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to-the-stars8 · 6 months

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The Wayne's Nanny

Batfamily and Reader/ Bruce Wayne x Reader Chapters Ao3

9 to 5 (Metaphorically)

You had been working for Bruce Wayne for two weeks, and could for sure say that the kids were sweet, though a little out of touch with reality. Whether that was due to their father being the absolute weirdest man on the planet or from how rich they were— You didn’t know. Nonetheless, the days were long and tiresome. You wondered how you ever got through it.

8:15

First and foremost, you had to get up extremely early to see the kids off to school.

You fixed Cassandra’s headband on her head, making sure she looked perfect, before moving to fix Duke’s tie. Turning on your heel, your pink bathrobe swaying as you did, you quickly stopped Tim from pulling Jason’s hair.

“What did I tell you about pulling hair, Timothy Jackson Drake?” You put your hands on your hips.

With pink cheeks, he mumbled, “That karma will make me bald.”

“That’s right, and the last thing we want is to look like Lex Luthor, right kids?”

“Right!” They all mumbled.

Upon his approach, Mr. Wayne seemed pleased with how you managed the kids, even if it was in a less-than-professional way. When you fully turned your attention to him, you grinned, showing off his children. They looked good and healthy—Just as they did before your arrival, the only difference was that he wasn’t as tired.

“Okay, sweet babies, give daddy a kiss before Alfred takes you to school,” You ushered the kids toward their father.

Dick offhandedly said to Alfred, “Did I miss the wedding?” You lightly swatted the back of his head while Bruce was kissing the other children goodbye.

Slowly, the kids trickled out of the door, all of them saying goodbye over their shoulders. Now, you were left alone with Bruce and Damian, who sat securely on his hip.

The moment you turned to the two of them, Damian broke out into a bashful smile. You cooed to him, calling him the sweetest boy on the planet. Finally, you noticed Mr. Wayne again, “You should just leave him here with me. We’ll have such a fun time, huh, buddy?”

Bruce smiled at his boy, pushing his black locks back before addressing you. “No doubt, but I want him to socialize with other kids. The preschool at work is a fine one, too, and today is ice cream day.”

“Oh, my, then don’t let me hold you back! Let me get a kiss real quick,” A surprised look crossed Bruce’s face, but he slowly started to lean his cheek toward you. You swatted him away, making Damian giggle. “Not you!” You blew a raspberry against the boy’s cheek, causing a shrill laugh.

Before you could just snatch the little boy from his father’s grasp so he could stay with you, Bruce adjusted him on his hip before addressing you again. “You have enough to do for the day?”

You waved a dismissive hand at him, most of your attention still on Damian. “Oh, sure, my schedule is booked.”

9:50

Secondly, you made yourself presentable.

No one wants to see their employee running around in their slippers and bathrobes—Plus, Bruce already got onto about not dressing appropriately when some company had come over earlier that week. Luckily, being employed by one of the richest men in Gotham meant one thing; You could finally afford the champagne taste you had.

The only drawback? Beauty took time, so you spent a good chunk of the morning just making yourself ready to be ready.

You had to go through your entire skincare routine (of course, after lounging around in the big bathtub with the jets) before you finally went to your closet to pick out your clothes. Once you had something you decided did finally move on to your makeup. Not that you needed any, you thought, but there was no harm in adding beauty to beauty.

Eventually, the process of actually looking presentable came to a close and lunch was just around the corner. So, getting up, you looked at yourself one more time.

It was hard work being beautiful, but, damn it all, if you didn’t do a good job of it.

11:45

Of course, after you got ready you had to eat something, so, while Alfred meal prepped dinner, you sat while dishing out all the latest gossip.

As you shuffled a sandwich in your mouth, he told you all about Mr. Wayne’s previous relationship with someone named Selina and how it ended in absolute heartbreak. Supposedly, Bruce had been so heartbroken that he could hardly get out of bed and remained a recluse for months afterward. Alfred’s words, not yours.

“Oh, so not much has changed?” You asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Alfred tried to hold back a laugh and leaned forward to quietly add, “This was three years ago.”

You smiled. “So I was right, not much has changed!"

Alfred snickered, turning to peel some more potatoes, and you took the opportunity to tell him your woes with love. It was a deep, tragic tale that could jerk the tears from any eye.

Except for Alfred’s, apparently.

When you were done, he filled you in on an even better story. One about the richest of the rich in Gotham, and every word he said had you hanging on by a thread. If you hadn’t met Alfred before, you would have never guessed that he was the kind of man to eavesdrop or have a big mouth. But, damn, if you weren’t thankful for it.

It certainly was the most entertaining and interesting part of your job.

1:30

After lunch came the hardest tasks. Usually, you cleaned the gaming room for the kids, did some laundry—mainly yours since the kids’ clothes were already washed— and watched TV. Again, it was all in a day’s work.

After vacuuming the rugs, you put away the kids’ toys, wondering momentarily just how much money Mr. Wayne spent on them. Looking at the designer clothes they wore, the latest toys, and gaming devices, you assumed it was well more than what you made in a year. When you had enough of staring at their expensive toys, you ventured into the laundry room.

Luckily, there wasn't a lot to wash, only some towels along with Dickie’s gymnastics clothes. When you had done the last load, you found yourself settling into one of the lounge chairs in the movie room.

This was your favorite part of the day, where it lulled just enough for you to relax again. The kids wouldn’t be home for another hour due to traffic, so you had to whole place to yourself.

Alfred sometimes joined you with a bowl of popcorn, but, since it was so close to picking up the kids from school he had to opt-out. At home, you would have been watching one of those usual daytime soaps, but Alfie had started to put you on EastEnders—claiming it was better than any other trash American daytime TV show. It was only after one character had a whole dramatic flare over the smallest inconvenience, did you started to see why it was his, and Bruce’s too, favorite show. He made you watch so much of it that you had started to pick up some of the British slang, which did not amuse him or Mr. Wayne.

You watched until an idea popped into your head. The kids would be hungry once they got home, as they usually were, so you decided it would be nice to make them their special snacks.

Happily, you put it all together, and, when the kids came home, you were excited to see their reaction.

3:45

It was almost like clockwork the way they always managed to arrive home exactly at the same time every day.

You greet all of them with a big hug as you tell them about the treats they had waiting in the dining room. Excited, they were pleased to see that, while Alfred was out picking them up, you had gone out of your way to make their favorite treats.

Tim grabbed his plate and exclaimed loudly that you were by far the best nanny they ever had. A few of the other kids agreed, and you tried to not let it go to your head so quickly. Yet, you couldn’t find it in yourself to disagree with them.

They told you all about school, which, ultimately, just turned into a PG gossiping session. Tim told you all about this one kid, who was almost two years older than him, who always called him names and pulled his hair. Almost instantly, based on the last little detail, did you figure it out. Turning around, you looked at the second eldest Wayne who, despite being so sweet, could be devious and a little mean from time to time.

“Jason Peter Todd, you need to stop being mean to your brother. And what did I say about hair-pulling? At your age, you should know better!”

Jason gasped, looking around to gain some sympathy. “Why do you think it’s me?”

You cocked an eyebrow and that’s what made the cookie crumble. He confessed that maybe it was him and that he wouldn’t do it again. The rest of the table took their time calling him the future Lex Luthor, much to his annoyance.

You thought yourself lucky to be the nanny of such sweet kids, even if they were a bit weird. It brought back some happiness in your life that you didn’t know you were missing.

As the plates started to stack, you clapped your hands together and said, “Alright kiddos, once you’re done with your snacks, get your homework out. The faster you get it done, the faster we can all go play games.”

5:00

Finally, Mr. Wayne came home.

When he did, the entire house seemed to be in a clamor to get to him first. At least, the younger ones did. Dick and Cassandra seemed more interested if he had brought home any treats for them. When there was none, they turned on their heels and retreated into their respective tasks. That didn’t seem to discourage him though, and he was almost playful with the rest of the children.

When Bruce had thrown Duke over one shoulder and Tim over the other as Jason trailed after them, you took Damian. He had a pout on his lips, and tears in the corner of his eyes. When you asked him what was wrong, Damian informed you that ice cream day had been canceled because, in his words, the teachers were mean.

“Fair enough,” You said, taking him to the kitchen. “How about this, we get some ice cream and watch some TV, huh?”

Damian was close to crying, probably just as exhausted from the day as you were, but nodded his head. You gave him another kiss and let him rest his head on your shoulder. After you plucked a little ice cream sandwich from the fridge, the two of you went to join the rest of the family in the gaming room.

Bruce was there, tie and jacket abandoned, sitting on the couch playing Dick in Mortal Kombat. It didn’t look like Mr. Wayne knew exactly how to play, but he was getting the hang of it. Now and then, when there was a particular point he didn’t understand, Duke, being the sweetest yet odd kid ever, whispered to him what to do. Why a six-year-old knew how to play a game he was far too young for, you didn’t know.

Looking down at Damian, it was clear to see just how sleepy he was and you started to get up to put him in his room when Alfred stopped you. He offered to take the boy up and gestured over to Cassandra, who was looking at you with her big brown eyes.

“Hello, sweet girl,” You said as soon as Damian was gone.

Cassandra, who was sitting on the floor with a ballerina Barbie in hand, walked on her knees over to you. “Can you braid my hair?”

You grinned, looking at her pretty black hair. It was short, cut just below her shoulder, but you could make something work. She plopped down right in front of you and immediately you began to play with her hair.

Amidst playing his game, Mr. Wayne looked over in your direction to admire you and Cassandra. When you caught his eye, you winked and smiled. Bashfully, he looked back at the game. Unfortunately for him, Tim saw the whole interaction and started to loudly poke fun at his father.

Ultimately, that’s how the day went. It was a lot of work, and, again, you didn’t know how you did it. Yet, you were glad that it almost always ended so happily.

It wasn’t exactly a nine-to-five—It was better.

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corpsebasil · 1 year

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Karma Part 2

ghostface is your friend, and he loves playing games with you

A gloved hand grabbed your mouth at the same time an arm looped around your waist, yanking you up off the floor and backwards.

You shrieked into the attacker’s palm, your voice muffled; you’d just been shot at—shot at—barely thirty seconds before. Sam and Tara were crouched in a different isle of the small convenience store, and Ghostface…he was carrying a gun, and had barely missed you by an inch.

“Shut up.” A voice growled low into your ear, as you were tugged, helplessly, through the employees only door until it slammed shut. He dragged you for several more seconds before dropping you, watching as you jumped to your feet and stared, wide eyed, at a second Ghostface.

“I know Karate!” You lied, holding your hands up. “I will defend myself!”

“I just saved your ass.” The killer hissed, voice almost a whisper, and raised a finger to his mask, as if telling you to be quiet. Then he pointed to the back door of the room—an emergency exit.

“What?” You whispered back, nearly jumping out of your skin when you heard another gunshot. “I cant just leave the others they—”

Ghostface moved towards you so fast you almost fell over in your haste to get away, but it was no use. He took your arm and dragged you towards the exit, grip bruising as he shoved it open. The alarm practically split your teeth open and you cringed, watching as he jabbed his finger over and over at the outside ally.

“I cant.” You insisted, eyes still wide, heart hammering as you looked at the killer. You knew—obviously you knew—that this was the one that had spared you. Had taken you to the hospital. You still weren’t sure how you felt about that.

“They left you.” The killer snarled, and shoved you out the door, slamming it shut behind you.

You just stood there, breathing heavily in the night air outside, and made up your mind. You turned and ran, eager to get to your apartment as fast as you could.

Tara called you an hour later, after you’d showered and attempted to calm yourself, sitting alone on the couch in your living-room. You picked up the phone and, with shaking fingers, answered.

“Y/N, where the fuck are you?” Her tone was both accusatory and worried, and guilt you didn’t want to feel slammed through you.

“I found an emergency exit,” you said, gritting your teeth against the lie. “he almost shot me. I’m sorry, I panicked.”

“No that’s—that’s fine. Sam and I are both fine, by the way.”

“Okay. Good.” You ran a hand over your face and sighed, closing your eyes for a moment. “Hey Tara?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think there might be…more than one?”

The line went silent for a moment. Then she spoke.

“There always is.” She told you, and then you heard the clicking noise that said she’d hung up.

You stared down at your phone for a moment, feeling a bit sick. Your apartment felt creepy when you were alone, the darkness creeping around every corner. So you stood, moving to your kitchen, and did what you always did when you were stressed: you baked.

You’d bring the cookies to school tomorrow and hopefully everything could feel normal for at least an hour or so.

So you began, googling a recipe and mixing your ingredients, your oven a warm presence behind you. Just as you’d gotten the first batch in the oven, the rest of the dough still in the mixing bowl, your phone rang again. You answered on autopilot, licking a bit of chocolate off the tip of your finger.

“Yeah?” You asked, propping the phone against your shoulder and holding it there as you rinsed your hands free of sugar, then toweled them off.

“Hello, Y/N.”

You dropped your phone, yelping when it landed on your bare toes, and then quickly snatched it up. Heart racing, giving your apartment a quick glance for any signs of another presence, you slowly lifted to phone back to your ear.

“Is this the gun one or the other one?” You asked, voice quavering a bit as you searched around for a possible weapon.

“I’m offended, Y/N.” Ghostface sighed, just as you found a knife. “I thought we were friends by now.”

“We aren’t friends.” You scoffed, stepping around your kitchen island to do a sweep around your livingroom, then ducking your head into your bathroom. You flipped all the lights on you could, still looking, heart hammering against your ribcage. “And you’re confusing. Stop playing with my head and just kill me if you’re gonna kill me.”

“For someone who doesn’t want to die you sure ask for it a lot.”

“I know my odds.” Your voice felt small as you approached your closet, knife outstretched in front of you as you moved towards it. “I’d rather be realistic.”

“A nihilist. I like it.” He chuckled, and that dark laugh shot goosebumps across your skin. “But I don’t break my promises, Y/N. I’m not going to hurt you. Not too much.”

“Bastard.” You grumbled, flinging open your closet doors. There was no one. “Are you even—”

“You shouldn’t talk to your friends that way.” Ghostface said, but it wasn’t through the phone.

You screamed when an arm crushed around you, forcing you to drop the knife in your hand. He pulled you away from the closet, towards the living-room, even as you thrashed in his grip. But then he was letting you go, pointing a threatening finger in your direction.

“No knives.” He said, shaking his head as if in disappointment. “You’re smarter than that.”

“Get out of my apartment.” You spat, backing away towards the kitchen. “Get out or I’ll—”

“You’ll what? Kill me?” He tilted his head, walking around the opposite side of the island and towards you. You stilled as he neared, your hands itching with the urge to go for the nearest weapon, but then stiffened when he pointed to the oven. “Gonna get those?”

You nearly screamed when your kitchen alarm went off, slamming a hand against your chest as you jolted. Ghostface shrugged, as if in nonchalance, as he reached for an oven mitt.

“What the hell are you—give me that.” You scoffed, moving towards him to yank the glove out of his grip. You shooed him away, giving him a lethal stare, before removing the cookies from the oven. There was no way—no way in Hell that you were doing domestic activities with a serial killer. You’d lost your mind. Lost it.

You felt his presence like a knife poised to strike behind your back, watching you as you set the cookies down on the stove and inspected them. When you were done, you turned, unsurprised to see him hardly a foot away from you. He tilted his head, that creepy, pale mask looking down, before he moved a step closer.

You froze.

“Relax, Y/N.” He purred, reaching out to tuck your hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering. The material of the glove felt wrong against your skin. “I only wanted to visit my…newest friend.”

“You’re sick, you know that?” You said, pushing his chest away when he moved even closer. He only leaned into your touch, your arm bending involuntarily as that mask, that freaky ass mask, stared back. “You kill people. Innocent people.”

“They weren’t innocent.” He snarled, and turned you, grabbing your waist and shoving you against the opposite counter. You let out a cry and tried to scramble away, but he held you fast. “Stay away from them.” He said; the killer seemed to be breathing as hard as you. “Or you’re going to get caught up in their shit.”

“They’re my friends—”

“I’m your friend.” This time, you only stared as he moved away, glancing quickly around your kitchen before he moved towards the stovetop, picking up a cookie off the pan. You gaped. “Take my advice. Or don’t.” He said, then left, practically vanishing out your front door, leaving you without hardly any breath, heart still pounding, alone.

You couldn’t get there fast enough.

You searched and searched, scanning your usual study rooms, then the library. Then you checked outside and relief hit you like a shot, your feet carrying you swiftly over to where Ethan, Chad, Mindy, and Tara sat. Ethan looked up first, a smile growing onto his face as you approached, already rising from his seat.

You threw yourself into his arms so fast you almost knocked him over, a choking sound leaving your mouth as every ounce of terror and confusion you’d been feeling since last night slammed into you again.

“Hey—hey—” Ethan’s voice was stunned, but he still held you, arms warm against your back. “What is it? Y/N, what—”

“He was in my house.” You cried, shoulders heaving, even as Chad and the others moved over to you, already asking a flurry of questions. Ethan waved them off with a hand, trying to give you some space.

“Who was?” He asked, and you almost snorted. “Ghostface?”

“Who else?” You sucked in a shaking breath, pulling back half an inch to wipe the wetness off of your face. “He said he—was my friend. And that he wasn’t going to hurt me too much, whatever that means, and then he—”

“Are you hurt?” He demanded, pulling back to give you a once-over, but you laughed. This seemed to surprise him. “What’s so—”

“He stole a cookie.” You told him, hysteria almost rising as you reached into your tote bag and pulled out the container. You shoved them at Ethan, still feeling slightly crazed. “A cookie.”

“Maybe he’s into sweets.” Ethan’s worried expression had relaxed into one of amusement, his white teeth flashing in a grin as he took the box out of your hand. He opened the lid and looked in, nodding appreciatively. “Double chocolate. I like it.”

“Oh hush you’re—” but a laugh escaped you, watching him take a comically large bite, rolling his eyes back into his head, and the others seemed to take your change in attitude to be a sign they could approach.

They asked you about a hundred questions but finally took cookies of their own, slumping back down onto the seats of the table they’d been at before. Mindy was watching you, a confused, almost worried look on her face, but quickly showed you an aggressively raised eyebrow when she caught you looking.

You jumped a little when Ethan took you hand, tilting his head in the opposite direction, towards the parking lot.

“Wanna skip?” He asked, giving you that boyish grin again. “If we’ve got a killer on the loose, I don’t feel like going to Math.”

You smiled hesitantly and gripped his hand in your own, a thrill running through you at the fact that he was touching you so casually.

“You’re the worst study partner I’ve ever had.” You lied, as you pulled him towards the parking lot, and he laughed.

Later, after lunch with Ethan and a day trip to the aquarium, you sat together on your couch, you curled up next to him as you watched the newest Spiderman movie. Ethan had occasionally commented, sometimes complaining about a detail that wasn’t comic accurate, sometimes an excited statement about some action scene.

During the aquarium visit you’d walked through the dark halls, your hands brushing against each other’s occasionally as you peered at the tiny fish, the sharks, and the turtles. Ethan hooked his pinkie around your own, sending a jolt of what felt like electricity through your system, and, after a beat, you’d slipped your hand fully into his.

Now, as the credits began to roll on the movie, you yawned, turning and pressing your cheek against his chest. He was running a hand idly down your back, his head resting on your own. He gave you a sudden shake and sat up a bit further, turning to look at you.

“Want me to stay?” He asked, tilting his head, and you glanced up. “In case he..comes back?”

You chewed your bottom lip and glanced towards the front door. It would be nice to have backup. Especially attractive backup.

“I‘ll sleep on the couch.” He offered, raising his brows, and you were surprised by how fast you said no.

“It’s safer if we’re together.” You told him, ignoring the blush rising onto your face.

You were surprised to see him turning slightly red as well; you’d known him for a while now, had spent multiple days a week popping into each other’s apartments—hell, he’d slept in your hospital bed with you. He’d been shy at first, almost awkward, but he’d grown comfortable with you. Confident even, sometimes even cocky when he joked around with you. But now his face was flushed, his brown eyes warm as he looked down at you.

“I suppose that’s a smart point.” He mused, a lazy grin that made your heart drop into your stomach pulling onto his face.

And you couldn’t help it. You reached for him, tugging his face down to your own, and pressed your mouth to his. He leaned into you eagerly, his heart racing as fast as your own, as he tugged up, pulling you into his lap. You settled around him and kissed him hard, your fingers slipping into his dark hair.

“So did you—” he gasped against your mouth. “like the movie?”

You laughed and tugged on a piece of his hair, making him grin. He wrapped his arms around your back as you held his face in your hands, brushing your tongue lightly into his mouth. At the feel of you he whined softly, making you jolt away.

“Excuse me?” You asked, raising a brow as he flushed. “None of that. It makes me feel things.”

“What kinds of things?” He teased, but he was clearly embarrassed, so you pretended to think, even as you scooted farther into his lap and pressed fully against him.

“Things you aren’t allowed to do in horror movies if you want to live.”

Ethan rolled his eyes and tugged you into him, his mouth claiming your own. This time it was his tongue, his fingers gripping you, that made you sigh.

When you woke, an arm thrown over your head and the other tucked against your chest, you felt the growing familiarity of the body pressed against you in bed. You let out a moaning noise as you stretched, wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep, but you felt Ethan’s arm tighten around your waist.

“What did we say…” he mumbled, voice low and sleepy. “about those types of noises?”

You giggled sleepily and wiggled a little, allowing him to tug you closer under the covers. Your eyes slid shut as his mouth began placing slow, lazy kisses on the back and side of your neck, murmuring tiny compliments onto your skin.

“I like you.” He said, voice still quiet. “A lot.”

You smiled and snuggled closer, impossibly close, tangling one of your legs with his own.

“I like you too, E.”

hellooooo continue commenting for part three!

#ethan landry #ethan landry x y/n #Ethan Landry x reader #jack champion #scream 6 #ghostface

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jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue · 6 months

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Severance - BTS OT7 CEO au Chapter 16

So did anybody guess what was on the news? I thought it was rather obvious (it’s getting harder and harder to find gifs I haven’t used)

Prev / Next

“Care to explain this Y/n,” Junmyeon says, reaching for the remote and pressing play.

You feel your world freeze, the newscasters lips moving but the thumping in your ears drowns her out. Footage after footage of your dates, the three maknaes and you at the airport, date stamped proving you played hooky, there was nothing you could say to disprove the videos, not when in every single one they steal a kiss.

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out, not even a breath goes in, you’re stuck. You don’t see anything but the screen where the secret you so desperately wanted to keep was aired out for the world to witness. You don’t see Jongin desperately texting Jimin under the desk, what you do see is the channel cut to a newscaster introducing the last woman you ever expected to see, the shock filling your lungs with air so fast it makes you dizzy. Your eyes sting with tears as she starts talking, was this karma? Was this the universe telling you you made the wrong choice, that you should never have fallen for them, that you were too greedy for their love. Was this the price, the consequences?

“I think she’s hyperventilating,” the voice sounds muffled, your ears feel like they're full of burning cotton but at least someone has the sense to turn the screen off. Baekhyun fills your vision instead, hands on your shoulders with worried eyes on your form.

“Cars coming to pick her up, back entrance,” you recognise it's Jongin that’s speaking but the word’s go over your head.

Someone hands you a tissue but you don’t register the gesture until you hear a sigh. Chanyeol gently wipes your tears away, the stern look on his face softening when you look up at him. The sound of the phone ringing sounds so distant, like it was at the end of the tunnel. Jongin answers it before handing it to Junmyeon.

“Namjoon,” he greets through the line, the sound of his tone cutting through the fog you were drowning in. Joonie, you wanted nothing more than to be buried in his arms away from all this, but he wasn’t here. Whatever he was saying though the line made your current boss stare at you with an accusation that didn’t budge.

“We need to get her out without any more commotion,” he says to the others stiffly after he cuts the call.

“I’ll sort out the employees,” Kyungsoo states walking out.

The silence that follows is palpable, the lead CEO breaks it with a sigh, and you know it’s due to the aftermath he would have to deal with because of your decisions. He moves to walk past you, but you grab his sleeve before he can. You try not to flinch under his stare, your hands trembling where they hold him.

“I’m so sorry,” you say as sincerely as you can through a hoarse whisper. He acknowledges your words with a nod before he leaves. You’re quickly ushered to the corridor by the others, the sight of them shielding you like your own personal bodyguards would make you chuckle on any other day, but you were still shaking like a leaf.

All that work, all those years of making something of yourself, all the sacrifices and it came to this. Your life exposed to the world in a way that would cause it ruin. Your future at e.xo was done, no other company would ever employ you, you could never go back to work for bangtan. Everything was gone.

—

“Yeah we’re in the car, we got her out safe,” Seokjin says through the phone while Yoongi drives, his eyes glancing at you with worry.

A question Namjoon asks on the phone had Jin tensing, looking at you hesitantly. Is she okay?

“She’s not saying anything, she’s just shaking,” he sighs, he wanted to say more, how you were staring at the floor despondently, how when Jin tried to hold your hand to comfort you, you tensed and turned away.

The fear in their hearts that you regretted everything you had with them made Jin pull away, all he could do was be grateful they got to you before the media did, and in the tinted vehicle you were at least safe.

“It’s safe to go back to the mansion,” Jin tells Yoongi when he hangs up the call.

The drive is silent, they didn’t know what to say, everytime they tried the words died before they could form. Security was back in full force at their estate, running out any media outlet that tried to sneak close, their lawyers were having a field day. Not to mention the commotion at the office as they walked out, the whispers conjugated together so loud, not even Namjoon’s glare could silence them.

The gates open to the estate, and Yoongi can hear his heartbeat thumping faster and faster in his ears, it felt like they were coming to an impasse and there was no going back. The car slows to a stop, and as he kills the engine all they can do is stare at you.

Move. You had to move.

You could hear a faint commotion outside, the three maknaes running towards the car but a stern look from Yoongi stopped them in their tracks. Worry, anticipation, anxiety, no one knew exactly what concoction of emotions paralysed them, what made them hesitate to reach out to you.

“Kitten,” Yoongi starts softly, “you need to talk to us.”

That made you move, the door opening without a word in return. Your legs work against you, feeling like lead on twigs, a second away from collapsing. You couldn’t speak right now, your whole body felt empty and yet the weight of thoughts in your head made you need to bury it. You wanted your bed, you wanted to hide, and you wanted to be alone.

Yoongi shares a look with Jin, the hurt flashing between both of them at your rejection but they try not to take it to heart. You never wanted your relationship with them made public, not yet at least, you weren’t ready for the backlash, but now the choice was taken from you in the most heinous way.

“Noona,” Jungkook calls for you gently, a sadness in his eyes at the way you were walking with your head hanging low. Jimin holds him back, understanding better than anyone how you were feeling. He used to do the same, when something went wrong, when he made a mistake, he cut himself off from everyone, it would be a mistake to approach you until you were ready, until the voices in your head either broke you or quietened down.

The steps to the front door took so much energy from you, you didn’t think you had any left. You could feel them walking behind you at a distance, and yet it didn’t feel far enough or close enough. Something inside of you was tearing its way out and you didn’t know if you wanted to be embraced through it or to suffer it alone the way you had before so many times.

“Y/n,” Namjoon didn’t get the memo, he tries to embrace you but feels you stiffen against him, letting go immediately to look at your face with worry. “Baby girl, we'll fix this, okay? We-”

You push him away and he looks at you in shock, you didn’t want to hear it right now, you were barely holding yourself together. Voices were pounding inside of your head, the same repeated phrases over and over about how all your work was ruined, it was all for nothing, all your dreams, all your efforts. You couldn’t handle anything right now, you just needed your bed and to cry yourself to sleep alone.

“Y/n talk to me,” Namjoon says sternly, brows knitted at the way you didn’t even look at him.

He blocks your path when you try to walk past him, why didn’t he understand what you needed right now? You hear him sigh, as if his patience with you was wearing thin.

“Baby girl, you always do this,” he says, holding onto your shoulders to ground you, to keep you from leaving him. “You shut yourself down, you punish yourself, you push us away and then you break.”

“You can’t do that anymore sunshine,” Hoseok says standing beside you. “We’re in a relationship, we’re in this together, your pain is our pain Y/n.”

They watch you shake your head, bowing your head down so low as they hear the telltale sniffle that turns into a violent sob. Namjoon is quick to catch you in his arms, hushing your softly, stroking your hair until you calmed. All the while guilt ate him up, this was his fault, he could see it in all of their eyes as they watched you fall apart.

—

The house was solemn and quiet, you had retreated upstairs to your room, Jimin staying beside you while you slept.

“We underestimated that bitch,” Yoongi breaks the silence with what they were all thinking. They’re all scattered around the living room, Jungkook sitting deep in thought on the headrest of the sofa, Yoongi on the seat beside him. Namjoon sat opposite them with Hoseok on the armrest, Jin pacing the room slowly while Taehyung sat on the floor with his face in his hands. The black face of the TV on the wall stared at them, taunting them with what it held inside. The face broadcasted alongside yours and theirs was one that they barely remembered, but she had the audacity to be interviewed by any news outlet desperate enough for a story. They didn’t want to turn on the TV and see her face.

“She signed an NDA,” Namjoon says, a headache forming, “we didn’t think she was going to be a problem.”

“That’s where arrogance gets us,” Jin scoffs.

“Flower worked so hard for so long,” Taehyung says quietly, mourning for you. They all knew it better than anyone.

“We’ll fix this,” Namjoon states, he wouldn’t rest until they did.

“Namjoon be real for a second,” Hoseok sighs, “we might not be able to fix it.”

“No company is going to take her without an agenda,” Jungkook pipes in stoically.

“Or without thinking she’s a corporate spy,” Jin agrees.

“We can’t control everyone and everything,” Hoseok finishes, patting the lead CEO on the shoulder sympathetically.

“And we definitely can’t ignore a problem away,” Yoongi scoffs, staring daggers into Namjoon.

“Let’s not start this now,” Jin warns, feeling Namjoon’s guilt from a mile away.

“What does he mean?” Jungkook asks, feeling confused.

“Namjoon’s been burning threats concerning us,” Yoongi continues accusatively.

“We never opened those letters,” Namjoon argues back, “we don’t know what they contained.”

“Well we know now,” Yoongi says mockingly. He hated when you were upset, the feeling made his own claws unsheath, ready to tear into anyone who was held responsible.

“We don’t know the two things are connected,” Hoseok tries to defend their lead.

“Don’t be stupid Hobi,” Yoongi seethes, “Kitten’s whole career has gone down the drain because of us, what the fuck is she going to do if she finds out?”

“You best hope she doesn’t,” Taehyung snapped, his earlier melancholy now fueled by fear.

“We can’t keep this from her,” Hoseok shakes his head, disregarding the point.

“She’ll hate us,” Jungkook states, terrified it would manifest before his eyes soon.

“She’ll be angry at us,” Jin corrects him, “but we have to tell her.”

“Not now, it’s too soon,” Namjoon says quickly, his own fear warping his judgement.

“You should’ve opened one fucking letter,” Yoongi can’t let it go, all of this could’ve been avoided if it wasn’t for Namjoon’s stupid stubbornness.

“What good is bringing that up now going to do?” Hoseok sighs again.

“We don’t know if it’s connected!” Namjoon yells exasperated. “What we do know is Shin Suran leaked the photos and the story, and she is going to fucking pay.”

—

“So you’re saying the CEOs fired you because you threatened to expose their relationship to HR?” Solar, the newscaster asks her aghast.

“Honestly, I didn’t want to expose their… relationship,” she can’t hide the disgust in her voice at the word, “but I was concerned for Y/n’s wellbeing, I thought maybe they were holding her job over her head until I found out she was only entertaining them to climb the corporate ladder.”

Both anchors were shocked, the information sending them reeling.

“I mean what self respecting young woman would sell herself like that? Y/n was never a team player, or very good at her job but somehow she was always favoured by the CEO’s. It should have been obvious really.”

“Wow, that’s a lot of information to unpack Suran,” Solar says. “Aren’t you scared of the repercussions, these are the world’s business leads you’re going up against.”

“I only want to convey the truth,” Suran lies through her teeth. “It isn’t fair that the women who have worked hard and devoted themselves to Bangtan corporations are not appreciated or given the opportunities they deserve.”

“But Miss L/n left bangtan corporations,” the other anchor Hwasa finally speaks after having watched the little snake for so long. Something didn’t sit right with her and this woman’s sickly sweet attitude, it stank of deceit and she wasn’t blind to it.

“I have it on good information that she was sent to spy on the competition,” Suran’s eyes narrow, not liking her tone of voice.

“That’s a wild allegation,” Hwasa replies, every bit the professional. “I hope you have the evidence to back it up.”

—

“Bangtan corporations are under serious investigation after allegations of corporate espionage came from their former employee…”

She smiles at the screen plating in front of her, the chaos unravelling in so many wonderful ways. The Sun was shining despite the winter air, how many interviews could she fit into one day? Many it seemed, and while the day was over there was always tomorrow to cause more havoc to your life. Now she would sit and bask in the TV light, watching all of her fire ignite.

She had only gotten cosy when the doorbell rang to her little flat, groaning as she went to the door to answer it.

“Shin Suran?”

The three piece suit should give away something serious was in the brown paper envelope in his hands but she couldn’t bring herself to show any respect to the figure. She sneered and rolled her eyes, this man might’ve looked intimidating but she was currently on a high from ruining your life, nothing was going to bring her power trip down.

“Wi HaJoon,” he continues in the absence of a greeting, handing her the envelope. “You’ve been served.”

“What?” That elicits a reaction out of her, for some reason she didn’t even contemplate there would be consequences for her actions, deluded into thinking she was untouchable.

“You’re being sued for stalking, defamation and breaking the nondisclosure agreement you signed.”

That wasn’t part of her plan, her jaw drops to the ground and she realises maybe she played her cards all wrong. In the violent web of wanting to destroy your life she didn’t realise all her defences were gone. Maybe he was right after all.

—

When you wake up, the sun begins to set and Jimin’s warmth engulfs you. The feeling is comforting but fleeting, unfortunately real life problems don’t fade just because you’re in his arms. You wanted to bury yourself in his hold, have him take everything away until you were ready to deal with it. Jungkook’s favourite grey sweatshirt swallows you whole, his smell calming your senses, you try to focus on it when your mind tries to swim through the thoughts that wanted you to drown.

The door creaks open, two figures cautiously peaking in whispering to themselves. When Tae notices you’re awake he takes a seat beside you, caressing your cheek in his palm gently, his thumb soothing your skin. His eyes are downtrodden.

Jungkook kneels on the floor next to you, taking your hand in his and covering it with hard kisses, resting his cheek where they intertwined.

You try to get up but Jimin beside you grumbles in discontent, shuffling closer mumbling something under his breath without opening his eyes. A chaste kiss to your shoulder where the fabric hangs off your skin, lets you know he’s awake but refusing to let you go. The gesture brings a small but genuine smile to your face, one that turns into confusion as the commotion downstairs gets louder.

The younger two give each other knowing glances, one you don’t miss.

“What’s going on?” You ask, voice still hoarse from crying.

The hesitation in both of them fills you with dread. Did something else happen?

“They’re just trying to sort things out bunny,” Jungkook tries to reassure you, “it’s nothing to worry about.”

Despite Taehyung not wanting you to find out, something sickened him at the idea of keeping secrets from you. He knew how the truth always found its way out, and he knew if you didn’t hear it from them, it would have worse repercussions.

“Tae?” you could see a storm in his eyes, a battle between the loyalty to the others and his love for you.

“The hyungs…” he hesitates, Jimin now fully awake and sitting up at his deep uncertain tone.

Jungkook looks at him imploring him not to say it yet, it was going to be too much to deal with so soon after this morning. You grab Jimin’s arm, pulling yourself up closer to Taehyung who now avoided your gaze.

“Guys what’s going on?”

“I’ve been here with you,” Jimin mumbles half asleep, his hair a soft mess on his head.

“Kookie?” you turn to the youngest who bites his lips nervously, doe eyes begging you not to ask him.

“You’re worrying me,” your nerves were shot, the trauma from this morning making you beyond paranoid. What could be worse than this morning, what weren’t they telling you.

“Jimin, Jungkook and I didn’t know,” Taehyung starts slowly, not wanting to put his hyung’s under the bus but he wasn’t going to let them shoulder the blame when they were innocent. Plus when this was over he had a feeling you would ostracise the older four for a while, he couldn’t handle being a part of that.

“Didn’t know what?” you ask tentatively, urging him to continue.

“I still don’t know,” Jimin grumbles, getting annoyed with the suspense.

“Namjoon Hyung has been getting letters,” Jungkook says when Taehyung pauses for too long. He sighs, cursing the hyung’s for keeping this from you when he knew the betrayal would crush you.

“What letters?”

Something ticks in Jimin’s brain, his sleep filled eyes going wide with realisation. The other day in the office, when the hyung’s went solemn, it was to do with that?

“We think…” Taehyung tries not to stumble over his words, “they were threats, about you or us, but we don’t know because…”

Threats? You’re sent reeling, did Namjoon know this was coming? And he did nothing to warn you, or confide in you?

“Because what?” you breathe, your voice heavy, eyes watering as your thoughts ran away from you. Jimin places an arm around your shoulders, trying to soothe you.

“He burned the letters before he opened them,” Jungkook finishes, feeling a deep rooted shame for his favourite hyung, and for selling him out.

“Angel…”

Jimin calls after you as you throw the covers off of you, storming downstairs to confront the men hiding things from you.

“Sunshine-”

“You’ve been getting threats and you didn’t tell me?”

They startle at your accusation, as right as it was, the four of them confounded until the younger three stumble in behind you. All four hyungs glance at them disgruntled and disappointed, this was not the way to handle things, the thought was hypocritical but justified in their minds.

“You didn’t tell me?” Your teary eyes pierce Yoongi with so much sadness, of all of them you never expected him to keep it from you, and for some reason it stung the worst.

“Kitten,” he tries reaching out to you, a vulnerable edge to his voice. He would let you scratch and claw at him until you were satisfied, anything to keep you from looking at him like that again.

“Babygirl it’s my fault,” Namjoon sighs, taking the edge of his hyung and shouldering all the blame. “I told them not to.”

You turn back to him with anger in your eyes.

“Namjoon you’re the lead at work but that doesn’t make you the lead in this relationship,” you snap. “You had no right to keep this from me!”

“I know,” he says, his voice small.

“How long have you been getting these letters?” You ask and he hangs his head in shame.

“Months…” he replies, “since you left the company.”

You stare at him appalled and it wounds him.

“You have the gall to tell me how to behave in this relationship Kim Namjoon,” Your voice is strained through the onslaught of angry tears. “And you keep this from me?”

“I didn’t know what the letters said,” he says as an excuse, and he knows it’s a feeble one.

You shake your head in disbelief.

“I thought you of all people would get it Joonie,” the way your voice breaks cuts through him with shame. “You built everything from the ground up, I admired you long before I loved you. So how the hell could you play with my future like this?”

“Baby girl that was never my intention,” he begs you to understand him now, that he didn’t behave nonchalant with a potential threat, he thought he was doing what was best.

“It doesn’t matter what your intention was! There was a clear right and wrong, and you know it.”

He bows his head again, you were right, he disrespected you when he didn’t discuss the letters with you, you should’ve made the decision together as to what to do with them. But in his heart he thought he was protecting you, protecting your peace and happiness, but all of that was a bubble set to burst.

“We don’t know that it’s connected beautiful,” Jin steps in between you, speaking as softly as he can knowing you were full of rage and sorrow, but he watched Namjoon take the blow and needed to shield him a little.

“We don’t know that it’s not,” you argued back. “We have no way of knowing, because instead of talking to me about something unpleasant, you guys decided to bury it.”

“Sunshine, I get that you’re upset-” Hoseok tries but the look of incredulous shock shuts him up.

“Upset?” you repeat, the strain in your voice carrying tears. “Everything I worked for, all my dreams, are gone.”

It was a struggle to get out every word, having to take a breath between each one, but you were determined to.

“No company is going to employ me, even if they do I’ll be subjugated to whispers and isolation and we know how that worked out last time.”

You sniffle, wiping your nose and tears with your sleeve. You wanted to appear strong but you were breaking down, didn’t they understand what they had done? Didn’t they care? Or were they so comfortable in their gold seats so far above you they forgot about their struggles on the way there?

“I didn’t join your company to seduce you, I wanted to work hard and make something of myself, maybe start my own company one day, but all of that is gone.”

“Kitten,” Yoongi dares himself to try again, to console you even if you pushed him away. He walks over to you, remembering all the times you seeked him out for comfort. It used to confound the others, how Mr Stoic Stone was the one that you reached for, and even though it was unusual for him to step into those shoes, with you it came so naturally. He wanted to be the one you searched for when you needed soothing, he never wanted to lose that connection he built with you, ever. He knew it was a privilege, one he never took for granted.

He hates the way you look at him now, it breaks his heart, those watering eyes showing how truly hurt you were while you tried to control the trembling of your bottom lip, tried to look strong in front of him.

“Whatever you think is gone, we can rebuild,” he takes your face in his hands, kissing the top of your head softly before looking into your eyes. “I am so sorry for not telling you, but I promise you whatever dreams you had will come true. It's just going to suck for a while and that’s our fault.”

“We know better than anyone how hard you work sunshine,” Hoseok smiles at you sadly, regretting not telling you.

“If you want a company babygirl, we’ll get you a company,” Namjoon’s own voice thick with remorse. “Whatever you want.”

“There’s enough space in the office for another desk,” Jimin tries to lighten the mood with a teasing lilt to his voice, but he’s not joking at all. “No one would dare to whisper about our angel CEO.”

You shake your head, removing Yoongi’s hold on you. They didn’t get it. You’ve worked for everything you had, it was how you had always been. You didn’t want to be handed a title you didn’t earn, or have your powerful boyfriends buy positions for you.

“Why would that be such a bad idea, beautiful?” Jin asks softly. “You’re more than capable.”

“I don’t need anyone thinking I slept my way to the top,” you scoff.

“Who cares what other people think, Kitten?” Yoongi sighs. “No one can deny you deserve a CEO position.”

You shake your head again, breathes of humourless laughter escaping your lips. They really didn’t get it. It was so easy to say that when you were untouchable to people’s words.

“You guys made the decision by yourselves to keep this from me,” you state, not looking at them but to the ground. “My career has nothing to do with you, whatever happens next is my choice.”

“Kitten-”

“You don’t have the right Yoongi,” you try to keep the anger out of your voice. “None of you do right now. I need to figure this out alone.”

“Are you breaking up with us?” Jungkook asks in a panic, not moving from the doorway, he would block your exit, he would fall to his knees and beg you to stay.

“No,” you reassure him with a syllable. “I love you, I always will, I’m just angry right now.”

“And you have every right to be,” Namjoon agrees solemnly.

“I just have one last thing on my mind,” you frown, an obvious question was left unanswered.

You face Namjoon, knowing he would hold the answer.

“You destroyed the letters before opening them,” it’s not a question but it sounds like one.

He nods, wondering where you were going with this.

“So how did you know they were threats?”

He hesitates, trying to build up the courage to tell you how he knew exactly who they were from.

“The return address,” Jin answers for him. “It was from the penitentiary.”

The realisation hits you, and for some reason it makes the whole situation so much worse. The accusation in your eyes returns as you gaze at Namjoon. He knew exactly what he was dealing with when he got rid of those letters, and looking at you now he knew he would have to beg for your forgiveness.

—

Bonus scene flashback:

Dear Kim Namjoon,

You haven’t responded to the last 6 letters I have sent, so either you’re not taking me seriously, or you haven’t read a single one. Both choices are not in anyone’s best interest, I don’t think you realise the situation you’ve put me in, I have nothing to lose.

The deadline is approaching for you to transfer the funds and secure my release. I am not spending years in jail because of your jealousy. Enclosed are copies of the images I will release to the media, I bet you’re wondering how I was able to get these when you locked me away.

It seems I’m not the only one you thought you could cross and toss away. For your sake, I hope you make the right choice.

I look forward to hearing from you,

Alexander Pettyfer

“They haven’t responded to a single one of your stupid letters, what makes you think they will now?” Suran scoffs at the news that he sent another.

“Just be patient,” he replies, the usually clean cut male looking rugged and rough. “We need something out of this other than just ruining their lives.”

“Look, the images I got are proof enough about what that whore is doing, I say we release them.”

“Not yet!” The rise in his voice gets the guards attention, and he takes a deep breath to calm down. Stupid woman didn’t know when to listen, it was unfortunate that he had to use her, although he should count his blessings the day she came and visited for the first time with an idea to take the CEOs down.

396 notes · View notes

atomicladytimetravel · 1 year

Text

Look at Me

Summary: No outbreak au. You live with your cousin after catching your husband having an affair. He hires contractor!Joel to do some home repairs. After flirting back and forth, filth ensues. 18+ ONLY. MDNI.

Semi-public sex/exhibitionism kind of, unprotected p in v, creampie, some pet names (pretty girl, pretty, baby, darlin’ etc) Joel is a little cocky but still pretty sweet.

Warning: mild drug use (a little devils lettuce)

Word count: 2,903

“Broderick, you’ll never believe it…I got the fucking house!”

You had just gotten off the phone with your divorce attorney and she gave you the good news. Your stupid rich (soon to be) ex-husband hadn’t bothered to ask you to sign a prenup. You suppose he figured he was too smart to get caught fucking one of his employees in his office. Well, he wasn’t, and you were getting half his fortune and the house. In the meantime, your cousin and best friend since childhood had graciously opened his home to you.

“That’s what I call karma!” Broderick grinned. He gave you a high five. “You are one rich bitch.”

You practically skipped to your room to call your best girl friend and tell her the news. You talked to her for almost an hour before deciding you were in need of a celebratory joint.

Meanwhile, Joel Miller was in the stairwell inspecting a small hole in the ceiling when he heard your door open and close downstairs. He peeked over the railing to see who it was - he wasn’t aware anyone else was in the house.

He saw your figure walking away from him and into the living room. You were on the phone, too engrossed in your conversation to notice him peering over the stair rail. You were wearing tiny, black cotton shorts and a cropped black band tee. He stared for a moment longer than he probably should have because, well…you were hot.

“Well, at least I married rich and he was too stupid to ask me for a prenup,” you said to your friend, rummaging through the end table beside the couch. You pulled out the necessary equipment to roll a joint and Joel watched as you did so effortlessly.

“You wanna know what the worst part is?” you asked, pinching the end of the joint before lighting it up. “He was actually good in bed. Like, I can’t even take comfort in the fact that at least she’s not getting good dick, ya know? ‘Cause she definitely is. Meanwhile, I’m getting none. Bastard.”

The conversation was cut short on Joel’s end when you took your joint onto the deck and closed the sliding door. Joel couldn’t help but notice that when you leaned against the railing, your shorts rode up just a little higher, giving him just the slightest peek at your cheeks.

“Wouldn’t mind bein’ the one that gives her some,” Joel thought to himself. He shook his head and turned around, reminding himself that he’s a professional.

Once he finished upstairs, the deck was the only place left he needed to inspect. You were still out there chatting and he felt unsure of how to proceed. He settled on just opening the sliding door. When you heard the noise, you jumped and whipped around. You saw a man you didn’t recognize standing in the door frame. He was a very attractive man, but a stranger nonetheless.

“Hey, let me call you back,” you muttered into the phone. You looked up at the man nervously. “Can I help you?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m a contractor. Broderick called me for an estimate on some repairs. He didn’t tell me there would be anyone else in the house,” Joel explained.

“That makes two of us,” you replied. A slight breeze carried some of the smoke from your joint in Joel’s direction.

“Oh fuck, sorry,” you apologized, snubbing the joint out and fanning the air around him.

“No worries, I’m almost done and you guys were my last stop,” he said, waving your apology off. You stood in an awkward silence for a few moments before you spoke again.

“Well, I reckon I’ll let you get to it. It was nice meeting you, uh…?” You looked at him quizzically, waiting for him to give you his name.

“Joel,” he offered. You smiled.

“Nice to meet you, Joel.” You introduced yourself before opening the sliding door and stepping inside. “If you need anything, I’ll be in the living room.”

Broderick trotted down the stairs as you were shutting the door.

“Why didn’t you tell me someone was coming?” you hissed. “I would’ve, ya know, gotten dressed.”

“I forgot I made the appointment for today. But honey, he’s so hot, how can you complain?” he replied. He looked out the glass doors at Joel, who was slightly sweating in the late afternoon Texas heat. His muscles made the white t-shirt he was wearing tight around his arms.

“Mmm mmm, come to papa,” Broderick said under his breath. You laughed and shook your head.

“What are the chances he’s gay, Brod?”

“Literally zero. I saw him checking you out earlier,” he pouted.

“Oh whatever,” you rolled your eyes. “He’s way too good looking to have been looking at me.”

“Bitch please,” he scoffed. “You managed to land one of the hottest, richest men in Texas!”

“Yes Brod, and if you remember correctly, I’m staying with you because he was fucking the hot intern.”

“You’re hot babes, trust me. And Mr. Contractor wants a piece.”

Joel came back inside then and announced he was finished with the inspection. They discussed the repairs that needed to be made and Broderick approved them and scheduled Joel to get started the following week. You smiled sweetly and waved as he walked out the door.

—————————

When Joel came back the next week, you made sure you wore the least amount of clothing you could get away with. When he arrived on the first day, you were out on the deck in yoga shorts and a sports bra. He brought a few guys with him to help and they were open with their stares as you went through your morning yoga routine. Joel only stole glances when he knew he could get away with it. He didn’t know if you had worn that outfit for his benefit or not, but he hoped you had. He was in the kitchen painting cabinets when you walked in for a drink.

“Morning Joel,” you chirped as you walked past him.

“Mornin’,” he replied with a smile that almost made you melt into a puddle at his feet.

“Would you like anything to drink?” you asked. You opened the refrigerator door and looked inside. “We have lemonade and sweet tea - ya know, the basic southern staples - and water.”

“I’m fine for now darlin’. Thanks though.”

You squealed internally when he called you darlin’ in that Texas drawl.

“Could I bother you for a glass from that cabinet next to the one you’re painting?” You batted your eyelashes at him sweetly. You watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed hard.

“Sure.” He reached into the cabinet and handed you a glass. You made sure to brush his fingers with yours as you took it from him.

“Thanks Joel,” you smiled demurely.

You filled the glass with lemonade and he watched as you sashayed back to the deck and settled into a lounge chair. He was in for it if this is how it was going to go the rest of the time he was there.

You flirted with Joel subtly and not-so-subtly for the next two days. You wore cute outfits to try to get his attention. He always flirted back and you caught him looking you up and down more than once. If he didn’t make his move today, you were going to take it upon yourself to make one. You were horny enough as it was, but Joel being around every day was making it almost unbearable.

You skipped the cute outfit this time and opted for comfort, throwing on an oversized t-shirt over your white cotton panties. You were happy to find Joel in the kitchen when you walked in for a snack. You hadn’t seen him all day. You leaned against the island, elbows resting on either side of you.

“Hey Joel.”

“Well look who it is,” he greeted you with a smile. “I was beginnin’ to think you forgot about me.”

“Me? Forget about you? Never,” you flirted.

“No cute outfit today?” he asked casually. You fake pouted.

“You don’t think this looks good?” You looked up at him coyly, playing with the hem of your shirt.

“Didn’t say that,” he smirked, taking several steps toward you. “Ya know, you’ve been the only thing my guys can talk about. They’ve appreciated having something to look at.”

Your bodies were tantalizingly close. You looked up to meet his eyes.

“I don’t want any of them.”

“No? Then tell me - who have you been showing off for, hmm?” he teased, resting his palms on either side of you and caging you in.

“I think you know,” you smirked.

“Mhmm, I do know. But I said tell me.”

The change in his voice made you shiver. It was low and commanding, a total 180 from the respectful southern gentleman he had been when he first arrived.

“You, Joel. Just you,” you responded in a hushed tone. He reached up and ran his thumb along your bottom lip before taking your chin between his fingers and tilting your head upward.

“That’s right, doll. Just. Me. Tsk tsk…they’ll be so disappointed to find out the boss gets you all to himself.”

He lifted you onto the island and stood between your legs, his hands resting on your upper thighs. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he took that as permission to finally kiss you.

“You want me to touch you?” he murmured against your lips.

“Yes,” you breathed.

“Where baby? Show me.”

You took his hand and guided it between your legs. He grinned and rubbed light, slow circles over your panties.

“More, please,” you whined, bucking up into his hand.

“Aw, nobody’s been touching this little pussy, have they?” he asked, poking his bottom lip out mockingly. You shook your head. “What a shame. I bet you make the prettiest sounds. Let’s find out.”

He applied more pressure to your clit and you moaned softly.

“I can feel how wet you are over your pretty panties,” he marveled. “You need this, don’t you baby girl?”

“Yes…god yes,” you whimpered. He reached his hand in your panties and gathered your slick to use as lube to rub your clit.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned quietly. You’d been doing this to yourself for months but it was always so much better when someone else did it.

“M-more…faster,” you said after you could no longer stand the teasing pace at which he was touching you. He obliged and you let out a long sigh, tipping your head back.

“Mmm, I was right. Such pretty sounds.” He kissed your exposed throat and bit gently into the flesh. You felt the pleasure building until you were breathlessly begging him to make you cum.

“Let it go darlin’, go on,” he encouraged. You gripped his bicep tightly as you reached your peak, your breath coming out in short staccatos. You would’ve preferred to be more vocal, but you tried to control yourself given the circumstances.

“There we go baby,” he cooed, grinning widely. He slowed his movements but didn’t completely stop and your hips twitched upward every time he completed a circle.

“Joel…,” you whined. He put his lips against yours to quiet you.

“Mm? What is it, pretty?”

You weren’t sure what it was, but it drove you absolutely wild when he talked against your lips. You let him kiss you for a few moments before answering.

“Fuck me,” you whispered into the kiss.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

He took his tool belt off and laid it on the counter before hastily undoing his jeans. He pulled them down with his underwear just enough to free his cock. He was slightly thicker than your ex, but about the same length. You prayed he knew how to use it.

“You want it?” he asked with a smirk as he pushed your panties aside and teased your entrance with the head of his cock.

“Please,” you responded desperately. He chuckled.

“Okay pretty girl, I’ll give it to you.”

He slid in slowly and you uttered a breathy moan of his name. He teased you with a languid pace, looking down to watch as he inched his cock back into your pussy.

“So hot,” he murmured.

“Faster, please,” you begged. He grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to him. You put your hands on his shoulders to brace yourself as he picked up his pace. He gripped your waist as he snapped his hips forward repeatedly.

“God damn, this pussy feels so good. Takin’ me so well baby,” he praised. You kissed him and threaded your fingers through his hair. You let out a high pitched whine into the kiss when he hit your g-spot.

“Right fucking there,” you mewled.

“That feels good, huh?” he questioned with a hint of cockiness.

“So fucking good,” you agreed. “Please don’t stop.”

“Couldn’t if I wanted to. Pussy feels too good to stop.”

“Oh god, Joel.” Just listening to him talk like that was almost enough to get you off.

“Been wantin’ this since I saw you in those little black shorts the first day I was here. I got off that night thinkin’ about eating your pussy until you were beggin’ me to stop.”

“Oh my god, that is so fucking hot.” You kissed him desperately, breathing heavily and moaning. “Please fuck me harder.”

“Yeah? You want me to make this pretty pussy cum? Hmm?” He began to pound into you and it was all you could do not to cry out. “Answer me.”

“Yes, please make me cum! Need it so bad.” You were practically crying.

“I know you do pretty girl. I’m gonna make you feel so good, don’t worry,” he soothed.

Just then, you heard the swinging door to the kitchen open.

“Hey Joel, we nee - holy shit!”

You instinctively looked back and saw one of Joel’s employees. You didn’t really care that he was staring at you, dumbstruck, while you were getting absolutely railed by his boss. Joel grabbed your chin and turned your head back to face him.

“Don’t look at him, look at me.”

“Oh god,” you whimpered pathetically. This just might be the hottest thing you’d ever experienced.

“Get out,” Joel growled to his employee, who was still frozen to the spot. You heard the swinging door swish and you knew he was gone.

“Sorry,” he grunted an apology.

“Don’t be,” you panted. “It was hot.”

“Fuck, you’re a filthy thing,” he grinned. He pressed his thumb to your clit and rubbed in quick circles as he continued to pound into you. “I want you to cum for me, okay? Can you do that baby?”

“Yes Joel, god yes,” you moaned. “I’m so close.”

“Good girl. I want you to keep your eyes on me when you cum. I want to see how pretty you are when you’re soaking my cock.”

That was all you needed for your release to wash over you.

“God damn it I’m fucking cumming.” It hit like a fucking freight train, and the shout that came from your throat was involuntary. You were sure the rest of Joel’s guys had already heard about what was going on in there so you didn’t particularly care. You locked eyes with Joel and tried to maintain eye contact, but it felt so good that your eyes rolled back and your head tilted upward. He gripped your chin once again and brought your head back down.

“Eyes on me pretty mama,” he panted as he chased his release. “I’m gonna fucking explode. Where do you want it?”

“Inside, I’m on the pill.”

“Holy f-fuck,” he stuttered, not expecting that answer. “I’m gonna fill this pussy so full.”

“Yes baby, fill me up. I wanna feel it in me for the rest of the day.”

“Shit, I’m close,” he warned. “Cum for me one more time and I’ll fill you up.”

He wrapped one arm around your waist and held your thigh onto his hip with his other hand. He pounded into you with all he had.

“Oh god, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” you chanted. “I’m cumming again.”

“That’s right, c’mon baby girl. Cum on my fucking cock.”

You came a second time, clenching around him. The grunts and broken moans coming from him only fueled the fire that was exploding through you. Your mouth opened, but no sound save for the tiniest squeak escaped. All the breath had been taken from you.

“Oh fuck, here it comes,” you heard Joel groan through the rushing in your ears. “I’m cumming so hard.” His hips sputtered and then stilled as he drained his balls inside you. You rested your forehead on his shoulder and caught your breath. He rubbed your back in gentle circles.

“Did so good,” he praised breathlessly. He pulled out slowly and some of his cum pooled onto the island. He grabbed a paper towel and wiped it up before readjusting your panties. He patted your now clothed pussy and grinned.

“Now you have something to remind you of me until I can fuck you again. If that’s alright with you, that is.”

“You could fuck me all day every day,” you told him seriously. He laughed and kissed you softly.

“I’ll take that deal.”

#joel miller #joel miller smut #the last of us #tlou hbo #tlou series #tlou smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut

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stylesloveclub · 2 years

Text

KARMA

In which y/n tends to make a lot of spontaneous decisions when she’s drunk, and Harry’s a tattoo artist.

+++

On any average work day, Harry sees a lot of people come through his tattoo shop.

The majority of them are people who’ve gotten tattoos before – usually big burly men who come in to add a new tat to their sleeve, or teenage girls getting a secret butterfly on their side boob. There are the artsy people who come in for some detailed line work, and there are the silly drunk people who get a smiley face tattooed on their ass. Sometimes he’ll have someone come in for their first tattoo ever, shaking in their seat and tearing up before the tattoo gun even touches their skin.

Very rarely does he have someone come in for a piercing. But when they do, they’re usually older girls coming in for a helix or a belly button piercing.

Not five year old girls, wearing sparkly pink shoes and a sunflower printed dress.

“Hi!” Harry’s eyes flicker up to the lady standing behind the little kid. “Do you guys pierce ears here?”

“Erm… for her?” Harry says skeptically, pointing at the little girl. She can’t be older than five years old, standing with her thumb in her mouth and hiding behind the legs of the lady she’d come inside with. The lady seems young, probably the same age as him or a bit younger. He assumes the little girl must be her daughter.

“Yup!” the mom exclaims (or maybe a nanny, or aunt… Harry doesn’t really know. Or care.) “We wanna get her ears pierced for her birthday!” She looks down at the little girl with a glimmer in her eyes.

Harry contemplates saying no, he really does. He doesn’t like having kids in his shop— or anywhere near him if we’re being honest. They have snotty noses and sticky fingers and cry way too loud for him to be able to tolerate them. But this little girl seems relatively nice… she’s been quiet so far, and her nose is clean. Plus, the shop’s not busy today. Even if she did start crying, she wouldn’t scare any customers away. So he decides to be nice – just this one time.

“Sure,” he sighs. “I can do her.” He decides to do it himself instead of assigning the job to one of his employees. He’s been here the longest and has the steadiest hands, so he can get this over with the quickest.

He has the woman (y/n, he learns from the paperwork) sign a couple of papers, then has the two of them pick through the earring options that they have on display.

“Which one do you like the best, Lola?” Harry overhears her asking the little girl. Or– Lola, as he’s overheard.

Lola, still sucking her thumb, points to a pair of heart-shaped pink studs. “Tha’ one,” she says through her stuffed mouth.

“Oh, the hearts are so pretty!” y/n says giddily. “Good choice sweetheart.” She looks up at Harry. “Could we get those ones, please?”

He nods, and makes note of it in their paperwork.

“Follow me,” he says, leading them into the back room where he usually does the piercings. He motions towards a black, leather table that his clients usually sit or lay down on when getting their piercings done. The table is too tall for little Lola to climb onto all by herself, so y/n picks her up and plops her down on the seat. Her little sparkly shoes dangle from the edge, hanging two feet above the floor.

Harry washes his hands and takes out his sterilized materials from the cabinet in the room, as well as the pair of pink earrings that Lola has requested. A pair of black gloves fit onto his hands tightly. He then sits on a little rolly stool and rolls over to where she’s sitting on the bench.

“M’gonna disinfect your ears now,” he says to the little girl, tearing open a package of alcohol swabs. She just nods quietly, thumb in mouth. He can tell that Lola is nervous, her eyes wide and scared with her legs swinging nervously. She keeps looking over at y/n, who’s sitting on a chair right next to the table.

“Are you excited Lola?” she asks enthusiastically, trying to hype the little girl up.

It doesn’t work. Lola’s little eyes start to grow watery, her chin wobbling as she shakes her head no. “M’scared,” she whines, a frown taking over her face.

Harry rolls away as soon as he sees the tears. Maybe this was a bad idea.

“Oh no, Lola!” she exclaims, squatting in the spot Harry had just been. She grabs Lola’s hands in hers and looks into the little girl’s tearful eyes. “Don’t be scared! We don’t have to pierce your ears if you don’t wanna baby.”

“But I do!” Lola whimpers.

“Well then what’s the problem bubs?” she asks soothingly.

Lola looks at Harry, then leans over to (not so successfully) whisper in y/n’s ear. “He’s scary,” she says, the pout on her face only deepening. Y/n looks over at Harry helplessly.

Ah, yes. He supposes his all black clothes, tattooed arms, and black painted nails weren’t doing much to comfort the little girl… maybe he is a little scary.

“Hey,” he says rolling back to the table, his voice somewhat softer than the deep, grumpy rumble it had been before. He’s gonna have to really up the niceness if he wants to get through the session smoothly. “Nothing to be scared of, little lady. It’ll just take a second and s’not even gonna hurt.” He gives a tight smile, the best he can muster up despite his apprehensiveness about talking to a kid on the verge of tears.

“Y’hear that, bubs?” she reassures the little girl with a big smile on her face. She plays with Lola’s hands encouragingly. “Come one, you’re a big girl. You can do it!”

Lola sniffles deeply and wipes her eyes with her tiny fists. “M’a big girl,” she affirms with a confident nod.

“Good girl!” y/n says, giving Lola a stellar high five. She gets up from where she’d been squatting and goes back to her seat, letting Harry roll back to where he’d previously been.

“I’m going to wipe your ears again, okay? We’ve gotta make sure they’re nice and clean.” Harry explains. He’s added a bit of an enthusiastic kick to his voice, really selling the “I’m not a big meanie!” vibe to Lola. She nods, a few leftover tears hanging onto her long eyelashes.

She winces when the cold wipe touches her earlobe, and Harry fears for his life. Was every little thing going to make this little girl cry? He decides to distract her. “How old are you, Lola?” He asks the first question that comes to mind.

She holds up five fingers. “Wow! Five years old!” he bursts. “You’re a big girl!”

That makes her smile and nod happily. Harry internally lets out a sigh of relief. He got a smile out of her, who would’ve thought!

He takes a sterile pen and marks two dots on Lola’s earlobe for where the piercing would go. “What do you think?” he says, turning to y/n. She nods and holds up an excited thumbs up.

“Okay, Lola,” Harry says nervously, pulling out the needle he’d be using to pierce her ear. He cleans it below the table so that the little girl doesn’t see it and start crying. “M’gonna need you to stay very still for this next part. Okay, sweetheart?” Lola agrees, but her composure falters when he brings the needle into view. “I know it’s a little scary, but I need you to be brave. Can you do that for me? Be a brave girl for me?”

She nods her head. “Brave,” she mumbles to herself. “Brave girl.”

He realizes that the clamps that he usually uses for piercing ears is too big for Lola’s small earlobes – but it’s okay. He’s done so many impromptu piercings that he has a shit ton of experience not using the proper equipment. Instead, he just holds the skin of her earlobe tightly and stretches it taut so that the needle would go in smoothly.

“Okay Lola, take a deep breath in,” he instructs gently, piercing the needle through her skin in one smooth motion, “...and out.” He quickly follows through with the heart shaped studs and secures it with the backing. “You did it! One ear done!”

She looks up at him confused. “That was it?” she asks, reaching her hand up to feel if the earring is actually there.

Harry catches her little hand and brings it down to her lap before it makes contact with her piercing. “Ah, ah-” he tuts, “we can’t touch it okay? You gotta let it heal or else it’ll start to hurt.” He notices the way her little fingers wrap around his hand as he holds them still in her lap. “Are you ready to do the other ear?” he asks patiently.

She nods a bit more enthusiastically this time, no longer scared.

“Atta girl!” he exclaims, piercing the other ear in the same manner. He sanitizes her ears one last time and makes sure that everything is secure before holding up a mirror for the little girl to see her reflection in. “What do you think?”

Lola’s eyes go round, glimmering happily. “Pretty,” she says, looking at y/n for confirmation.

“So pretty, Lola!” she exclaims, standing up and pinching the little girl’s cheek. “M’so proud of you, you’re such a big girl! Thank you…” she looks at Harry, trailing off at the fact that she doesn’t know his name.

“Harry,” he fills in for her. He rolls away from Lola and throws away the trash.

She smiles softly. “Thank you, Harry.”

+++

It’s a quiet night at the tattoo shop, which Harry is thankful for.

There’d been a few appointments earlier in the day, larger pieces that people had scheduled months in advance because they took a lot of consultations and took long chunks of time to tattoo – but there had barely been any walk-ins. It’s a Thursday night, so of course his business isn’t bustling the way it would be on a Saturday.

Harry decides to start cleaning up – if he’s lucky, nobody else would venture in before their closing time and he’d be able to get home a bit early. (His little cat is waiting for him at home!) He wipes down the tattoo chairs and puts away all the needles, sweeps the floors and turns off the lights in the staff room in silence, until suddenly, he hears the bell above the door ring and someone clumsily stumbles in. It’s y/n.

Harry looks at her. She looks at him.

“Hi…?” Harry says, his voice a little doubting, a little bit confused. Why was she back?

She stands in front of him nervously. “Um…” she’d stumbled into the tattoo shop with such confidence, but finds herself suddenly nervous and unable to speak under Harry’s intimidating gaze. “Hi.”

She won’t lie– she’s a little, teensy weensy bit drunk right now. She’d been at the bar across the street with a couple of her girlfriends, just hanging out and having fun, when she spilled to them about the hot tattoo artist who worked at the shop across the street.

She’s had plenty of fleeting crushes in her life, but none have been as quick and captivating as her crush on Harry. With his deep voice, green eyes, and tan skin, he’s cast some sort of spell on her. She’d been in his presence for what… a total of 45 minutes? And yet she can’t get him off her mind!

He was just… really hot! And he had that sexy, mysterious vibe to him…. With all those tattoos and the rings and the black eyeliner… gosh he was straight out of some bad boy romance novel! If it weren’t for the fact that she’d been with her five-year old goddaughter when she met him for the first time, she’s sure she would’ve started acting up. He was just so attractive!

In her tipsy state, with her cheeks warm and a fuzzy feeling in her chest, she couldn’t help but rant to her friends about it. She’d met the hottest guy ever, and she’d never have the chance to see him again! It was tragic!

Well… it doesn’t have to be that way, her friends told her. What was stopping her from heading over to the tattoo shop right now?

No, she thought to herself. Going over to the tattoo shop, drunk, with absolutely nothing to say except Hi, I think you’re hot? She could never do that…

The vodka lemonade in her system said otherwise, though. That, along with all her friends who hyped her, had somehow managed to convince her to venture across the street and visit her dreamy tattoo man!

So now she’s in his tattoo shop, with absolutely no idea of what to say or how to act.

“How can I help you?” he asks after a tense second of silence.

“Um…” she doesn’t really have a game plan, but she decides on the spot, “I want a piercing.”

“A piercing?” he clarifies. She nods. “Okay… where?”

She points to the shell of her ear. “You want a helix piercing?” he asks once more.

“Yeah,” she says confidently, accompanied by an eager nod of her head.

“Okay…” he mulls it over for a second. “Are you… y’know– like, in the right headspace to do this?” Something is telling him that she’s not completely sober, and he doesn’t want to do something that she’d regret.

“Yeah, yeah!” She brushes it off nonchalantly, “I only had like, one drink! And I’ve been meaning to get a piercing, especially after I came in here with Lola.”

The first half of that was a lie– she had like, three drinks. But, it is true that she’d been thinking about getting her helix pierced for a while. She’d always thought they were cool, and had thought to herself that she’d like to get it done. She just never had taken any initiative on that thought… until right now, at least.

“If you say so…” He’s still a bit doubtful, but he supposes his slight suspicion isn’t enough of a reason to refuse service to her.

He brings her the paperwork on a clipboard and gets all his required equipment out as she fills it out. “Which do you want?” he asks her, pointing to the wide variety of helix piercing options displayed.

“Um…what do you recommend?” She’s normally much more prepared and would have done a bunch of research on what kind of jewelry would heal best or what type of metal was safest… but again, this decision was kind of made on a whim.

“I always tell clients to start off with a stud, and then if you want you can switch it out for a hoop once the piercing has healed.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” A pretty, butterfly shaped stud catches her eye. “Can I do that one, please?”

He nods. Grabbing his equipment, he decides that y/n is gonna be the last customer of the night, so he flips the sign on the front of the door to read closed, and leads her into the backroom, the same room where he’d pierced Lola’s ears.

“Where’s your daughter?” he asks, turning on the lights. Y/n follows behind him, and sits on the bench that he guides her towards.

“Oh, she’s not mine!” “She’s not?” Harry had assumed that was her daughter with how close they were and how easily y/n comforted the little girl.

“Lola’s my goddaughter!” she bubbles. “She’s at home with her parents right now. I just got to take her out this week for a little pre-birthday surprise.”

“That’s cute,” he hums. With a pair of black gloves on his hands, he rips open the sanitizing pad and stands in front of y/n. The cool alcohol wipe feels refreshing against her ear, a striking contrast to how flushed her face feels.

Harry’s eyes are dark and stern as he focuses on his job. His knuckles nudge her chin, angling her head in a way so he could clean the backs of her ears too. She’s looking up at him with wide eyes, captivated by his every movement. With how close he’s standing to her, she can feel his breaths against her cheek, see the sparks of gold embedded in his green irises. She can’t help herself from staring at his pretty pink lips, how they pout as he marks the spot he wants to pierce.

Now, usually it makes Harry really uncomfortable when people stare at him while he’s doing their tattoo or giving a piercing. He’d rather they just close their eyes, or stare at the staring, anywhere else but at him! But with her… he doesn’t fully mind it. She’s kind of cute, he has to admit.

He holds up a mirror for her. “Look good?”

She nods. She barely looks into the mirror and doesn’t overthink the placement of it at all. Somehow, she trusts Harry wholeheartedly.

He takes the needle out of its sterile packaging, and y/n eyes it nervously. “Do helix piercings… hurt a lot?” she asks with a timid voice. The sight of a needle coming towards her face has sobered her up quite a bit.

“Not necessarily.” He notices her nervous eyes, “They obviously hurt more than a lobe piercing, since it’s cartilage, but s’only like a pinch.”

She still looks frightened. “Can you, um– count?”

His eyes narrow slightly, and she feels like he’s judging her. But he agrees nonetheless. “Sure. Ready?” She nods her head as best as she can with her ear pinched between his fingers. “3…2…1.” She squeezes her eyes shut and takes a sharp breath as the needle pierces through her cartilage.

She exhales with a shaky breath. “Ow,” her eyes open, stinging with tears.

He looks at her with a furrow in his brow. If she knew him better, she’d know that he’s concerned. But since they’re practically strangers, it just looks like he’s annoyed with her. “Did it hurt?” he asks.

“Little bit,” she mumbles. “I think it’s just the thought of a needle that’s making me a wuss. I’m not good with needles.” She sniffles a bit, but her tears aren’t heavy enough to fall from her lashes.

“Well that was the hard part,” he says, somewhat reassuringly. He follows through with the butterfly shaped stud, and secures it in the back.

He holds the mirror up for her once more, and she gazes at her own reflection in awe. “It’s so pretty,” she whispers. The butterfly glimmers prettily on her ear, the jewels that make up the wings shining under the white lighting. He sanitizes the piercing once more, then takes a step back.

“Make sure you avoid touching the piercing, ‘cos that’ll irritate it and also potentially infect it. Little bit of swelling and redness is fine for the first few days, but if it persists or gets infected then go to the doctors.” He takes his gloves off and throws his trash into the bin, then grabs a bottle of an aftercare solution, “Y’have to wash it 2-3 times a day for the next 3 weeks, then once a day after that. Don’t go swimming or submerge it under water, don’t pick at it or play with the piercing, avoid sleeping on it. And if you think anything is wrong then feel free to come back and we’ll check it out for you, yeah?”

She nods her head diligently. “How long does it take to fully heal?”

“Helix piercings take anywhere from six months to two years to fully heal. The better you take care of it, the better it’ll heal.”

Her eyes widen, “I didn’t know piercings took so much work.”

He eyes her curiously. “What made you decide to get pierced today if you didn’t know anything about it?”

“Oh, I was just… like in a fun mood,” she explains, avoiding the fact that the only reason she’d come in here was because she wanted to see him, the hot tattoo artist she’d been fantasizing about for the past week. “Me and my friends perform at the bar across the street every Thursday night, and we got some drinks afterwards and I just… decided to do it.” She smiles nervously.

“You perform?” he asks.

“Oh, yeah!” she bubbles excitedly. “I mean, I just play the keys, but my friend is a really good singer and it’s a lot of fun. S’right across the street, you should check it out one day!”

He hums. “Maybe one day.”

+++

Y/n didn’t really think much of it when she told Harry to come check out one of their performances. It just kind of… slipped out.

She didn’t think he’d actually show up! In fact, she thought she’d totally fumbled with him! She just got a piercing from him, and that’s it. No phone numbers, no flirting, nothing.

But here he is, sitting at a bar waiting for her as she walks off stage.

“Ruby,” she whispers to the lead singer of their band. “He’s here.”

“Who?” Ruby whispers back, looking around inconspicuously.

“The tattoo artist,” y/n says nervously.

Ruby’s eyes widen. “Where?!” she gasps excitedly.

“Long hair, sitting by the bar with a drink.”

Ruby finds him easily, “Girl… he’s hot.”

Y/n nods. “What do I do?”

“Go talk to him, duh!” Ruby spares another glance towards Harry. “He’s looking at you. Go over there right now, or I’ll do it for you.”

Y/n’s palms sweat and she looks at Ruby helplessly. She’s nervous! But Ruby just raises her eyebrow and gives her a look, one that tells her to suck it up and go flirt with her dream man.

With a deep breath, she walks to the bar, eyes glued to the floor and desperately avoiding Harry’s eyes until she’s right in front of him. “Hi,” she says.

He takes a sip of his drink, some type of golden whiskey sitting in a crystal glass. His eyes glimmer with familiarity. “Hi.”

“You came,” she says, fingers twisting behind her back.

“I did.” He flags the bartender down. “Are you drinking anything?”

“Oh, um… just a strawberry marg.” She smiles to herself– he’s buying her a drink! That must mean something, right? “How much of the show did you see?”

“Just the end. Had to close up shop and all before I came.”

She nods understandingly. “How, um… What did you think?” Her drink arrives and she takes a long, nervous sip.

“It was good. You were great up there.”

Her cheeks grow warm and she hopes Harry can’t tell how happy that small comment made her. “Thanks,” she says with a soft smile.

He takes another sip of his drink, and says nothing more. He’s got an intimidating demeanor, one that makes y/n shrink into herself, and yet she doesn’t want to leave his side. She’s attracted to him, obviously, but also intrigued. His mysterious ways have captured her attention, his quiet personality something y/n wants to unravel.

She coughs dryly, even though her throat doesn’t itch or anything, and awkwardly takes a sip of her drink. She wishes she had something to say to Harry, and wonders if she should just walk away to save herself from this painful silence.

“Y/n!” One of her bandmates, Benji, somehow hears her prayers and wraps his arms around her shoulder. “Killed it on the keys tonight! So groovy babe, you’re amazing.”

“Thanks Benji,” she mumbles, her face heating at the extravagant attention he’s drawn to them. Harry observes her quietly, not even acknowledging Benji’s presence – just watching her. He takes another long, quiet sip of his drink.

“This a friend of yours?” Benji asks, nodding towards Harry. His arms are still wrapped around her shoulders, his hands rubbing up and down her arm warmly. She can feel Harry eyeing the contact.

She clears her throat. “Yeah, this is Harry. He tattoos at the shop across the street.”

“Oh, sick! Nice to meet you man.”

Harry tips his drink in acknowledgement, but still says nothing.

“Listen– me, Ruby, and Char are heading to Nora’s apartment in like, thirty minutes. You wanna come with? You can ride with me.”

Y/n glances at Harry, but he’s looking down at his drink, swirling it softly. The ice clinks in his glass softly, somehow standing out to y/n’s ear despite how loud the bar is. “Um, I’ll let you know, okay? I’ll text.” Benji pats her arm with an affirming nod, and heads back to his table where the rest of their friends are sitting.

“S’that your boyfriend?” Harry says, finally looking up. His brows are furrowed, as usual, and his green eyes stare at her intensely.

“Oh, Benji?” she laughs. “No way. He’s dating Nora.”

He hums. “No boyfriend at all, then?”

She shakes her head softly, “No boyfriend.”

“Good,” he says, setting his glass down. “Would suck if I was trying to hook up with a girl who’s taken.”

Pause.

“You– what?” Her heart stutters in her chest, and she forgets how to breathe. “You want… with me?”

He sets the drink down and stands from his stool, towering over her. Looking at her with those intense, green eyes, he unabashedly glances down at her lips. “What are you doing after this?”

“Um.” Benji’s invitation flashes through the forefront of her mind. Her eyes flicker between his nervously, looking for any signs that he might be messing with her. He’s dead serious. “Nothing.”

“I live just a little bit away. Do you want to come to mine?”

“To yours? To um– like, you know…” her brain is going haywire and she can’t get a proper sentence out. “Like to… hook up?”

He nods, eyes hard but honest. “Would you want that?”

“Yeah!” She realizes how eager she sounds, and tones it down. “I mean, yes. I’d want that. I would want to go to yours and would like to, um… you know. I would wanna…” She stumbles over her words, struggling to formulate her thoughts into coherent words. She shakes her head and looks at the ground shyly, embarrassed that she can’t get it out.

Harry steps forward, lifts her chin, and gives her a kiss – mostly to shut her up, but also to test the waters, see if the chemistry is there. Her eyes flutter shut, her hands lifting softly with the intention of grabbing onto his arms, but too shy to actually touch him, so they just hang in the air between them. Harry, on the other hand, cups her jaw with the hand that he’d use to tilt her chin upwards, while the other hand rests on her hip. He puckers his lips softly against hers, sucking her bottom lip gently.

His grip on her hip tightens as they kiss, and she relaxes into his touch. The whirlwind of thoughts disappears in the kiss, the anxiety of trying to speak with him and knowing how and where to touch him vanishes in seconds. Her hands finally feel comfortable enough to touch him, resting gently on his chest, fingers grabbing onto his shirt unconsciously. He pulls away with a soft click. When her eyes gently flutter open, glazed over with puppy-like eagerness, he confirms to himself that the chemistry is definitely there.

“Ready to go, then?”

+++

Harry’s apartment is oddly nothing like y/n expected.

From his rugged exterior, you’d think his home would be dark and grungy, like himself. But he lives in a cute apartment, quaint and cozy. The building is in a nice area, with an apparently new lock and intercom system that y/n envies (getting into her building is a hassle – her key always gets stuck and she’s always getting calls from people who want the person in room 316. She lives in 318!). He keys them in with a small fob attached to a key chain, and she follows him through the lobby, up the elevator, down the hallway, and into his apartment.

A sweet little white cat with pretty blue eyes sits in front of the door as they walk in. She meows up at Harry, and tangles herself between his legs, her fluffy tail twirling behind her softly. “You don’t mind cats or anything, do you?” Harry asks.

“No, not at all!”

“This is Dandie,” he murmurs. Harry picks the cat up into his arms, his tattooed arms striking against her delicate white fur. “It’s short for dandelion.”

“How sweet,” y/n coos, stepping forward. She tries to give Dandie a scratch on the head, but the cat flinches her head away, meowing grumpily. Y/n pouts.

“Takes a while for her to warm up to people,” Harry explains. “Don’t take it personally.”

He sets Dandie down, letting her prance away as she pleases while he leads y/n further into his apartment. It’s homey and comfortable, clearly lived in. Harry has dark, espresso colored shelves lined with books and little trinkets, souvenirs and little decorations that you’d find in antique shops. A sage green couch with a chunky knit white blanket draped on top sits in the center of his living room, matching the fluffy white rug that lays under his coffee table. A half full mug of tea sits on a coaster on top of the glass table. It faces the wall with a large television attached to it.

Underneath the television is a short stand that has a record player sitting on top of it– a fancy one, she might add – with built-in shelves that store all of his records. She wanders towards them, straying away from Harry, who’s gone to the kitchen to set out some food for Dandie. There must be a hundred of them, she thinks to herself, most of them old artists that she’s never heard of.

He startles her when he walks back into the room, snapping her out of her curious exploration of his home. “Put some food out so Dandie won’t bother us,” he says. Y/n nods, looking at Harry shyly. She’s not very well-versed in this whole… one night stand stuff, and doesn’t really know what to do, so she stands there nervously as he comes closer. She knows that the whole reason she’s here is to hook up with Harry, but she has no idea how to initiate it. She’s not some sexy vixen who knows how to seduce a man – she’s a nervous and clumsy girl who doesn’t know where to put her hands when she kisses someone!

It’s a miracle that she’s managed to somehow capture Harry’s attention, despite the fact that she constantly stumbles over her words and barely knows how to act around him. He’s just like… scarily intimidating!

Lucky for her, he takes the lead and initiates the contact so that y/n can stop wracking her head over how to relieve the tension between them. He stands in front of her and cups a hand under her jaw, his fingers sliding into her hair. Although his brows are still furrowed, his eyes are somewhat softer as he looks down at her, flickering between her eyes, then down to her lips.

Did you want to put a record on?” He asks, eyes still fixated on her lips.

Her breath hitches in her throat, and her tongue darts out to lick her dry lips. “Can I?” she responds gently.

He gives an affirming hum, his dark eyes darting back up to hers, searching them intently. His pupils have dilated, his bright green irises now a deeper, forest green. “Anything in particular you wanna listen to?”

“Um…” she pulls away from and bends down to the height of the shelf to look at his selection. She sees Billy Joel, The White Stripes, The Cranberries… all music that she never really listens to. Oldies aren’t necessarily her taste, she’s more of a Taylor Swift gal. The only artist she recognizes is Fleetwood Mac, which he has a whole selection of. She plays it safe and goes with a vinyl of their “Top Hits,” delicately removing the record from the shelf and standing up with it.

She’s nervous about setting the record up (it seems like Harry’s a big record guy and she doesn’t want to scratch the vinyl or break the spinner or anything like that), so she gives the record to Harry, who stands closely behind her. With his chest pressed to her back, he wraps his arms around her and takes the vinyl out of her hands, easily taking it out of its case and placing it on the spinner. His soft, warm breaths tickle the back of her neck, and she wonders if she imagined the feeling of his lips skimming her shoulder.

Delicately, he places the needle on the record and it starts spinning, a warm static noise playing before it fades into the strong piano of the first song. His hands now rest on her hips, large and warm and gentle, and this time she knows that she’s not imagining him pressing kisses along her shoulder, and up to her neck. Goosebumps trail down her spine, and she closes her eyes, subtly tilting her head to the side to give him more access. When his kisses reach the base of her neck, he sucks lightly – not enough to leave a permanent mark, but just enough to make her core pulse and the skin there throb.

His hands trail up her sides, twisting her around slowly so that she’s facing him again. She follows him easily, moony eyes staring up at him in anticipation of his next move.

He finally leans in for a kiss. Y/n reciprocates eagerly, leaning up to kiss him back. Her eyes shut delicately, ready to fully relax into the kiss – but he pulls away before she has the chance to fully appreciate the way his lips feel against her.

Her eyes open and she looks up at him with a pout, concerned and a bit scared about why he might’ve pulled away so soon. He grabs her hands, which had been awkwardly hanging by her sides, and wraps them around his shoulders.

She feels much more comfortable this way, relieved that Harry has taken the burden of figuring out what to do with her hands away from her. Then he leans down to kiss her again, and she lets him take control.

His blunt, black painted fingernails scratch softly against her scalp as his fingers curl in her hair, holding her steady so that he can kiss her as he pleases. His other hand holds onto her waist, palm resting over her clothes while his thumb sneaks under her shirt to tenderly tease her warm skin. Her stomach jolts at his light touch. Their lips fold over each other perfectly, linking and unlinking in a slow, sultry, continuous kiss. She doesn’t realize that she’s craning her neck upwards trying to get closer and closer to him as they kiss, or that her fingers are unconsciously gripping onto the back of his shirt.

Harry takes a step forward, never breaking their kiss, inching y/n backwards until she’s pressed against the wall. The hand that had been cradling her jaw slides down her neck, then over her shoulder, then presses against the wall to support his weight as he leans over her. His neck bends downwards to reach y/n’s lips so that she doesn’t have to keep getting up on her tippy toes. With a hand on her lower back, he presses her against him, her back arching so that her stomach is pressed against his firm abdomen.

Although the sexual tension between Harry and y/n had been there since the moment they kissed in the bar, it had been a bit muted. Her anxiety over not embarrassing herself and figuring out how to initiate anything with him had muffled any of her desires, and distracted her from noticing the way Harry was eyeing her hungrily. Now that they’re kissing though, with their bodies pressed together and their hands roaming over each other, the tension is bursting. Y/n feels the heat in her core spreading all over her body, a desperate whimper growing in her chest and spilling out into Harry’s mouth.

Here she was, kissing the hot tattoo artist that she’d been dreaming about all week, with his firm chest pressed against hers, his thick fingers tangled in her hair, and his pretty pink lips on her mouth. It made her head spin with excitement. She’s no longer embarrassed in communicating her eagerness, whimpering and pressing herself into him even more.

Harry untangles his lips from hers and buries his face into her neck, kissing her there. She arches her head backwards, letting it knock against the wall to bare the skin of her throat to him. Her fingers untangle from the back of his shirt, only to tangle into his hair, long curly tendrils that she softly grasps as he kisses and sucks at the thin skin of her throat. Harry’s lips are soft and skilled, suckling gently at her most tender spots and breathing warm air over them to make her shiver. She moans softly, and not so subtly presses her hips into his center.

His hands roam her body, going from holding onto her hips, to grazing her ribs, then back down to skim over her ass. His palms feel warm, burning her skin through her clothes as he grips her thighs and lifts her into the air. With his hand under her thighs, her legs wrapped around his waist, and his hips pressing her into the wall, he somehow effortlessly picked her up.

The firm bulge confined in his black jeans presses deliciously against her soft heat, and she rolls her hips forward. With her fingers tangled in his roots, she guides his face back to hers so that she can start kissing him once more, feel his soft lips slick against hers and his warm breath against her face.

In a spur of the moment decision, Harry tightens his grip on her thighs and pulls her off the wall, carrying her over to the green couch in the center of the room. Laying her down gently, he breaks their kiss to kneel down on the floor next to her. She props herself up on her elbows and stares down at him with lust-blown eyes and swollen lips, breathing heavily as he teases the button of her denim jeans.

“Off?” he asks, and she nods eagerly, letting him unbutton, unzip, and undress her without hesitation. She’s left in her plain underwear, which he also peels off, leaving him face to face with her soft folds. His hands find her knees, and she watches him spread her legs open, her pretty pussy blooming like a spring flower.

Harry bites his lip, eyes unblinking and fixated on her center as he inches closer and closer. When she feels his warm breath against her center, she shudders, a warm rush spreading from her core, all the way up her spine. Her breathing visibility quickens, chest rising and falling noticeably enough for Harry to finally look away from her pussy and flicker his eyes up to her.

“Alright?” he murmurs, warm hands resting soothingly on her thighs. He’s a man of few words, yet he still manages to check in with her.

“Yeah,” she breathes shakily.

Without saying anything else, he leans in and licks a bold stripe up her center. His tongue dips between her folds, spit mixing with the slick that had gathered there since he first kissed her at the bar. She whines and bucks her hips upwards as soon as he makes contact with her, shutting her eyes when he starts to swirl his tongue round her clit. He makes no noise, face stoic save for the furrow in his brow showing his sheer concentration.

Pink lips wrap around her clit, sucking lightly and sending a shock throughout her entire body. When she wriggles around, he holds her hips still, his thick fingers pressing firmly into her plushy skin. Her hand shoots down to grip at the edge of his couch, holding herself steady as quiet whimpers escape her throat. She doesn’t want to embarrass herself by moaning obnoxiously, biting her lips to keep her noises in, but Harry’s making it really hard for her with the way he’s sucking her clit.

When he slides a finger into her pussy, any shame or embarrassment flies out the window. A loud cry escapes her, and she feels herself practically sucking his finger in, eager to finally have something penetrating her. Harry pulls off her clit with a pop and watches his finger disappear into her heat, biting his lip at how warm and tight she feels. He nearly groans out imagining how amazing she’d feel wrapped around his cock.

Slipping another finger in next to the first, he curls his fingers up and searches for that plushy spot on her front wall. Honestly, just having his fingers inside of her is enough to have her squirming, but when he finds her special spot, she feels her fingers go numb and her lip nearly bursts from how hard she bites down on it.

He smiles to himself when she clenches around his fingers, a subtle confirmation that he’d indeed found her g-spot and was rubbing his fingers against it in the right way. And if she’s being honest… that smile alone could’ve made her cum. A self assured, cocky smirk, with a dimple piercing his cheek and a smug glimmer in his eye. It makes her head spin, having someone so attractive sitting between her thighs.

When he leans back down to suck her clit, combined with the feeling of his fingers curling into that plushy spot, a familiar ringing starts in her ears. Before she knows it, she’s cumming around Harry’s fingers, clenching and whining and throwing her head back as pleasure overtakes her body.

It’d been so long since she’d come at the hands of someone other than herself, nevertheless someone as good as Harry. She’d given up on hookup culture and one night stands long ago, opting for her trusty Urban Outfitters vibrator over fake orgasms, and had nearly forgotten how good it felt letting someone else do all the work. How nice it felt to have broad hands skimming over your legs as you cum, or having someone’s lips teasing your skin as you come down from your high.

Her heart beats sporadically as she calms down, regaining her vision and blinking open her eyes to see Harry kissing her inner thighs. His fingers slip out of her pussy gently, slicked in a glossy layer of her cum, which he licks off casually. Y/n nearly cums again just from seeing that.

He pushes himself up from the ground to stand. “Up for more?” he asks, pressing down on the bulge in his jeans. Nodding, she sits up on the couch so that she’s face to face with his cock, and undoes the button of his tight, black jeans. She yanks them down to his knees, revealing a pair of black Calvin Kleins, and a large tiger tattoo on his thigh. Momentarily, she gets distracted, tracing the sharp inked teeth of the tiger, feeling the firm muscle of his thigh. But then he palms himself through his briefs, and she remembers the mission she’s on.

Pulling those down as well, his cock bobs up in front of her face, pink and ruddy tip hypnotizing her as it sways up and down, finally free of its confines. She’s ready to return the favor, licking her lips and eager to get her lips around his cock – not only because she feels obligated to suck him off since he ate her out, but also because his cock is pretty. It’s thick and hard, with veins running up the sides, and he looks clean and well groomed. Her mouth waters, and she wants him in her mouth. But, before she can even lick the tip, he wraps his own fist around it, tilting it away from her mouth.

Her eyes flicker up from his cock to his face, an upset furrow in her brow, but Harry disregards it. “How do you want it?” he asks instead, too impatient to get sucked off. He’s been dreaming of her warm cunt ever since she came around his fingers.

She says nothing, instead grabbing his hips and pulling him down to sit next to her on the couch. His cock bobs heavily between the two of them as she straddles him, her knees encasing his thick, muscled thighs. “Um… do you– condom?” she asks breathlessly. He wriggles a hand into the back pocket of his pants, which hang around his knees carelessly, and pops a trojan out.

Ripping the foil with his teeth, he sheaths it onto his cock in less than a minute. Y/n lifts herself up on her knees, lines him up with her pussy, and sinks down gently. With her on top, she sets a slow, easy pace for herself, taking her time as she presses down. He fills her up, inch by inch, stretching her to the brim, and she loves it.

Harry spreads his arms on the back of the couch, casually watching as she lowers himself on his cock. She’s warm and wet and so fucking tight… he throws his head back in ecstacy, relieved to finally have his cock snugly inside of her. Her hands reach backwards to hold onto his knees, lifting herself up and down, angling in a way so that his cockhead rubs against her g-spot everytime she grinds down.

With his lip between his teeth, his bright green eyes stare as she starts bouncing faster. He reaches a hand out to hold onto her hip, his palm smoothing over her soft skin and guiding her as she lifts herself on his cock. He makes no noises, but he breathes deeply through his nose and watches her with lust-blown pupils, eyelids heavy as if he were drunk.

Y/n on the other hand, whimpers with every swivel of her hips, cheeks flushed and chest bursting. She’s doing her damn best but being on top is hard! The burning in her thighs is lowkey making her regret climbing onto his lap instead of letting him have his way with her, but just as she’s about to start cramping up, Harry’s other hand leaves the couch to grip her hip. With both hands burning on her hipbones, he helps her bounce up and down on his cock.

She relaxes now, his strong hands helping her immensely and letting her start focusing on the burning orgasm bubbling in the pit of her stomach. She falls forward, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pressing her chest against his, whining into his ear when his cockhead kisses her g-spot each time he pulls her down. He grunts quietly when her fingernails dig into the muscles of his shoulders, and whispers a quiet praise in her ear.

“Yeah, that’s good,” he murmurs with a low voice – that sends her over the edge. She clenches around his thick length, squeezing her thighs tightly around his hips as she lets out a choked moan, a quiet ohmygod escaping her through her orgasm.

She flutters around his cock the same way she’d done around his fingers and his vision goes white, throwing his head back on the couch and letting his eyes blink shut in bliss. A lazy smile overtakes his face as her pussy milks his cock, and he releases in long warm spurts into the condom.

She breathes heavily in his lap, arms wrapped around his neck and holding on for dear life, while Harry sits there casually, blissed out and fully content. His hands rub over the skin of her bare thighs gently, thumbs tracing soft circles as her shaky breaths start to even out. She pulls her face out of his neck, and looks down at him with blown out eyes and hot cheeks.

“Good?” he asks with a cocky smirk, the cutest dimple in his cheek.

She nods breathlessly, fluttering her eyes unbelievingly. “Wow,” is all she can say. Harry chuckles cutely.

He’s still fitted snugly inside of her, so she lifts herself off his cock, hissing at the feeling of being empty after he filled her up so well. Harry takes the sloppy condom off of his prick and ties it off, standing up when y/n shuffles off of his lap to throw it out in the kitchen.

When he walks back in, cock bare and swinging about, y/n is getting herself dressed and ready to go. If there’s anything she hates more than the awkwardness that comes before hooking up with someone for the first time, it’s the awkwardness that comes after you actually have sex. She always felt insecure, extra vulnerable, and a little bit nervous… and she never knew what to do with herself. So even though she could really go for a cuddle or something right now, she gets herself dressed and ready to head home. That’s what you do after a one night stand, right?

Harry seems a lot more… relaxed than she’d expected, though. She was worried he’d be rushing her out of his house, ordering her a taxi and getting dressed as soon as they were done. But no, he casually slides his black Calvin Kleins up his legs, kicking his black jeans onto the floor with no second thought. He sits himself on the couch, and opens up a water bottle.

“Brought you some water,” he says casually, nodding towards the bottle he’d brought from the kitchen after he’d thrown the condom out.

“...thanks,” she says, picking up the water and cautiously sitting back down next to him. She cracks the seal open and takes a small sip. Harry chugs half the bottle down, then throws it onto the coffee table.

“Whereabouts do you live?” he then asks, throwing an arm on the back of the couch.

“Um… about 10 minutes from the tattoo shop. East side of town, in the apartment complex near the port.”

“Oh so you’re not too far,” he murmurs thoughtfully, and she shakes her head in confirmation. “That’s perfect.” He searches around himself for a minute before he finds his phone, face down on the side table, and passes it to y/n. “Why don’t you put your number in then, and we can do this again?”

She grabs his phone a bit dazed, “you wanna hook up again?”

“Err, yeah?” he says dumbly. “Only if you want to, though.”

Her heart flutters giddily – so this wasn’t goodbye! She’s really winning the jackpot, and she wonders what she’s done to get this much good karma. First she got to hook up with the hot tattoo artist, and now he wants to turn it into a fling? “Yeah… yeah sounds good.”

+++

THE REST OF TATTOORRY IS PATREON EXCLUSIVE!!! PART TWO IS ALREADY OUT ON PATREON!!!!! THANK U FOR READING!!!

#harry #harry styles #harry fic #harry smut #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #daddy harry styles #daddy!harry #harry styles daddy kink #harrystylessmut #harrysmut #harry one shot #harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots #harry styles oneshot

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celandeline · 5 months

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And If You Never Eat, You Never Grow

Carl Grimes X Reader, Part 2 [previous part | next part]

It’s a cruel twist of fate really. Karma for letting Carl kiss you two days ago on your porch when you knew you shouldn’t have. You even remember saying it, when he’d offered to come with you - you didn’t need him distracting you. But of course, in picking extra reinforcements to bring with you back to that strip mall, Daryl had asked Rick and Carl to tag along. Of course.

If you just don’t look at him, you think you can make it through.

You keep your eyes steadfastly forward as Daryl pounds on the window of the store, drawing all the walkers inside to the front. There’s only a few - likely ones that had slipped in when you and Daryl made your retreat last time you were here - and they’re easily handled. Daryl pulls open the door, and you draw your knife as you step inside, plunging the blade through the nearest walker’s skull. Knife still sheathed in the walker’s head, you pull the body out of the way for Rick and Carl to get at the other two.

Three bodies fall to the floor, dead for good.

Daryl, crossbow in hand, breezes past you. “C’mon.” He gruffs, starting down the barren aisles without looking back. “‘S this way.”

You don’t bother wiping off your knife - it’ll just get bloodied again in a few minutes. You follow after Daryl, retracing your steps from the last time you were here, through the employees only door and the back rooms, down the rusty metal steps towards the rollover storage space. It’s quiet, but you know they’re still in there, waiting.

Daryl stops at the bottom of the steps, placing a tentative hand on the handle of the door. “I’unno how many ‘r in there.” He says. “But ‘s a lot. Gotta be more’n a dozen at least.” He looks to you. “Right?”

“At least.” You agree.

“Nothing we can’t handle.” Rick says from behind you. “We stay close to each other, watch each other’s backs.”

Daryl nods, and you watch him ready his crossbow as his grip tightens on the door handle. You ready your knife, and your other hand finds its way to the pistol tucked into the back of your jeans. Daryl flings the door open, and you dart into the room, stabbing the nearest walker you see through the ear.

It’s immediate chaos. The basement storage space isn’t huge to begin with, and it’s filled with flimsy metal shelving, some of which is already knocked over. The walkers all stumble towards the door at the same time, arms outstretched, some of them tripping over the fallen shelving and crawling, jaws snapping at your ankles. The smell of rot and decay fills your nostrils, but you take deep breaths anyway as you fight, kicking away crawling bodies as you drive your knife through the head of the walker in front of you.

The sound of an arrow whizzing past you draws your attention for a moment, and you see one of Daryl’s arrows embed itself in a walker that had been approaching from the side, out of your sight. You don’t have time to thank him though, because there’s a walker behind Rick, a little too close to the back of his neck for your liking. You hip-check the walker away from Rick’s back, and stick your knife up its nose, the body stilling and crumpling to the floor.

You catch Carl’s blue eyes on you over his dad’s shoulder, but you quickly spin away, forcefully stepping on a walker’s hand as it tries to crawl towards you. Shoving your steel-toed boot in its mouth to keep it still, you kneel down quickly to stab it through the head.

Slowly, the room starts to clear. The bodies begin to pile up, and you take a moment to catch your breath, scanning the room. Daryl pulls his knife from the head of a walker, and reaches down to retrieve an arrow from another, grunting. Rick wipes his machete on the leg of his pants, his free hand pushing his hair away from his eyes. Carl, kneeling down to pull his knife from a walker’s skull, unaware of the second walker stumbling out from behind the shelving-

Your heart stops, and you leap forward before you really have time to think about what you’re doing. With your whole body, you slam into the walker, the both of you tumbling to the ground away from Carl. You struggle to keep the thing down as you flip your knife around, avoiding its snapping jaws as you plunge the blade through its eye. The walker stills, and you sit back on your haunches, turning back to look at Carl.

Pupils blown wide, his gaze meets yours. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” You pant, knees cracking as you stand up.

When you turn fully around, you see Rick looking at you too - not the wide-eyed stare of his son but something different, more calculating. You quickly look away, busying yourself instead with wiping all of the blood and brains off your knife, and starting to sort through all the boxes for supplies. The room quiets as the fighting comes to an end, and you take a moment to ground yourself, opening cardboard boxes to peer inside.

Daryl kneels beside you, peering into the boxes on the lower shelves skeptically. “What’d you do?” He gruffs.

“What?” You ask, confused, looking down at him.

He blows a strand of greasy hair out of his face as he paws through the boxes. “Rick’s lookin’ at you all funny. What’d you do?”

“Nothing recently.” You say. Through the gaps in the shelving, you can see Rick and Carl going through the motions of scavenging for supplies too. As if feeling your eyes on him, Rick looks up. You only hold his gaze for a moment before looking away, going back to pulling anything useful out of the boxes.

Daryl grunts, but doesn’t press any further. He’s good like that, you’ve never known him to poke or pry. In silence, you go through the motions of pulling supplies. It’s a decent haul - untouched water bottles, boxes of cereal, canned corn, peas, peaches - all of which is packed into duffel bags and thrown over your shoulder. You keep one hand on your knife as you follow Daryl and Rick back up the stairs, Carl a half step behind you.

“That was pretty hot, when you tackled that walker.” He keeps his voice low enough that his dad and Daryl won’t overhear, but you anxiously look at the back of Rick’s head anyway.

“Carl.” You warn, low. You don’t need him getting you into more trouble with his dad than he already has.

“What?” You can hear the laughter in his voice. “It was.”

You shoot a quick glare at him over your shoulder as you reach the top of the stairs, and he shrugs, as if he simply couldn’t help himself and just had to let you know. You roll your eyes as you turn back around.

Rick holds the door open for you as you follow Daryl back outside, squinting slightly at the change of light. You try to ignore that calculating look as you pass by him, but it still unsettles you deep in your gut. You’d almost prefer him to be glaring at you - you can see the wheels turning in his head, thinking about… something. Likely something to do with Carl.

Maybe you should really turn him down. Tell him to fuck off. Hurt his feelings a little bit so he’ll actually leave you alone, get Rick off your back too… You drop your duffel bag in the trunk of the car before sliding into the backseat.

Carl slides into the seat on the other side, and closes the door behind him. For a moment, the car is quiet, the only sounds are the muffled voices of Rick and Daryl seeping in from the outside. You determinedly keep your gaze away from Carl. You’re done encouraging this crush he has, even if you do like him. It’ll take some willpower to convince yourself that he’s more trouble than he’s worth-

“Hey.”

You tilt your head, eyeing him warily. “What?”

He tips his head in the same way, mocking your wariness. He glances out the window, to where his dad and Daryl are talking before he shifts closer to you, across the seats. Quickly, his hand comes up to cup your cheek, and before you really realize what he’s doing, he’s kissing you, hungrier than the sweet kiss he’d given you on your porch. He pulls away just as quick as he’d come, whispering a ‘thank you’ across your lips.

The driver’s side door opens, and Rick slides in just as Carl pulls back. Daryl plops himself down in the passenger seat and shoots you a look over the shoulder of the seat. You’re sure you look as shocked as you feel, and you quickly school your face back to neutrality. The car rumbles to life, and you ignore the smirk on Carl’s face as he glances at you. You can feel all your convictions to finally put an end to this thing from before slipping away. He’s definitely going to be the death of you, you’re sure of it.

#carl grimes x reader #carl grimes #carl grimes x you #the walking dead #twd

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ixhika-jsx · 2 months

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BLACK SWAN- ✧˖°BTS Challenge - 𐙚

Main concept: of this challenge is that I have to bring my passions back to life that died long ago

Bit inspired by @zzzzzestforlife 🍾🫶🏻

As in song's lyrics of 'black swan'

"If this can no longer resonate, no longer make my heart vibrate, then like this may be how I die my first death."

[ You can reblog this post and start this challenge by yourself after adding your own goals under the reblogged post of yours... :)) ]

[ Academics:- ᥫ᭡🎐

As to bring back my interest in studies there are some goals of mine and some tips (I am referring myself as 'you' as some external force for myself) 🎀

☆ By the mid of September you must be on track in academics - complete notes and zero backlogs , regular revision ! 📄❕️❕️

☆ 📌 Complete pw modules till December

☆ work on weak chapters🗯 - relation and functions , trigonometry , periodic classification and topic electronic configuration of chapter - 2 of chemistry 💨

☆ listen to podcasts like 'ACADEMIC VALIDATION'🗒and 'YOUR A+ LIFE'📈 while studying mathematics. (As I kinda not get maths yk )

☆ study along with study vloggers - 'STUDY WITH ME' 🩰 because it helps when you find a 'partner' in studying.

☆ Have a mindset that you are not a student but you are a employee working for a greater position in your job or for greater income....🏷 which means position- topper or sum and income - grades ⏳️

☆ while studying physics you should use whiteboard 📇cuz I know it gets boring at times so yea

☆ for chemistry I would say that read books and make pretty pretty notes 🪄 and if you still can't study it then just watch some study vlogs and restart 🎲 (it helps me sometimes)

☆ study computer science chapter of - 'PYTHON' 🖥 whenever you get time as of getting mind off STEM subjects

[ Workout :- ᥫ᭡ 🎳

☆ I know it's not easy getting off bed but just use 1-2-5 minute rule 🎗

-stand up for 1 minute and drink some water

- start off with some stretching next for 2 minutes

- do 4 plank sessions in 5 minutes or any other favourite exercise move of yours

(This is my concept btw) And this will help about 70 percent to actually get you up.🥊

☆ do pilates in case you don't feel like exercising⛳️

☆ do 'lazy' stretching either before sleeping ot after sleeping.🎯

☆ walk minimum 6k steps a day♠️

[ Hobbies/Extra curricular :- ᥫ᭡ 🎱

☆ subscribe/follow to multiple dance pages so you automatically get the urge to dance🪀

☆ watch your idol dancing...it helps🧩

☆ dance atleast twice a week no matter what , even if you have to force it. It will individually get better if you were some day passionate bout it once.👯🏻‍♀️

☆ start writing your incomplete book by visualizing the scenes of the book...may help sometimes🖇

☆ during breaks from studies play basketball even for 5 minutes... put your phone away and walk around with your basketball around you then you will automatically feel the urge.🏀

☆ take part in school activities as much as you can....I get it that there is lot of academic work but it shouldn't stop you from being an all rounder🏆🏅

[ Social :- ᥫ᭡🥂

☆ cut people off...yea exactly CUT THEM OFF !! Lot of people don't really deserve you. You know who those people are.🌬

☆ don't get too comfy with some people. I get it that its your nature but keep that aside rn because it can be pressuring your self respect.🛑

☆ cut off atleast 3 people this year (atleast)💬

☆ don't be too kind to endure every other 'tease' of thiers. No this degrades your self respect and standards✋🏻

☆ if they are constantly mean then cut them off or just give them what they deserve(be the karma).🗣

☆ be as much confident as you can.you know nothing is cringe.... your definition of cringe is limiting you from your potential.🧭

So this is it for this challenge. I will regularly add more goals if needed and keep on updating my process.

You all are free to join :))🍾💐

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gaywriterthings · 28 days

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SquidBob Master List: Your SpongeBob SquarePants Guide to SquidBob Episodes

NOTE: Some episodes that focus on Squidward and SpongeBob's relationship are not counted either because of there being other characters directly involved too* (like "Naughty Nautical Neighbors"), Squidward is only shown to dislike/strongly hate SpongeBob or their relationship is not painted in a very positive light (like "Restraining SpongeBob" or "Employee of the Month"), their relationship is painted in a pretty neutral light/there's nothing special to note there** (like "Just One Bite"), the episode is focused mainly on Squidward (like "Squid's Day Off"), or because of the episode just being bad/universally disliked or there being a bunch of Squidward torture (like "Smoothe Jazz In Bikini Bottom" or "Abandon Twits"). I made this list to focus on their friendship and for people who like the ship, so only episodes that actively do that a positive are going to be listed, even if they just have one notable scene.

I will also provide descriptions for those who don't just want to watch the episodes for themselves, so that means there will be spoilers ahead. The descriptions of the episodes will be focused on Squidward (with a few exceptions), as it's far, far, far more apparent in the show how much love and care comes from SpongeBob's side of the relationship. What I want to highlight here is that there's a lot of love and care coming from Squidward's side too, despite how less it's shown.

*One episode I was thinking about including, season 11's "Mustard O' Mine," was removed because it technically falls under this category. However, I will label it before we begin as an honorable mention, as it's a Krusty Krab related adventure starring SpongeBob, Squidward, and Patrick where Squidward gets along very, very well with both of his neighbors and is shown to be incredibly happy for a good chunk of the episode's time. It is very good by season 11's standards.

**Another episode I was thinking about including, season 13's "Food PBBFT! Truck," was removed because it technically falls under this category, as I surprisingly couldn't find anything special to note about it during my rewatch. I wanted to label it as another honorable mention though, since it's one of those "SpongeBob and Squidward Krusty Krab adventures," one of my favorite episode genres. It's like "SpongeBob in RandomLand," but more tame and taking place in Rock Bottom. It is pretty good by season 13's standards.

I will try my best as someone who's shipped SpongeBob and Squidward for years to remain unbiased, only stating the facts of what happens in each episode and none of my personal opinions or interpretations, other than an emoji to let you know which ones are my favorites. However, if you would like to know more about what I think of any particular episode on this list, please let me know and I will be very, very happy to talk about it.

With all that said, please enjoy!

KEY:

⭐️ - Classic Episode

🍔 - Krusty Krab Related Episode/Adventure

🩵 - Caring Squidward

💕 - My Personal Favorites/Recommendations

❣️ - Specific Notable Scene

1. ⭐️🍔🩵💕 Pizza Delivery - Season 1

As the title suggests, Squidward is thrust into a pizza delivery with SpongeBob, during which two quickly get lost, and he makes known how adamant he is of disliking the entire situation. However, in the end, when he watches a customer act terribly mean to SpongeBob for forgetting a drink he never even ordered, Squidward is immediately shown to be worried about him. Upon seeing him break, fall to the ground, and sob, Squidward becomes furious, and pays the customer his karma for what he had driven SpongeBob to by slamming his pizza in his face.

2. ⭐️🩵❣️ SB-129 - Season 1

Though this episode happened because Squidward was trying to get away from SpongeBob, in the end, when there's no way for Squidward to get back home, he realizes just how much he actually misses him. Saying so out loud is what ultimately does bring him back home, where he then tells SpongeBob (and Patrick) they don't know how happy he is to see them.

3. ⭐️🩵❣️ Fools In April - Season 1

Though Squidward pulled a horrible prank on SpongeBob in this episode that drove him to tears, he soon begins to feel very bad about it, saying he never meant to make SpongeBob cry. However, he has difficulty telling him he's sorry, but his conscience and sheer amount of guilt eventually drive him to run to SpongeBob's house and shout through the door, saying three times he's sorry and that he never meant to hurt him, but in fact likes him, likes living next door, and likes hearing his foghorn alarm in the morning and his high pitched giggling at night.

4. ⭐️🩵💕 Dying For Pie - Season 2

Once Squidward is told by Mr. Krabs that SpongeBob is going to die by the end of the day, he immediately becomes very scared and worried. He begins to freak out and cry, and tells Krabs that he's going to "make SpongeBob's final hours the best he's ever had", and that there's gonna be so much love "he's gonna drown in it". He then asks SpongeBob what the most fun thing he can think of is and spends the entire day with him doing everything on his "friendship list," a list he keeps of the fun things he likes to do. It is incredibly obvious just how much Squidward genuinely doesn't want SpongeBob to die, and when he finally thinks he has, he immediately begins to sob. He shows nothing but care for him almost the entire episode.

5. ⭐️ Squidville - Season 2

Though Squidward finally moves out of Conch Street in this episode, he's quickly shown to find his new life in Tentacle Acres boring and repetitive. SpongeBob is still on his mind, something as simple as the sound of a reef blower making Squidward think he's there. He realizes he prefers the life on Conch Street with someone like SpongeBob, as different from him he may be, rather than the life in Tentacle Acres with other octopi just like him. In the end, he becomes the "SpongeBob" of Tentacle Acres before ultimately moving back home by the next episode.

6. ⭐️🩵💕 Christmas Who? - Season 2

Despite how jerky Squidward acts towards SpongeBob in this special, once SpongeBob tells him he made something for him so he "wouldn't be left out when Santa came", his whole attitude changes. Once he opens the gift and calls it "the greatest gift he has ever gotten,” Squidward realizes how just awful he'd been acting. He realizes all SpongeBob had wanted was to spread a little joy, and despite still not liking the holiday, Squidward then dresses up as Santa to convince SpongeBob his wish really did come true. He tells him that he was the one who brought Christmas to Bikini Bottom, causing him to become so happy he faints. Squidward then keeps this Santa charade up for the rest of the episode, "giving away all his stuff just so SpongeBob wouldn't be sad." The episode ends with Squidward playing the clarinet SpongeBob had made for him.

7. ⭐️🍔💕 Graveyard Shift - Season 2

SpongeBob and Squidward are together the entire episode and get along fairly well, with Squidward teasing SpongeBob and telling him a fake story to scare him during the night shift, letting him know it was a joke when he got too scared. Later on when they believe the story had become real, Squidward holds on to SpongeBob and tells him he's "always sort of liked him."

8. ⭐️🍔💕 Krab Borg - Season 3

SpongeBob and Squidward get along very well in this episode. When SpongeBob tells Squidward he believes Mr. Krabs is a robot, Squidward, although not really believing him, keeps up conversation with him and goes along with his attempts to prove to him that Krabs is a robot. After Squidward is finally convinced, he works together with SpongeBob to interrogate who they think is Robot Krabs and get him to tell them what he did with the Real Krabs. After SpongeBob tells Squidward that the robots in the scary movie he watched that led to all this ended up being in the characters' imagination, he makes up a lie to excuse himself and leaves Squidward behind with an angry Krabs, and he doesn't even get mad at him for doing so.

9. ⭐️❣️ Born Again Krabs - Season 3

After Mr. Krabs breaks his deal with the Flying Dutchman, he angrily shows up at the Krusty Krab. After SpongeBob sticks up for him, the Flying Dutchman tells Krabs that he'll give him another chance if he helps him settle a bet. He then makes him choose between SpongeBob and all the money he has in his pocket- which ends up being 62 cents- and Krabs immediately chooses the money. After the Flying Dutchman takes SpongeBob to Davy Jones's locker, Squidward is angry at Krabs for letting it happen and stands up for SpongeBob. He tells Krabs he should be ashamed of himself for what he had done, and makes him feel remorse for his actions.

10. ⭐️💕 The Two Faces of Squidward - Season 5

SpongeBob and Squidward get along very, very well the whole episode. Though Squidward is initially angry at SpongeBob for hitting him with a door and landing him in the hospital, once he realizes he has become handsome, he leaves the hospital with SpongeBob and hangs out with him for the rest of the day. Squidward is smiling the entire time, not once finding SpongeBob's presence annoying or getting angry at him. The next day, when Squidward realizes the Bikini Bottomites adore him too much, he runs to SpongeBob's house to get away from them and ask him for help.

11. ❣️ Keep Bikini Bottom Beautiful - Season 7

When SpongeBob offers to help Squidward with his community service, he cleans up every single piece of trash in town for him. Squidward is shown to be very shocked and grateful and tells SpongeBob he "hates him a little less now," to which SpongeBob tears up at and tells him it was a "beautiful thing to say". Even after Squidward finds out what he had done with all the trash, in the end, when he sees it had caused Squilliam's statue to melt, he thanks SpongeBob a third time.

12. 🩵❣️ Sponge-Cano! - Season 7

After SpongeBob sings a song to Squidward all about being grateful for the life he is living, Squidward tells him that "being his neighbor leaves him with nothing to be grateful for." He soon tells him he doesn't want his help ever again, and SpongeBob obeys his wishes. However, as the episode nears its end and Squidward is about to fall into a volcano and SpongeBob is the only one who can help him out, he lets him know that he does appreciate his friendship and he is grateful, even quoting his song and saying "I am grateful for the life I am living, who knows how long I will have it?" and reminding him that he learned that from him. After SpongeBob pulls Squidward to safety, he tells him he always knew he felt that way and thanks him for opening up to them.

13. Love That Squid - Season 7

This episode is all about Squidward crushing on a sophisticated female octopus named Squilvia. SpongeBob offers to help him when he has difficulty asking her out, and he lists to Squilvia all the reasons why one should want to date Squidward, concluding with the fact that he knows "anyone who is lucky enough to go on a romantical date with him would get to experience things on a whole 'nother and very special level". After this gets Squilvia to agree to go on a date with Squidward, SpongeBob puts on a wig and a dress and takes Squidward on a "practice date" to prepare him for his real one. Squidward goes along with this, and stays fairly calm throughout the whole date. Though he does get angry at SpongeBob at the end, when he realizes Squilvia had overheard his outburst and finds him dreamy because of it, his anger immediately fades and he gushes to SpongeBob about it, leaving him happy for him.

14. Are You Happy Now? - Season 8

SpongeBob acts nothing but nice, caring, calm, and patient towards Squidward in this episode, more so than he has in any other. Concerned after Squidward tells him he doesn't have a happiest memory, the two cry together before SpongeBob offers to help him create one, which Squidward accepts. With each try, something goes wrong the second Squidward begins to feel happy that instantly crushes his mood, but nothing that happens is SpongeBob's fault in any way. When the two return to Conch Street, Squidward concludes that he will never have a happiest memory and retreats into his house for two weeks. Not once during those two weeks does SpongeBob invade Squidward's personal space or try to check up on him like he would in any other situation. He lets him have that time to himself because he understands he needs to leave him alone, and only tries to get a hold of him once he becomes concerned and fears the worst.

15. 💕 Hello Bikini Bottom! - Season 8

In this special, SpongeBob and Squidward go on tour with Mr. Krabs as their cheap manager and Patrick as their dimwitted roadie. Though there are a lot of things in this episode that don't necessarily go Squidward's way and he was shown to complain a lot, he got along fairly well with SpongeBob almost the entire time. It was evident in his face how happy he was during his first gig when he was duetting with him in the supermarket. More and more things begin to go wrong on their tour, however, and after their tour bus drives off a cliff suffering a flat tire with no spares available, Squidward finally decides he's had enough and begins to walk back home to Bikini Bottom. Saddened after his failed attempts at getting him to stay, SpongeBob hops up onto the top of the bus with his ukulele and begins singing a song directed at Squidward with a self-explanatory title of "Never Give Up." About 40 seconds in, the song turns into a duet between the two of them, during which Squidward decides to turn around and head back to SpongeBob. The song ends with the two of them playing their instruments together, and comes to a close after Squidward joins SpongeBob on the top of the tour bus. Squidward is pleasantly surprised at the way their duet sounded, telling SpongeBob "that was actually kind of good", before the two raise their hands to high five.

16. 🍔 The Sewers of Bikini Bottom - Season 9

SpongeBob and Squidward get along pretty well basically right from the start of the episode. Almost immediately, they begin to have a sort of childlike fun together flushing random stuff down the toilet in the Krusty Krab's bathroom, smiling wide and laughing. When they accidentally flush Mr. Krabs' safe containing the secret formula, however, they begin to freak out and Squidward tells SpongeBob to go retrieve it. After he steps into the toilet and flushes himself, Squidward realizes the severity of what he had done, and tells himself that flushing SpongeBob down the toilet was "despicable, even for him," and then flushes himself to go after him. As the two of them begin to make their way through the sewers, they continue to get along well, and Squidward goes along with every little thing that happens without question, remaining fairly chill about his situation right up to the end of the episode.

17. ❣️ The SpongeBob Movie: Sponge Out of Water

Whenever SpongeBob and Squidward are together in this movie, they get along pretty well. After SpongeBob turns them all into superheroes, Squidward loves how buff he becomes, and is very upset to lose all that muscle when they return home to Bikini Bottom. Back there, however, SpongeBob tells him not to be sad and that he left him a little surprise under his shirt. After Squidward lifts his shirt to reveal rock hard abs, he smiles wide and playfully punches SpongeBob on the shoulder, telling him he's "okay in his book."

18. Out of the Picture - Season 10

SpongeBob is the only one in this episode to show genuine interest in and love of Squidward's art, both convincing Mr. Krabs to hold Squidward's art show at his restaurant and buying one of his paintings because "he loves it". Despite the things Mr. Krabs puts Squidward through in this episode, he doesn't catch on to the fact that Krabs is trying to get him killed and remains pretty chill about it all. That is, until Krabs gives up and just starts chasing him with a mallet, during which SpongeBob is on Squidward's side and is determined to keep him safe no matter what. All in all, the two get along very well the entire episode.

19. 🍔 The Check-Up - Season 11

In this episode, SpongeBob and Squidward work together to give Mr. Krabs his physical without his knowledge because of his fear of check-ups. While working together, the two get along well, and Squidward never really gets mad at SpongeBob at any point in the episode.

20. 💕 Squid Noir - Season 11

SpongeBob and Squidward become hard- boiled detectives in this episode, getting along fairly well the entire time. They work together, side by side the whole episode, to solve the mystery of who stole Squidward's clarinet after it goes missing.

21. 🍔 Bottle Burglars - Season 11

SpongeBob and Squidward get along pretty well the entire episode. After they accidentally throw away the secret formula and Plankton finds it, they work together to sneak into the Chum Bucket to steal it back. Though they fail, Squidward goes basically the entire episode without complaining or getting mad at SpongeBob, simply just working with him to accomplish what they need to.

22. 🍔 Sanitation Insanity - Season 11

After a trash problem at the Krusty Krab, Mr. Krabs is sentenced to pick up all of the trash around Bikini Bottom. Instead of doing so himself, he orders SpongeBob and Squidward to do it for him. Though Squidward makes it known that he doesn't want to do that job, he gets along well with SpongeBob the entire time, simply going along with everything that comes his way.

23. 🩵❣️ Appointment TV - Season 11

In this episode, SpongeBob is in a rush to get home after a long day at work to watch a never before seen episode of Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy that is airing on TV that night. However, he is constantly stopped by people asking for his help, and by the time he finally gets home, he has missed the airing and finds that his VCR had gone haywire, causing things to burst into flames and rendering him unable to watch the episode. He begins to cry loudly and says his life now has no meaning, and all of his friends- including Squidward- immediately begin to feel guilty for taking advantage of him and his kindness. They then work together to create a live performance of the episode for him, Squidward reprising his role of Dr. Negative from the season 10 episode "Mermaid Pants," and SpongeBob, in tears by the time the show is over, tells them he "loved the love they showed him."

24. 🩵❣️ Pineapple RV - Season 12

Although Squidward is mad with SpongeBob (and Patrick) almost the entire episode, near the end when he leaves them in the woods and starts to drive back home without them, he immediately begins to worry about their safety. Quickly, he turns around and drives back to frantically search for them, only to be met with the sounds of their screams from inside of a nearby cave. He then runs into the cave, delivering a karate chop to one of the sea bears inside- despite the fact that he is terrified of them, shown in the season 3 episode "The Camping Episode"- and shouts "Don't you dare eat those morons!"

25. 🍔 SpongeBob In RandomLand - Season 12

Despite how many weird and random things happen to SpongeBob and Squidward in this episode, Squidward goes along with every single thing like they're common occurrences, barely ever complaining and simply just working with SpongeBob to accomplish what they're in RandomLand to do. The two get along well the entire adventure.

26. Pat Hearts Squid - Season 12

Though this episode is focused on Squidward and Patrick's relationship, when Squidward is enraged after Patrick becomes "a better Squidward," SpongeBob is on his next door neighbor's side. He gives him good advice on how to deal with his situation, Squidward is very grateful (showing so by picking SpongeBob up and air-kissing him), and he gladly hangs out with SpongeBob as he follows his advice.

27. 🍔💕 Bubble Bass's Tab - Season 12

In this episode, Mr. Krabs sends SpongeBob and Squidward to Bubble Bass's house to collect his tab after he refuses to pay it. Squidward is the most determined to complete this task, starting off by kicking down the door to his house- which SpongeBob calls "masculine," and Squidward briefly gets flustered at. Once they're inside, Bubble Bass tells them he'll pay the money he owes if they play a board game called the Three Deadly Challenges with him. SpongeBob, who loves the game, immediately agrees, but Squidward doesn't want to go along with it, questioning why SpongeBob is giving Bubble Bass the upper hand while he's the one that owes them money. He gives in, however, when he sees how much SpongeBob really wants to play. He then plays alongside him in a life size version of the Three Deadly Challenges, going along with each one and eventually actually getting really into it with the help of SpongeBob's imagination, defeating Bubble Bass at last. The episode ends back at the Krusty Krab with SpongeBob and Squidward happily dancing the tango together.

28. 🩵💕❣️ The SpongeBob Movie: Sponge on the Run

After Mr. Krabs, Plankton, Sandy, and Squidward find out that SpongeBob and Patrick are going to be executed in the Lost City of Atlantic City, they rush over to save them. Even though Squidward says he's just going to see Kelpy G, he says his piece to Poseidon and his audience to try and convince them to save SpongeBob's life when they arrive. He says that even though he can't stand him, he loves him. Though he calls him annoying, he also calls him sweet and nice. Finally, he concludes by calling him his friend, and saying that he doesn't deserve to die. This brings the audience to tears and makes SpongeBob incredibly happy.

29. Squidferatu - Season 13

After SpongeBob finds out that Squidward has been getting Nosferatu's mail for years, he lets him know he needs to deliver it to him and Squidward tells him to come along. Once they finally arrive at Nosferatu's castle, Slappy tells them that they need to spend the night due to "inclement weather." However, the two soon believe that Nosferatu is trying to attack them, and they run through the castle, working together to figure out how to stay safe. They get along pretty well the entire episode.

30. Mandatory Music - Season 13

In this episode, Squidward lands himself in a court ordered music class for his poor clarinet playing. SpongeBob ends up being in the class as well, wanting to practice playing his nose, and nearing the end of the episode, Squidward has shown no improvement and his clarinet is forcibly destroyed. SpongeBob comforts him when he is crying, offering him a tissue, and once he blows his nose, it is found to create trumpet noises. SpongeBob starts cheering him on, telling him he's "finally found his instrument." After Squidward is declared the "most improved student in the class", he smiles, and the episode transitions to him giving a public performance with his nose playing. SpongeBob continues to cheer him on the loudest, and the episode ends with Squidward wiping a tear from his eye and happily continuing on playing.

31. ❣️ Swimming Fools - Season 13

Though Squidward was mad at and rude to SpongeBob at a couple points in this episode, near the end he calms down and becomes soft and apologetic. He comes clean to SpongeBob about using his pool without his permission, admitting to him how jealous he was of it. SpongeBob then comforts a crying Squidward and lets him know that they're "best neighbors", and that he can use his pool "any time, day or night". Squidward then smiles and thanks him.

#spongebob squarepants #squidward tentacles #squidbob #spongebob squidward #lists #my lists #masterlist #spongebob 25th anniversary #yes this is how i'm celebrating #by spending hours of my life watching squidbob episodes and writing a detailed professional ass sounding list #do i regret it?#nope #not at all

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milkypompon · 3 months

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The Ruse Ch. 1

pairing: Nathan Bateman x CompanyRival!Reader

summary: Nathan wants to buy out your father's business, but the latter is skeptical of closing the deal with the BlueBook owner. The solution? He's going to seduce you.

content: 18+ mdni, thoughts about sex and kinks, enemies to luvrs

wc: 2.4k

a/n: As requested by a wonderful anon!! THANK YOU, I've been on a bald, billionare kick

beta read by the amazing and adorable... @lovable-liar

|| Next >

Ex Machina || Main Masterlist

“Look, you provided tech parts to BlueBook for almost a decade. Then, you up and left to start making phones, tablets, etcetera with my ideas. And I get that it’s a family-run business. It’s adorable, really.” Nathan sighs and clicks his pen, “But I have to say, in a lack of better terms, you’re running an absolute shitshow.”

Your father leans back on the swivel chair, only one of the twelve occupied because Nathan was pacing around the room, and the other board members weren’t privy to the conversation.

He was fuming, but he knew that Nathan was right.

The said shitshow was a repeated cycle — inevitable karma, if you will — that Nathan Bateman, a genius and billionaire, and your father, a now sorry excuse of an entrepreneur, experienced it to the highest degree.

But truthfully, the latter was hit the hardest.

In the past year, your father’s employees designed and crafted the high-end electronics at NovaTech. Over time, they used it as a stepping stone to build their own companies from the ground up, evolving into something worthy of praise.

He couldn’t keep up with the competition, especially now with the brightest minds walking out.

“I’m doing you a favor by buying you out instead of watching you sink into bankruptcy.” Nathan continues, “Call it an act of a good Samaritan. Or, if you’re not into the hippie bullshit, just see it as me taking back what’s mine.”

Your father frowns. “I bet you’ve been bribing my employees to start working for you, eh?” He throws his hands up in frustration, struggling to find the right words. “It’s all part of a stupid, elaborate plan to drive me out of business!”

Nathan drops the pen, it clatters onto the glass table. He says in a low, steady voice, “Do you seriously think I have time to fuck around?”

He grumbles a “no” and swipes the buy-sell agreement from the manila folder.

“Look at you! Finally coming to your senses.” Nathan opens his arms, an agreeable and friendly stance, though it was anything but that.

“I’m just reading over it again, Bateman. Just making sure you’re not ripping me off.”

“God, it feels like I’m trying to get divorce papers signed.” He tucks the document back into the folder. “Think about it, man. You could throw a retirement party with the greens and have more than enough to tan your ass in Bora Bora.”

—

The next night was the BlueBook Ball, Nathan has a way with words, but it’s a glorified event for rubbing elbows, sickening niceties, and serving tooth-achingly sweet mixed drinks for the wives of big names in the tech field.

Nathan could play the nice guy for only so long.

He’d been breathing down his own neck to get the documents signed. It was a one-way ticket to the clientele who turned him down because of their loyalty to your father.

In hindsight, he should’ve dealt with the meeting the morning after the gathering while your father was hungover and loose-lipped, ready to nod along with his plan for the buyout.

A perfect yesman.

Nathan was a scientist first and foremost.

Hypothetically, he knew it could’ve worked.

And he was a businessman second.

Technically, he knew others played just as dirty.

Nathan ran a hand down his beard and reminded himself, Just one more night of persuading him and I’ll back down from NovaTech.

Can’t keep on wasting my time.

–

You’re accompanying your father tonight. He stated that it was a gateway to understanding the social aspect of running a business.

Deep down, you knew it was a sloppy attempt to get you out of your studio and away from tinkering at the new prototypes.

You begrudgingly agreed because at least it was a chance to abuse the open bar and cling to the side as a wallflower after snagging a few drinks.

But there was the issue of the black-tie attire. In other words, slipping on a tight dress paired with red-bottom stilettos could cause a twisted ankle if you took the wrong step.

Or danced too hard.

Surely, Nathan Bateman wasn’t the type to throw it back and party like that, right?

You shake your head, not in a professional setting.

A faint buzz from the intercom beside your bed draws you out of the bathroom.

“Hey, sweetie! The helicopter’s here to pick us up.” Your father reminds you.

You check the time on your phone and frown slightly, then press the button on the intercom to reply. “Dad, you said we weren’t leaving for another hour.”

Another buzz.

“I’m sure they can send another one for you when you’re ready.”

“Alright, fine. I’ll see you there.”

–

The helicopter ride wasn’t your first, given your father’s affinity for buying new and shiny things for you in hopes of proving that his late hours at the office during your childhood were all worth it—a weak compensation for being raised by maids and butlers.

The green land and the snow-capped mountains stretching on for miles was a distraction from the thought of showing up without the person who was supposed to be your guide for the night.

Everyone would be nameless for the time being or blurry faces you’d soon forget.

You pull the aviation headset over your ears, a thought dawning over you.

You don’t even know what the host looks like.

He was surely an enigma, sitting on a fat pile of money and keeping his head down to work on god-knows-what in a facility you were headed to located in the middle of buttfuck Alaska.

Photographers rarely shot photos of him due to his constant refusal to participate in panels, and overall, there were few published sightings of him on the mainland.

Even then, it was like he took down the photos.

Perks of being one of the wealthiest men alive, you suppose—a false sense of privacy.

The landing, as gentle as it could be from a helicopter, didn’t help to settle the churning at the pit of your stomach.

A voice from the earpiece cracked to life, “Follow the path. You’ll know when you’re there.”

Before you could ask about the lack of people in sight or even the distant sound of music, the pilot answered your question.

You carefully step out, noticing the stupidly rolled-out red carpet on top of plants and fallen branches. The least he could've done for someone with more money than he could spend was pave a sidewalk.

This must be a sick metaphor. Struggling to walk in nature to find a haven built by a human.

Your ears perk up after about fifteen minutes of walking at the muffled sounds of talking. There were finally signs of life apart from trees and birds.

No way could you keep walking the last stretch without a break, especially with your calves on fire. All you needed was a hard drink, a bench to sit on, and maybe even a bed for a quick nap.

The tree stump nearby was the best you could do for now. You veer off the velvet path before your right heel sinks into a mud puddle.

“When I see that man…” you mumble under your breath. Then you were quickly reminded that you wouldn’t recognize him even if he were in front of you.

There was no point in stopping now; you were late, and now, your right shoe was dirty.

You trudge on for a few minutes. Standing before you was a wooden facility with glass panels reflecting the foliage. If you looked the right way, it almost blended in, but there were far too many edges and faces.

A little too perfect.

Squinting your eyes at the windows inside, you find the guests milling about, politely throwing their heads back to unfunny jokes. A few men were clean-shaven, while others had a trimmed beard. They all had their shoulders rolled back with a champagne flute in hand.

Any of them could be Nathan Bateman.

Maybe he was close to being six feet under, white-haired with a few loose screws in his head.

How else was it possible to survive in a place like this?

You surely wouldn’t.

You unclasp your clutch to find your phone and shoot a text.

Dad, where are you??

The message flickered green…

No cell service

He was supposed to dumb down the guests for you tonight, teaching you the whosits and whatsits. But that was the least of your problems.

You’re sure that you’re going to be murdered without a witness as the sunset dips below the horizon. The branches cast shadows against the neighboring trees, a disturbing illusion of a dismembered figure.

You could already imagine the headlines.

Daughter of NovaTech Gone Missing in Buttfuck Nowhere Alaska!

There was a light chuckle behind you, making you flinch. “Are you lost? There should be a map for a place like this, huh?”

You flick your head back quickly, and a stocky man with a piercing gaze set behind a pair of glasses stares back at you. But his eyes weren’t any less pointed, even with the obstruction. It was as if he knew things you didn’t, keeping the cards close to his chest. Or more like he knew something about yourself that you were only beginning to grasp.

For an audience like this one, he was dressed plainly. A crisp white shirt, taut across his chest, paired with black slacks. You had to give it to him for having the guts to throw the required attire out the window.

Maybe you could get along with this guy.

A non-conformist.

It’s refreshing.

You offer him a smile. “Yeah, this asshole had us walk what felt like a mile to get here.”

Oh my fucking god… She doesn’t know who I am. The corner of Nathan’s lip twitches up by a degree.

“Yeah, tell me about it. I stripped halfway through the walk.” He plays along with a smirk.

“Explains the whole lax look?”

Nathan pauses for a moment.

“... Sure. And you?” He cocks his head toward your muddy high heel tucked behind your other one in an attempt to hide it, a cute curtsy, almost. “Is that horse shit?”

“God, I hope not.” You grimace and look down.

Nathan could count on one hand the amount of people that didn’t see him as a potential business partner or an escape during nightly escapades.

He mentally shakes his head. Maybe having contact with an actual human being was getting to him. Besides, he has to set things straight…

He takes a few careful steps near you as if placating you. When your eyes meet his again, and you don’t pull away, he places his hand on the small of your back.

You could feel the heat through your thin, silk dress.

“C’mon, I’ve been here a handful of times. Let’s find you a bathroom.”

“And a map while you’re at it.”

He grins. “Like little fold-up ones you find at amusement parks?”

“It’s the only thing that would work around here. God forbid there’s cell service here or something.”

“Dude who owns this place must be an asshole to cut it off like that.”

“Right?!” You bob your head alongside him, grateful to have someone who didn’t feed into the billionaire's bullshittery.

–

You hate to admit it, but the estate was straight out of Architectural Digest.

Nathan steers you toward another building. It was a simple square, detached from the main facility, but still held the similar reflective panels, this time on all sides.

“What’s this?” you prod, dodging a patch of dirt, “A fancy portapotty?”

He fishes out a slim silver card from his back pocket.

“Is that what I think it is?”

How this man you just met knew the way around the place was beyond you, but you’d do anything at this point to remove the cakey, stickiness of the mud clinging to you.

“Yeah, a keycard. Every main guest gets one, and you haven’t?”

“No, I’m just my father’s plus one tonight, so I’m technically not listed.”

You don’t have to tell him.

Nathan knows exactly who you are.

In his defense, he greenlit the guests tonight by running a background check. He even went the extra mile by requiring them to walk through a metal detector. Especially after the experimental happenings of the Turing test, he wasn’t going to cast a blind eye to an android coming in to hack at him again.

Or worse, a jealous competitor.

And that’s exactly what you are.

Well, not you, necessarily.

But your father, so by extension, you were a part of whatever plan your father was stirring up. Or at least that’s what Nathan garnered.

Nathan swore to himself that he wouldn’t act like a petty teenager. But he needs a safeguard to protect his company and decrease the chances of his clients or sponsors from pulling out after they found out about one of his androids going rogue.

His ego was a liability. Sure enough, to be the cause of his death.

But it also brought him this far, along with his craftiness.

He’ll agree with a quip or two about your annoyance with the BlueBook owner, so you’ll lower your guard. Then boom, bam, thank you, ma’am — dial-up his sweet talk and ease in, persuading you that Nathan fucking Bateman is a trustworthy guy.

You’ll put in a good word for him to your father.

“You rarely go to these things, huh?” He tilts his head.

“Is it that obvious? I usually stay in my studio, drafting up concepts.”

“You’re a designer,” he observes.

“Something like that.” You shake your head. “But if my dad had a hand deeper into my life, I’d call the shots in NovaTech later down the line instead of playing with paint and wires, or at least that’s what he says.”

And there it was.

“A tortured artist and daddy’s girl,” he takes note.

“Well, how about you? I’m sure you got a sob story of the century to give yourself a buzzcut,” you tease back.

“Smartass.” Nathan presses the keycard against a wall. There was no indication of a slot to insert itself in or tap on—a sleek design hidden from plain view.

The soft click of the door unlocking brings his attention back to you. “Go ahead, I’ll wait out here. Gotta have you looking your best when we get in there.”

A simple ruse from yours truly.

pt. 2 coming soon (lmk if you'd like to be tagged!)

I'd love to hear your thoughts and my inbox is always open for requests or if you want to chat!

#nathan bateman #nathan bateman smut #nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman x you #nathan bateman fluff #ex machina x reader #ex machina fluff #ex machina smut

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distantlaughter · 1 month

Text

Nico Rosberg talks Pizza Guilt & AC/DC

Originally written 13 August 2015 by Marc Chacksfield for ShortList.com (x)

Mercedes F1 racer Nico Rosberg on pizza shame, pre-race rituals and having Muhammad Ali over for tea.

What’s your driving like in everyday life?

I take it easy – I have the race track to go crazy. I really like driving classic cars, and I have a 1970 [Mercedes] Pagoda at home. But driving a classic car fast is still within the speed limit – it just feels fast.

You’re German-born – what about on the autobahn?

I don’t spend much time in Germany, as I live in Monaco, but of course on the autobahn I’ll push it. I know for all car fans, one of their dreams is to go to Germany and go really fast on the autobahn.

What’s the best thing about living in Monaco?

[Nico’s agent] No tax! [Laughs] That’s not… well, that is the best thing, I suppose. But, equally as good is, erm… it’s just such a wonderful place to live. You’re right at the sea, the climate is great and the quality of life is amazing.

What music are you into?

I listen to whatever the current things are. For example, I went to a Coldplay concert last year at the Royal Albert Hall, which was amazing. Then I went to AC/DC. So it depends.

Any non-motoring hobbies we should know about?

I’m into fashion, whether clothes, jewellery or watches. Sports – I like cycling. And backgammon. I’ve played Bernie [Ecclestone]. He’s never beaten me, but we’ve only played two games.

Do you have a pre-race ritual?

I play soccer. Keepie-uppies with my physio. That gets me warmed up and ready to go.

Any superstitions?

Once in a while, whenever I’m wearing a charm bracelet, such as karma beads from Thomas Sabo, if I happen to be on pole when I’m wearing that, it becomes my lucky charm… until I don’t win.

What’s the F1 Christmas party like?

At our Christmas party there are 3,000 people. We have 1,300 employees and everybody brings family and friends. There’s music, live acts, shows. It’s incredible to see the amount of people involved building these two racing cars.

What’s your tipple?

Baileys. On the rocks. My labrador, Bailey, is named after it. Which flavour? Always original.

You’ve known your teammate Lewis Hamilton since you were kids racing go-karts. What can you tell us about him, aged 15?

He hasn’t changed much. His private life has changed, obviously, because he didn’t have the wealth he now has – as he came from quite a simple background. Other than that, there’s no difference.

He wasn’t dating a Pussycat Doll back then, though?

Well he’s not doing that now either, is he? [Laughs]

If you could go back, what advice would you give yourself?

To myself? Listen to my parents more. Because they’re always a good guide, and it’s difficult for teenagers to listen to them, but five years later you look back and think, “Ah, yes, my parents did say that. Damn, I should’ve listened.”

Aside from winning the F1 World Championship, what are your goals for this season?

A healthy daughter being born this month. It’s an exciting time for us.

Will you be on track by day, knee deep in nappies by night?

I’m gonna be hands-on. But how it’s gonna change my life, how much they’ll travel with me – I don’t know.

What’s your earliest memory?

Ayrton Senna driving through the tunnel on TV in Monaco – I could hear the sound as I was sleeping in my bed. It woke me up on the Saturday morning, and then switching on the TV and seeing him in his yellow helmet. It was 1988, I was three years old.

You’re pretty good at this driving lark, but if you could be a professional at another sport, what would it be?

Tennis or soccer. Or golf, actually. I was watching the British Open at St Andrews, and that was really fascinating. So at the moment I’d love to be good at golf.

What’s your favourite food?

Italian – pizza and stuff. Which I’m not allowed to eat, because I have to stay away from gluten. I’m on a permanent diet, so I can’t eat anything like that. Even off-season I can’t have it, as the diet’s increased my wellbeing – although, of course, I’ll have the odd day off and go for a pizza. It’s not 100 per cent strict.

Do you have any home comforts that are always in your suitcase?

I write in a diary, actually, adding any interesting discussions I’ve had throughout the day, or anything that comes into my mind. Just looking back three months, I think, “Wow! No way! I was doing that?”

Have you ever been mistaken for someone else?

Yep. Checking into a hotel in Geneva last year they said, “Hello Mr Hamilton.” I answered, “Actually I’m Rosberg, but I can understand – we look similar, so it’s easy to confuse us.”

Have you ever had a ‘normal’ job?

I enrolled to study aeronautics at Imperial College London. But then I took a gap year and didn’t go, because the racing was going so well. I also played tennis when I was young, for the Monaco team.

Finally, who’d be your dream guests at a dinner party?

I know the answers already: Muhammad Ali, Nelson Mandela, my wife and… Fangio. Juan Manuel Fangio, the Mercedes driver from the Fifties.

#nico rosberg #nicology

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ssahopelessly · 1 year

Text

On the Clock Feelings

Synopsis: Reader is the newest employee to Family Video. While Steve has taken a liking to her, the same can not be said for Robin.

Warnings: FamilyVideoSteve x FemReader featuring Robin, new job, defensive/protective Steve, workplace banter, Steve injuring himself, pining / let me know any I missed

Word Count: 2.1K

a/n: Hey, hi, hello! This is my first oneshot in the Strangers Things universe! I had originally wrote this earlier in the year but finally got around to finishing it. I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

“Where’s Robin?” She had asked from the passenger seat.

“Oh- she’s skipping her lunch.” Steve lied. Robin Buckley was in fact not skipping her lunch. More like Steve had asked Robin to sit in the Family Video breakroom for just one day. Steve was also subsequently $10 more broke than yesterday, the two being completely unrelated. “So,” he tried to change the subject, “how are you liking Family Video?”

“It’s… not terrible.” She mumbled over her milkshake, poking it with the spoon as she tried to break down the oreo bits before they clogged up her straw. “Keith is… a bit much though.” This made Steve laugh. Not as if he wasn’t always laughing in her company, but because on some level it made him feel sorry for her. The fact that Keith was their manager remained to be some lifelong karma lesson that Steve couldn’t quite figure out. At least it was Saturday and Keith happened to have today off. “And… I know she’s your friend… but Robin keeps pushing her work onto me.” Her body had slid lower into the seat, still cradling the cup closer to her chest. “Like I get it, I’m the new guy. But do I have to do all the putbacks- gobacks? Like she does know I can run the desk, right?”

Steve wiped the smile from his face as he brushed the salt from his fingertips over his knee. “No, she knows. Robin just- Robin likes to feel like she’s in control.” This wasn’t incorrect. Steve knew Robin was trying to manipulate their roles so they would have more chances to interact on the clock. So far it was working, though he was now certain to talk to Robin about maybe letting them have desk time. “But I’ll talk to her.” Looking over to her, he noticed she was still jabbing away at the cold cream. “Is there anything else?”

“Steve. I don’t need you to fight my battles for me.” His actions froze, the finger twiddling he had started paused.

“I didn’t- that’s not what-“ he was fumbling for an explanation now. Once he realised how he felt, every action around her became a coordinated step.

“It’s never been like this,” he tried to explain to Robin one night. “I just get around her and start stumbling over everything.”

“Wow, it’s like you have to actually try.” Robin had then mocked him.

“It’s just- Robin is my friend… and you’re also my friend, and I don’t want my friends to fight.” How self preservative, he thought. He watched as his words played through her mind and he hoped that labeling her as a friend didn’t hurt her in any way. It’s not like they weren’t friends… but Steve knew he felt more than a friend to her.

“Well, as your friend, I can handle myself.” Looking up to Steve, she tried not to think of how he had been looking at her. She tried not to think of how Steve Harrington, her coworker, had been almost caught staring at her lips, choosing to believe the stare and everything else in consideration were hopefully unrelated. “What is it?” Shaking his head, the look disappeared and a few strands of hair fell over his face.

“It’s nothing.” Looking at the watch on his wrist, he then reached for the keys, turning the car off. “We have to go anyway.” With a simple nod, that was mostly for herself, she started helping him gather up their trash and whatever else they would need to take back into Family Video. She had almost forgotten about the overcast sky above them, the endless gray cloud that seemed to linger over all of Hawkins.

When they reentered Family Video together, Robin’s head naturally perked up in their direction. “Oh thank goodness, you’re back!” She called to them from behind the desk. (Y/N) felt like it was mostly to Steve though, as she had never outrightly been so relieved to see her before. Springing up from her seat, Robin rounded to the cart that had been sitting just in the front corner of the desk, her hand lingering on the metal frame before sharing a smile to Steve. “Now that you’re back, this lovely cart needs to be put away and-“

“Actually Robin, I was hoping we could have the desk.” Robin froze completely in place, hands still grasping the cart as she had started pushing it towards the two.

“What?” There was an incredulous indention to her voice, almost like she couldn’t believe Steve was disagreeing with her.

“It’s just, she wanted to see the protocol for some technical situations. More practice on the computer, you know?” Nodding her head, Robin was cutting them both a glance that (Y/N) couldn’t quite pick up on.

“Right.” She pushed the cart around them now, gently bumping into Steve’s shoulder. “Well, maybe you should time me. I’m sure I can put this away faster than the two of you.” Steve rolled his eyes as Robin took the cart and pushed it away and into the aisles, disappearing for now. The two of them entered the little corral that was the hub inside the desk, the walls being the desk itself as it wrapped around them. From the corner of his eye he could see how she hesitated to even sit down, just standing ever so slightly behind him as she looked around the desk, almost unsure to touch anything.

“Here.” He pulled a stool out from under the counter, motioning for her to sit in front of the computer. When she did so, he tried to then figure out where the best place for him to stand would be. “So- you’ve used a computer before right?” He settled for standing just a bit behind and to the side of her.

“Only a little bit?” She still sounded unsure of herself. He wondered if it were her nerves and whether, had it been anyone else in this situation, would she sound the same? She was practically sitting in front of him as he reached around her for the mouse, careful not to lean onto her or anything.

“Okay, well for starters, you’re going to want to shake the mouse to wake up the computer.” He bumped the piece and waited for the static of the screen to come to life. But there was no static, it remained silent. Pursing his lips to the side, he tried to then look under the desk and he saw it. The computer had been turned off. “Or make sure, it’s turned on.”

“You sure you know what you’re doing?” Her voice called down to him. It brought a smile to his face as her humour started to return to her, meaning she was feeling comfortable again. For Steve though, he was too worried about how close he was to her legs that he almost didn’t notice how close the underside of the desk was. That was all, until he hit his head under the counter on his way back up.

“Shit!” He cursed under his breath as he stood back up to his normal posture. He tried to focus on the giggling she was failing to control, but he couldn’t ignore how badly his head felt, a burning sensation over the spot.

“Are you okay?” Her body had turned to face him now, her knees nearly brushing his legs.

“Sure. Wouldn’t be the first time.” Steve hoped she wouldn’t read too much into his words. He hadn’t wanted to talk about the horrors he had seen in the last four years with her just yet. Honestly, he had hoped it would be something that she would never need to know about.

Too distracted by the pain and his thoughts, he didn’t notice how her hands reached up to hold his head in her hands, palms resting just below his ear near his jawline. Her touch was soft and delicate, and Steve considered how he hadn’t felt anything as pure as her hold. Looking into her eyes felt like a mistake though, like a tar trap that he wouldn’t escape, not that he wanted to. While her eyes were full of concern, he saw the tender affection swimming in her irises and he tried not to drown in it. To be the star athlete he had once been praised for. But his teammates had never swam through tar. And he couldn’t remember the last time he felt so much in just a stare. “Well your eyes don’t look dilated.”

“They’re not?” He asked, his voice a whisper as his hands reached up to hold on to her wrists. “That’s good?”

“Really good.” A smile was pulling at the corner of her lips like a homecoming banner being pulled up a wall. “It means, no concussion.” The smile stayed, and he couldn’t fight the smile growing on him at the idea that he had put hers there.

“Oh.”

“How do you feel?” With his fingers over her soft skin, he could feel the slight muscle tremor as she had tried to withdraw her hold, but he just squeezed her wrists instead, taking comfort in the warmth they were temporarily providing him.

“It still kind of hurts.”

“Maybe you need ice?”

“Yeah,” the last syllable dragged out, “ice.” He had to let go of her then. They couldn’t stay that way, no matter how much his heart was crying to. He couldn’t fathom willingly trading the warmth she had provided him, even in that small moment, for a bag of cold ice to numb the pain at the back of his head. What about the ache in his heart? Was there a reliever for that?

While he was lost in his daydream, she got up from the stool, and with her hand now holding his wrist, tried to pull him to the backroom of Family Video. “Robin, we’ll be in the back!” Steve would’ve winced at the volume which she was talking, but her guiding him to the back seemed to balance out his pain for comfort ratio.

“No funny business!” Robin called to them from somewhere in the shelves. “I mean it Steve Harrington!”

“Got it!” He rolled his eyes as they passed through the door, her hold on his wrist guiding him to the table at the center of the room.

“Sit here. I’ll get the bag of ice.” Somehow she had found a plastic bag in some drawer behind him and the freezer had been miraculously capable of making ice today. With a paper towel wrapped around the bag, she offered it to him to hold to his head, and it was then he felt his first wave of guilt. He’s a former student athlete, he should be taking care of himself. Why was he so resided to letting her take care of him?

“You didn’t have to do this, you know? I’m the one who hit my head on the counter.” He tried to point out to her as she took a seat in the spot next to him. She kept her hands to herself now, watching him as he winced between the pain and the cold temperature of the ice.

“Yeah well.” Her eyes looked around him before settling on him once more. “I just wanted to make sure…” Breaking their gaze, she looked down to her fingers, hands clasped together so neither of them would be tempted to hold the other. “You’re like, the only one looking out for me, here. I just wanted to do the same for you.” She looked back to him now, not sure what to expect from his expression. But there was a smirk on his lips, a smugness she hadn’t seen on him. “What?”

“You just…” Waiting on his words, she wasn’t really sure what he would say. “You care about me?” The smug coating of his words never left his face. Her brain was backpedaling to get out from under that feeling.

“I mean, you're my coworker.” Ouch. “And the only one that’s been checking in on me. So yeah?” Removing the ice pack from his head, he noticed how some of the ice was beginning to melt, a small collection of water at the bottom of the bag.

“Coworker?” He asked, attention still on the water sloshing around the bag.

“Yes?”

“That’s funny.”

“What?”

“That’s just a weird label for someone you care about.” He thought he had this one. That they had danced around each other verbally enough that he could win this one.

“Well that’s what you are, so-” It’s not what I would like to be. Steve let their banter die out.

Let her have this one, he thought to himself, there will be plenty more to come.

Thank you for reading!

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington reader insert #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington x fem #fangst #stranger things fandom

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nightlychaos19 · 2 years

Text

･ﾟ✴𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝒞𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝐻𝒾𝓂 𝒲𝒽𝒾𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒹✴ﾟ･

ᴄʜɪꜰᴜʏᴜ ᴍᴀᴛꜱᴜɴᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

"The number you're trying to reach is currently unavailable. Please call later."

You angrily hung up and dialed his number once, because how dArE he ignore YOUR calls?! Especially when HE had been the one who had asked you to hang out.

"The number you're trying to reach is currently unavailable. Please call later." The automated voice said yet again, making you fight the urge to smash your phone.

"I'm gonna kill him. I'm gonna kill him.." You muttered to yourself, as you sipped on your drink, trying not to focus on the awkward stares the couples around you were giving.

You had been invited out to a pretty fancy and very popular couple-esque restaurant and your date was no where in sight.

Even if he magically popped out of nowhere, you weren't going to forgive him, not after making you wait for him for 45 minutes and for ignoring all your texts and calls. Oh no, you were going to make him suffer and beg for your forgiveness.

Those puppy dogs eyes weren't going to save him, not this time anyways. Especially not in the outfit you were wearing.

You were by far the hottest and best dressed in the whole damn place, and you weren't just tooting your own horn either. Men and women couldn't keep their eyes off of you when they first caught a glimpse. Even the waiters and waitresses couldn't keep away, they kept dropping by, either asking if you needed something or trying small talk.

Some were even salivating in jealousy of your date, well at first they were. Now? Now they were probably just pitying you and gossiping.

It was a shame your date was late too, today you were what you had deemed literal perfection.

Outfit? Irresistible.

Hair? Flawless.

Makeup? So on point.

Lips? Damn, who wouldn't want a kiss?

A soft groan left your lips as you wondered what went wrong. Everything had been going so flawlessly perfect up until the morning, and you had originally figured that he was frantically trying to get his lazy employees not to burn down his shop.

A soft giggle escaped your lips as you recalled the memory of a small fire that happened in the backroom of his shop. He scolded his employees for a solid week.

"May I take your order?" Another waiter asked, eyeing you up and down before winking at you.

A look of disdain graced your features and you shooed him away. Your fingers once more dialed his number frantically, hoping to god he was just running late.

"The number you're trying to reach is currently unavailable. Please call later."

Your eye twitched and you pursed your lips.

Oh he's fucked, you thought to yourself and stood up, only to garner everyone's attention. It made you want to melt right there on the spot. You flashed a nearby waiter a forced smile and apologized, even though it wasn't your damn fault.

You marched out of there with your head held, because fuck it, you weren't about to let a boy ruin the rest of your day.

If anything, you were about to ruin his.

Chifuyu Matsuno sighed, shaking his head at the vending machine. Now four items were stuck, and all he wanted was the stupid candy bar. Was this karma?

Karma for stalking Takemitchy?

A few days prior, he, Baji, and Kazutora saw their crybaby of a friend, Takemitchy out with someone, and that someone not being his lovely girlfriend Hina. So the three of them had decided to scrap their plans and follow Takemitchy to see whether their suspicions were right or not.

"Oh shit.." Chifuyu mumbled, holding down his skirt and long hair as a gust of wind appeared.

Baji had planned for the three of them to ''follow'' Takemitchy, dressed up as women so he ''wouldn't know'' they were following him around.

If anything good came out of it, they looked smoking hot. Emma had dressed them up real good.

"Oi Chifuyu! Hurry up or we're gonna leave your ass behind!" Baji called out and Chifuyu cursed. The machine still refused to give him, his items. Maybe it was karma.

Sure maybe what they were doing wasn't exactly great, and they doubted Takemitchy was even able of cheating on Hina but they just wanted to make sure.

"Just one more time..." Chifuyu murmured to himself against his better judgement and put more money in, just hoping that they'd all fall. He chose a bag of chips, and watched closely. "Yes!" That victory was short lived. "Wha—? OH COME ON!"

The chips had gotten stuck as well.

"What the fuck???" He just couldn't believe his luck, maybe it was karma. He just had to listen to Baji and Kazutora didn't he? Why couldn't his curiosity minded its own business for once!?

Having one last glance, Chifuyu spat at the machine and kicked it as he gave it a couple of choice words before turning to walk away.

Cha-ching!

Eyes widened at the sound, his feet quickly turned faster than lightning and ran to snatch up his goodies. Like hell was he gonna let anyone else get them. He had spent way too much money for only one item.

A sigh of satisfaction escaped his lips and he left to find the others. While munching on the chips, Chifuyu felt something scratching at the back of his mind, but he just couldn't remember what it was. In all of the hoopla, a couple of things had to be placed aside. Yet there was one thing gnawing at his mind, and he hoped it wasn't anything too important.

Turning the corner, he happily hummed a song and dismissed the thought. He had figured if it were important, it'd probably come crashing back to him too.

Oh and it did.

A very displeased and irritated voice sneered at him from behind. "So this is what you ditched me for!?"

The way Chifuyu snapped his head around when he realized his mistake left an everlasting memory for all those around. A look of horror graced his features as his eyes met yours. Jaw dropping at the sight of you.

You looked absolutely radiating, and fuck you looked super hot in your outfit.

Oh that important event? Oh yeah, his dumbass had asked out and he had been hoping to ask you out and make you two official.

Ok, this definitely was karma for sticking his nose where it didn't belong.

A weak wave was sent your way as well as a nervous smile. His knees buckled at the sight of you, and unfortunately it wasn't in the good way. He had truly messed up big time.

With that angry look, he knew he wasn't going to come out of this unscathed nor was he going to get you to be his, not with the stunt he had pulled today. "H-hey [Y/N]!"

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms angrily. "Nuh-uh, you are not getting out of this." You gave him a once over, and couldn't help but wonder what the hell he was up to and why it held more importance than you.

Though you had to give him some credit, he did look rather cute dressed up in a skirt and makeup. His mascara and liner were perf. Oh and that wig, looked real as hell.

"Should I even ask?" You say, giving him an annoyed look.

He bit his nail as he stammered, his story all over the place and he knew damn well that you weren't gonna be happy once you pieced it all together.

Once he was finished, you took a few minutes to put everything together, and boy did it sound stupider every second that past. You just stared at him in disbelief as you finally understood. It led you to wonder if your circle of friends were systematically killing off your brain cells, because Takemitchy cheating on Hina was one of the stupidest things you had ever heard.

He was a simp for Hina. Her number one fan. Her ride or die. He could barely function properly without her.

And the three stooges had the audacity to think Takemitchy could cheat on Hina!?

You clapped mockingly at him, as you shook your head disappointment. "I swear the three of you share the same damn braincell. I cannot believe you stood me UP for this shit! I am so mad at you right now."

"I'm sorry!" Chifuyu cried, latching onto your arm, blubbering about god knows what and begging you to reconsider.

Him begging was quite the sight, but you weren't gonna give in so quickly. In fact, you enjoyed him squirming.

"I'll make it up to you! Promise!" Now that did sound promising, but you wanted more. You weren't even being selfish, he had ditched you for one of the dumbest things ever. He deserved to suffer for a while. "I'll even go shopping with you!"

You internally giggled, last time was a lot of fun for you, but Chifuyu looked like he was about to die from carrying all your bags. Instead of giving him the answer he wanted, you rolled your eyes. Shopping wasn't gonna fix the embarrassment he had let you rot in. "Shoo from me."

"But [Y/NNNNNNN]." He whined, giving you his famous puppy dog eyes, but even those wouldn't save him today.

"Oi Chifuyu!" Baji's voice boomed, and the two of you turned to see Baji and Kazutora strolling up your way, and yes, both were also dressed up as women. And yes, both were killing it too.

Your hand palmed your face as another sigh escaped your lips. "So which one of you had this idiotic idea? Bet it was you, wasn't it Kei?"

Baji flared his nostrils at you, boasting about how it was a fantastic idea, not stupid.

You gave him an exaggerated motion of shaking your hands at him, asking how any part of it was fantastic. Especially when the target was the sweet crybaby of the group. Takemitchy couldn't even look at other women without tearing up about how Hina was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

You cried into your hands, wondering how you had ended up as friends with them. Their sheer stupidity was astounding. "By the way, where did you see Takemitchy ''cheating'' anyways?" Like, when was he not with Hina? He was attached to the hip.

Kazutora was the first to answer, saying they had seen him with a strange woman a few days prior, outside the farmer's market.

That ladies and gentleman, almost made your blood vessel pop. A laugh of disbelief escaped your lips. "Takemitchy isn't out here cheating on Hina, you dolts! He was with me the other day! He needed help in getting the ingredients to make a cake for Hina!"

Takemitchy had asked you for the recipe for a cake Hina had liked, and he wanted fresh ingredients and he wanted to surprise her. Did he know what kind of idiot friends he had? Well, maybe he shared the same brain cell as them, hence why they were all friends.

The three stooges stared at you, giving you an 'o' face as the realization set in. You still couldn't believe these people used to be in a powerful gang, they were stupid as hell.

You gave them a nod. "Yeah, bet you feel shitty now, dont'cha? Poor Takemitchy is gonna cry for days, bless that soul of his." The man could cry waterfalls, he really was that sensitive.

Baji rolled his eyes as he stuttered a bit, probably realizing how stupid they had been. "S-stupidmitchy could've a-at least told us s-something.."

You snorted, Takemitchy had purposefully avoided telling the guys. Apparently last time they had eaten up half the things he had bought, and the other half were things he didn't even need! Hell, Mikey had even grabbed four packets of random cookies. The guys had grabbed whatever and shoved it into his bags.

Suffice to say, Takemitchy did not trust any of them not to mess it up for him.

"Let's go home then?" Kazutora proposed, and the other two nodded. You gave Chifuyu the stink eye.

You crossed your arms once more, unimpressed. "You're leaving me again? Especially with me dressed like this?" You made sure to show off a little, in hopes he'd choose you this time.

The first thing you noticed was his cheeks redden as his eyes darted between you and the guys, blubbering nonsense as he did so.

You sighed, clearly he wasn't going to choose you if he was having this hard of time doing so. "It's whatever, I'll just see you whenever." You wave bye and walk off. Sure you were disappointed, but you weren't about to let him know that.

Chifuyu shot his friends an apologetic look and ran after you. "H-hey wait up!" Once he was close enough, he gave you another apology and received another scolding from you, which he happily accepted.

Baji and Kazutora laughed and turned to leave as well. "I guess Chifuyu is just as whipped as Idoitmitchy."

Kazutora nodded.

Chifuyu shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he felt too many stares on him. He figured they were probably all staring with how he dressed, sure he looked great, but not up to par with you.

You looked like you had stepped right of a fashion magazine. A diamond in a sea of rocks.

He was also sure the waiters and waitresses were judging him, as you had been sitting alone for quite some time alone earlier in the day. He could just hear how they were scrutinizing him for standing you up. To be fair, he did deserve it but it'd be nice if they'd tone it down a bit.

"Is that all?" The waiter asked, ogling you. Chifuyu glared at the man before eyeing you. Seeing your smile melted his anxiety and anger. You truly were so beautiful.

He saw you tilt your head and give him a questioning look. "What's wrong? You look constipated."

His jaw dropped, and immediately shook his head. "I-it's not that! Geez [Y/N]!"

God your giggle gave him so much serotonin. "You squeamish because you don't think you look as good as the other ladies?"

Chifuyu gave you an annoyed look while rolling his eyes. "First off, no."

You dramatically flipped your hair, boasting about how jealous he must've felt in your presence, that you were utterly ravishing and he had to agree with that.

You did look ravishing indeed and he definitely had been a fool to forget your date. The fact that you did so much just for him made his heart swell. He also couldn't keep his eyes off of you, especially your lips.

You were wearing his favorite shade.

And if you wanted him to look better than all the other women, then he definitely had to complete the look.

"Chifuyu?" You called out to him, and he just smirked.

Leaning over, he smashed his lips against yours. Oh and he kissed you hard, leaving you speechless. You couldn't help but notice the softness of his lips and how they tasted a bit salty and by god you didn't want it to end.

Chifuyu pulled away with a mischievous look on his face as he sat down, mimicking your past actions and flipped his hair. His lips adorned with your lipstick, albeit a bit messy but still decent. "I think look better than the other women, don't you agree, [Y/N]?" He winked at you, making your heart do a million summersaults.

Your fingers make their way to your lips as your cheeks reddened. "C-Chifuyu.." A soft smile curling up on your lips as you almost had half a mind to make him do it again. "Again."

And he happily obliged.

🎉🎉🥳Happy Birthday Chifuyu!! We share the same birthday!!

I hope you guys enjoy!!

#tokyo rev fluff #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tr chifuyu #toman chifuyu #tokyo revengers chifuyu #chifuyu x y/n #tokyorev chifuyu #chifuyu x reader #chifuyu matsuno x you #chifuyu matsuno #chifuyu matsuno x reader #toyko revengers #tokyo revenger chifuyu x reader #matsuno chifuyu #matsuno chifuyu x reader

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privateanxieties · 1 year

Text

forget my mercy, take my blame (chapter 2)

Summary: You thought the events of the day couldn't get worse than one robbery and a cryptic conversation with a mysterious stranger. You thought wrong. This, you realize, is how it all starts.

Words: 3.3K

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Many hours later, guilt is eating its way through a considerable portion of your conscience, as it usually does following the clash of hot temper and arrogance— both of them yours. You're no longer insistent on pinning your shortcomings on the mysterious stranger with molten brown eyes, though you're still grumpy about his bold assumptions and oddly skewering way of getting a point across.

Just let it go. Don't do what I know you want to do.

You split the four hundred dollars he left between your two employees, but for some reason, the crumpled up singles still rest in your jacket pocket. The money takes up a lot more space inside your head as you drive home, radio turned up above its usual volume. It doesn't provide much of a distraction, because the faintly illuminated road ahead is the perfect canvas for a busy mind to fill.

Traces of the past hide inside misshapen trees and uneven asphalt, and if your grip were a little tighter, it would leave the same dent in the steering wheel that it did the night you drove back from that slate quarry in your hometown. Nineteen years is a long time to still remember the smell of overheated excavation equipment. It's far away, yet surfaces so abruptly that your nose almost floods with it. Your lips press together in displeasure.

Well, at least you're breathing. You suppose Mark couldn't from beneath all that gravel you buried him under. Did he suffocate or was he crushed? Maybe a question you'll always have in the back of your mind. You know the answer wouldn't give you peace, were it to arrive from an omniscient being. What does it matter how he died? Yours is the will that killed him. Turning an event around and over and upside down two decades after it took place is just another way of engaging your guilt and letting it gnaw on more mental acuity. You need your wits about you, so you don't forget what all this is even for. You're alive. You have a life that needs living. Sometimes, there will be people who won't let you live it, and you can't just throw everything away to settle the score.

Scoffing at the bullshit mantra you’ve tried feeding yourself all day, you take the last right turn before you're finally on the road that leads home, hand reaching out to lower the volume on the stereo. Whatever. You made it through today, and you'll try your hardest not to think about the little shit who stole from you and his neon green jacket. You’ll also do your best not to think about your encounter with the strange man and his gruff voice, lest he become the thing you lose sleep over tonight.

It'll be hard to avoid it, because you kept his message. Maybe as a symbol, or maybe as an excuse. There is some part of you that wants to believe he was meant to be there today, if only so you didn't truly screw up this time and become a criminal. Shooting someone while they're robbing you and hunting them down to do it afterwards are actions that the law tends to distinguish between unfavorably. Just like it might distinguish between killing someone inside an old quarry and killing them after they'd already taken you there for murder.

The self-defense angle always felt shoddy in your mind. Maybe what you did to Mark would've looked like self-defense to a jury, but you sure know you didn't bury him under seven tons of jagged rock because you wanted to protect yourself. You didn't burn down his house because you were feeling reasonably threatened. You just wanted him to get what was coming his way. Karma, your hands.

You might have a problem, but you're alive. You survived that and you're going to survive more, just as soon as you take a cold bath and chase away the heat settling in your bones. That's what mid-August spent in an ancient car with no working air conditioner will get you. Replacing the shitty truck will have to wait, because news of the robbery will spread and you don't want to be telegraphing the fact that the bakery isn't your main source of income.

This may be a nice town, but today was a good example of a gap in people's decency— yours included, because you were so fucking rude to that mysterious stranger, and what did it accomplish? He replenished your losses and left without another word. The longer you look back, the more guilt advances on your psyche. It stills momentarily, however, when a suitable distraction finally appears as you find yourself a couple hundred feet down the road from your house. It’s true that you wanted something else to focus on, but this is so unwelcomed that it sends a wave of nausea through your body.

The scene is flooded with the red and blue lights of two police cruisers and one ambulance, all parked along the narrow cul-de-sac housing only two buildings: yours and Hazel's. Your mind kicks into high gear before you even lay eyes upon the crowd that has gathered on your front lawn. The sky turned dark not long ago, the hands of the clock approaching a kind of twilight zone of your neighborhood: nobody is typically out at this time of night, and yet, at least twelve people found enough interest in the unfolding scene to leave the comfort of their homes.

The commotion is centered around your property, but the ambulance suggests someone requiring medical attention. You live alone. Hazel is in her late 80s, and you've known her to need a doctor now and then. However, the police being here is the part of the equation that you really don't like. You try to slow down a mind that by nature has already zeroed in on potential scenarios, making a decision to pull over right outside the cul-de-sac instead of crowding it with another vehicle. In a neighborhood this small, your arrival is noticed.

You don't linger, unsticking yourself from the clammy leather seats and stepping out of the truck. The air outside is marginally better than inside the car, though heat still scalds with the gentler hand of a dry climate. At least you're not pouring sweat and disheveled, because it appears that bath will have to wait. And, after only a few moments of approaching the scene, you realize just how long that wait is going to be. There is black tarp on your porch.

The closer you get, the more your spine tingles. Pairs of wide eyes settle on you as you pass them, and it isn't long before Sheriff Randy O'Hare nails you with his own bulbous gaze. He looks like an idiot, and not even one that's in charge. You glance at the porch again.

Tiny surface area. Not much room between the ground and the black material taking up space. Small, lithe. Your house.

The sheriff is having some sort of internal conflict you wish you weren't here to witness. He shuffles from one foot to the other and clears his throat as you stop in front of him, several feet away from the stairs leading up to your front door. It's spattered with blood, visible even against the dark brown oak. Fresh.

Randy says nothing for several more seconds. You have many things to say, none which are appropriate. You've never been good at playing the emotionally fragile. There's a body on your front porch and you need this fucking idiot to speak or—

"I'm so sorry. We're… We're all still in shock. I've known her—" He stops, wiping his mouth and looking away as if something startled him. "—my whole life, I swear. She never did nothing to nobody. Jesus help me, if I get my hands on the one that did it—"

"Who is that, Randy?" you interrupt. It's a question you've asked law enforcement before in your life. The air pressing down on your skin is even warmer now.

"Look, I can't imagine how hard this is. She meant a great deal to everyone in this town, but you knew her best. Ain't nobody ever have a kinder word to say than her. I can't believe—"

"Randy, who the fuck is that?"

If you snap, it's not of your own volition. You're not here. Not really. You aren't with Randy O'Hare, Sheriff of Apolline County who apparently can't utter a simple name. Your mind has traveled backwards in time, and the house you're standing next to isn't your own, but it's painted just about the same. It’s easy to slip away into memory. The awning and the windows are fashioned into the same mold as your childhood home, because those were the things you’d loved most about that house— a mistake. You made a mistake. Your eyes are drawn to the ground, mind working in all directions.

"Hazel Bergman."

You think you hear another name for a brief and cruel moment. The sight of polished black boots atop lush grass only works to further blur the line between past and present.

"I'm so sorry, honey."

"What happened?"

You haven't been so aware of the nuance in your voice since it last betrayed you by shaking as it now is. It's so, so warm outside, but not humid. Not like Auckney. It's not as bad as it was when you were standing in front of a similar house, aged nineteen and wondering why the woman who raised you wouldn't get up from her rocking chair.

You need to get a grip. Look O'Hare in the eyes. You need to know if he lies to you, like cops always do. His face is melting under the cowboy hat. Even his eyeballs are sweating. He's emotional. He should be truthful.

"Daniel Roywood said he saw her arguing with somebody on your porch. He ain't hear what they were talkin' about, just that she looked upset. I've never seen that woman upset once in thirty years. She must've had a damn good reason," Randy explains, looking torn between grief and inoffensive anger. You're not torn between anything.

"Who was she arguing with?"

O'Hare sighs, a curt movement of his neck telling you he doesn't know shit.

"Nobody Danny knew. He couldn't get a good look— the damn house is too far away. But he just said they were arguin', and that was it. He shot her. Just some punk in a green jacket."

It's a miracle you don't react in any meaningful way. For that small interval between the words hitting you and your brain processing them, you're as impassive as before. That brief amount of time is all you get, however, because putting a face to that vague description happens in the blink of an eye.

You look away, covering your face with both hands. You slow your breathing as much as you can, trying to not make any noise as blood rushes through veins that have no hope of containing the pressure. It pounds at your temples and raises your temperature, and suddenly the only lever that hasn’t been flipped on your temper is labeled self-preservation. You can’t do this with people watching, and you’re briskly reminded of that as an unexpected weight settles upon your shoulders. It makes you flinch and move away, and you hear O'Hare apologize before he clears his throat again. A silence follows that isn't long enough.

"Look, I know this is hard. But you know I need to ask you some questions, right? We need to find the son of a bitch that did it and if you have any idea who—"

"I don't."

You've clipped your tongue with how hard you were biting it, but at least you've got your breathing back under control. Facing Randy is easier with a constant trickle of pain and metal. He looks torn, apologetic.

"Come on, honey. I know you don't want to think about anybody you know doin' something like this, but we need something to go on," he pleads. You don’t like the implication behind his words or the ring of truth around it.

"Randy. Everybody knows everybody here. I promise you, if Roywood didn't know him, then I sure as hell don't. I don't have a boyfriend. I'm not divorced. I generally don't keep male company. There is no one! " you seethe, and you're certain that he mistakes your outburst for lingering shock and anger about what happened. It is, but not in the way he seems to think.

The Sheriff frowns, so obviously pitying you and finally seeming more at ease now that you're the emotionally vulnerable one. It's fine. It works in your favor. Tonight will be long and you will benefit from not raising eyebrows or invoking anything other than sympathy from both police and neighbors. The Sheriff looks around for several moments, lips pressing together like he's chewing on the words he hasn't yet said. Soon enough, they part.

"Listen, I hate to ask right now. But if we have any chance in hell of catching this bastard, we could really use the feed from your cameras," he says, gesturing left. Your gaze follows his to the perimeter of the house, covered at every angle by wireless surveillance systems.

Just like that, a spark. A needle to thread. Another choice presented.

Crumpled up bills in your front pocket.

Warm steel at your back.

A splattered front door.

The maligned prescience of four words.

Ain't worth dying for.

"Randy, I…” You enjoy the first real breath since you've arrived. It really doesn't take you long to make a decision. “I'm sorry. I left those up for show more than anything. Couldn't afford the bills after a while. They don't work."

O’Hare deflates. There’s no suspicion you’ve told a lie. It's as if the grit he's supposed to have is flowing through you instead, lighting up your eyes and triggering the itch in your fingers. It's the challenge, the defiance, the guilt that sears through your veins now. The air is almost cool compared to the heat of your skin and the surge in your temper.

The Sheriff imparts more condolences you don't care to hear before walking away, but he's soon replaced by Deputy Dipshit, who you hope is wise enough to only offer pertinent details for the unfolding scene. You aren't interested in what Brent Rivers has been up to, and he usually insists on making it everybody's business. All you want to know is how long before you can enter your house, but pretty soon you realize he won't provide any clarity. It has to be his first murder scene, because he stumbles around simple words after greeting you with a mumbled hi .

He talks and talks, and nowhere does he utter that crucial piece of information you’re waiting to be told. Too long into his jumbled speech, you find the right place to interrupt. He had the nerve to comment on how you’re holding up.

"I'm sorry. I just don't think I'm all ears right now. All I want to do is…" A shaky breath rattles your chest. "… get away for a few days. I don't think I can sleep in my own house knowing this happened. Um, is there any way I could grab a few things and get out? I don't want to be alone once you leave."

Along the way, your words are punctuated by little tells of vulnerability: eyes downcast, vocal chords trembling, excessive blinking. Your shoulders pull in. Brent nods up a storm, mood lightening up as his arm comes to rest around them uninvited.

"Yeah, 'course. I can take you—"

You break away from his grip with an apologetic smile, rubbing your neck to keep your hands busy.

"Can you wait for me at the door? I'll feel better knowing someone's downstairs, and I already have a bag ready. You know, for uh, emergencies and stuff."

The Deputy is less pleased than before, but he acquiesces to your request with a nod and a motion towards the house. You pretend to hesitate before taking the wooden stairs slowly, keeping your eyes averted as you plant your feet on the porch. The edge of the tarp is barely an arm's length away. From this spot, you can see both the pool of blood seeping out from under it and the drops spread across the brick wall. You retrieve the keys from your jacket as Brent stops behind you.

"I'll be right here," he reassures in a too-gentle tone.

You walk inside without a reply, and to Brent's briefly glimpsed surprise, shut the door after you. The security system needs a two-step deactivation that would raise eyebrows after you've told O'Hare you can't afford the bills for the cameras. You breathe deeply for another moment, finally alone.

You only told a half-lie. There is a bag for emergencies, but not for the kind that people usually have. Downstairs as well as upstairs, you keep two duffels properly stocked and periodically checked. They're similar in contents, and yet your preference has always been clear. The bedroom closet. Upstairs. You move untethered towards your target.

Throwing two changes of clothes inside along with a plain pair of sneakers, you zip it back up and lift it over your shoulder. It feels familiar. This bag could be your life. Your life could be this bag. If things go wrong, you'll be good for a while. Back downstairs, where you arrive in the same haze, you make sure Piper and Mae will be good for a while too, replenishing the bird feeder and their respective water drippers, bidding them goodbye soon thereafter. You try not to linger in the house, but a glint draws your attention to the kitchen counter in your peripheral.

The casserole you stuffed your face with this morning and forgot to put back inside the fridge is resting exactly where you left it, the blue sticky note still attached to its side. You remember the message word for word, as well as the curving of the letters you've always been impressed by, though never more so than by the kindness behind each gesture. Hazel couldn't grip the pen quite as well as she used to in her old age, but she liked to practice in the notes she left for you.

She made you food. Cared for you. Made life feel less lonely.

She's outside your door for the last time because you didn't do the right thing today.

Ain't worth dying for.

You don’t realize you’ve walked over until your outstretched hand hesitates before the small note. It's the final one you'll ever get.

'Don't work so hard! It's Saturday, live a little!'

More copper flows into your mouth, this time springing from the lip you tore into so a sob could be stifled. You fold the paper with care and it goes into the same pocket as the pair of singles, just as your mind goes to the same place it's always been more comfortable resting. Maybe, the only place it can have any peace.

Keeping your head down as you exit the house, your eyes find her almost by accident. They're drawn to the tarp. You figure they have to be, since you put it there. You put her there, because you didn’t put a bullet in the right person. You didn't do what you knew you should've.

"Hey. Did you get what you need?"

Ain't worth dying for.

Your eyes don't stray, glued to a puddle of blood and the greedy floorboards swallowing it up. The eyes want to remember, just like the ears remember a thundering rock slide and the nose remembers diesel and construction equipment.

You tell the truth, and it sets you free.

"No."

-to be continued-

A/N: No Frank in this one unfortunately, but plenty of him in the next one and let me tell you, they are not the best of friends. Chapter 3 is scheduled for August 13th. If you'd like to be tagged for updates, you can reblog any of the previous chapters!

#frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle imagine #the punisher x reader #frank castle #frank castle smut

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