won’t shut the fuck up until I tell you,” he goes on and she grins in triumph, “my mom liked to paint. It was her thing. It was mainly religious shit, you know,” he says with a shrug, “but she was really good. She even has a piece hanging in the church we went to growing up.” He stops to smile, and Mia can’t help but mirror it, the genuine happiness coming from him infectious. “I remember when it first got displayed, my dad told everyone his wife painted it. I swear, he worked it into every single fucking conversation somehow.”

“And she passed it on to you?”

Angel puts the beer bottle down and wraps his arms around her waist, his hands resting on her ass. “Not really, I mean, not intentionally, I guess. I was an angry kid, it started in junior high, back when I was a chubby fuck. I punched a few holes in the walls, and every time they made me fix it, but that just made me angrier,” he says and looks passed her head. “I don’t know, I guess it pissed me off that they made me patch them up without really asking what was wrong? My mom tried, but—” he stops and shakes his head, “she wasn’t the one I wanted to open up to.”

“You wanted your dad,” Mia states and Angel nods, his eyes meeting hers again.

“One day I got sent home from school for fighting and my mom had to come get me. Pop wouldn’t leave the shop, said it wouldn’t matter if he did, that I wouldn’t listen to him anyway,” he continued, “maybe he was right, I don’t know.”

Mia slips her hands under his shirt, her fingers drawing endless loops and shapes on his bare skin. “What was the fight about, do you remember?”

Angel nods slowly. “They used to call EZ Kodak because of his memory. Some asshole cornered him in the bathroom, had a friend hold him down while he pushed some sleazy magazine in his face and told him to remember it because it would be the only naked girl he ever saw or some shit. I was chubby, but EZ was as thin as a fucking rail. That kid’s metabolism is no joke,” he comments with a faraway look in his eyes, like he’s reliving the memory. “I found out and took the fucker down. I remember being pulled off him and looking at EZ, he was so embarrassed. Before they took me away, he asked me not to tell, so I didn’t. I didn’t tell what the kid did to him, and the little dick didn’t fess up to what he did either, so all they knew was that I held him down and kicked his ass.”

“That… sucks. It definitely made you look bad,” Mia points out with a stink face. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m his big brother, I do what I gotta do,” Angel says easily, and she knows without a second thought he would do it again. “I expected to come home and go straight to my room or have a list of shit to do around the house. Instead, Mom brought me outside to the patio. There was this big, white canvas and a bunch of paint. She told me to paint my feelings. I thought it was stupid as fuck.”

Mia smiles, picturing little Angel looking at his mom with his ‘the fuck is this?’ expression and it’s definitely a funny image. ��But you started painting?”

“I did it to just get it over with so I could go to my room, but I don’t know, it helped me get aggression out,” he admits. “My mom did religious realism, but I was super into abstract. I was throwing fucking paint around so fast my chubby ass worked up a sweat,” he chuckles at the memory. “It didn’t turn into anything, just a big shit colored blur, but it was better than punching a hole in the wall I had to fix the next day. Every time I got angry my mom had a canvas for me. I learned, I developed my own style, and I started taking classes at school. Sometimes I even watched my mom, asked her questions, and helped her a little bit. It became our thing.”

“That’s sweet,” Mia comments, her fingers now scratching at his happy trail as they often do.

Angel’s lips slowly stretch into a wistful smile. “I got real into charcoal for a while. Fuck, everything was covered in it. EZ hated it since we shared a room. My mom was annoyed because of the laundry, but she never said anything. Eventually, I settled on acrylic as my main medium. I would have so many fucking layers that it would take so fucking long to dry. I kept stealing her hair dryer to make it dry faster. She got so annoyed she bought me my own.”

“What did you do with all your work? I would like to see them, but I don’t think there is anything hanging at your place, or the clubhouse, or—”

“When she died, I quit,” Angel cuts her off. “It was our thing, and without her…” he trails off with a shake of his head, “I didn’t want to do it anymore, or be reminded of it. I stashed all my shit in the basement, it’s still there unless Pop tossed it.”

“What about her stuff?”

“It’s at the house, Pop still has a few displayed, has all her supplies exactly where she left them. I swear he turned parts of the house into a shrine. I could barely go in there right after she died and—” he falters, his voice deep and his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Um, I kept what she made for me in my old bedroom. I couldn’t look at it every day, I still can’t,” he admits. “I don’t know how Pop does it.”

Mia’s hands move to rest on his chest, rubbing softly to comfort him. “It’s okay that it still hurts, osito,” she assures him, and he drops his head while nodding. “The more you bury it, the more it hurts when it come out,” she whispers and kisses his head, her hands framing his face now.

“I didn’t—” Angel stammers and coughs to clear the knot in his throat. “EZ and I weren’t as close when we were teenagers, we had different shit going on in our lives, but I always had my ma. Sometimes I told her shit she didn’t even wanna hear, you know,” he chokes out and keeps shaking his head, but Mia keeps her hands firm. “We were closer than they know. Pop and EZ had each other, they talked all the time, but she was the person I talked to. With her gone…”

“I know,” she murmurs and kisses his forehead, his temple, anything she can while he refuses to look at her. “I’m here, mi angelito, I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere,” she promises over and over, her voice soft and hopefully soothing to him. She knows he’s settled a bit when he takes one of her hands in his and opens it to kiss the palm, a silent thank you she accepts. “Did your dad or EZ ever mention anything about it? About you not painting anymore?”

Angel shrugs nonchalantly and picks his head up. His eyes are glassy, and his cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but she simply kisses each one chastely to let him know it’s okay. “EZ mentioned it a few times, but I told him to shut the fuck up and he did. I told him to shut the fuck up a lot when she died. He learned to stop pushing and I stopped giving a fuck about pretty much everything.”

“Is that why he went after the person who killed her, and you didn’t?” Mia asks, and instantly regrets it, but Angel doesn’t move or retreat into himself, even if he does tense up considerably.

His hands find her ass again, a way of comforting himself, she thinks. “EZ kept wanting it to be more than a robbery, more than just a senseless murder. It was like he couldn’t see anyone wanting to do wrong by her because she was like a saint.”

“But you could?”

Angel looks her in the eye now. “There’s a lot of evil people in the world. Our mother wasn’t spared because she was a good person. Good people get the shit end of the stick all the time. Ezekiel is the smartest person I know, but he couldn’t wrap his head around that. It ate at him. Sometimes I think if I didn’t push him away I could have helped him, stopped him, something. But I was too busy doing anything I could to not think about it, about her, what happened, that my little brother had to be the one to find her, that my father got his heart broken, and how fucking lonely I was with her gone.”

“Hey, everyone deals with shit in their own way,” Mia assures him. “EZ wanted to fix it, bring her killer to justice. You tried to ignore it because you couldn’t deal with the pain. What happened isn’t your fault, it’s not your brother’s either. And EZ doing what he did… he’s too headstrong to have let it go. It probably still would have gone down, but instead of your dad losing one son to the prison system, he would have lost two.”

Angel chuckles and licks his lips. “He lost me a long time ago. Ever since EZ was a toddler I lived in his shadow. He was the golden boy, the sports star, he was supposed to get out of here, be someone important. There were no aspirations for me, no dream to follow, it was all on EZ. He and Pop were always close, always reading shit, having these meaningful conversations that would stop as soon as I walked into the room. When EZ got locked up it was like Pop had nothing left because not only was his wife gone, but his best friend was too.”

“Angel—”

“It was the loneliest fucking year of my life until the club came to town,” he cuts her off, his hands pulling her closer. “I started to prospect as soon as possible. It’s a family, and I hadn’t had one since my mom died, and fuck, I needed something, anything, to hold on to. It wasn’t what my mom would have wanted, but I had to stop pretending things were gonna be different between me and Pop. I’m never gonna be like EZ and he never tried to understand me, even after EZ went away. Every Sunday I went to the house for dinner and we barely said five words to each other that weren’t about sports. Every holiday was a letdown. I’d stop at the shop a few times a week to check in, just to make sure he was okay. He’d give me meat and send me away.”

“What about now that EZ’s home?”

He sighs. “It’s better, I guess. He has his buddy back. Sunday dinners are more lively. He accepts the club a bit more now that EZ’s a prospect, but it’s still the same with me and him.”

“But now you have your brother back,” Mia insists, her voice hopeful.

At that, Angel smiles, and it’s real. “I do. I forgot how much I missed him, how much I love him. The MC kept me busy, but having him back, and prospecting? Sometimes I feel like we’ve never been closer.”

“At least you have that. Only child over here, remember?” she reminds him. “Bishop’s done so much for me that I can never thank him enough, but having a sibling is different. I would be in a room full of people and still feel completely alone. There’s just stuff you can’t tell your dad.”

“I asked Bishop what happened to your dad, to Valentino,” Angel confesses, and Mia’s eyebrows raise. “All he said was that he was shot.”

Mia looks down at their laps and nods. “He was. Eleven times.”

“Damn.”

She peers back up and shrugs. “The risk comes with the life, and my dad wanted to be part of the Mayans ever since Tio started it, Bishop too.”

“Wait, you call Marcus Alvarez Tio?” Angel asks, his face almost comical.

Mia can’t help but smile, even with their topic of conversation being what it is. “Yeah, I know you guys all see him as your beloved Padrino, but to me, he’s the guy who did something completely over the top at every single birthday of mine until I was, like, sixteen,” she explains, her lips still curved upwards. “I mean, when I was eight, he brought a pony to my party. A fucking pony. When I turned eleven, he got me a trampoline and put it at the clubhouse. It was broken before I turned twelve, but it was fun while it lasted.”

“Well, now I know what to ask him for my birthday,” Angel comments and she barks out a laugh. “Your pop was from Oakland?”

“Yep, born and raised. He and Bop grew up together, and what Bishop wanted my dad wanted too. They had similar backgrounds—immigrant parents, hard home lives, just not an easy upbringing. They came up together and quickly became part of Tio’s inner circle once they were patched in.”

“What happened?”

Mia moves her hands his chest and starts wringing them together. “There was some new MC trying to make a name for themselves,” she starts, and Angel’s hands make their way to hers, linking them together. “I guess they figured what better way to do that than to take out the president of the mother chapter of the Mayans?”

“Dumb fucks,” Angel swears with a shake of his head. “That shit doesn’t make you legit, it starts fucking wars.”

“Yeah,” Mia murmurs. “They were in Oakland doing business and my dad saw the windows go down. He pushed Tio to the ground and pulled out his gun. He took most of the hit. Bishop took one in the arm himself. My dad was dead within a few minutes, before the police even got there, or so I’m told.”

“I’m sorry,” Angel says quietly. “You were five, right?”

She nods. “Bishop insisted on being the one to tell me and my mom. I remember her screaming and falling to the ground, then Bishop coming over to me,” she recalls, blinking to keep her eyes clear. “He told me, and I refused to believe him. I started hitting him actually, and he had just gotten shot so even though I was five it had to of fucking hurt. Eventually he just bear hugged me until I started crying.”

“And then he stepped up for your dad.”

Mia nods. “After the funeral, I wouldn’t let Bishop leave my sight. I would throw the biggest tantrum if he left. And my tantrums weren’t just screaming and crying like other kids. I went fucking postal. I threw shit, broke whatever was in my way. I would get so worked up I made myself sick. Tio gave Bop some time off from club stuff to help me and my mom, to spend time with me so I wouldn’t turn into the Tasmanian Devil every time he left the room.”

“You know, I’ve heard you talk about Bishop raising you, what you remember about your dad, but this is the most I’ve heard about your mom,” Angel mentions. “There a reason for that?”

“There isn’t much to know about her. Personally, I think it should take more than giving birth to make you a mother, because she gave birth to me, but that’s all she ever did. She’s no mother,” Mia states.

“It was like that even before your dad died?”

“She was there? I don’t know, I mean, Bishop says she was involved, but I have no memories of it. Maybe I held onto what I remember of my dad because I knew I wouldn’t be able to make more memories. But after he died, she just spiraled. Started drinking a lot, when that stopped doing the trick she turned to pills, and then graduated to heroin by the time I was ten.”

“She never got with anyone else?” he questions, his fingers playing with hers.

“Oh, she got with plenty,” Mia assures him. “Whatever she had to do to get her fix, she did.”

“I meant, not another Mayan?” he corrects.

Mia makes a face. “The thing about my mom is, well, she’s a user. She liked being with someone in the club, the respect you got from the girls who weren’t, the looks on the street when someone knew you were an old lady. My parents don’t have this big romantic love story like yours,” she goes on. “My mom was going back and forth between my dad and Bishop before she got pregnant. She would fight with my dad then get with Bishop, when that went south she’d go back to my dad. When she got pregnant she actually didn’t know who the father was.”

“Oh.”

Mia smiles a little. “Bop used to joke that I was one of the luckiest girls in the world because most guys bail in that situation, but they fought over me. They both wanted me, and they both wanted her too. Eventually, they got a test and Valentino Flores was crowned lucky winner of the sperm race. They got married when she was six months pregnant.”

“Bish didn’t want her after?”

“He did, actually,” she answers. “But the heroin got in the way. It turns out that is my mom’s one true love, not my dad, not Bishop, and certainly not me. Bishop refused to make her his old lady until she got clean and was able to take care of me. And, with her and Bop’s history, not to mention my dad’s, no other Mayan would get with her out of respect. It kinda pissed her off because she liked being a kept woman, you know.”

“She’s still not clean now, I’m gathering,” Angel pieces together.

“Nah. She never is. The longest she’s made it is six months. Every couple years or so she comes around wanting to be with Bishop, wanting to get clean, wanting to be together ‘as a family’. He falls for it every time, but I know better. I hate it because he get his hopes up, wastes so much money putting her through rehab, getting her everything she wants when she says she’s clean, then a few weeks later she’s gone and takes everything she can with her. His cash, whatever valuables she could get her hands on. She even sold one of his guns once, one of the .45s that had the Mayan insignia on it and shit.”

“Damn,” Angel swears. “Pop and I were never close, but he was still there. I knew no matter what happened he’d bail me out of whatever jam I got myself into, that I’d always have somewhere to go, a warm meal to eat,” he goes on with a shake of his head. “I couldn’t imagine not being close with my ma. That sucks, I’m sorry.”

Mia shrugs and leans against his chest, her arms snuggled between them. “My mom needs to be the center of attention, something she stopped being when I was born. The only thing she loves as much as heroin, is herself. I was never more than dollar signs to her, the Mayans supported her because of me, and she knew it,” she exhales, content as his large, warm hands rub up and down her back. “I’ve never known different. It was Bishop who made sure I stayed in school, got me into dance classes when I wanted them, signed me up for kickboxing because he wanted me to be able to protect myself. He’s the reason I’m alive,” she admits. “Well, him and Esai.”

“Esai Alvarez Esai?” Angel asks, pulling away enough to look her in the eye.

Mia nods with a ghost of a smile on her face. “Yeah, we were raised together. I think they wanted us to be like brother and sister. I mean, we have pictures of us in the bath when we were little, but that’s not the way it went.”

“You and Esai Alvarez?” he questions, his expression dumbfounded.

“Do you know another one?” she wonders in a giggle.

“No, I just—he, I mean, he’s fucking married to the club. He’s gonna be king, you know,” he comments and pulls her back against his chest. “I’ve never seen him with the same girl for more than a couple hours.”

“That was one of our problems. I couldn’t,” she stops and sighs, “I get there are rules. What happens on a run stays on a run, he could get his dick sucked whenever I wasn’t around, that shit happens but I—I never got right with it. It’s why we were on and off for about seven years. He’d go on a run and he’d come home looking so fucking guilty and would deny it up and down, but I knew. He’d admit it, we’d break up, he’d fight to win me back, and eventually I would give in,” she goes on and shakes her head. “He was my first everything, I couldn’t let go, I wouldn’t at the time. I had only two people I truly let in my life that I knew would love me no matter what, and he was one of them.”

“Wait,” Angel says, his mind churning. “La que se escapo,” he whispers to himself.

“Oh, fuck,” Mia groans.

“You’re the tattoo on his arm, the one that got away,” he continues. “Gilly asked once, he told him to fuck off.”

“Sounds about right,” she laughs. “He got the tattoo for my birthday. My birthday, his tattoo, fucked up, right? But he didn’t get ‘the one that got away’ until we broke up for the final time. I was pissed, but—he had to do something with it. I covered mine up.”

“You had one? Of him, I mean?”

“Kind of, I had the, uh, the old lady tattoo on my arm,” she answers as she shifts to reveal her skull tattoo to him, the one that got them talking in the first place. “I covered it with the tattoo for my dads. I’d always wanted something for them, and a guy I knew said he’d be able to cover it easily enough,” she says and pulls her jacket back up. “Fuck, that pissed him off. To Sai, that meant we were really over. He refused to cover his, did that instead,” she goes on. “Told me that I would be the only woman he would ever marry, so if it wasn’t me, it wouldn’t be anyone, and so there was no reason to get rid of the tat. I’m sure he’ll get someone knocked up one day and she’ll be his old lady, and she’ll be able to accept the shit I wasn’t able to.”

“Not the life for you, huh?” Angel asks with an eyebrow raised.

“It could be,” Mia insists. “I understand being in the club, loving it, putting it above most of the things in your life, but I need to be the one thing that it’s more important than. Not that I would ever make him choose, I respect the MC too much for that, but—I need to know that I’m number one. Sai couldn’t do that, no matter how hard he tried. I realized I was trying making him into someone he wasn’t, and I loved him too much to do that,” she explains. “He really tried the last two years. He’d opt out of runs, spend every spare moment he had with me, was completely transparent, but—he would get so angry sometimes. It made him feel like I was keeping him from the club, but I wasn’t, not intentionally, I just didn’t trust him. He had too curious of a dick.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t piece this together sooner. Of course, you knew E, why wouldn’t you? And that tattoo, it’s really you,” Angel mutters more to himself than her. “I feel like a fucking idiot.”

“He got it when I turned eighteen and he asked me to be his old lady. I was so happy, I thought that things would be different, and they were for a little. Bishop was pissed off because I moved in with him, but I was eighteen, he couldn’t stop me. Of course, I was back and forth between break-ups,” she mentions as an afterthought.

“This relationship, it sounds great, by the way,” he teases.

Mia laughs a little. “When it was great, it really fucking was. When it wasn’t, we were toxic, and I didn’t see it until later. He never hit me or shit like that, Bishop would have killed him if he did, but I saw what he did as cheating, and he didn’t. It made me feel like I wasn’t enough even though he swore up and down it wasn’t about me,” she continues. “And, like you said, he’s gonna be king. There is nothing he would choose over the club, and even though I would never ask, I needed to know I meant more, but I never would. When I finally accepted that I ended it. There were a few hiccups, and it was one of the hardest things I ever did. He was my best friend, he knew every single piece of me, you know?”

Angel shakes his head. “No, I don’t. I’ve never been with anyone like that.”

“You’ve never had a serious girlfriend?” Mia asks, biting her lip when Angel’s hands roam across her ribs, his fingers brushing against her bra. “I don’t believe that.”

“I’ve had girlfriends, but never like you’re talking about. The most serious one was in high school, which sounds fucked up when you’re thirty-one,” he says, a hint of a chuckle in his voice. “But I also haven’t been looking for anything serious.”

“What happened to her?”

“Her name was Adelita. I knew her from school, we were in the same year, but I guess you could say we met at church. Mom made us go every Sunday, rain or shine, sick or healthy,” he states, but then rethinks it. “Well, if we were, like, projectile vomiting or some shit we got out of it, but that meant she had to stay home too, and we knew how much church meant to her.”

“You were pickin’ up girls at church, Reyes?” Mia teases with a rock of her hips.

“Querida, I can pick up girls anywhere,” he answers with a knowing smile. “Anyways, she helped out a lot at church, and my mom would always guilt me and EZ into helping with whatever fundraiser or cause they were involved in every few months. We were working a booth together during the end of summer carnival and I was doing more flirting than working—”

“What? I do not believe that for a second. You have to be lying—ah!” Mia stops in a squeak when Angel tickles her sides.

“It’s my love language, mi dulce, literally,” he jokes. “One minute we’re working the booth, the next my mom is there and inviting her to dinner. It just kind of escalated from there. She wasn’t my first girlfriend, but she was the first I think I actually loved.”

“You think?”

“Looking back, I think I was trying so hard to be someone I wasn’t for her. I tried to be into the things she was, I wanted to care as much as she did about everything she did, but—I think I just wanted my mom to be proud of me for something, to have something for her to gush about to her friends what was about me for once and not EZ,” he admits.

“I didn’t know your mom,” Mia states the obvious, “but I know she had things to be proud of you for. It’s easy to see how much you loved your mother, how you would do anything for her, you even shared a hobby with her. So, I know damn well she gushed about you, Angel Reyes, so you shush right now.”

Angel smiles and presses a soft kiss to her lips. “Thank you.”

“What happened? With Adelita?” she asks.

“Just didn’t work out. We really didn’t have all that much in common. I mean, I like helping people, I still donate to the church and to causes and shit, but spending every waking hour asking people for money, going door to door to give out pamphlets and shit? Man, I felt like I couldn’t fuck my girlfriend without getting money from someone else first,” he says, and Mia can’t help but laugh. “Besides, she went into the Peace Corps after high school and I knew that shit was not for me. We ended with no hard feelings.”

“And nothing since? No one serious?” Mia asks.

“After Mom died, I didn’t want serious. I just picked up girls to fuck ‘em. And ever since I’ve been in the club, I’ve been happy to sleep with whatever hang around was paying attention,” he answers honestly. “Besides, it takes a lot to be with someone in the club, you gotta deal with more than the average bullshit a guy puts you through.”

“Oh, I know,” she confirms.

“You also don’t know who actually wants you for you or because of the leather,” he adds on. “Like your mom, being an old lady is all some chicks want, it doesn’t matter who gets them the title.”

“So many girls hated me when I was with Esai, even after we broke up because they knew how much we still meant to each other. None of the girls understood, to them I had everything. If Esai was going to be king, I would have been queen, but being an old lady wasn’t my end goal. Being with Esai was. This one particular puta, Bianca, fuck, every time she could she was tryin’ to get her nails in him. When we broke up, she thought it was like open season. I was in more than one fight with that bitch,” she says with a vengeful look in her eye.

“I would pay to see that shit,” Angel insists, and Mia pushes on his shoulder as he laughs. “What? I know you can fight, Bishop’s gone on about it, how many matches you won when you were in kickboxing.”

“Yeah, that’s why they guys were always quick to hold me back, they knew I could do some serious damage,” she mutters grimly. “All I wanted was five minutes alone with her, still do. She was all talk and I hate that.”

“You’re still close with E, then?”

Mia looks down, mostly out of shame. “I was. When Bop and I had our falling out I wanted away from all things having to do with the MC. I was so sick of him bailing out my mom and never taking my side with her. Esai tries to stay out of shit when it comes to my mom. He fucking hates her, but he respects Bop’s feelings about her, so he didn’t back me up. I cut him out too and haven’t had the lady balls to reach back out. This is the longest we’ve gone without talking since we broke up. I needed time away from him then to get over him, you know. That, and every time we hung out right after we ended up fucking.”

“I don’t know if I want to be in love like that,” Angel admits and starts to light another cigarette.

“Like me and E?”

“Maybe, I guess, more like my parents,” he answers before inhaling. “I saw what happens when it ends. My dad still isn’t the same, almost ten years later.”

“That’s where we differ—you don’t know if you want it, but I don’t know if I’m capable of it,” Mia confesses.

“I don’t know if I believe that,” Angel comments.

Mia’s eyebrows raise as she makes a face at him. “I loved Esai, but—I never trusted him so I never completely let myself go with him. I trust him with my life, but my heart? I barely trust myself with that shit,” she stops and shakes her head in shame. “The relationship I ended when I came out here…” she trails off and holds her face in her hands so he can't see her shame.

“Hey,” Angel pulls on her wrists softly, but they don’t budge. “Hey, talk to me, baby,” he pleads quietly. “You’re my best friend too, you never have to be afraid to tell me shit.”

“It was bad,” she confesses, her voice barely above a whisper. “It didn’t start that way, and—fuck,” she swears while trying to hold back tears, hating herself for getting so upset. “When Bishop and I had our falling out, he was brought into the fight.”

“Your ex?” he questions while finally removing her palms from her cheeks.

“Yeah, his name’s Jay—Jason, actually,” she corrects herself. “We had just started dating when my mom OD’ed, again, and we weren’t serious, but,” she stops and shakes her head, “I mentioned it when we got into it, how the guy I was dating was a normal law-abiding citizen and being there, trying to figure out what detox program to get my mom in, it shouldn’t have to be my normal, his either.”

“What did Bish say?”

“That it didn’t matter, she’s family and you do what you have to for family,” Mia recites from memory. “I said that she wasn’t my family, and she didn’t give a shit about him, and until she decided to get help herself nothing he did would matter,” she pauses to wipe at the corners of her eyes in an attempt to rid the pool of tears. “And he said he raised me better than to not care about my own mother and he was ashamed of me.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Angel coos when tears start to fall. “It’s alright, c’mere,” he murmurs while pulling her into a hug.

“He’d never said that before, that he was ashamed of me,” she manages to get out in between shaky breaths. “I’d been arrested, kept in holding cells, tried drugs I told him I never would, made so many bad decisions he found about after the fact, but he’d never said he was ashamed of me.”

“He wasn’t, he’s not,” he assures her. “You don’t hear the way he talks about you when you’re not around, the joy in his eyes, how excited her gets. He loves you more than anything, mi dulce, please believe that.”

Mia nods against his chest, sniffling. “It hurt. What he said hurt, it hurt that it felt like he kept choosing her over me hurt, that he continued to believe her and not even listen to me, it really hurt. And I wanted to make him hurt too, so I said that I was done with it all—her, him, the MC, and that I would be better off with my cookie-cutter new boyfriend who would be able to give me a normal life.”

“It was a fight, everyone says shit during fights,” Angel responds in an attempt to console her.

“Yeah, but I made good on it. I stopped going to the clubhouse, I ignored Esai’s calls and texts, I didn’t check in with Bop the way I used to. I dug my heels in, and so did he,” she sniffs. “I fucked up. I made Jay out to be like Captain America and he wasn’t, I was just so angry, and so I tried everything to make it work to prove I was right. I gave in way too much, let him make me feel like I was crazy, isolate me, and control everything, and I mean everything,” she stops as her eyes well up again. “Fuck.”

Angel holds her tighter and presses kisses against her hair, shoulders, anywhere he has access to. “I’m right here, baby, I’m not going anywhere,” he promises.

“If Bishop knew what happened between me and Jay,” Mia says while wiping her cheeks, “he would be ashamed of me, it wouldn’t just be words.”

“Why do you say that?” Angel asks after a silent moment, his voice firm, cautious.

Mia shakes her head. “Never mind, forget I said anything,” she says and makes a move to get up, but he holds her down.

“No, I ain’t forgetting shit,” he tells her. “Talk to me.”

“It doesn’t matter, okay?” Mia insists and pulls free from his hold. “I got out of it, that’s what’s important. I’m here and made things right with Bishop and, and,” she falters and looks him in the eye, “I met you. My best friend.”

“I know you want me to let this shit go, babe, but—”

“No, no buts,” she cuts him off. “I need you to trust me when I say I handled it.”

Angel takes in a deep breath and stands with her. “Alright.”

“That’s it?” Mia asks, surprised.

“We’re best friends, right? If you say you handled it, then I believe you. That’s what best friends do,” he answers. “Especially ones that sleep together.”

“See, this is why we’re perfect for each other,” she insists while wrapping arms around his middle. “We’re best friends, we trust each other, and you don’t want to fall in love while I don’t think I ever truly can. We get the fun without the responsibilities of the relationship.”

Angel smiles softly before kissing her. “Well, when you put it that way…” he trails off and kisses her again.

They are interrupted by Angel’s phone buzzing in his pocket. He tugs it out and answers it immediately after looking at the caller. The conversation is quick, one she’s heard too many times before, but understands all the same. He’s needed at the clubhouse.

“I gotta go,” he sighs, but makes no move to let her go. “Thanks.”

“For what?” Mia asks, her chin resting on his chest as she looks up at him.

“Thanks for listening,” he whispers before kissing her gently. “I haven’t—I don’t talk about my mom, it’s just something I avoid, but it felt good talking about her with you.”

“Any time,” Mia says and pushes her lips against his in a barely-there kiss. “Me and Bop talk about my dad all the time. It was hard at first, but it makes it easier, I think. It helps keep your memories too.”

He nods. “Noted. You coming to the clubhouse?” he asks as they start to make their way back through the house and to their vehicles.

She shakes her head while leaning against her car. “Nah. If you got called in that means you guys are gonna be in templo for a bit and I’m tired. I was running around with Letty all day, remember?”

Angel puts his helmet on as he nods. “That girl does tire you out. Her mouth alone never stops moving.”

“Shut up, she loves you guys,” Mia scolds him with a smack to his chest.

“I never said she ain’t family, she’s just a teenage girl. I stopped being interested in them once I hit twenty,” he replies.

“Coming from your current sex partner, that’s good to know,” she jokes in return.

“Ooh, sex partner, I love it when you talk dirty. Say it again,” Angel instructs.

“Sex partner,” Mia says in a sultry tone.

They start to move closer to kiss again, but his phone goes off. “Fuckin’ Boy Scout,” he swears and pulls his phone out and declines his brother’s phone all. “Such a fuckin’ pissant.”

“You love him. Go, they’ll start to wonder where you are,” she encourages. “Thank you, again, for my ceiling.”

Angel’s leg swings over his bike and with a kick the engine roars to life. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just made the call to get it done when you asked, remember?” he says with a wink.

Mia nods with a knowing smile and watches him pull away while berating herself for even bringing up Jay, let alone talking about what their relationship was like with Angel.

She makes a mental note. It will never happen again.

CHAPTER 4

TAG LIST:

@joalsglasses @mrsamaroevans @justahopelessssromantic @mrsjaxtellerfan @claytoncardenasbabymama @starrynite7114

#mayans mc #fanfiction #friends can break your heart too #Angel Reyes #angel reyes x oc #clayton cardenas #mayans m.c.#ao3 link

55 notes · View notes

auror-lovie · 4 years

Text

I Loved You, Mr. Scamander; Chapter 2

━━━•✦.✧. Author’s Note.✧.✦•━

Chapter 2 is O U T!

GOSH THE AMOUNT OF RESEARCH I DID JUST TO MAKE THIS CHAPTER.

Besides the point, I had a lot of fun doing the research. (Where was this version of me in high school-)

I hope you guys enjoy it! This chapter is a bit longer than I anticipated. It was a mix of research, personal experiences, and listening to the same song for hours-

You can find the playlist and the taglist form link in my bio! (Or you can just comment, send an ask, or PM- whichever feels comfortable)

━━━━━•✦.✧. Summary .✧.✦•━

After Hogwarts, (Y/N) and Victoria become the MOM’s Investigation Department’s secret weapon. While celebrating the completion of a recent case, she meets someone new. Who knew that this someone is related to her first love?

━━━━━•✦.✧. Add-Ons .✧.✦•━

A little back story of what happened during their last year at Hogwarts

Theseus~! ( Gosh, I hope I didn’t write him too out of character. Then again, in this chapter, he’s fresh out of WWI )

Victoria and (Y/N)’s friendship is solely based on the friendship I have with my fellow RavenPuff best friend. ( If she ever finds this fic, though I doubt it, I love you~! )

Fluff! (Hopefully)

Theseus and Reader being oblivious to these coincidences.

CLICHE ROMANCE STUFF. I’M A HOPELESS ROMANTIC, OKAY???

Hilarity ensues

Blood, but it’s a short scene

Slight angst at the end

━━━━━━•✦.✧.☾.✧.✦•━━━━━

Before Newt left, he promised to owl them. He was set on working for the Ministry to work with magical creatures in some way. Though his letters always came at odd hours- stupid time zones.

The day after Newt's expulsion, (Y/N) and Victoria had cut ties with Leta. They couldn’t trust her after what had happened. Despite all that, (Y/N) wished Leta the best in life.

For once the roles reversed, Victoria wanted to hex the hell out of Leta, but (Y/N) talked her out of it. Told her that it wasn’t worth it. Instead of spending all that energy on hating someone, it was better to wish them the best and let them go.

Sixth year had come to an end. On the day everyone was set to go back home for the summer holiday, Headmaster Dippet had summoned Victoria to his office.

“Headmaster Dippet,” She said as she stepped into his office. “What can I do for you?”

“You can take this, Miss Howard.” He replied, his hand gesturing to a small, yet elegant metal box that sat near her side of the desk.

Puzzled, Victoria walked closer. She hesitantly grabbed the box and opened it. On the small cushion, laid a navy blue pin, with the words HEAD GIRL in bronze.

“T-This is an honor, sir.” She stumbled, picking it up. It was funny how valuable a small badge would be. How much weight and responsibility it held while being almost as light as a feather.

“I want you to wear it on the first day back.” He gave a small smile.

“I understand, Professor. I can’t thank you enough-“

“Hush child. Come next year, you’ll curse me out for giving you the responsibilities.”

In their final year at Hogwarts, they made it their best year yet. They went to all the Quidditch games and Hogsmeade trips. They studied their hardest and gave it their all. When they graduated, they both got “Exceeds Expectations” and “Outstanding” in all the subjects needed to apply for the Auror Training Program. These subjects were Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, and Charms.

~*~*~

Auror training required strenuous work to complete, but nothing they couldn’t handle. It was mandatory to undergo a rigorous series of character and aptitude tests. These tests showcased how well they reacted under pressure. They trained extensively in advanced magical combat, other elements of practical defense, and methods of criminal investigation.

Other training courses were Concealment and Disguise, Stealth and Tracking, Battle Instinct, Best-Laid Plans, Duelling in the Dark, Field Training, History of the Dark Arts, Method in the Mad-Eye, Resilience Training, and The Auror Advantage; while poisons and antidotes were also essential studies. Their training lasted for three years and was difficult work.

(Y/N) excelled in courses like Battle Instinct and Dueling in the Dark. Victoria showed her prowess in courses like Stealth and Tracking and Best-Laid Plans. Their personalities complimented each other. Apart, they had their successes, but together? They were a force not to be reckoned with. You’ve heard of power couples, but they were a powerful dynamic duo.

The Ministry of Magic in the Investigation Department is where they started. They were the department’s secret weapon. The only people who knew of them were those also in the Investigation Department. If they left the department due to any reason, they would be obliviated of their memory of (Y/N) and Victoria.

•✦.✧.🔎.✧.✦•

Another report was finalized and another dark wizard in Azkaban. In celebration, Victoria had convinced (Y/N) to go out to a pub with her. Coincidentally, the muggle world was celebrating a victory of their own.

At the pub, (Y/N) and Victoria was sitting at the bar, both on their second glass of Sidecar cocktail. Their work clothes were more wrinkled than usual as they relaxed on the stools.

The place was hot (despite it being winter), loud, and reeked of perfume and alcohol. People were celebrating the victory of “The War to End All Wars”. Men in uniforms were all around. Some were at home with loved ones. Others were kissing random strangers at the pub or hanging around with their mates. Then there were a couple of groups raising a glass to their fallen comrades.

“I’m headed to the restroom. You coming?” Victoria asked after finishing her glass.

(Y/N) swished her drink in her glass. “I’m good. I’ll wait here for you.”

Victoria nodded, “Alright, dear. Remember no boys, and if one won’t leave you alone- hex him or punch him.”

(Y/N) gave her a look.

Victoria laughed. “Be alert.” She said before leaving.

She nodded, “I will, Vi. I always am.” (Y/N) let out a sigh as she watched Victoria walk towards the restroom.

Her train of thought started with work but soon drifted to Newt. Over the years, she and Newt continued to stay in touch. Since she graduated, Newt had served on the Eastern Front- not in the war, no. He was there to wrangle some Ukrainian Ironbellys. That year, Augustus Worme commissioned him to write a book about magical creatures.

“Of course he took the job. It’s the perfect job for him…” She mumbled before taking another sip.

If there was anything (Y/N) wanted to do right now, it would be to go home. Being at a pub wasn’t her thing- neither was it Victoria’s, but she let it slide this time. ‘To whatever God or higher celestial being up there, please keep Newt safe.’ She thought, staring at the remaining liquid.

“Hey, what’s a pretty little lady like you doing in a place like this all by herself?” A male voice cooed as he sat on the barstool to her left.

Snapping out of her thoughts, (Y/N) turned to face a man in uniform. He had short blonde hair (but if it were any longer, it would break regulation) and light brown eyes. Attractive? Yes. Her type? Definitely not.

“I’m not here by myself,” (Y/N) eyed the single chevron patch sewn on the upper half of his uniform’s sleeve. “-Private.” She said before meeting his gaze. “I’m here with a friend.”

“Private Keaton Williams.” He said as he took one of her hands in his, bringing it up to kiss her knuckles.

‘Merlin’s beard. Where’s Victoria?’ She thought as she saw the satisfaction on his face. (Y/N) slowly retracted her hand, holding it close to her chest.

“Thank you, Private- er, Williams. But I should be looking for my friend.” She said, getting ready to stand.

He held onto her wrist, preventing her from leaving. “Come on. We both know it’s a lie. You’re not really here with anyone.” Keaton teased.

She tried to think of a way to turn him down. She couldn’t hex him- he was a muggle. There were rules about using magic in the presence of muggles! And she couldn’t punch him. How could she punch a man who had fought for the country she called home?

“She’s with me.” said another male’s voice. This time, it came from behind her.

Keaton looked past (Y/N) to see another man in uniform. “Oh wow. I’m another bloke in a uniform. What makes you so special?” He mocked.

“I don’t condone men flaunting their uniform as a way to catch a woman’s heart.” The one behind her replied. “I’ve dealt with idiots like him. Play along.” He whispered in her ear. (Y/N) nodded, before taking back her wrist.

“I know how to get what I want 's all,” Keaton boasted, then turned his attention back to (Y/N). “Let’s go, love. Let this soldier show you a good time.”

(Y/N) turned to get a look at her savior. Oh great. Yet she stared for a second longer- he looked so familiar.

Shaking her head from her thoughts, she leaned into his chest. “I’m sorry, Private Williams. You had no chance from the start. This soldier had already caught my attention.”

The man looked shocked for a split second before playing along with her little skit. “Ah yes. I’m glad I was able to return home to the love of my life all in one piece.” He said before wrapping an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulder.

She blushed. ‘Love of his life? No- stop it. It’s a ruse.’

Keaton looked at the other, eyeing his rank. “What’s a Sergeant got that I don’t?”

The man shifted, a crimson ribbon pinned to the pocket flap of his left breast pocket revealing itself. “I have the right mind to back off when a woman says no.”

Keaton looked again, seeing the ribbon, and gasped. The Victoria Cross Award. “Y-You’re him. T-That Theseus guy… The War Hero.”

Theseus. The name of her saviour was revealed!

Theseus rolled his eyes. “It’s Sergeant to you. Now scram before I report you to your commanding officer.”

“Y-Yes Sergeant,” Keaton said before walking away from the pair.

(Y/N) let out a sigh of relief as she relaxed her shoulders. “Thank you… Theseus, was it?”

Theseus hummed in agreement, removing his arm from her shoulder. “It’s no problem…” He trailed off, running his hand through his hair.

She turned in her chair to face him. His hair now slightly messed up due to his recent action. His uniform suited him- good and squared away. But his face. It was so damn familiar. It was as if she’d seen those blue eyes somewhere before.

“Uh… Like what you see?” Theseus joked.

(Y/N) blushed. “I-I didn’t mean to stare…” A small pause before sticking her hand out, “I’m (Y/N).”

Theseus gently took her hand, bringing it to his lips, and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles. “Theseus. Charmed to meet you.”

‘Did… Did he just…?’ (Y/N) giggled, taking her hand back and interlocking her fingers together. “So what’s a wizard like you serving in the military?”

He sighed, sitting on the seat that was once Victoria’s, “The military part was a cover-up to get me on the front lines. Even if the muggles were at war, that didn’t mean dark wizards would stop their heinous crimes. I was working double time. A field agent for the Ministry and a Sergeant for the British Armed Forces.”

(Y/N) nodded. “Thank you for your service… For our world and theirs.” She smiled at him.

The silence was deafening between them, but it wasn’t awkward in any way. It was more comforting.

(Y/N) brought herself to look at his eyes again, her pupils dilating. His eyes made her heart swell with love- the type of love she reserved only for Newt. Though, she couldn’t help but spill a little bit of that to Theseus. Love at first sight?

Theseus returned the smile. How could someone, let alone a stranger he met, be this beautiful? His mind drifted to a small montage of made-up scenarios. He could see a growing relationship with her- a family even. Would his mother approve? Would Newt approve? She’d make a great addition to the Scamander family.

“Sorry I took too long. Ready to- Merlin, (Y/N)! I leave for five minutes!” Victoria’s voice yelled from behind Theseus.

“Sorry about that.” (Y/N) mumbled.

He turned in his seat to face Victoria. “I-I’m sure you’d like an explanation, but first, hello.” He stuttered.

(Y/N) emerged from behind him, walking over to her friend. “Vi! This is Theseus. Theseus this is my best friend, Victoria.”

‘He looks so familiar. I’ve seen his face somewhere before.’ Victoria thought.

•✦.✧.🔎.✧.✦•

On Theseus and (Y/N)’s first date, they went to a coffee shop.

“So you’re part of the law enforcement? Are you sure you retired from your military work?” She joked.

Theseus chuckled softly before sipping on his tea- he was never a coffee person. “First, yes. I’m retired. And yes, I work within law enforcement. I’m what you call “well respected”. And what about you, love?”

She blushed. “I work in the field then do some paperwork. That’s all. Nothing that special.”

“Hm…” He thought for a moment before an idea popped into his head. “Ever thought about working for the Ministry? They could use a couple of recruits in the Auror Department. I’m sure Victoria would join as well. Training is only about three years and with your skills, I’m sure you two would be a great Aurors.”

(Y/N) smiled before sipping on her cup of coffee. ‘Only if you knew…’

~*~*~

For their next date, they went out for a walk in the park. It was cold out, so they wore their long coats and their house scarves.

“No way! You were a Hufflepuff? I thought you were a Gryffindor!” (Y/N) exclaimed as he neared their meeting spot.

Theseus smiled, “Well, hello to you too.” He then stood in front of her, ruffling her hair. “Well then, Little Miss Ravenclaw, aren’t you full of surprises?” He teased.

She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “What house did you think I was in…?”

He gestured to his Hufflepuff scarf.

“If the Sorting Hat sorted me again, I’m pretty sure I’d be in Hufflepuff. If Victoria got sorted again… She’d definitely be a Slytherin.”

“Then again, you’re the feistiest Ravenclaw I’ve ever met.” Theseus teased, poking her cheek softly.

(Y/N) swatted his hand away from her face, “W-Well you’re the cockiest Hufflepuff I’ve ever met.

~*~*~

The third time they went out, they went to a fancy restaurant.

“Theseus… Where are we going?” She asked as they walked hand in hand.

“Somewhere special. I’ve been dying to take you out here for months.”

“Oh?” She asked. “What did I do to deserve this?”

He smiled as they turned the corner. “Ah, here we are!”

(Y/N) looked at the building and gasped. “Theseus… The Ritz?! This must've cost you a fortune!”

He kissed her cheek, “Anything for you.”

~*~*~

Then came their fourth date. Theseus had decided on that night, he’d make their relationship official. He would’ve done it sooner, but he’d only met her a year ago. He wanted time to get to know her and make sure it wasn’t an impulse decision. To his surprise, she agreed. So after a year-long wait, he took his chance. Nothing to lose… right?

After dinner, they decided to take a walk in the park. A last-minute plan she was not dressed for.

“You know, despite its kleptomania for shiny things, I always wanted a Niffler. They’re such interesting creatures.” She admitted.

Theseus chuckled- a sound that was now music to (Y/N)’s ears. “You sound like my brother. He’s into all that care of magical creatures stuff. Me? Not so much.”

She hummed, “I’d like to meet your brother sometime…”

“I’ll set up a date for all us to have tea when he comes back from his travels.”

“C-Can’t wait!” She stuttered as she rubbed her upper arms for warmth.

He noticed this and nonchalantly removed his coat. He draped it over her shoulders, “Sorry. It’s my fault you’re cold.”

She held the lapels of his coat, “But now you’ll get cold!”

“It looks better on you than it did me.” He gave her a playful wink.

(Y/N) gasped as she remembered a moment like that. All those years ago at Hogwarts- with Newt. Though she dismissed the thoughts of her first love. Newt wasn’t there with her. Theseus was. Newt hadn’t taken her out on those wonderful dates. Theseus had. Newt didn’t love her. Theseus did- or so she hoped.

Theseus had stopped them in front of a water fountain. The sound of trickling water and the echoes of the city filled the silence. He shoved his hands into his pockets. Were his hands always this sweaty? He took a deep breath and exhaled. It was now or never.

“Theseus, darling, A-Are you alright?” She asked, one of her hands cupping his cheek.

He hummed and leaned into her touch. Despite the cold, her hand was radiating so much warmth. He looked at her lovingly, “Yes, dear. Everything is fine.”

“(Y/N)… During my Hogwarts years, I never gave dating a second thought. And after I graduated, I immediately started working for the Ministry. Then I got sent to war. Merlin- I never want to step foot in a muggle war ever again.” He paused to make sure she was paying attention.

Her hand returned to the warmth of his coat. She nodded, giving him the okay to continue.

“And when I returned home, I was so set on returning to my duties at the Ministry. Then I met you. You wonderful, beautiful, intelligent woman. I couldn’t believe that I caught your attention. I know I’m rambling and your feet must be in pain for standing for so long, so let me ask you this.” He paused for a second. “Will you allow me to date you properly? To make this- us, official?”

(Y/N) smiled. “Theseus… I never thought you’d ask. I’d love to be your girlfriend.”

Full of joy, Theseus wrapped his arms around her and spun around. Their laughs mixed, composing a duet that harmonized with each other perfectly.

When he set her down, she sighed in content. “Oh, Theseus…”

He cupped her face, his thumb caressing her cheek. “Can… Can I kiss you?”

She nodded. “Yes-”

He cut her response short, closing the gap between their lips.

•✦.✧.🔎.✧.✦•

The New Year’s season came to pass and it was the start of the 1920s. Victoria and (Y/N) transferred to the Aurors Department. Effective immediately. They loved the Investigation Department and everyone there. Must've been something serious if their transfer was immediate.

Little did they know, Theseus was the Head of the Auror department.

On the way to the meeting room, (Y/N) was ranting about the sudden change. Victoria was saying her thoughts about the matter but listened to her friend’s distress. They walked past an office and Victoria caught the nameplate on the door that read “Theseus Scamander”

Scamander? Oh-

Before Victoria could ask questions, they had gotten to the meeting room. There were other Aurors in the department. Everyone there knew each other, so Victoria and (Y/N) were the “newbies”.

Victoria turned to (Y/N), “Hey… You know that boyfriend of yours, did you by any chance get his last name?” She whispered.

(Y/N) shrugged, “No. I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Well, let me tell you-”

The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Torquil Travers, entered the room from the back entrance. “Fellow Aurors! As you all know, Grindelwald is gathering up recruits for his “For the Greater Good” revolution. All of you are here today to form up a special task force in bringing him and his organization down. Leading you in this endeavor is the new Head of Auror Office and retired War Hero, Theseus Scamander.”

A round of applause erupted, welcoming the new Head of Auror Office.

Turning towards Travers, Victoria clapped along. “I’m sure it’s not your Theseus-”

“Oh shit.” (Y/N) cursed as she saw her beloved walk through the doors.

Theseus nodded as he walked towards his new task force.

Travers patted his back, “You’ll need to choose an assistant and a communications liaison, but take your time.”

Theseus scanned the room. He knew all of the people, some he trusted, and some he didn’t. Then he saw a pair he knew all too well- but he only saw them outside of work- (Y/N) and Victoria.

(Y/N) gave a shy smile, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Victoria smirked, “You’re screwed.”

As the applause died down, Theseus announced, “I’ve already chosen the people for the positions. For my assistant, I’ll be having Miss (Y/N) (L/N).”

She blushed as she felt everyone’s eyes on her. Though slightly confused, the other Aurors in the room applauded.

Victoria leaned down again, “Try not to make too much noise in his office, eh?”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to gasp, but nothing came out. “I would never!”

“And my Communications Liaison will be Miss Victoria Howard.”

(Y/N) nudged her friend, “You’re stuck with us now.”

Victoria laughed nervously, waving at everyone. “Brilliant…”

~*~*~

The three of them were in Theseus’ office. (Y/N) was pacing back and forth as Theseus was sitting at his desk and Victoria leaning against the bookshelf.

“Why me? Why another Scamander?” She groaned in agony. “How did I not know!” She muttered.

“Love, what’s the problem?” Theseus asked, slightly worried.

“You wouldn’t by any chance have a brother would you?” Victoria asked, looking at him.

“Yeah.” He replied, his attention still towards (Y/N), who was still pacing back and forth.

“About this tall?” She said, extending her arm to its highest point.

“Around there.”

“Loves magical creatures?” She asked, now crossing her arms over her chest.

“More than life itself.”

“Got expelled from Hogwarts in his sixth year?”

“Yes. Wait, how did you-”

“I figured.” She gave a curt nod before looking at her distressed friend. “Honey, you need to calm down.”

(Y/N) stopped in her tracks and faced Victoria. Her eyes were on the verge of tears.

Victoria's expression softened as she shoved aside the blunt responses she had prepared in her mind. “Hey… Come here…” She cooed as she walked over to her with arms wide open.

(Y/N) quickly ran into Victoria’s embrace, letting the tears fall. She mumbled something into her shoulder.

“What was that, dear?” She asked softly.

(Y/N) pulled away, “I said, what am I going to tell Newt? I’ve told him that I recently got a boyfriend. How is he going to react when it’s his brother?”

Victoria rolled her eyes. “What’s it to him? He’s your best friend.” She said, emphasizing the fact that Newt was just her friend. “If it’s his brother or not, who you date is not his business.”

Theseus stood from his seat and walked over to the pair. “If it makes you feel better, we can invite him over for tea and tell him.”

(Y/N) moves from Victoria’s arms and walks over to Theseus. “I… I think I’d like that.”

•✦.✧.🔎.✧.✦•

Despite Theseus and (Y/N)’s relationship, they never let it get in the way of their work. (Y/N) had the same workload and deadlines as the others in the task force.

Victoria was still expected to represent the Ministry’s Auror department, write news releases, and coordinate the distribution of information along with her fieldwork.

Theseus randomly assigned partners in every stakeout or raid- mostly because he’d feel like he’d protect the hell out of (Y/N) if she was paired up with him all the time. (Y/N) was capable, and he knew that.

Though there are sometimes where one of them got hurt and the other can’t help but care for them.

(Y/N) had made Theseus take off his blazer and rolled up the sleeve of his left arm. Blood dripped from the wound caused by one of Grindelwald’s recruits. She sat on a short stool with a bucket of warm water off to the side, just within arms reach.

Theseus slouched in the chair, flinching at the slightest touches (Y/N) made with the towel. She had wiped off all the dried blood surrounding the wound. Then she started dabbing the towel ever so gently on top of it. The towel was damp and warm, but it didn’t make the pain any softer.

He grimaced as he inhaled sharply, jerking his arm away from her.

“I need to clean your wound, love” (Y/N) said, reaching over to where he moved his arm.

“But (Y/N) it hurts!” He whined.

“You’re being childish.” She replied.

“W-Well you’re not the one on the receiving end!”

“Honey, you were a soldier. I’m sure you’ve dealt with more serious wounds than this…”

“That’s because I didn’t have someone as cute as you cleaning me up.”

“Flattery won’t get your wound cleaned up.”

“Can’t you just use a spell?”

“Unlike most wizards, I like to do some things without the use of magic.”

He huffed childishly, not looking at her.

“If you didn’t move, it wouldn’t hurt as much.”

Theseus grumbled, still moving his arm away.

“Theseus Scamander, hold still or so help me I will hex you!”

“I thought we didn’t allow magic in the bedroom~” He teased.

“Theseus! We’re at work!”

•✦.✧.🔎.✧.✦•

After months of asking and asking, Theseus had finally convinced Newt to come and visit him- to finally meet his girlfriend. (Y/N) had already decided on the tea so they were waiting for Newt to arrive.

As they waited, Theseus was looking over some reports as (Y/N) was leaning on his bookshelf, doing some light reading.

He sighed, setting the papers in his hand back down on his desk. Glancing over to (Y/N), he smiled, ‘She’s beautiful even when she’s reading…’

Theseus looked at her ensemble. A white long-sleeved button-up, a grey vest with a matching blazer, and dress pants. He looked at his suit- the same color scheme. Were they always matching?

He looked at her again and noticed that this time, she wore a tie with her suit, but not just any tie. A yellow and black tie- His Hufflepuff tie. Theseus smiled, “Hey (L/N), nice tie.”

(Y/N) nodded, turning the page of her book. “Yeah? I put it on this morning.” She said nonchalantly.

Theseus stood and made his way over. When he stood in front of her, he took the book from her hands and set it to the side. “Where’d you get it?”

She looked up at him. Was he always this tall? “Hogwarts. From when I went there. Duh.”

“Really? Because I remember you telling me that you were a Ravenclaw,” He said untucking the tie from under her vest. “This is clearly a Hufflepuff tie.” He held up the end of the tie in her line of view.

(Y/N) gasped. “I swear, it was an honest mistake!”

“Hmm…” He trailed off. “I kind of like seeing you in my ties. It’s cute.” He said, leaning in close.

“Thes… We’re at work… A-And your brother could walk in any minute-”

His fingers slid up the material, finally wrapping around the knot. “Yeah… But I haven’t kissed you since we left my flat…” He whispered, tugging softly as if to bring her closer.

She could feel herself leaning in close. Her lip mere millimeters away-

“Here we are! Head of Aurors Office!” Victoria said, opening the door to Theseus’ office. She and Newt walked in.

(Y/N) quickly pushed Theseus away, shoving the tie back under her vest.

“Newt!” (Y/N) exclaimed, shoving herself off the bookshelf.

“Brother!” Theseus said happily as he walked over to Newt.

There, Newt stood in a nice suit, a mustard yellow vest, and a blue overcoat. In his hand was a suitcase. The enchanted suitcase that (Y/N) had read so much about in his letters.

“Wait, when you told me in your letter that you had a boyfriend, you never told me it was my brother,” Newt said, slightly hurt.

“We meant to tell you!” Theseus said defensively.

“When? When I catch you almost snogging each other?” Newt retorted, glaring at his brother

“No! It would be over tea! Which we would be having right now…” She pouted.

“I think… I think I’d like a rain check on that…” He said as he started to back away.

“Newt! Don’t do this!” Victoria pleaded.

He finally turned around and walked to the door. When he got there, he stopped in Victoria’s line of view. Newt didn’t face her. He looked straight ahead, grip tightening on the handle of his case. “You knew and didn’t tell me?” Newt asked bitterly.

Victoria placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. She opened her mouth to say something and for once, she didn’t have a blunt response or snarky remark. “It wasn’t my position to say…”

Newt scoffed. “It would’ve been nice to know beforehand,” He said before shoving her hand off and walking away from Theseus’ office. Away from his brother. Away from his friend. Away from her. Newt hadn’t seen then in so long and now that he had the chance… He just left…?

(Y/N) quickly ran after him, “Newt, wait!”

Victoria leaned against the door frame, banging the back of her head against the wood. “It’s always a Scamander…”

Theseus looked at Victoria. “Did… Did they have something?”

Victoria sighed, stopping from her current action to look at Theseus. “It’s not my position to say…”

~*~*~

In the hallway, (Y/N) finally caught up to Newt. She held onto the material of his sleeve.

“Back there,” She panted. “What was that about?”

“You… You’re dating my brother?” He asked. Stupid question, but he needed to hear it again to make sure he wasn’t imagining it.

“Yeah, what’s it to you?” (Y/N) said, but her tone made it sound rude.

“Didn’t think he’d be your type…” Newt mumbled.

“And you know what my type is?” She replied, slightly offended.

“I…” Newt paused. ‘I was hoping that it’d be me.’ He thought.

(Y/N) sighed, finally letting go of his sleeve. “Look, you’re my best friend and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’ll admit that it was my fault, but I don’t want to lose you just because I’m dating your brother. I-”

“What?” Newt interrupted. “One Scamander isn’t enough? You need both of us in your life, do you? Why do you need me? You already have Theseus wrapped around your fingers.” He snapped.

“What is up with you, Newton?” She groaned in frustration. “You know what? Now is not the time. I’ll give you all the time and space you need. When you’re ready to talk about this, I’m only an owl away.” She turned to leave, but not before saying something that made Newt realize how he felt about his best friend.

“Just know that before Theseus,” She paused. “It was always you.”

#fbawtft #fbtcog #theseus scamander x reader #theseus scamander #fantastic beasts fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #Series: ILYMS

87 notes · View notes