#just jesus christ i WISH ‘’don’t be an dick to people’’ wasn’t apparently such a high bar but here we are | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mypoisonedvine · 4 years

Text

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader (part 3)

(part 1) (part 2)

series summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself. except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.

word count: 3k

chapter warnings: mention of past sexual harassment, very mature karaoke (lol), mention of pornography

Day 63 and you still hadn’t talked about it. He’d actually gotten to know you a lot better over the past two months, even almost confessing his feelings for you with that stupid half-asleep storybook thing he’d done way back when, but you still hadn’t talked about the night you saw him looking in the rearview mirror.

Tonight actually reminded him of that night; this time was a premiere, for a movie you hadn’t actually been in but apparently you were supposed to go anyways? He didn’t get it but he figured he didn’t need to. As long as you came back alone this time, he’d be happy.

Of course, when he saw you step out to the car to leave for the venue, he was confident that would be impossible— not that you ever looked bad on a red carpet or anything, but wow… this was different.

“It’s not too slutty, is it?” you asked him nervously, spinning around to show him the back. Don’t look at her ass don’t look at her ass don’t look at her ass—

“Just slutty enough,” he responded with a gloved thumbs up.

“Perfect,” you smiled, and he opened the door for you to get in the back. He took a moment to catch his breath before circling around to the driver’s side.

You actually chatted with him on the way, which was a new thing you two had started doing when he drove you. He looked forward to your talks a lot— especially the ones where you ranted about whatever was on your mind. You would usually apologize for rambling but he liked it; and, you were cute when you got really worked up about something, even if he thought it was kind of trivial.

As he pulled up to the red carpet, with cameras flashing and the indistinguishable yelling of reporters and fans, you shot him a look as if you didn’t want to go.

“Everything alright?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah,” you shook your head incredulously, “I just… I wish you would’ve come and seen it.”

He recalled a few weeks back when you offered him a ticket to the premiere showing, but he’d insisted on just sticking to what he knew and letting your assistant have the spare ticket. “I’ll catch it on Netflix,” he dismissed.

“No, I mean, I wish you were coming with me,” you explained.

Was it hot in here, all of a sudden? Because his cheeks felt warm. “Uh, you don’t want me in there. I always fall asleep in theaters anyways. Just go have fun and I’ll catch you after.”

“Okay,” you nodded with an adorable little smile.

So he waited, wondering if he should’ve taken you up on it all those weeks ago, but decided he probably made the right call. He would just embarrass you in a place like that, more than likely, and you had enough to deal with already. He felt more useful waiting in the wings than being in the spotlight, to use a fittingly-timed theater metaphor.

It was a few hours of him killing time in the car, but he got to relax a little more since the event already had pretty good security on its own. You’d recommended a book called Flowers for Algernon to him, even lending him your copy for the time being, and so he leaned his seat back and picked up where he’d left off from this morning. Of course, if he had known that you’d be gone long enough for him to finish, and that the ending was going to make him cry, he probably wouldn’t have read it. WIth his luck, it was inevitable that he’d be all but sobbing when you texted him to pull the car around.

Wiping his tears and hoping his eyes wouldn’t be too red, he tossed the book into the glovebox and started the engine. You waved cheerily when you saw him from the entrance, and he attempted to navigate through all the other cars pulling up so he could reach you. Thankfully, you didn’t have a new friend with you this time— or an old friend. Jealousy crisis averted, for now.

“How was it?” he asked with a smile as you opened the door and slipped in, unable to hide how happy he was to see you.

“The premiere itself was a lot of fun, I got to see some people I hadn’t seen in ages; the movie, though? Sort of pretentious,” you admitted as you shut the door and he got the car moving again. “And way too long! I could watch movies all day, but that doesn’t mean I want to watch a movie all day!”

“Fair enough,” he laughed.

“What did you do?” you asked innocently.

“I finished your book,” he frowned, trying not to think about it so he wouldn’t get emotional again.

“Ah, I can tell you’re still a little hurt about it,” you smiled mischievously. “Should’ve warned you about the ending.”

“No, no,” he disagreed, “it’s not a bad ending just because it’s a sad one… it was a good book.”

You’d already been smiling, but your smile undeniably changed as he watched it in the rearview mirror. Something softer, something more sensitive. He liked this one better. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Just in time to interrupt the moment, you saw something on the passing street outside that caught your attention.

“Ooh, karaoke!” you piped up, pressing your face against the inside of the window excitedly. “Pull over!”

He chuckled at how easily distracted you were, but did as you’d asked. He barely found time to slow down to a stop before you were opening the door and running out, flashing your ID to get inside.

He groaned as he realized how completely unsafe it was for you to be in a bar… especially now, when you were at your most recognizable and literally still wearing what you’d had on at the premiere. Thankfully, he managed to pull the car around and park in the closest spot he could find, jogging to join you inside the bar and hoping you hadn’t already made too much of a scene. His hopes were dashed the moment he pushed through the door, however.

“Is she perverted like me? Would she go down on you in a theater?” you sang along with the grungy backing track of Alanis Morrisette’s You Oughta Know; your lips were curled into a faux snarl as you stood on stage with your heels in one hand and the microphone in the other.

Bucky’s head fell into his hands, looking around to see hundreds of bar patrons, nearly all of them with their phones out filming you.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Bucky mumbled to himself, hoping you would somehow hear it and take his advice. Instead, you pantomimed sucking a dick with a cute little wink and everyone cheered. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“And I’m here, to remind you,” you continued, jumping around wildly; you looked like you were having the time of your life, honestly. If he wasn’t so worried about you, he would’ve let himself smile seeing you so happy.

During the bridge, you stole someone’s water off their table and poured a bit on your head, slicking your hair back and shivering from the cold. There was something about the water dripping down your face, starting to soak your clothes and make your skin glisten...

Bucky glanced around to make sure no one was looking at him before subtly adjusting his jeans.

He watched you sing the entire song, making most of the notes and definitely capturing the anger of the original song— if clearly having a lot more fun with it than most would. The entire bar cheered when you finished, and you took a moment to take some pictures with people and meet a few fans, which he thought was sweet even if his bodyguard instincts forced him to interrupt after a moment.

“Alright, that’s enough,” he guided you away gently.

“Goodnight!” you waved goodbye to someone who was already buried in her phone and posting the photo you’d taken with her.

“Have a good time?” he asked sarcastically as the two of you began to walk out together.

“Would’ve been better if you hadn’t been glaring at me the whole time,” you smirked.

“I wasn’t glaring, I was just… watching. You have a good voice, you know.”

You seemed surprised by the compliment. “Oh. Thanks.”

“And your stage presence is certainly… energetic,” he grinned. “I bet your little charade is already trending.”

“I checked, and it is,” you giggled, showing him your phone for a moment where Twitter was open and you were the #7 topic in the United States and climbing. “And the part where I poured that water on myself is pretty gif-able, don’t you think?”

He raised a brow as he held the back door of the bar open as you slipped back on your heels and walked past him. “Is that why you did it? For the reaction?”

“I did it cause it was fun,” you corrected. “You wouldn’t know anything about that. And the water thing was just practical, I was getting hot in this dress.”

That didn’t seem to be a problem anymore with the way you shivered in the night air as he walked you through the parking lot. “Want my jacket?” he offered.

“No,” you frowned, but you eyed the leather with a hungry stare. He chuckled and took it off, draping it over your shoulders anyways. “How far is the car?”

“Uh, a block? Not much parking this time of night,” he explained.

“Ugh, these heels,” you groaned, “they hurt so bad. I don’t know if I can make it.” You began to slip them off but he stopped you.

“You can’t go barefoot out here, god knows what’s on the ground,” he shuddered; what if there was broken glass or something?

“Well, I can’t wear these,” you frowned, “and I probably shouldn’t be walking on asphalt in red bottoms anyway…”

He probably should’ve warned you before he scooped you up into his arms, but it was sort of instinct and he kinda forgot to say anything first. You squealed a little but then went lax in his grip.

“You’re gonna carry me the whole way?” you asked incredulously.

“It’s only a block,” he shrugged, adjusting you in his arms a bit before starting the walk.

It got quiet after that, the cool night air rustling the trees and blowing through his hair— frankly, he was a little chilly without his jacket, but it looked better on you anyhow. The drive home was quiet, too, or at least quieter than usual, but it didn’t feel awkward, necessarily. It didn’t feel like a lull in the conversation; it felt more like the conversation had just changed from verbal to non-verbal. You both looked around at the city lights surrounding you on the drive, silent because there was nothing that needed to be said. It wasn’t nervous, or tense, or anxiety-inducing like most of his interactions with you (or with anyone) could be.

It felt like time spent with an old friend. He hadn’t known you long enough for that to be accurate, but he was happy to think of you as a new friend. He just hoped you thought the same.

Arriving at the house, he dropped you off at the front and watched you make a mad dash for the stairs and presumably your bedroom, smiling to himself as he parked the car and came in to follow you. He saw his jacket tossed onto the couch and your expensive shoes discarded right by the door. Going upstairs and peeking into your room, he saw your limp form flopped onto the bed, your back exposed from the low cut of the dress.

“You’d better not get comfortable, you’ll kill me if I let you fall asleep with all that makeup on,” he frowned, leaning against the doorway.

"I couldn't fall asleep yet, anyways. I'm wired."

“Any plans to burn off all that energy?” he pressed.

You groaned a little as you sat up, starting to unclasp all the jewelry on your wrists, around your neck, and on your ears. “It’ll take me a while to get out of all of this— but not as long as it took me to get into it,” you laughed. “Then I’m thinking TV and beers.”

“Beers?” he questioned, emphasizing the plural. “You plannin’ to get toasted right before you go to sleep?”

“No, it’s plural because there’s one beer for me and one beer for you,” you explained with the slightest air of condescension, but he couldn’t really think of it as rude since it was an invitation.

“I don’t want to intrude on your chill evening,” he refuted.

“No, really, you’re not intruding!” you insisted, standing up and setting the jewelry on a nightstand before approaching him and turning to face away from him. “Will you unzip me please?”

He stammered a little. “I don’t… see a zipper,” he admitted with a weak voice.

“It’s on the side here, see?” you lifted your arm a bit, and pointed to it.

Reaching out to touch your zipper was reminiscent of that old boardgame Operation: he needed to touch the zipper and only the zipper, cause if he bumped into anything else nearby, he got the feeling he’d get zapped.

His breath caught a bit as he watched more and more of your skin become exposed, the zipper ending up so low that he could just barely see the top of something lacy around your hips— and he had to stop there because anything more could induce cardiac arrest.

“Thanks!” you piped up happily, slipping away to your closet to do the rest in private. “Will you get the beers while I take my makeup off?” you requested through the shut door.

“Sure,’ he replied, turning to leave but realizing he should ask first: “Shiner or Pabst?”

“Don’t patronize me,” you grumbled, and he laughed because it was a stupid question. Trodding downstairs, he grabbed the Shiners from the fridge, stopping to check his phone only to see that it had started to automatically send him headlines pertaining to you.

‘Touch of Blood’ star gives impromptu karaoke performance at Queens dive bar!

He laughed at the picture of you onstage, even though he thought it was kind of reductive to describe you by a movie you’d been in so long ago when you had so much great new stuff coming out. Jumping back up the stairs, beers in hand, he found you makeup-free (aside from some leftover mascara and eyeliner that hadn’t really made it all the way off) and in a robe, laying on the bed as you pointed the remote at your TV. He thought you looked almost more beautiful like this than you did on the red carpet; of course, objectively, everybody looks better when they’ve been painted to the point of perfection, but he liked the domesticity of this. When you were casual and relaxed like this, he could almost, almost pretend you were his girlfriend or something. And not, you know, a global superstar and his employer.

“Beer me,” you requested as he sat down next to you, handing you a bottle and trying to ignore the thorough view of your legs he was getting in that robe.

“Anything good on?” he prompted as he watched you scroll through the channels on the guide.

“Uh, not particularly,” you frowned.

“They’re showing a game,” he pointed out as you passed the sports channels.

“I’d rather watch this pay-per-view porn,” you rolled your eyes.

He cleared his throat but said nothing because he was confident there was no good response to that.

“Hey, I’m in this!” you beamed, changing the channel quickly. He nearly had a heart attack until he realized you weren’t scrolling through the porn channels anymore.

He recognized the film instantly as the one of yours that he’d seen the most, for one very embarrassing and slightly sinister reason; looking down to the corner, he saw the HBO logo and realized it wasn’t going to be edited. His palms got a little clammy but he tried not to worry about it too much.

“Oh, this girl was super nice,” you remembered as you pointed to a character on-screen. “She had a bigger role but most of it got edited out.”

“That must be a bummer,” he imagined.

“Eh, it happens,” you shrugged. “Beats getting fired, or recast in the sequel.”

“Have you ever been fired during filming?” he pressed, morbidly curious.

“Once,” you nodded. “We were only a few days into it so they had no trouble finding somebody new and redoing my scenes. Just think: I could’ve been a Bond girl if I’d slept with that producer.”

“You— what?!” he squawked. “You got fired because you wouldn’t have sex with a film exec?”

“I got fired because of ‘creative differences,’” you explained with exaggerated air quotes, “and, unrelatedly, those creative differences surfaced the morning after I refused to get down and dirty with the EP.”

“Jesus,” he shook his head, “that’s… I hope you told someone.”

“Yeah, anonymously. Somebody will care someday, but not yet. He’s still too profitable, and not enough people have come forward.”

He glanced over at you, admiring your profile as you kept your eyes on the TV and took a sip of your beer. When you turned your head and looked back at him, he realized he’d been staring a bit too long.

“What?” you asked, quirking your brow a bit.

“What?” he repeated.

“You’re staring at me,” you frowned.

“Sorry, I was just… sorry,” he shook his head and looked back ahead. What he found there wasn’t much less embarrassing, though: he knew all too well that this was the scene right before THE scene. The scene he’d watched over and over until his arousal overpowered his shame. The scene that he’d used to try to satisfy his crush on you, but it only made it worse. The scene that had burrowed into his mind and deepened his obsession even as he fought it with everything he had…

You know, that scene. And he was about to watch it with you.

Bucky was completely, entirely, and supremely fucked.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes au

976 notes · View notes

meta-squash · 4 years

Text

I did a long thread on twitter analyzing/interpreting You’re My Waterloo for the fun of it, but it was mostly for the amusement/interest of myself and like one other friend on there that likes The Libertines. So I figured I’d transcribe it over here where people might get more out of it? Since it was a twitter thread, the sentences might be a bit weird and stilted, by the way. So:

I'm glad they waited to record Waterloo until 2015. I feel like any other time would have been wrong. I know Peter was playing the slow version back in at least 2007 but I think it would have been sad in a different way if they had recorded it before 2015. Like, in 2015 it's just a straight up love song that's slightly sad because, well, it's Peter. If they had recorded it before I feel like it'd have been a love song with resentment wound through it. There's just a lot of emotion in that song and if there's one thing Peter is really really good at doing, it's Emoting Intensely. But it's not just Peter, the piano is so beautiful and the strings are beautiful and Carl's guitar solo is Intense. It's all A Lot. Like, of all the songs that Peter has written about Carl, about their relationship and career and experiences together, THIS is the one where you can feel most strongly the near-obsessive type adoration. So I’m glad they waited to record it properly when they were friends again (also I’m mildly surprised that it was Carl’s suggestion to rerecord it). Anyway.

Fuck the first verse of this song is a lot. This whole song is a lot. I mean it starts off with such a sad sentiment, it's almost a warning? "You'll never fumigate the demons / No matter how much you smoke." You can't smoke away sadness no matter how much you want to. Bitterly ironic, considering the sorts of things Peter ended up smoking etc to chase away demons, the types of extremes they both went to above and beyond just trying to fumigate. But anyway. "Just say you love me for three good reasons / And I'll throw you the rope." It's just so fucking codependent. So intensely obsessive and codependent. There was a quote, I think maybe from Roger Sargent?, about Peter crying outside a venue in like 2002 because even then he was scared about losing his friendship with Carl to the Something Bigger of fame. This feels like a desperate bid to hang on to that love. But also like Peter is so intense. Every video of interviews where he's sitting next to Carl or gigs when they're friends or reunions or whatever, he just wants to be in Carl's space and have Carl's gaze and his attention and stuff. Like a cat that sits on your work.

Again, a digression. Oops. I said I was in a mood. It's so interesting that while it's definitely a love song To Carl, the only direct mention of Love is asking for love From Carl. It's like he's working on the assumption that his feelings are obvious (they are) and desperately wants reassurance or reciprocation.

"You don't need it / Because you are the survivor / Of more than one life" We know the origin of this is apparently Carl's dead twin brother. But also the offering of a rope only to reassure that no, you don't need it is just so...I don't know...sweet? Especially because while "throw you the rope" is obviously a symbol of rescue it could just as easily be a noose. Except that it's neither. Because he doesn't need it. Because he can survive fucking anything, because they love each other--he hopes. It’s like, if you love me as much as I love you, I’ll try to help you, even though I know you don’t need me because you just need to realize you can do it on your own. "And you're the only lover I had / Who ever slept with a knife" The interview where they talk about this line is so funny. "No it's not about us. But Carl did sleep with a knife and the line about being a survivor is about Carl having a dead twin and Peter saying he was the twin reincarnated. But it’s totally not about us." Anyway. Ugh just so much of this song seems to be about Peter being Super Obvious and open about his love for Carl and Carl being more closed off. Carl being the only lover who slept with a knife; he'll accept the love but he's wary of it and wary giving it.

(By the way by love I don't necessarily mean Romantic or Sexual love. They clearly adore each other one way or another, that's obvious enough. But Best Friendship love is 100% a thing.) (However, the Judy Garland line is so funny to me because "Friend of Dorothy" was a secret code for gay men for a while. And considering the amount of queer literature etc Peter references in everything, there's no way he didn't know this.)

I can't really go in depth into the Tony Hancock line since I really don't know much about Hancock and I know that it was a real touchstone for Peter and Carl. But it plus the Judy Garland line feels like a "neither of us have ever really had a home, but we found one in each other" thing. Which is. A lot. Especially with the "until the dawn" bit, because a main component of so many stories about them from other people is the two of them staying up for days together writing and adventuring and just doing stuff and no one else being able to get in their little bubble.

I love the "ahh" after "Stone the crows" and the way the music starts to swell. It's obvious that the next verse is the Important One. And it is. There's the story about Peter crashing an event at the Old Vic while Carl was ushering to tell him they should be writing together and everyone who's there are dicks. But it's also like...so many layers of what is success and what is appreciation and how do you express love. I assume the flowers are not from his show, that he's collected them from the stage after someone else's show. But it's reusing tokens of mostly empty/superficial/performative appreciation--the tradition of tossing flowers on the stage--as a token of genuine love. Sitting through an entire performance, watching someone else's success and dreaming of being there and then using the token of appreciation for that person to instead give it to the person you yourself appreciate and love and want to succeed with. It's like a promise, a "we'll get there." But also another act of desperation because he's been sitting there for hours. Carl wasn't there to receive the gift and wasn't there to write with him. But he's been chasing words around on the page--the love-words to this song or the words to another one?--and he needs Carl there to really complete it, needs Carl there to hear it. It's very much in line with Peter yelling that they should be writing. This intense "Please be with me please accept the way I express myself please complete my incomplete bits please like me as much as I like you" etc.

And then the chorus which is so interesting. I desperately wish I understood the Gypsy Lane and Stanley Park references. I think Stanley Park is a footie reference but I’m not sure? I'm trying to do all of the interpretation off my own brain and not use the notes on the Genius website or anywhere else but I wanted to see if those two references here had been crowdsourced. Apparently both Gypsy Lane and Stanley Park are places he spent time in his childhood (and I called it on the football reference, yes!). Which is. Wow. Okay. And then there's Waterloo which is a whole thing in itself. It's Waterloo as Waterloo but also Waterloo Station. So Carl is able to be Peter's Ultimate Defeat, the thing that has the ability to ruin him. But also Waterloo Station is near the Old Vic where Carl worked & would go to theatre bars, so it's also a place of familiarity. Since I don't know anything else about the Gypsy Lane reference, I can only assume it's also a place of comfort and familiarity. So Peter's admitting to Carl's power over him, ability to hurt him, but offering to comfort him in return. (Important for later.)

"I'm so glad we know just what to do / And exactly who's to blame" I love this line because it knows it's wrong. Especially in 2015 but maybe even in the early days. They bounced blame back and forth between them for YEARS. Not to mention all the outside bullshit. And obviously they didn't know what to do. The Waterloo/Stanley Park is another reference to a familiar place and a power to hurt/offer to comfort moment. I wish I knew if there was some sort of proper football reference here (aka a QPR reference since that's Peter's team) but I know absolutely nothing about sport so idk.

"Well I'm so glad we know just what to do / And no one's left / Stumbling around / Tumbling around / Fumbling around / In the dark" The way Peter sings this sounds so hopeful and sad at the same time. It's interesting to know this line was written way, way back. Like, this song was apparently one of the first ever songs they demoed. The demo is a lot more frantic and less romantic but jesus christ. The way Peter sings it now it's like he knows that was just an unconscious self-fulfilling prophecy. Like, no, they absolutely were left in the dark, hurting each other over and over and not being able/willing to place blame or to communicate. Except now, in 2015, they're not anymore. (and especially not now in 2021). But it's also another desire for comfort. Like, Peter's offering the comfort here. But he's also just confessed the power to hurt that Carl has. So this is also a "are you going to offer me comfort the way I've offered it to you?" sort of question.

And then there's the solo which. Woof. It feels like a response to Peter's words. Like reaching out with sound. Like a shoulder-squeeze or a hug in response, something nonverbal that’s really trying to catch up and match up to the intense emotions in the words. The music crescendos and the solo is literally waves of notes that roll up and down and up and then it crashes down but lands so softly at the feet of the chorus.

And then we have equal footing, sort of (and Carl as Jesus again). Carl is still Peter's Waterloo, his ultimate defeat (or his place of comfort). But now Peter is Carl's Calvary. Which is the place where Jesus was crucified. Peter’s been offering comfort to Carl, but suddenly Peter has power over Carl. It's like...veneration and threat at once. Carl's Jesus, the savior, but also if he doesn't love Peter, Peter has the power to crucify him (or at least threatens to have that power). Or it's another portent: Carl could be Peter's savior, except that everything falls apart and Carl ends up hurt instead. They both end up hurt instead. So then they're on equal footing.

Which brings them to the "Well I'm so glad we know just what to do," which feels a little sadder but also a little more confident than the other two. The answer is in the "Everyone's gonna be happy / But of course." They need to work to figure out how to make each other happy, how to be comfort rather than hurt. It's not that simple. It never is. The "But of course" is a sarcy acknowledgement of how difficult that actually is. But it's also that sort of quiet hopefulness that yeah, maybe soon we'll figure it out and everyone will be happy and will get to say "of course I'm happy" about it.

#i also did one for the Heart Of The Matter video if people are interested #the libertines #peter doherty #carl barat #apologies to the people who have been in this fandom for ages i apparently like diving straight into the deep end #when i get to a subject I like to learn EVERYTHING about it and totally immerse myself very quickly #i've known the basics of the libs story for a while now just from being into mildly related bands #and liking Peter's lyrics enough to research them a bit #but when i get into something new i do all the research on it as quickly and intensely as i can #also i'm just having fun #analyzing literature/lyrics/etc is what i like doing for fun #(PS I do most of my Libertines blogging on my other blog jesuisgourde)

66 notes · View notes

loudsuitlover · 4 years

Text

Doctor Harry XIX. Cuarto movimiento: La realidad

A/N: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

Preview

“You take off your clothes.” He whispers. “If you’re brave enough to wear that around me, you should be brave enough to undress yourself in front of me.” He smirks.

My eyebrows raise on my forehead and I give him a little smirk. He chuckles.

“D’you want a show?”

He grins as he nods, resting his back on the couch.

“And what do I get in return?”

“Oh, you’ll find out after the show.”

BLUE’S POV

Coco and I are late. When we enter the café, I tell the waitress Olivia’s name and she leads us to our table. The three of them are already sitting on the table and Ollie smiles relieved at our presence. She might be really hungry or maybe she just doesn’t know what to do about Marie and Jason.

They had a fight the other day. Apparently, it had to do with David Dick. Marie said something bad about it, also known as the truth, but Jason said she shouldn’t be talking about him to people who didn’t even known them. I have stayed out of this. No one has asked for my opinion either, thank God, so I’m just on backstage, waiting for them to make up.

The second Coco and I sit down, Ollie waves the waitress. She tells us we can think what we want while they order but I already know what I want anyway. A strawberry milkshake and the Nutella croissant. Coco orders a waffle and a vanilla milkshake and Marie gets surprised at our quickness. I just smile at her.

I tell them about the wedding while we eat and they keep swooning and making comments that make me blush. I show them the hundreds of pictures we got, for his mum and his cousin Laura had been stealing shots at us and also the photographer of the wedding thought it important to get pictures of the bride’s brother.

“Jesus Christ, he looked good.” Ollie says.

I laugh and she gives me a naughty smile.

“So do you, of course.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“No, seriously, Blue” Coco insists “you looked like a movie star.”

I don’t know how many times Coco’s seen the photos but she’s always been the supportive sister and ever since she’s in love, it’s just been something else. She’s so happy she has enough bliss to give the rest of us.

“Can you believe” Ollie says when she comes back from the loo “that I’ve forgotten to put on knickers?”

“What do you mean you’ve forgotten?” Coco laughs.

“I’m just not wearing any.” She shrugs.

“And you realize now?”

“When I went to the loo.”

Marie shakes her head with a smile and I chuckle at my friend’s careless being.

“Yeah and she would have been terribly late if I hadn’t called her.” Marie says. “It looks like she had a busy night with Mario.”

Olivia smiles.

“Right, because Adam and you were surely asleep at 9 pm.”

Jason laughs out loud.

“So Indie, what time did you go to bed last night?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“Actually, pretty early. I think it was like 10 pm and I slept alone. In my own bed.”

“Oh, did Harry have work?”

“No” I chuckle “he was home, I guess. We don’t spend every minute together, you know?”

JJ shrugs.

“If I were with a man who could pull off a white fucking suit like Harry, I know I would be with him every minute.”

Then it’s me who shakes my head and laughs.

We haven’t been out all together since last week when we went shopping and even then, Jason wasn’t there so it feels like ages that we don’t just chat around and have something sweet together.

Marie tells us about her grandparent’s golden wedding too and we all drool over the pictures because they look so adorable.

“¡Madre mía, Marie!” My sister says. “You look so good too! Look at that red dress! Where was the red carpet, madam?”

Marie blushes and giggles and Jason smiles tenderly at my sister. I see the way Olivia’s looking at her, with her teasing smile, and I know Coco’s in for some Olivia jokes.

“Guido must be good.”

Coco’s confused eyes drift to Olivia’s.

“Or have a huge dick.”

My sister clicks her tongue and shakes her head giving our crazy friend a look but she just smiles.

“If it has anything to do with genetics” she starts “that should be the case.”

We all laugh and my sister’s cheeks tinge pink.

“Oh my God, it is!” Jason celebrates.

He seems so happy. He’s been laughing and joking around and even though sometimes he still gets a little into his own head, I reckon he’s gotta have to deal with a lot of thinking these next months. I remember when Javier and I broke up, it was like that for me too. Yet that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

I wish him and Marie would make up. They are good for one another. They complement each other like sweet and sour and I know Marie’s sorry. I can tell by the way she looks at him.

After breakfast, the five of us go shopping. I’m not a big fan of shopping, to be honest, I get headaches and hate trying clothes on but these guys love it so that’s what we’ll do. Coco and Ollie are a very dangerous duo. If it wasn’t for the rest of us, they’d be in debt by now.

They make Jason walk into Agent Provocateur even though he tries to remind us that he’s actually bisexual and can’t really give his opinion on this without getting killed.

“You can keep saying you’re bisexual, you know? But you’re gay, pal.” Olivia says.

“Again, the fact that I am not sexually attracted to you does not make me gay.” Jason smirks.

“No, I know, it’s the fact that you always look at guys.”

“I look at girls too. I just don’t tell you about it.”

“And who exactly would kill you?” I tease him, changing Olivia’s crusade on making him gay. “Mario and Adam are teddy bears, Guido’s shorter than you and Harry’s not jealous.”

He laughs.

“D’you think Harry wouldn’t mind if I saw you in lingerie?”

“I don’t think so, no.”

Jason smirks. I know it might be hard for him to understand but he is a jealous guy. He knows that, we all do. But Harry isn’t or if he is he handles it like a master and I think that’s the most beautiful thing he could do for me. I never understood why my friends in high school thought when their boyfriends acted like cavemen was something to be happy about. I mean I never really understood that well-trodden thought “he’s jealous because he loves me.” No. “He deals with his own jealousy and lets me be free because he loves me.” That’s how I see it.

“Should we get the same set?” Ollie asks Coco. “You know, in order to surprise the Matteoti brothers.”

My sister blushes and giggles and Olivia grins.

“I hope to God they don’t talk about that to each other.”

Olivia giggles.

“I used to think every man did but I actually think Mario doesn’t.”

“And you’re offended by that?” I offer.

Jason walks towards us swaying his hips like Beyoncé placing a bra over his sweater and the knickers over his jeans and Coco laughs and rushes to his side to stop him. The two of them go to the “funny section” where the crazy lingerie sets are.

I see my sister laughing at whatever it is that crazy Jason is telling her about the outfits.

“No, I just don’t know how he’s still with me.” Ollie says.

I frown as I turn to look at her.

“Hey, guys, do you like these ones?” Marie shows us a red lace crazy knickers with holes where fabric should be.

“I have no idea how you put those on.” Ollie shrugs.

“What do you mean?” I interrupt her.

“I genuinely don’t know with these many holes, it’s-”

“No, I mean about Mario.”

“What about him?” Marie asks.

“She just said she doesn’t know why he’s still with her.”

“What?” Marie frowns.

We both look at Ollie, whose blue-grey eyes are busy with the underwear she’s holding.

“I just don’t know how someone that’s… such a saint can be with me.”

I look at Marie but she just shrugs and gives me her best pursed lips.

“I mean… You guys are very different but that doesn’t mean anything.”

“I like him.” Olivia confesses. “I really do, what I don’t like is to constantly feel like I’m waiting for the moment he realizes he doesn’t want to be with me.”

“Why do you say that?” Marie frowns. “I think it’s rather obvious that he’s crazy about you.”

“Yeah,” Ollie tilts her neck “now.”

“You are wonderful and it might not work out but that’s that. Every single relationship might not work out but that’s when you show you’re brave. If you get hurt, well, here we are for chocolate ice-cream or popcorn and movies.”

“Thank you,” she chuckles “but that’s not even what I meant. You guys know I’ve… Fucked around.”

“So?”

“Guys don’t like to thrust their dicks in a public hole.”

Her words freeze my blood. I hate that she thinks so low of herself and I hate society for putting that idea on her mind. I can’t pretend I understand her and I don’t know what I would think if I were her so as much as I want to tell her that’s silly, it might not be. I mean it certainly isn’t if it’s something she really thinks but also, I feel bad and I feel bad because I have been a part of that thought, unconsciously but I have.

I told Harry I didn’t want to be another notch on his belt. Isn’t that the same thing? Only, with men. But didn’t I somehow make him less worth it just because he had been with a lot of girls?

“Don’t you ever speak that way about yourself again.” Marie threatens her.

I am taken aback by her reaction but I let protective Marie take the lead her. I am foolishly speechless.

“I won’t even comment on how degrading and sexist the “public hole” thing is because what’s important here is that you are not a hole, Ollie, for goodness’ sake. Do you really think Mario sees you like that?”

“This is not about Mario.” Olivia defends him.

“Still, don’t insult him by thinking so little of him.”

“And don’t think so little of yourself either, Ollie.” I add. “Fighting sexism starts with oneself, don’t be sexist to yourself, let yourself be free, yeah? And just for the record, if Mario ever left you, it’s clearly his lost.”

“So clearly.” Marie adds.

Olivia just chuckles and wraps her arms around both our shoulders, pulling us into a hug in the middle of the underwear store.

I want to tell her to talk to Mario, to let him in and let him hear how she feels and what she thinks so he can have a chance at telling her the same things about himself but I couldn’t bring myself to be such a hypocrite. How could I tell my friends to talk to their boyfriends when I never do that with Harry?

I mean, we’re getting better or at least I think we are but there are still so many things to work on. I don’t want to hurt him and that means I don’t ever want to talk to him like I usually do. I’ve been thinking so hard about it, since that day he insulted me when we were having dinner at Bellamond. It sounded so terrible and it made me feel so little and unwanted and stupid so to think that’s how he’s felt every time I’ve done it makes me very angry with myself.

I’ve already seen how easy it really is to talk to him. I did at Marie’s house after I said those terrible things to him and he hasn’t made a big deal of it. So then I don’t understand why it is so hard for me to talk to him about what I think, how I feel and what I want… Because the truth is- I want him. He already knows that, I think, but I don’t think he knows how I really feel about him.

I would like to maybe text him right now and tell him I miss him, because it’s true, I do. I’ve barely seen him this week because he went on a congress from Monday to Wednesday and after that we’ve both been busy but I don’t know what’s holding me back. Am I really that scared of rejection?

I can’t get our fight on Marie’s house of my head. I think he let me know that night that he was addicted to me but he didn’t mean it like a good thing. He was sad that I was. I keep thinking lately… Did Javier really break that much?

What if that relationship has turned me into an abuser? I can’t believe I called Harry a junkie. I just… And then what? Then I cried so he would forgive me? I mean that’s what they do. Am I toxic to him?

I know ever since Dylan died I haven’t really been myself. I don’t even like the person that he left behind. I have felt… Empty and cold and heartless, I really have but… That has changed now. It has changed. But what if it has turned me into some sort of monster? What if I’m not capable of loving?

Out of all the people in the world who doesn’t deserve that, Harry’s the one who least deserves any of that.

“You can tell me.” Jason says.

We’re both sitting down on two velvety armchairs as the girls try things on. I give him a look.

“Whatever is troubling you, you can tell me.”

I sigh.

“Do you think I’m cold?” My eyes investigate his so he can’t lie.

“How do you mean?” His eyes narrow.

“I mean… Do you think… Do I remind you of David?”

“Of David?” He almost stands up from his chair as he frowns and turns to look at me. “You? Of course not! You’re nothing like David!”

“Well, you don’t know the way I treat Harry…”

Jason straightens his back before he sighs.

“Well, why don’t you tell me what you did so I can decide?”

“Because I’m embarrassed.” I shrug.

“You’re sorry, that’s what you are, which means you’re nothing like David.”

“What if I am? It’s not enough with being sorry, is it? The thing is never doing it again and I keep hurting him.”

“How?”

“I… I speak very harshly to him sometimes and I tell him terrible things… I… I don’t want to hurt him, you know? He’s become someone important to me, someone I care about. I would never hurt him and yet I keep doing just that and I don’t even know why.”

I look away from him and Jason sighs again.

“We accept the love we think we deserve.”

I tilt my neck to look back at him the moment he quotes The Perks of Being a Wallflower. He’s stern and understanding. I frown, I don’t know what the fuck does that have to do with anything of this but I listen because I love this guy more than I love most people.

“Indie” He reaches for my hand “is it possible that you do that when you feel like he’s getting too close?”

I look away. I don’t think it matters why I do it. I don’t think it would have hurt less that I had known the reason why Javier had me tied up on the bed. And what if the reason doesn’t have a solution? I mean what if the reason is my subconscious is trying to put him away from Dylan’s place? What do I do about that?

“Indie, I can’t pretend I understand what it’s like to lose somebody you love as much as you loved Dylan-”

“I love Dylan.” I correct him.

“You love Dylan, sorry. But… Dylan… I mean… D’you think he would want you to be lonely?”

I don’t answer him nor do I look into his eyes that investigate me.

“Put on his shoes.” He whispers. “Imagine the story the other way, imagine you were him and he was yourself. What would you want for him?”

I let his words take me to that parallel world sometimes I wished it was the real one. If I had died that night, then Dylan would be here and if angels existed then I would be the one for him and I would look after him and protect him from whatever cloud angels get on the sky. But what if I saw him with another woman? What if I heard the same things he said to me said to her? What if he loved her more than he loved me? What would I be then?

I remember my therapist trying to sow that idea in my head- that we have to let go, that no person can live in the past forever, and that letting go doesn’t mean disrespecting. I wonder where’s the balance, I wonder if someday I’ll be able to find a way to feel good without feeling like I’ve forgotten all about him. But I know what I would want if I had been the one dead that night.

“I would want him to be loved.”

I feel tears on my lacrimal and Jason’s hand wraps around my arm and gently squeezes me.

“I know that’s what he would want to.” He whispers.

“I haven’t been able to go to his grave once.” I whisper. “I think if I could… Talk to him… Maybe let him now, I love him and I always will but… I think I love someone else.”

I hear Jason taking a deep breath and only then I realize what I just said. I tilt my neck so I can see his face. I don’t know what I’m expecting neither do I know why I’m expecting him to judge me. But he just smiles.

“I already knew that. Your face lightens up when he’s around or when someone talks about him. I saw that on Marie’s house the other weekend.”

I take a deep breath and give up. He’s right.

“Don’t worry, it’s the same for him. He treated you like a queen and was always looking after you and I think you guys understand each other pretty well.”

“We understand each other? We fight like cat and dog.”

“The way I see it, you’ve had your misunderstandings but you’ve always figured it out. D’you think any other person would have stick around long enough for you to figure each other out? And I’m not talking just about him, I mean, he’s got some issues too.” He frowns.

I finally chuckle. He does have some issues but they don’t come close to all the other good things he has.

“You know, I’m happy you got him. It makes it easier for me to finally do what I’ve always wanted.” He smiles.

“What is that?”

“The States.”

My mouth shuts. My lips pursed and I want to cry.

“The States? You’re leaving too?”

First Ollie and now him. No, no, no, there’s no way Marie and I are going to overcome this. They can’t leave; he can’t leave. I need him. My pulse accelerates. I never thought I was going to be losing my best friends so fast. He smirks and nods his head.

“I need it, Indie. I didn’t go because of David and he… He treated me like shit throughout the entire relationship and I didn’t lose you guys because you are fucking angels from another planet but I think I just need to go away for some time, figure myself out, do what I want for a change.”

I take a deep breath. I really need to stop being so selfish. I don’t even know how long for he’s planning on leaving but the least thing I can do as a decent friend is to support him not matter what. I’ll miss him, sure, but I won’t lose him just because he goes to another continent. He’d have to change his name and go to a secret location for me to lose him.

“If that’s what you want and what you think you need, I’m all in.” I smile. “I’m gonna fucking miss you but I’m happy that you’re doing your thing. I hope you know, even when you were with David, you never changed the person you really are and I think that says a lot about you. What happened to you was not your fault, it was his, and it could have happened to anyone. God knows we both know how they find the way to get into your mind. but you’ve always been more than what happened to you.”

He frowns despite his smile and I can tell that’s his way to try and hold back the tears. He wipes the ones that scape out before he holds my hand.

“I fucking love you.”

“I love you too.”

“And you call me dramatic but look at what speech you gave for three months that I’m leaving.”

“You’re leaving for three months?” I frown and he laughs. “Then why would you say it like that? I thought you were leaving for good.”

He laughs.

“And miss your wedding and your pregnancy with Harry’s babies? Never.”

“Hey, hop off the horse!” We both chuckle.

“Just be honest with him, Indie.” He tilts his neck. “You’ve got him here” he flexes his fingers to gesture a handful and taps a finger on it “and here” he taps a finger on his chest where his heart is and I smile. “Now, why don’t you get some sexy ass lingerie for him?” He wriggles his eyebrows. “The straight guy in me can help you decide.”

“You’re on.” I smile.

I try on about five of them. The girls are the judges but they all know I’ll end up choosing whatever I like. I never listen to advices when it comes about clothes. I know what I like and what I don’t and that’s that.

I do have a thing for underwear. It’s the only thing I actually enjoy buying so most of my underwear is cute and lace or silk or nice soft cotton but I do get excited at the idea of surprising Harry with something sexier than usual.

Maybe high stockings would do, I could wear a skirt and underneath it some high stockings hooked up to the waist of a lace bodysuit or something like that. I find a black lace one almost see through except from some parts strategically covered with the black flowery pattern, the cut between my legs and my nipples. The straps are silk and from the one around my waist, the two clasps for the stockings fall on my thighs. I love it.

After getting our underwear and going go with JJ to the male section of Gucci and Yves Saint Laurent, we finally sit down on a terrace surrounded by bags and have a drink. I order a Martini because I guess I’m feeling fancy after all and my friends order a sort of fancy cocktail each, except from Coco that goes with a beer. Her and Ollie are the ones who look fancier by far, Marie does too but in a way that lets you know she’s the good girl in the family, whereas Ollie looks like the one who’s always late to family meetings and Coco looks straight out of a magazine and yet there she is with a beer on her hand not caring about the contrast one bit.

In front of the terrace, there’s an Italian restaurant where there are two guys at the door, opening them for the clients. I have caught them staring at me more than once but every time I look the look away. I’m afraid I even have a boob out with all the staring but when I look down I realize I don’t. Jason’s sitting next to me and I wonder whether he’s noticed too or I’m just being paranoid. I look up at them and one of them look to the floor. Jason laughs.

“Geez, they could get a photo.” Jason says.

Alright, I’m not crazy.

“You’ve noticed too?”

“They haven’t taken their eyes off you since you sat down.” He chuckles. “And I’m sitting right here, I could be your boyfriend for all they know.”

Olivia tilts her neck and turns her head around being the blatant bitch she is before she gives me a smile.

“Well, they can keep trying, they’re trying to get in the place of an Armani underwear model.”

I roll my eyes and so does Marie. My eyes drift to her.

“You’re so exaggerated.”

“He could be one.” I defend him.

My friends and sister giggle and I blush but join in. It’s true, he could really be one and I miss him and want to see him.

Ollie’s call coincides with the moment Jason gets up from our table to go to the toilet and Marie gives my sister a smile.

“Coco, how are things with Guido? Are you happy?”

“Oh, I’m very happy.” She smiles. “I’ve never had this before, you know? Knowing my feelings are reciprocated. It just feels great.”

“Oh, I’m happy to hear that. You deserve someone like that.”

“So do you.” I tell Marie. “How’s everything with Adam?”

“He’s a dream.” Marie shakes her head. “I do worry that everything is too good.”

“Why?”

“Well, he’s so gentle and loving and caring… I keep thinking when it is going to end.”

“Why would it end? I mean, obviously there’s always like the first few months where everything is just perfect and all that and after that there’s more comfort and less romanticism but… Don’t worry about that. It’ll come naturally.”

“See? But that’s what I don’t want! I don’t want him to walk in the bathroom while I’m peeing or for him to see me with my hair on a towel and a face mask on.”

Coco giggles.

“Well, maybe not now, but it’ll eventually happen if you guys stay together for long enough.”

She looks away from us and takes a deep breath before she speaks.

“The other day he told me to leave some things at his place.” She all but whispers as if it was some sort of secret. “Well, he got micellar water even though he didn’t know what that was because I told him once that I couldn’t stay over at his house because I didn’t have my micellar water to wash my face.”

“Aw.” Coco rests a hand on her chest and Marie’s lips pursed.

I giggle.

“And why is that a bad thing?”

“It’s not a bad thing.” She shakes her head. “It’s just… Are we not moving too fast?”

“I mean he asked you to leave stuff at his house because you need stuff. It’s not like he asked you to move in. I stay over at Harry’s all the time.”

“Don’t you think I’ll freak him out when he realizes I’m a high maintenance girl?”

“I mean, Marie” Coco’s sweet tone makes my friend look at her “I think he might have an idea already?”

“I mean” I giggle “he’s been to your house.”

“Yeah, but my skincare is all carefully kept in the bathroom cabinet.”

“Well” I smile “I don’t think that’ll be a deal breaker.”

She sighs.

“Maybe some day you can let him in the bathroom while you do your skincare routine. I do not think he’s gonna be faced by that.”

Her brown, good-girl’s eyes investigate mine whilst she considers my idea. I can’t believe she actually think that would be a problem. Adam is crazy about him. I don’t think there’s anything she can say that would make him not want her.

Jason comes back before Ollie does but it doesn’t take her long to stand next to our table.

“Guys, this was a very lovely day” she starts “but I won’t lie to you. Mario just called me, he said he had a hard day at the hospital today and I want to cheer him up with incredible sex and cuddles so-”

“We did not need to know about the incredible sex.” Marie tells her but Ollie just smiles.

“And of course you can leave to be with your lover, Ollie, no need to explain anything to us.”

“Right.” She smiles. “Then see you, guys.”

With that she picks up her uncountable bags and leaves and Marie bites her bottom lip.

“I think I’m gonna leave too, guys. I have a skincare routine to share with someone special.” She smiles at Coco and me and we both laugh.

“What?” Jason chuckles looking at both Coco and me. “I’m kind of tired too, girls. Your shopping gave me a headache.”

“I’m pretty sure you bought more stuff than me.” I reprimand him but he just rolls his eyes.

“Anyway, I love you all. See you.”

Coco and I walk together to her car and on the way there we both chat about how the group has changed in just a few months. It’s like we’ve grown up more in this year than we have in the last five. Jason went out of a terrible relationship and came out being stronger and more confident than ever and he’s going to the States for that internship he wanted; Ollie’s finally moved on from Jack and her inner crisis and seems to be done with being insecure and afraid of love; lovely Marie found her knight in shinning armour and is living the dream; and even Coco and me left the past behind and meet someone great.

I might miss the way things used to be because they’ve been like that for a long time but… I think they’re only getting better.

I dare to do it, if Marie’s going to show her skincare routine to Adam and Mario called Olivia because he had a hard day and needed comfort, I can tell him.

Indie: Miss you x

I rest my phone on my thigh and look out the window trying not to torture myself if he doesn’t answer straight away. He might be busy, he might be asleep even or he might be with his family.

Harry: Fuck, I miss you too

I grin like a kid on Christmas morning. Harry’s typing…

Harry: Are you done with your friends?

Indie: Yes :)

Harry: Can I see you?

Indie: Yes :)

Harry: Bien

I giggle like a teenager and Coco tilts her neck to give me an amused look. She’s not used to it.

“Do I drive you home or directly to Harry’s?”

“Do you have plans?”

“I wanna go home to shower but I’m going out with Guido afterwards.”

“Are you taking the car?”

“Yes.”

“Do you mind dropping me at Harry’s then? So I can shower and stuff before too.”

“Sure, no problem.”

“Awesome. Thank you.”

Harry: Did you have dinner?

Indie: Yes.

Indie: Are you at home?

Harry: Yes, I am. Are you coming?

Indie: Are you inviting me?

Harry: You’re always invited, love.

Indie: Then how about I visit you in an hour?

Harry: Can’t wait xxx

After the shower, I butter my body with my strawberry and vanilla body lotion and put on my new lingerie set before I put on some lip balm and mascara. I put on a terracotta colour soft woollen sweater and a high waist black denim mini skirt that covers my stocking so they look like normal tights.

I’m excited to see Harry but on the way to his apartment while Coco drives and tells me about some of Guido’s jokes that had her laughing last time they saw each other, the excitement turns into nervousness.

Will he think this is too much? Will he find it funny? Because I would be mortified if he does and after all, this is not a special occasion. It’s just a random Friday night. Oh, God, he might think I’m crazy.

As I stand on the lift to his apartment, my sister’s compliment on my outfit gives me some nerve. I mean it’s just Harry. If he finds it funny or thinks it’s too much, I can always play it cool and pretend it was a joke all along.

He’s waiting by the door with a big smile when the lift doors opened and I make my way towards him keeping both hands on my brown jacket. He takes it and places it on the couch before we make our way towards his living room.

“Would you like anything to drink?” He offers.

“Um, maybe a cup of tea?”

He smiles amused.

“I was thinking you were going to say something alcoholic because it’s a Friday after all but you always surprise me, Blue.”

I chuckle.

“How was your day?”

“Good.” He nods his head as he turns the kettle on and takes two cups from the cupboard. “I had lunch with my mum. She asked me about you.” He gives me a smile that melts me. “How was yours?”

“Good too. We had coffee and then went shopping until we were hungry so we had a dinner and then a drink.”

“Sounds like torture to me.”

I laugh at his comment.

“That is not true. I’ve seen your closet, you’re into fashion.”

He smiles dimply because he knows I’ve caught him. God, I have seen him smile countless times in the last five months but still it makes my heart skips a beat. I approach him when he’s giving me his back checking on the water in the kettle and when he turns his head for he noticed my presence, I’m inches away from him. He wraps his arms around me and understands what I want so he leans down and kisses me. I let my tongue tell him how much I missed him and he hums as it pushes between his lips and caresses his. His hands find my ass and I moan against his mouth but the kiss is sweet and tender and we only pull apart when the kettle whistles.

We sit down on the couch and have our cups of tea as he tells me more about his lunch with his mum and I tell him more about my day. He also tells me about his congress and about an interesting case he had this week and I realize then how easy it is to talk to him. I didn’t realize there were these many things I wanted to tell him until I had him in front of me.

He’s been very handsy too and I’m sure so have I even if I don’t notice, but his hands have never left my legs and I’ve been a little nervous that he might move them a little higher and realize what I’m wearing but so far, he’s just been respectfully caressing my knee or calves.

“How is Jason doing?” He asks.

I find it so sweet that he asks about my friends.

“He’s better. Yeah, I think he’s doing good. He’s going to the States though.” My hand finds its bicep as I try to catch his undivided attention even though I already have it.

“What do you mean he’s going to the States?”

“Well, it’s only for three months.” I turn the drama off a little. “It’s this internship he got while he was with David Dick, he said no because David wanted him to stay but apparently he’s gotten a second chance and he said yes this time.”

“Wow, that’s great. Your friends are as nerdy as you.” He giggles.

“I’m not going anywhere though.”

“Yeah, thank God.”

He grins and his hands find my hips before he pulls me closer until I’m straddling him. He captures my lips with his in a long peck. Still, somehow, he hasn’t seen my stockings. I peck his lips again.

“Nah, I’m kidding, I would be very happy for you if you were going abroad for an internship or something too. You know that, right?”

I nod my head.

“I would miss you a lot though.” I confess and he grins.

“I would miss you too.”

I kiss him again and he kisses me back in a long, loving kiss until I pull away.

“I haven’t asked you: what did you get today?”

I lick my lips and feel my cheeks heating up. I’m sure when women wear these things, they don’t feel so shy. Plus, I have no reasons to feel shy when all Harry’s done is worship my body. I don’t know why I’m even doubting myself. He’s going to love it.

“I can show you.” I whisper.

I can feel his heartbeat accelerating under my hand and smile. Every doubt I’ve ever had flees my mind as I grab a handful of my sweater over my belly and pull from it so as to get it out of the hem of my skirt. His green eyes drop to my hand and his hands adjust to my hips over him. He swallows.

When my sweater springs free from my skirt, I just pull it up so he can see my lingerie bodysuit over my belly and his fingers sink of my hips as his lips part.

“Fuck me.” He whispers.

My lips curl up into a grin as his eyes search mine.

“You perfectly know what you do to me.”

His hand squeezes my hip once and I almost moan but then he takes his hands off me and rests them on the couch next to his hips.

“Well, do you want to see it or not?” I whisper.

He nods his head but doesn’t say a word. His eyes challenge me.

“You take off your clothes.” He whispers. “If you’re brave enough to wear that around me, you should be brave enough to undress yourself in front of me.” He smirks.

My eyebrows raise on my forehead and I give him a little smirk. He chuckles.

“D’you want a show?”

He grins as he nods, resting his back on the couch.

“And what do I get in return?”

“Oh, you’ll find out after the show.”

His green eyes, playful and filled on lust, narrow and this time it’s my pulse that accelerates. Placing my hands on his shoulders, I rest my weight on him as I get up from his lap and find my phone still on my purse. I go on Spotify and play Love Is A Bitch by Two Feet and hand him the phone so he can hear the song better. His grin turns nervous.

I have never done this before and I have no idea of how to dance for an striptease but here goes nothing. I sway my hips slowly much like I do when I’m fucking him because I already know he likes it from the times we have danced together. His eyes are set on me but instead of feeling nervous, I feel sexy and hot and lucky that he’s looking at me like that.

I turn around and give him my back before I bend over sticking my ass in the air to get my shoes off. Barefoot, I turn around and unbutton and unzip my skirt pushing it down my legs and letting him see my mid-thigh stockings. The corners of his lips curl up and he silently mouths fuck me.

Funny, I’m thinking the same thing. I caress myself like I’d like him to do, starting with the sides of my thighs and my hips and then my belly and my flanks, pulling my sweater up. I cup my own breasts under the sweater and don’t miss the way his Adam’s apple bops as he swallows. Still swaying slowly to the music, I grab the hem of my sweater and take it off dropping it on the floor.

I stand before him on my lingerie and feel fire burning inside me as his eyes roam my body up and down. He’s shifted his position on the couch but I can intuit the bulge between his legs.

“Do you want me to go on?” I whisper.

He shakes his head.

“Come here.”

I do as I’m told and his touch cuts my breathing halfway. His hand sticks to the exposed skin on my thigh and lustfully moves up to my hip where he squeezes.

“You must be fake.” He almost chuckles and I do.

“I’m real” I rest one knee on the couch next to his thigh and resting my hands on his shoulders, I straddle him “and yours.”

“Fuck.”

His fingertips press on the back of my neck and our mouths find each other with greed. The way he’s looked at me and the way he’s touched me and how hard I can now feel him against the inner side of my thigh drives me crazy and I push my tongue inside his mouth hungrily. My eagerness takes him by surprise but he’s just as eager as I am judging by the strength of his tongue against mine and the squeezes of his hands on my flesh. He pulls away but my mouth follows his blindly.

“Calm down, love” he chuckles against my lips “we’ve got all night. Let me enjoy you.”

I pout but instead of getting another kiss, he grins. I can’t say I’m disappointed with the outcome of my pouting. I love that he still looks like a child when he grins even when he’s acting so much like a man, full of lust and need.

“How did I do?”

Grinning, he takes my hand and lets me feel his hard on. It excites me to the point that my walls clench. He’s so hard and so hot… I want him inside me now. No, I don’t want him, I need him.

“I had never done that before.” I confess.

“Are you serious?”

I nod timidly and he sighs.

“You’re a natural then. That was the hottest thing I have ever seen and this thing…” His fingers caress my bodysuit “fucking hell, Blue, I’m gonna be dreaming about this.”

I laugh.

“Now you have to show me what I get for it.”

He grins and licks his lips as he tilts his neck.

“Well, when did the show end? You did ask me if I wanted you to go on.”

“And you said no.” I frown.

“Because I don’t want you to take this off just yet.” His tongue licks my lips like a cat. “But… If you want, I would love to watch you first.”

“Watch me?” I frown. “Doing what?”

He grins. He takes my hand in his and brings them both to my sex making me cup my dripping lips myself. I breathe in through my nose. He’s so close to me and he’s smiling in the way that turns my insides into jelly and I’m so wet and so needy… I need some relief now.

“I want you to touch yourself for me, baby.”

“You mean… Right here on top of you?”

He nods slowly but his fingers move over mine and make me caress myself. He does that a few more times before he removes his hand and lets me work alone. I keep doing what he was doing before and press circles on my clit as my eyes set on him. His hands hold my hips to give me more balance and I slip my fingers underneath the soaked fabric. His eyes move from the place I’m touching to my eyes and stop at my breasts.

“Fuck…” He whispers. “How does it feel, baby?”

I slip a single finger inside before I get another one.

“It feels better when you do it.” I confess.

He squeezes my hips and pecks my lips.

“I can show you how I do it.” His lips press on the exposed skin over my bra and I feel a current of electricity on my body. “D’you want me to?”

I keep touching myself with lips part, enjoying his kisses and his whispers. I love how his voice turns deeper and raspier when we’re having sex. It drives me crazy.

“Why do you want me to touch myself instead of you?” I whisper.

“Because having you pleasuring yourself on top of me… Fuck, baby… You don’t know how sexy you are.”

I bite on my bottom lip but his thumb pulls from it liberating it. I look into his eyes.

“If you do that, I’m gonna burst.” He smirks. “Do you not touch yourself?”

“Yes, I do.” I move my fingers slowly against my clit because I’d cum already if the rhythm was any faster. “I guess it’s just… I’m nervous.”

“Why? You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

“It’s not that.” I gasp. “I do, I just… I want you.”

He grins and cups my breast on one hand making me moan.

“I’m right here, love. I just want you to cum like this first and then we can do whatever you want. Only if you want though.”

“I do want.” I stop him. “Just show me how you do it.”

He slips his own fingers the fabric of my bodysuit and guides mine.

“You have to start here” he covers the upper side to my clit, the part closer to my belly and presses slow circles “slowly, yeah, like that and don’t be nervous, baby. If you don’t cum on your own, I’ll help you.”

I half laugh half moan and he chuckles. I keep moving my fingers like he told me to do until I find a spot that sends electricity through my body. I start rubbing faster and the feeling is so good I almost don’t notice he removed his fingers.

“That’s right, baby, faster, faster.”

I feel the lower part of my belly tensing up and my nipples hardening and I moan as I relax my neck and throw my head back.

“Now stop.” Harry’s hand covers mine and stops my movement and I frown and give him a death glare that only makes him laugh. “And do it slowly again.”

I let him guide me and move my fingers against my clit watching him watch me. His eyes are fixed on my hand and my pussy and he’s biting his lip. God, this is so hot. I’m horny as hell.

One of his hands move from my hips to my inner thigh and he slips his fingers under the fabric again, slipping two fingers inside me and making me moan out loud.

“Fuck, I just wanted to see how wet you are.”

He moves his fingers slowly in and out of me and between that and my own stimulation on my clit I am afraid I might faint. I bite on my bottom lip again and he pulls from it with his thumb.

“What did I say?” He whispers as his fingers keep moving in and out of me so I bit my lip again so as not to scream. “You’re not really as good of a student as I thought.” He chuckles.

He gets his fingers out of me and I whimper making him chuckle again.

“You do it, baby.”

I curl two fingers inside of me and move them with the rhythm he was using and one of Harry’s hands squeeze my hip. I shut my eyes and gasp.

“Imagine it’s me, love.”

“Oh, God.”

When I open my eyes, I see he’s stroking himself over his jeans and my eyes drop to his bulge.

“You don’t know how much you’re turning me on, baby.”

No, he has no idea how much this is turning me on. I thought this was something only done in porn but this is fucking hot. Having him right here as I pleasure myself, hearing his voice thick with lust and knowing how much watching me is turning him on drives me crazy.

“You’re always so good with me.” He captures my earlobe between his teeth and pulls from it and I moan.

“Touch yourself, H.”

“D’you want me to?” His voice comes out strangled then and I feel the power he gives me burning my skin.

“Yes, like I’m doing.”

I hear his zipper going down and feel him lifting his hips from the couch to take his pants off. My eyes set on his hard length, already leaking precum, shinning and tight, and his fingers wrap around himself.

I try to take this time to focus on what he does to himself so I know how to touch him better next time so I slow the rhythm of my fingers for otherwise I’d finish already. Harry’s mouth attacks the side of my neck so I can no longer see him because my neck tilts back without my consent to grant him better access and he keeps kissing my skin.

“I’m not going to last long watching you, baby.” He whispers.

“Oh, God, I’m very close already, Harry… I fucking… This is so exciting.” I moan.

“Fuck me, keep talking.”

“Oh, Harry… I want you to cum so I can cum too but…” I can tell his pumping accelerates and so do my fingers. “It’s such a shame you’re not on my mouth like last time… You taste so good.”

A guttural sound cuts his breathing halfway and I feel a hot liquid spurt on my thigh. That sends me into overdrive and I moan until my throat stings. Harry’s hands hold my hips as I sigh and try to catch my breath and then I smile at him.

“Stop that or I won’t be able to stop fucking you.”

I laugh softly.

“Then don’t stop.”

He smiles mischievously at me and I know he was hoping to hear that.

“I can’t decide whether I want this off or not.”

He says staring down at my bodysuit and I laugh.

“I’m glad you like it.”

He doesn’t say anything, instead he just smiles before he leans in to capture my lips with his. We kiss intimately for a while and then his hands pull my hips down and he penetrates me slowly. He swallows my moans as he keeps kissing me lustfully but slowly, almost calmly.

His hands hold my ass and he lifts me and sinks me back down so he’s fully controlling the rhythm, a very slow, torturous one that lets me feel every inch of him as he stretches me on his way inside. I feel him so deep too, I don’t think he’s every filled me like this but I love it and I let him known, with moans and bites on his bottom lip.

“You like it slow, baby?”

I hum and nod my head and we kiss each other as if we were the only people in the world. Right now, he is to me.

“Spread your hips wider apart.” He whispers.

I do as I’m told and replace my knees further away from him. His hands hold me in place as he slowly pushes back in and I feel him paving his way through my channel inch by inch until our pubic bones touch and we both gasp.

“Oh, God.”

And we repeat again. He pulls out almost entirely and then sinks in again. He kisses me passionately and I press my body against his as if we could get closer. He captures my bottom lip with his teeth and pulls from it like I normally do with his and when my lip sets free from his prison, we both smile at each other. He fills me again and, in this kiss,, it’s me who pulls from his bottom lip. I have never felt more filled of him and of feelings for him, lust and love bubble and mix together inside my belly and burst in every kiss.

“Fuck, Harry, you’re amazing.”

I hear him giggling.

“Don’t laugh.”

He slaps my ass cheek and I jump a little.

“I’ll laugh if I want to.” He grins.

I smile too.

“You’re right. Don’t stop laughing. I love it when you do” I gasp as he fills me again, he rolls out “And I love your smile, you’re so handsome when you smile” when he fills me again, I tangle my fingers on his hair and pull from it “and your hair, I love your hair and your eyes, when you look at me…”

He shuts me up with a passionate kiss and I hope he understands how I feel about him through this intimate encounter.

“Blue…”

I wait for him to speak but he doesn’t say anything even though his hips don’t stop moving against mine.

“What?” I press him.

“Nothing.”

I would have insisted but his hips attack mine hard and it cuts my breath halfway. I cling onto his shoulders and he keeps thrusting inside me hard and fast. I pull from his hair and listen to our skins clapping together and the wet sounds of our intimate encounter. His hand cups and squeezes my breast and I arch my back and tense up as I cum again.

His thrusts become faster and sloppier until he cums himself and before I have time to react, he’s standing up and carrying me on his hips to his bed. He lies me on my back and smiles as he stares at me.

He spreads my legs opened and gets on his knees between them and his hands hold my ankle and place it on his shoulder before he unclasps my stockings and put them down my leg. He does the exact same thing with my other leg and caresses my entire body before he takes off my bodysuit.

He then hovers me and pecks my lips a few times before he pecks my nose and my cheeks and then my neck and my collarbones and he leaves kisses in every inch of my skin. I almost giggle when he kisses the spots that tickle and I feel a different type of excitement on my belly at his attention for these kisses aren’t even lustful, even though we’re both now naked. I feel adored and I feel cared for and wanted and I feel my heart about to explode with love for him.

He kisses my legs and from the inner side of my thighs he moves back to my belly, kissing my skin there again before he smiles at me.

“What do you want from me, Harry?”

“Everything.” He smiles as his face reaches the level of mine and he pecks my lips again. “I want everything from you.”

My breath catches on my throat. I want him, no, more, I love him. I love him. I swallow and play with his hair as I stare into his eyes.

“Careful what you wish for” I whisper “If you play with fire, you’ll end up burned.”

“I’m already burned.” He smirks. “And here I am.”

I smile but the smiles turns into an o as he thrusts inside me again. God, this man is insatiable, but I can’t get enough either. He fucks me slowly again and he keeps biting my lips and squeezing my flesh as we both gasp and moan.

I sink my nails on his back as he licks and sucks on my nipples and I moan his name once and again whilst his hips keep drilling me to his bed. I wish we could stay like this forever. When the delicious torture on my breasts is done, he grants me again with the heavenly image of his face and that’s all I can see as he rests his forehead against mine and keeps on moving in and out of me. I feel his breath on my face and swallow his grunts and moans.

I am not sure he feels the same way I do. I don’t know if he loves me but I don’t think I could feel any of this if he didn’t. I don’t think he would make love to me like this if he didn’t love me. I think he wouldn’t touch me like he does, I think he wouldn’t squeeze my flesh so gently if he didn’t. I think his kisses wouldn’t feel like this if he didn’t love me too.

“You feel so good, baby.”

I feel my pulse on my skin and I feel the knot on my belly about to untie and with another push of his, I lose track of space and time and my head sinks of the pillow. I can’t even breathe for some seconds until I moan out loud and feel my throat raspy and becoming inflamed. He lets go too, groaning in my ear and shivering on my arms.

It takes him a few seconds to roll out of me, but he stays laying on top of me and I hug him to my chest as we both fight to catch our breaths. I don’t know what any of this was but he filled me in every level and I still feel my heart pumping proudly at the newly found sentiment.

Harry’s breathing pattern changes and becomes calm and deep. Carefully, I pull back just enough to look into his eyes but they’re close and his expression is peaceful. I kiss his forehead.

“You’re falling asleep on me.” I whisper.

“No…” He frowns but his eyes are still closed.

I smile and try my best to pull from the duvet so I can cover us both but I’m not strong enough.

“I just need help to cover us up.”

“I’ll warm you up.” He mumbles.

“You’ll freeze too, come on.”

With one hand he lifts my back from the bed and with the other he pulls from the duvet and rolls us both under the duvet before he hugs me again. This time he rests his back against the mattress and pulls me to him so I’m the one resting my head on his chest. I trace senseless figures with my fingertips on his bare chest.

“Blue”

“Yes?”

“Give me a goodnight kiss.”

I chuckle before I lift my head and peck his lips. His eyes are still closed but he frowns.

“Kiss me well.” He complains.

I press my lips against his again, not quite knowing what he wants, and lick my way inside his mouth, getting a lazy response from his tongue. When I think I did well, I pull apart and peck his lips as closure but he opens his eyes and the intense green in them paralyzes me.

“I want one of your kisses.”

Still impressed by his gaze, I press my lips against his again and I put all the affection I have for him on the kiss until my belly erupts in a fist of butterflies and my chest feels funny and warm. We kiss one another with love, it can only be love, and when I feel like my pulse has reached my brain, I pull away and Harry skims my nose with his.

I rest my cheek against his chest before he opens his eyes and realizes I’m blushing and I hear his heartbeat against my temple. His breathing slows down just like the movement of his fingertips on the low of my back and he sighs.

“Blue…”

I hum.

“I love you.”

#harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles and reader #harry styles news #harry styles

116 notes · View notes

afriendlyblackhottie · 4 years

Text

Ransom Drysdale Must Die (Chapter 2)

Summary: Ransom Drysdale is a serial cheater. The only way to get him to pay for what he’s done is for him to die. Or at least be extremely humiliated. As long as you don’t fall for him.

Pairings: Eventual Ransom Drysdale x black!reader, Ransom Drysdale x Multiple OC’s

Warnings: Swearing. Eventual smut.

(Author’s Note: I was watching John Tucker must die and it made me think of my favorite sweater wearing murder daddy.)

Words: 3.4K

It was true that you didn’t really have much of a life in Boston. Having to move around a lot really affected your people skills. Not that you weren’t a nice person or at least you tried to be, but it became a little difficult to know how to talk to people when you grew up thinking that none of it would matter in a few months.

Your mom had called you asking for you to visit which you hadn’t done since college. You weren’t even sure what state she was in now. Hell for all you know she’d given up completely and moved to a different country. Besides you didn’t really have the space to host someone. Not that your apartment was too tiny for company, but your mom didn’t pack lightly despite being a nomad.

She’d talked to you as you drove to work. Telling you about another guy that she’d met that she was sure was the love of her life in whatever new place she was in. As much as you wished you could tell her to stop, all you could do was listen and mhm on occasion.

The Ransom Drysdales of her life were going to keep doing what they do to her and whatever woman they could get their hands on. You just wished she’d make better choices so she didn’t get hurt.

You felt a little bit of relief as soon as you’d arrived at work. Talking to her always made your stomach turn now which you hated, but there didn’t seem like there was much you could do. You kind of understood. She didn’t want to spend the rest of her life alone. Except since she’d jumped around so much she’d kind of made you want to.

You went through the employees entrance stopping at the breakroom to put your stuff away. “Hey,” Andy the assistant golf director greeted you. You didn’t really see him much, but he was always friendly when your paths would cross. He was a really handsome guy, super nice.

You shoot him a small smile as you close your locker. “Hi,” you said.

“So, did you hear? Harrington’s on a good one,” he said. “Something about the yoga studio that most of these women go to had to shut down.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What? Damn.”

“I know. Today has been something else.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Gonna have a lot of pissed off fitness gurus all over the place.”

“Just what I needed in my life.” You sighed. “Well, I better get in there before Harrington rips my head off.”

“Good luck,” he said.

“You, too.”

Just like Andy had warned you Harrington was on a good one. You walked into the clubhouse dining to see him chewing one of the other waitresses out, causing her to burst out into tears. You gritted your teeth because it was hard to watch.

“Jesus Christ, what happened?” You whispered to Britt.

She shook her head. “Well, there was an emergency shut down at the Porter’s Studio which means they’re all coming here which would be fine, but Vida has to combine two classes into one each session.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What? What happened?”

“Apparently Ransom’s amazing good looks,” she started, exaggerating her tone, “made her swoon so hard that Lucy had a misstep on the stairs and she proceeded to totally eat shit.”

You gasped, covering your mouth. “No!”

“Oh, yes. I barely missed all the action.” She pouted in disappointment.

“Is she okay?”

“She’ll be fine, but Harrington had to send her home for the day.”

“Miss L/N, Miss Lin will you mind being useful and getting to your jobs,” he was now turning his fury to them.

“Yes, Mr. Harrington,” the both of you said in unison, as you suppressed the urge to tell him to fuck off.

“Actually, Miss L/N, I’ve already assigned you to help out Vida in the yoga studio,” he told you. Of course you’d end up dealing with it. Maybe it was a good thing he trusted you enough to move you between sections.

“Will do, Mr. Harrington,” you said.

How Vida was still able to keep that zen exterior despite having to take on Lucy’s class and the women that normally went to the Porter’s studio. You weren’t sure if you believe the story about what happened to Lucy, but it was kind of funny to think about. At least she was okay.

You moved everything around on the refreshments table to make it look presentable. This was what he needed you to take care of. At least you’d get to sit all day.

Vida laid on her mat needing a break before the next class arrived. Dealing with that many of these women at one time was draining. Even if on the outside she hadn’t broken a sweat.

“Ugh, I’m so jealous!” The squeaky voice of a woman said as she walked into the room. “He’s so hot!”

“Shhh, not so loud,” Chloe shushed her as they stopped at the table. “We’re supposed to be keeping it on the low. He doesn’t want his grandfather to find out while he’s redoing his will.” She grabbed a water bottle and a complimentary towel.

“Yeah, but c’mon, Ransom of all people,” she whispered this. “He’s so dreamy.”

Chloe bit her lip. “I know right. And, it’s so different because Jeffrey could never do the stuff we do. It’s insane.” She sighed wistfully.

Your eyes widened as you listened in on their conversation. Was it bad that you were making mental notes to tell Britt after. It’s kind of sad. Closest you’ve gotten to making a friend and you’d managed to bond over the scandalous shit rich people do.

“You lucky ass bitch I swear.” Her friend laughed as they walked over towards the back of the class.

You weren’t going to lie. You were kind of curious as to what else they were saying as you tried to listen in. You were honestly so fascinated by this whole ordeal.

Your attention on Chloe and her friend was cut short when Marissa walked in. You didn’t know this many of these girls took their yoga classes here. You scrunched up your face as she went to the last spot in the front of the class to unroll her mat.

“I already told you, Baby. We can do it later tonight.” She twirled a piece of her hair around her finger as she stopped at your table, her Airpods in each ear. Chloe had come up beside her to grab another water bottle glaring at the other woman as did so. “I can wear one of those sets you like if you promise to do that thing I like.”

Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest seeing them this close together. God you had so much to gossip about.

Just as the two of them had went to sit down, Amber walked in with her two friends on each side. Holy shit. There really was no way for you to expect this. You know maybe it was a good thing you were always the first one Harrington moved in between sections.

Finally the class had started. You were only half paying attention as Vida had doing warm-ups. “Alright, ladies, give me a nice deep breath and then....” she breathed out dramatically, “exhale.”

This went on for a minute and to be honest listening to her soft commands were making you sleepy. Everyone was following her directions as she broke her own pose to walk around to help help someone who wasn’t stretching deep enough.

As she had them grab the small yoga balls next. You loved yoga. Yoga was relaxing. You’d rather watch paint dry than watch other people do yoga and yet here you were.

“Ow! What the fuck, Amber!” Chloe shrieked knocking the room out of the peaceful atmosphere.

Your head snapped up to see what the hell had happened. Amber shrugged a smile plastered across her face. “Sorry! It slipped!” She replied in a sickly sweet tone.

Chloe rubbed her cheek as her friend came over to look at it. “Are you okay?” The other woman asked.

Right as Chloe was nodding, another ball flew hitting in her face. This time a lot more deliberate making her losing her footing. When she stood up there was this fire in her eyes. “What the hell is your problem!” She yelled at her.

“You’re my problem. Trying to push up on my boyfriend, Bitch!” Not to be outdone, Amber got into the other woman’s face.

“I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about!”

Amber rolled her eyes. “Oh whatever, everyone knows you’re a fucking gold digging whore.”

Chloe’s jaw dropped before slapping the other woman’s face. Your hand went to your mouth. Wow you really really did have a lot to tell Britt.

Amber not to be outdone, retaliated by doing the same. Everyone watched from the sidelines with shocked expressions as things progressed. Marissa was the only one to come over trying to break it up.

Oh god.

“C’mon, guys! Really?” She stood between them. “Fighting over a man. It’s not worth it.”

“There’s nothing to fight about! Ransom is mine!” Amber pointed at herself.

You were pretty sure your heart was going to beat out of your chest now.

It was Marissa’s turn to react now except she kind of looked like she was malfunctioning as she blinked way too many times in one second. “What?” For a minute she kept her cool, clenching her jaw.

Then she grabbed a ball throwing it at Amber’s stomach. “What the fuck!”

“I’m dating Ransom!”

Boom.

There it was.

Finally.

You stood up trying to get out of dodge as hell was unleashed. Chloe threw a water bottle hitting you in the back, making you fall as Vida also unsuccessfully tried to run.

The wind had been knocked out of you, but you could hear the three smacks that they’d given each other before getting up. They were fucking animals. How good is this guy’s dick for them to be acting like this.

Instead Vida tried to break it up like Marissa had done, but it didn’t really work as Marissa pushed the refreshments table into the four of you before tripping over one of the towels that had fallen and landed on your stomach.

The three of them tried fighting on top of the two of you when you grabbed the whistle around Vida’s neck to blow into it. The harsh shriek penetrated the air, making them cover their ears. “He’s cheating on you and instead of taking it out on him, you’re beating the shit out of each other!” You yelled.

“Miss L/N!” Harrington walked in red in the face.

Oh shit.

You were going to have a giant water bottle shaped bruise tomorrow. Maybe you could write a thank you note to Chloe for that one. Or for all of the various bruises that were given to you by Marissa. At least, Amber hadn’t done any damage to anyone, but them.

You’d been told to clean up this mess as Vida was able to go nurse her wounds. Could you sue? Was that possible? Sue this club and the three of them. Cuz fuck this hurt.

Harrington had chewed you out pretty hard. Of course he’d come in at the right time which must have made him think you had something to do with it even if you’d just been caught in the crossfire. Maybe your mom had a point. It wasn’t all that bad to pack up and move from place to place. Except instead of doing it over men, you could have like a jobs theme or something.

You’d just lifted up the table that had flipped over during the scuffle when Andy came in with a whistle. “Damn. I heard it was bad, but nothing could have prepared me for this.” He looked around with his eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, it was pretty great.” You sighed puffing out your cheeks.

“What the hell even happened?” He asked, cringing as he saw the cracked mirror that looked a moments away from shattering.

“Chloe, Amber, and Marissa happened,” you replied, getting down to start gathering the bottles.

“Harrington must have been pissed.”

You laughed. “He was. His face was so red.”

“Did that little vein in his forehead pop out?” He asked with a smirk, raising his eyebrow.

You nodded. “Oh yeah. Looked like his head was going to explode.”

Andy laughed. “Damn. I would have paid to see that.”

“Yeah,” you shrugged, “well I would have paid to not get hit with a full water bottle.”

“No! They did that?”

You nodded. “Yup. I’m going to have one hell of a bruise tomorrow.”

He shook his head, but before he could say anything the three women were escorted into the room with a security guard. There arms crossed and somehow perfect. How the hell did they manage to fix themselves first.

“I better get back.” He half-smiled. “Try not to get caught up in any trouble.”

“I’ll try.”

Security had left for some fucking reason which caused the three to do the expected as they took a seat on their mats which had remained on the floor. You were pretty sure you were about to witness round two, planning an escape plan out of the room this time.

“So,” Amber broke the silence, “I talked to Ransom.” She smirked. “He said he felt bad for you because you’re clearly jealous that we have something special.” She put her hand over her heart. “Something that doesn’t need a label because it’s-”

“Our own unspoken bond,” Chloe cut her off with her eyes narrowed as she rattled off that part of Amber’s speech.

“And,” Marissa took over, “I just love how secure you are and it hurts to hear you question it.”

“Because you’re the only girl for me!” The three of them finished in unison.

The three different expressions on their face was interesting. Amber looked like she was ready to fight someone all over again, while Marissa looked like she was one wrong move from crying, and Chloe looked like she was ready to murder.

Amber clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “He really said the same shit to all of us.” She looked like she was in disbelief. Like she’d been punched in the gut. Or possibly hit in the back with a water bottle. Or maybe smacked in the stomach with a yoga ball.

Chloe huffed. “Okay, so what? He gives me the same lines he gives you guys and then hooks up with m-” she started in on a rant until Marissa cut her off.

She shook her head waving her hands to stop her from talking. “Wait, what? You hooked up with him in between that time?” Marissa asked with an eyebrow raised.

“It was in his car!”

Amber guffawed. “Like a fucking high schooler during homecoming?”

“As if that makes it better?” Marissa laughed sarcastically.

Chloe glared at the other women with her lips puckered. “We share an unspoken bond,” she retorted. “Besides weren’t you all oh yeah baby I’ll wear that set you like, like two hours ago?”

“Oh, I’m sorry that I have sex in a bed like a normal adult,” she argued back.

Amber coughed. “Boring.”

You didn’t mean for that snort to come out, but it did. Then their attention snapped to you. Three very intense eyes were on you. “Excuse you?” Amber challenged you, her head tilted to the side.

You cleared your throat as you picked up the balls. “Sorry.”

“If you have something to say, say it,” she pressed. God she looked angry. Not that you could really blame her. If you were in her position you’d probably be ready to go off at any little thing. Of course you didn’t want her going off on you again.

You opened your mouth to say something before closing your mouth again and second guessing it. “You know what. No it’s none of my business,” you replied. You didn’t need to get mixed up in their drama again.

“Just say it,” this time it was Marissa who was trying to get it out of you. Chloe wasn’t saying anything, but you could tell she was daring for you to say something.

You licked your lips before groaning. “Okay, ummm,” you took a deep breath, “does he always call you pet names? You know. Baby, sweetheart, honey.” You rattled off. “Yeah it’s not out of affection.It’s so he doesn’t mix up your names. And, he’s all about that unspoken bond or something special, but never ever about a relationship. And, then he'll make this whole arrangement feel like it's your idea so feel guilty that he cheated because this is something he really wanted.”

Amber scoffed throwing her head back. “Oh my god! You’re dating Ransom, too.”

“No. He doesn’t mess around with the help,” Chloe said.

You raised your eyebrows. “Okay that was rude, but no. I’m not. I’ve just dealt with someone like him.”

Marissa pursed her lips, looking down at the ground now. “He does always make me feel guilty,” she reflected.

“I guess I feel like if a guy was making me feel like that, I’d-”

Amber cut you off, rolling her eyes. “Yeah you’d break up with him blah, blah, blah.”

Chloe scoffed. “As if he wouldn’t get a new girlfriend in like five seconds.”

“Which is why I wasn’t going to say that. If it were me dealing with a man like him, I’d get even.” You shrugged, finally picking up the last bottle of Evian which had rolled over to the other side of the room.

“Wait, who are you?” Chloe asked.

Before you could answer, Harrington had stomped back in right as the mirror shattered. The three women stood up screaming from the noise as you covered your mouth. Yeah wonderful timing.

“Y/N!” He yelled. “Get your shit and get out. You’re fired.”

You weren’t really shocked. At least your last day was memorable. Normally you would have went in there to clean things up. Except it didn’t feel worth it. You’d been caught up in enough fights for the day and al you wanted was to pop open a bottle of wine and drink until you puked.

The three of them only watched as you walked out. As if this wasn’t their fault. You could always get another job, but it still felt shitty. Unlike Amber and Marissa you didn’t have rich parents to fall back on. While Chloe also had her deceased husband’s fortune to get her through. Why were they even doing all of this over a man like Ransom. They could have anyone they wanted.

You hated job hunting. It was so stressful and annoying. You were surprised you’d even landed this gig. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, though. At least you wouldn’t have to deal with Harrington.

“I can’t believe he’s letting you go.” Britt shook her head.

“I know.” You sighed. “It wasn’t even my fault.”

She shrugged. “It’s not like you told Ransom to be a serial cheater.”

“Is it bad that I almost feel bad for them?” You didn’t want to. All of them could have left him today and find new boyfriends in an hour and yet no one deserved what Ransom was doing.

“Don’t forget to text me, okay? If you need anything I’m so there.”

You smiled softly. “Thank you.”

One of the security guards walked in ready to escort you out. The two of you rolled your eyes. “Alright, we’ll talk later. I need you to tell me everything.”

“I will.”

As you were walking out Ransom was talking to some girl at the front desk. You glared at him, not that he noticed. Not like he was paying attention anyway because apparently Ransom didn’t care about the help.

Fuck that guy.

When you’d finally gotten to your apartment, you showered and changed just wanting to wash the day away. The soreness had started to settle into your muscles.

You tried watching TV with your glass of wine in hand, but all that did was make you think about the impending doom of not having a job. So you found yourself doing what you normally did when things were shitty.

You’d gotten lost in the soft blues so easily as your brush sweeped against the canvas. You weren’t really sure what you were going for, but at least you felt a little better.

As you took a step back to see what was missing there as a knock on the door. You groaned going to look through the peephole and your jaw dropped seeing Amber on the other side.

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom thrombey x you #ransom x reader #ransom x y/n #ransom x black!reader #ransom x oc #ransom x poc!reader #Chris Evans #chris evans x ofc #chris evans x black!reader #chris evans x poc!reader #chris evans x you

107 notes · View notes

ourplaceinthecosmosphff · 4 years

Text

Chapter 27. Ice and Band Aids

'You deserve to be fought for, remember that’ - The Better Man Project

I prayed that it looked innocent from afar, because from where I was standing it felt very dangerous. Harry to one side, hand to his locked jaw, looking away. To the other, Christopher, hands in his pockets, eyes going from me to the ginger, brows furrowed.

Both men looked hostile, shoulders squared back, an annoyed, aggressive look on their eyes.

The silence was tense.

“Christopher?”

“Bonjour.” He greeted, spinning his hat in his hands. His hair was longer, but other than that, he looked the same.

“Wha-what are you doing here?”

“I may not be royalty, but I’m not trailer trash, either, bunny. I know people.” He said.

It was definitely the old nickname that shook me out of my shock, and brought me straight back into reality: my ex-boyfriend, almost fiancé, standing next to me in a place swimming with the upper class and the world’s press, while the man I was in love with watched.

“That’s not what I meant.” I explained, rispid.

“So this is it, huh?” He asked, coldly, looking between me and Harry, his grin, hostile.

“This is what?” I asked.

“Him.” He replied, pointing his chin at Harry in a dismissive manner. “He’s the one?”

“Chris.” I sighed, already dreading where this was going.

“May I help you?” Harry asked, his tone dripping with disgust.

“Oh, you’ve helped me plenty.” Chris replied, his tone matching Harry’s. “Helped me dodge a fucking bullet.” He added, looking at me, sarcasm all over his manner.

“Christopher, I–” I stuttered, trying to think of something to say that would end this as fast as possible.

“No need to explain, bunny, I get it. Clear as day.”

“I think it’s time for you to go, man.” Harry interrupted, stepping closer, putting himself between me and my ex.

“Yeah, go on.” Christopher said, stepping closer to Harry himself until he was staring up at him. “Really easy to play the big man after you steal someone else’s girl, isn’t it?”

“Christopher!” I interrupted, outraged, but whispery, terrified people would notice how deeply darker the energy had gotten around us. “That is not what happened.”

“I’m sure you’re so used to getting your way your whole life,” Chris added, mocking, “nothing’s out of reach for the little prince, right?”

“You’re really embarrassing yourself here, dude. I’d take my losses and go if I were you.” Harry told him, voice steady.

“Oh, but you’re not. You people couldn’t take a day in the life of a normal person, not after being coddled your whole life. But here’s the thing, buddy,” Christopher said, somehow managing to take one more step closer to Harry, “you think you can do what you want because of that little silver spoon you were born with, but never forget you might have lucked out being born at the right family, but you were born in the wrong order, my guy. At the end of the day you're too down the line to matter.”

“Chris!”

“Any room you walk into, people don't see you, they just see granny, don't they? You got nothing else. You are nothing else.”

I braced myself, took in a deep breath, and stepped closer to them. “That’s enough.”

They both ignored me.

“And I think you know that, too, don’t you? That you’re nothing?” Christopher asked. “No wonder you had to go after Maggie, conveniently right after her brother died, of course–”

I sighed, staring around, feeling useless.

“I think it’s time for you to shut up.” Harry told him, louder now.

“–how else would you make yourself feel you have anything to offer? Not work, surely, little prince is too good for that, so let’s latch on to a royal who actually lucked out and got some power now.”

“Ma’am, maybe we should go?” Joyce asked, lowly, to my ear.

I looked back. Though our staff had stayed behind when we moved to the hallway, our security had followed, as it was their job to keep an eye on us at all times, even if by far. Harry’s security, for example, were watching from a few meters behind us. They didn’t seem to notice how badly things had progressed – as both Harry and Christopher were keeping their tone very low – but they were still standing in a way to shield us from view to other people.

“Get Harry’s security.” I asked Joyce.

“I will, but you should come with.” She replied. “Wait back inside with the others while we handle this–”

“Joyce, now.” I demanded, and she hurried away.

“I think we’re done here.” Harry added, looking past him, down the hallway, and already reaching out his hand for mine.

Christopher stepped up between us, blocking his way.

“Did you try to cozy up to Louis too, before he died? You were his type.” He looked at me, now grinning, leaning closer as if sharing a secret. I leaned back. “Pity the throne isn't made of dick, right? Lou would have loved it then, right, bunny?”

Harry shoved himself back between me and Christopher. “Okay, this is over.”

Chris shoved him back one step. “Oh, is it, little prince?” He asked, laughing, humorless. “If you say, we must obey, right? God forbid you encounter someone who doesn’t bow to your every wish!”

At this, Harry’s security finally showed up.

“Sir?”

He raised a hand, stopping them in place. They didn’t approach more. I wanted to punch someone.

“You really are a fucking dick, huh?” Harry asked him. The light of anger in his eyes was the only thing that betrayed his calm.

“Shouldn’t have stolen my girlfriend if you wanted me to kiss your ass, asshole.”

At this, he shoved Harry again, but this time Harry wasted no time in returning a punch directly to Christopher’s face.

“Oh, my God.” I gasped.

A lot of things happened at the same time: Joyce pulled me back. Harry’s security officer stepped in, but wasn’t quick enough to stop Christopher from returning a punch against Harry. Next thing I know, we’re all being held back, one or two meters apart from each other, each by a security officer.

“That’s assault! I’m going to fucking sue you so hard your fucking grandchildren will be paying up!” Chris spit out, clenching a hand to his left eye.

I looked at Harry, who’s cheekbone had a small scratch; he was flexing his hand from the punch.

I stepped towards Christopher, shaking off Joyce’s hand on my arm.

“Try.” I dared him. “There’s four witnesses here who saw you shove him twice and call him names multiple times. Harry was acting in self-defense. Any court will find you guilty of inciting violence, intimidation, maybe even assault of the third degree. I don’t know what you learned in Law School, Christopher, but I think you may even serve time for that.”

“Maybe you’ll go to jail, and then you’ll be someone’s bunny.” Harry said.

Christopher attempted to lunge at him again, but Harry’s officer held him in place, and he gave up quickly enough.

“Breaking up with you was my choice, Chris.” I told him, stronger now. “If you don’t think I am able of making my own choices without another man being involved, then that’s on me for taking so long to realize how little regard you have for me.”

He rolled his eyes, scoffed, and gave Harry another dirty look. Then he shoved off Harry’s security officer’s hold on him, and took off towards the elevators.

“Jesus Christ.”

I looked back at Harry, whose face was being held in place by one of his security officers. He gently shrugged the man’s hands off.

“I’m fine.” He said.

“Harry, I am so sorry.” I said, pushing past Joyce towards him. “This is–He is–I mean.” I sighed and groaned at the same time. “I am so sorry.”

His hand gave my arm a gentle squeeze. “This isn’t on you, Mary. At all.”

“Stil, what are we going to do? You have a scratch on your cheekbone, that’s going to swell and get red, it may look like you have a black eye.”

“Relax, I can handle it.”

“That’s not what I mean!”

“Sir, we should probably leave.” His security interrupted. “We can’t be sure who witnessed this, and the longer we stay the clearer your wound will be.”

“That’s what I mean!” I said.

“Okay, I get it.” Harry sighed. “For the record, he barely touched me. It’s not that bad.”

“Her Royal Highness is correct, it’ll get worse, especially the longer you don’t ice it.” His officer added. “If we wait, they’ll have you pictured arriving normally, and leaving with scratches.”

“Scratch, one scrath!” Harry corrected. “Fine. Get Edward and secure a way out.”

Joyce approached me again. “Ma’am, we should go back inside.”

“What? No, I–”

“It’s okay.” Harry said. “It’s okay, Mary. You should go ahead, you don’t want to be associated with this.”

My heart sank with guilt. “I should be. It’s my fault.”

“No, it isn’t–”

“How isn’t this my fault, Harry?! He’s my ex. This whole thing was about me!”

His secretary arrived right then, interrupting his rebuttal.

“We should leave right now.” He said. “While the race is on and fewer reporters will be expecting exits.”

Harry looked at me, longingly.

“Ma’am,” Joyce insisted, “we should join the others.”

I looked at Harry, whose eyes were still on me, feeling my heartbeat heavy in my throat.

His security officer came back.

“We’re ready to leave, sir.” He said. “We’ll take the stairs down.”

Harry continued to look at me in a desperately sad way. Finally, he sighed, a smile on his lips that didn’t reach his eyes.

“I guess I’ll see you around.”

I nodded. “I’m sorry, again.”

He shrugged. “It’s okay. I get it.”

I wondered, briefly, if he thought I was apologizing for something else. Maybe the thing he had just said that was still echoing in my head.

“We should really get going.” His secretary insisted.

“Fine.” Harry said, rispid, before giving me another quick smile. He opened his mouth to say something, seemed to think better of it, and closed it again. “Take care.” He said, before being quickly escorted to the stairs by his team.

Joyce cleared her throat after they were all gone.

“We should go back, ma’am, before you’re missed.”

“Yes, thank you, Joyce. I get it.” I replied, instantly feeling guilty over my tone, but filing out quickly, without looking back.

I had a few certainties for the rest of the afternoon: one, my outfit was, apparently, a statement. I knew this because I overheard two women talking about me in the bathroom when they didn’t know I was in one of the stalls.

Two, Cadie and Auguste, and everyone else, knew nothing about what had occurred with Harry and Christopher. I even asked Joyce if my other security officer, Pierre, had seen anything, but apparently he’d been guarding the doors. And, as Joyce assured me of her silence, I didn’t have any explanations to give to anyone.

And three, I had to talk to him. There was simply no way I could go home without talking to Harry about, well, not about what had happened exactly, but definitely about what he had said. And I knew, even as I spent all the following hours thinking it over, I knew exactly why I shouldn’t talk to him. It was impossible not to know when I had been told over and over before.

And yet, there I was: outside Kensington Palace, barely a couple of hours after he had left Ascot, sitting in the car trying to decide if I should follow my heart, or if I could go back home and live with the regret.

My phone chimed once, letting me know I had a new message. It was from Cadie:

‘Guards have been informed and taken your ID. You can go in.’

I sighed. She and Auguste were in a separate car, and I had another with my two security officers. I had sent Cadie to the gate to inform them I was here and give them my passport.

‘BTW Auguste is really insisting we go home.’

I rolled my eyes to the dark and made my choice. I typed a reply for her:

‘Go home, I’ll be fast, but there’s no need for you to wait.’

I waited for her reply on the edge of my seat, wondering if whatever Auguste had to say would make me change my mind. But the reply never came. We just saw their car take off. Then Joyce and Pierre looked at me.

“Ma’am?” Joyce asked.

“Let’s go in.” I decided.

The guards let us in, and took a look at the car just to confirm we were who they had been told we were. We were then pointed in the direction of Harry’s Cottage.

When we parked in front of the cottage, I realized I wouldn’t need to knock. I felt stupid – of course security would tell him he had a visitor. So I stepped out of the car, and met him in the sidewalk. Each step closer gave me more dread.

The area around his left cheekbone was slightly swollen, and redder. The scratch was red enough that left me no doubts that it was bleeding, even if just a little.

“I’m fine.” He said as a greeting.

I shrugged. “I’m sure you are. I only came for a drink.”

He grinned, nodded, and ushered me inside.

Strangely, it felt like coming home. I walked into his house, his slightly messy house, with the jacket he’d worn today thrown over the couch, dishes still to wash in the sink, and fresh, unfolded laundry on a basket by the stairs, and I felt an immediate sense of relief. Like I could stop being proper and regal. As if now it was safe to step off of my heels and be myself.

It was a dangerous thing to feel at home with a man I wasn’t supposed to love.

“Make yourself at home.” He said, unknowingly rubbing salt to my every wound.

“Okay.” I replied, kicking off my shoes, and leaving them by the door with my handbag. “Why aren’t you icing that?”

He sighed. “It’s just a scratch, Mary.”

I quickly pulled off my hat, and the half-a-dozen bobby pins keeping it in place, and made my way to the kitchen, finding an ice tray in the fridge.

“Seriously, it’s not a big deal. I know it was scary and all, but–”

“Don’t tell me it wasn’t a big deal!” I said, knocking the tray to the sink after washing it. I looked back at him, softly as an apology of sorts for the loud tone. “It was awful. He dragged you into something that has nothing to do with you, put you in a terrible and dangerous position, not to mention being horribly rude and offensive!”

“I can handle it–” He started, but stopped himself when I groaned in response and turned back to the sink to get a handful of ice out of the tray.

“I don’t care that you can handle it. Of course you can! I can, too! That’s not the point!” I said. I found a clean kitchen towel to wrap the ice in.

Harry walked to me, and leaned against the kitchen sink.

“You’re right. It sucked.” He said. “But, can I ask you a qu–God, what–!” He complained when I touched the ice to his face.

“Don’t be such a baby.”

“It hurts!”

“Just keep the ice to it.” I insisted, holding his hand in place. “Or else it’ll stay swollen longer.”

“You’re right. It sucked.” He said. “But, can I ask you a qu–God, what–!” He complained when I touched the ice to his face.

“Don’t be such a baby.”

“It hurts!”

“Just keep the ice to it.” I insisted, taking his hand and holding it over the ice to keep it in place. “Or else it’ll stay swollen longer.”

I held my hand to his jaw, keeping his head in place, adjusting his hand holding the ice to the wound as he winced. I held my hand over his for a moment, then removed both to look at the scratch.

“We should clean it.” I said, my voice coming out softer than I had intended it. “To be safe.”

His eyes were on my lips, which they didn’t leave as he nodded, gulping.

I stepped back and grabbed his first aid kit from where I knew it was, under the sink. As I went through it, looking for gauze and, well, really just doing nothing to give myself time to breathe, he moved closer to me, leaning on his side against the counter by my side, facing me.

“I’m sorry.” I said, looking down at the box. “I’m just really angry right now and I… I don’t don’t know what to do with that, and I know it’s not your fault, of course, but it frustrates me to no end that you’re not.”

“Who says I’m not?!”

I looked at him, finally. He was closer than I had realized.

“You’re too calm to be angry.” I complained.

“I’m calm because you keep apologizing to me.” He said. “And if there’s one person here who I know did not ask for this, it’s you.”

“You didn’t, either–”

“No, I kind of did.” He said, scratching his brow with his free hand, avoiding my eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, even if you disregard the countless times I wished I could punch that guy in the face before today, I did punch him first.”

“After he said a thousand horrible things.” I countered.

“No, I think if I’m honest with myself, I’ve been kind of hoping for the chance to punch him for a long time.” He sighed. “So I wasn’t exactly eager to diffuse the situation today.”

I regarded him, silent, trying to understand what he’d just said.

“Why did–” I started, weakly; confused. “Why would you want to punch him? I mean, you know what? Nevermind.” I shrugged. “You should feel proud you saw him for who he was before I did.”

I wet a piece of gauze in the sink, and pulled him by the arm to the kitchen table, sitting him in a chair facing me.

“As sexy as it is when having you man-handle me like this,” he said, smiling charmingly, “I can tell you’re still mad.”

I touched his hand, removing it from the scratch, and dabbed the gauze over it to clean it. He winced.

“I thought you said it didn’t hurt.” I teased.

“Shut up.” He grinned. “But, please, continue. You were saying I was so smart for seeing him for who he was before anyone else.”

I smiled in spite of myself. “Maybe it’s less about you being so smart, and more about me just being dumb.”

“You’re not dumb.” He said, simply.

I sighed, tapping the scratch with a dry piece of gauze now. “Well, what would you call it?”

He seemed confused. I sighed, tired.

“I’ve known Christopher for most of my life. He was my first crush, my first kiss, my first boyfriend. Hell, my only boyfriend! I was going to marry that guy! You know how serious that kind of decision is for people like us! And I was, for like, the last two years of college up until last year, I thought I was going to marry him!”

The ice was dripping on the table now, so I grabbed his hand, placed it over the gauze, and took the ice to the sink, taking in a deep breath and exhaling it slowly on the way.

“I wasn’t just in love with him, I genuinely liked him. I thought of him as a good, cool person.” I looked back at him, “I don’t know that guy that we saw today, and I don’t believe people can change that dramatically that fast, which means he’s always been a dick, and I just didn’t see. I didn’t see it! So much so that I almost married him. How stupid is that?!”

I bit my lip, feeling my nails scratching my palms in frustration. I took in a deep breath again, and found a bandaid box in the first aid kit. I walked back over to Harry.

“And I didn’t even do anything while he went off on you like that.” I shook my head in disappointment. “I was such a coward.”

He reached out and held my hand in his. “You did nothing wrong.”

I smiled at him. “I thought we established saying that didn’t help.”

“I’ll keep saying it until it does.”

I sighed, still smiling, but still frustrated as Chris’ words swirled around my head. I removed Harry’s hand with the gauze from the scratch, taking a step closer to him so I could see it better from up close. I felt his eyes on me, and a warm puff of air as his breathing grew heavier. I avoided his eyes. It felt safer.

I grabbed the ice from him, a little more forcefully than necessary. Remembering just how absurdly offensive Chris had been, I let out a huff of anger. Harry blinked, patiently.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.” I said, quickly. “It's not worth it.”

“You’re right. But you’re angry.” He insisted. Still, I was quiet. “Okay. Truth or dare?”

I rolled my eyes to the ceiling. “Not now, Harry.”

“Oh, we can refuse to play, can we?”

“…we never discussed that specific rule.”

“Okay, then pick.”

I sighed. “Truth?”

“Talk to me. What are you thinking about?”

I straightened up, allowing my bubbling anger to come to surface.

“Fine! I’m thinking about what would have happened if we hadn’t broken up. I’m thinking that that part of him would have come out eventually, and what would have set him off? Me? Our children? What would he have done? Who would he have hit if you weren’t there? And more importantly,” I heaved a heavy sigh, “how dare he accuse you of all those things?! He doesn’t know you! He doesn’t know us, or our story, and everything that happened between us! He said all of that bullshit based solely on me breaking up with him, and seeing us talking! Nothing else!”

The kitchen was silent as I breathed heavily, still holding the ice to his cheek.

“…I just need to say it.”

I looked down at him, who was staring off into the wall.

“I think I know what you’ll say, but I need to say it, anyway…” He gulped. “It’s not true. What he said. You know that, right?”

He looked up at me, tentatively. I let my hand fall from his face.

“Harry…” I started, weakly. “Of course. Of course, I know. He–Christop–Ugh!” I put–no, threw the ice down at the table, angrily. “How could I have been so blind?!”

I ran both hands through my hair in frustration, pulling it a little. I looked back at Harry, took a deep breath, and let my arms fall to my sides.

“Harry.” I started, softer, pleading, “He was projecting. He was probably trying to save face, because that’s what I accused him of doing when we broke up.”

His brows furrowed up at me. “Really?”

I sighed. “He… I don’t think he did it on purpose. I don’t think it was a big, evil plan, or anything like that… I don’t think he realizes that’s what he did. But he… He didn’t seem to care about me or our relationship until after Louis died. Like the sacrifices he would have had to make weren’t worth it unless I had a title that held actual power.”

His expression grew from confusion, to anger. “Are you literally fucking kidding me?!”

“…no. Again, I don’t think he knew that’s what he was doing… But he didn’t want to marry me until it meant he would have a bigger role within the royal family. And I said that when he proposed.”

“Wait, he proposed?!”

“Oh, man, we really need to catch up.” I joked. “In front of both our parents, and my sister.”

“I think I read something about that in the press, it seemed too ridiculous to be true.”

I smiled, humorless. “Believe me, the real thing was worse.”

“That fucking…” he mumbled. “Dick. That fucking dick.”

“Relax, it’s over.” I shrugged.

“Now I wish I had punched him harder.” He added.

I watched him for a few seconds, biting my lip, before it became too hard to stop myself from breaking into a smile.

“Well, at least you punched him.” I said, taking another step closer, standing between both his legs to ice his cheek again. “I just stood there, like an idiot.” I framed his jaw with my other hand, pulling his face slightly up so I could see the wound better.

Though my eyes were firmly in his cheek, I could feel his on me.

“I should have done more.” He complained, sounding strained. “I should have stopped him before he talked about your brother. That was way over the line.”

I bit my lip, gulping, wishing like hell I could tell him the truth about Louis’ sexuality, and about how confused I was, wondering if Chris knew something about it he had never told me.

But then, I realized. “Louis would have laughed in his face.” I told him, smiling myself. It made him smile, too.

“What do you think he would have said?” Harry asked. “If you told him about what Christopher did today.”

I considered this for a few seconds.

“He would have found the nearest bottle of booze and had us toast to the bullet I dodged.”

I was being sincere, but the minute Harry laughed, I did, too.

“And then would have spent the rest of his life asking for praise for being right about him.”

“Really?” He asked, serious. “I thought he liked him. Your whole family seems to.”

“Chris is just part of our context…” I shrugged. “But after the second time we broke up, Lou never defended him the same way the others did. He always said I deserved better.”

I took the ice from his cheek, and dried it with the clean part of the towel.

“I think it’s better.” I declared. “I think we should go with a band aid and maybe icing it a little more.”

I opened the band aid box, realizing it was all kids’ band aids. I looked at him, inquisitive.

“It’s my nephew’s.” He shrugged, blushing.

“Right.” I nodded, unconvinced, and slightly amused. I took out two, and offered it to him. “Trucks or superheroes?”

“Dealer’s choice.”

I carefully placed a spiderman band aid over his cheekbone, coming closer to make sure none of the glue was touching his scratch.

“A superhero for the hero who defended my honor today.” I teased, making him smile.

Making sure the band aid was secure in place, I caressed his cheek, and then continued to do so a little more than necessary. It was just… It was so easy to look at him like this, standing right over him, his legs around mine, his face in my hands, a perfectly innocent excuse for it all.

I allowed my thumb to travel from his cheekbone to his nose, and then down to the corner of his lips.

“I’d defend your honor anyday.” He added, whispery, his warm breath joining mine.

I didn’t remember being this close to him before, but he certainly felt close now.

“There’s something I’m wondering.” He said, still just as softly, just as carefully.

“Yes?”

“Before… you said…” He gulped, eyes going between mine and my lips, blinking rapidly. “You said he dragged me into something that had nothing to do with me.”

I nodded, slowly, hands still framind his jaw, thumb to his lower lip.

“He shouldn’t have accused you of anything.” I said. “You did nothing wrong. What happened between Christopher and I, it had nothing to do with you.”

He nodded only slightly. His eyes traveled to mine, too close now.

“So it had… nothing to do with me?” He asked. “At all?”

I bit my lower lip, closing my eyes in frustration.

“I…” I sighed. “We had a lot of problems. Problems I had been ignoring for a long time.”

When I looked back at him, he had a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips; it felt nice under my thumb. His skin was warm now, all traces of the icing gone.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” He said.

Feeling way too weak for this, throwing all caution to the wind, I traced his lower lip with my thumb, my eyes following the line attentively.

“I forgot your question.” I whispered, watching as his smile grew, teasingly, into a grin.

I felt him lean forward, closer to me.

“Should I ask again?” He asked, the words falling from his lips as his nose touched mine, delicate.

With one short move, easier than it should have been, I touched my lips to his, softly. Two seconds, then gone. I pulled back, only slightly, opening my eyes to see his closed.

“Does this answer your question?”

He didn’t answer mine; one swift move and his hands pulled me by my waist to him, just as he stood up, crashing my lips into his in a fury. His arms wrapped around my waist, hands splattered on my back, up and down, as if getting to know each centimeter of me they could reach.

My hands slide down his jaw to the back of his beck, tugging at his hair, allowing my walls to come falling down as his body met every inch of mine as he kissed me strong and fast. His hands, wide and firm in my back, rubbed against my sides, but stopped at my hips, questioning.

I pulled back, leaving my forehead on his, a breathless smile on my lips.

Bringing my hands back down, I traced his lapel, finding the first button of his shirt. I undid it, and looked at him, before undoing the next one. And the next.

His lips stretched into a smile and he leaned down, tugging me closer, kissing me again, with renewed energy. His hands slid down my hips, finding my buttcheeks, and with one firm move he lifted me towards him, to sit on top of the table. I wrapped my legs around him.

“By the way,” I added, as his lips found their way to my neck, “I’m falling in love with you, too.”

--- ---- ---

[A/N: Y’all. I know I’ve dropped the ball here. I totally stopped with the previews and have been posting very late on mondays (technically tuesdays I guess), thank you SO MUCH for your patience! Being an adult sucks balls. BUT AT LEAST WE ARE FINALLY HERE! WHAT DO YOU THINK????? PLEASE LET ME KNOW. Also, what do you like? you know, seggs scene wise, full details or fade-to-black? I’m flexible. I love reading them (and writing them) but always feel super self-conscious writing them, so let me know? And thank you for reading, as always! Two last things:

1. Last week I forgot to ask, what do you think of Harry’s poem?? 2. Has anyone noticed anything familiar about Adrien’s storyline in NY, dating a celebrity out of nowhere? Just wondering.

DROP ME A MESSAGE THANKS FOR READING AND FOR BEING YOU AND FOR BEING HERE HAVE A GREAT WEEK!]

#Princeharryff #prince harry fanfic #prince harry fanfiction #princeharryfanfiction #Princeharryfanfic #prince harry #brf #modern royalty au #modern royalty fanfic #fanfiction #OPITCphff #chapters #i have work in 5 hours #LOL #god help me

22 notes · View notes

tw-anchor · 4 years

Text

40. Unusual Halloween

Anchor Stiles Stilinski x Original Character

Episode: 3x16; Illuminated

Word Count: 8,199

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence + gore, sex scene (18+ only!)

Author’s Note: Hey guys, sorry I haven’t updated lately. This has been the busiest--and worst--season of my life, so I haven’t felt up to writing much. Unfortunately, it will probably be a while until I update again because I’m starting my new job full time next week while going to school full time as well. Wish me luck! I hope you enjoy the chapter and please make sure to tell me what you think, reblog, and like!

"So, when did you get there?"

If Olivia had to stare at Agent Rafael McCall for another five minutes, she was gonna punch him in the face. She wouldn't be at fault, either; how could she be responsible for her actions when she just went through something as traumatic as a teenager could go through? A serial killer kidnapped her new friend and they all rescued her, but they were the ones being questioned? Where was the justice in the world?

Yeah, if she did end up punching Scott's dad in the face, she would totally blame it on her stressful night. It wasn't because she couldn't stand the smug son of a bitch; even if he wasn't a dick when they first crossed paths, she still wouldn't be able to tolerate him—especially because of what he was doing to Noah. And now, after he ushered in Olivia, Stiles, Scott, Kira, and Lydia into Noah's office, he was asking repetitive questions about their experience.

Hey, Olivia was all for justice and all that—but what exactly could the FBI do about a bunch of werewolves, a banshee, an anchor, and whatever the hell Kira was? Barrow was after kids with glowing eyes and as far as the up-tops were concerned, no such thing existed. They put Barrow in the Eichen House for a reason.

To put it simply, she was not in the best of moods. Kira was some kind of supernatural creature that could absorb electricity, Stiles and Scott were almost electrocuted to death by Barrow, and Isaac was at the Argents, his tether recovering from what had happened to him, even though she had no idea what that was. She did not want to be at the police station at midnight, squished into a small couch with Stiles, Scott, and Kira—Lydia was the lucky one with the armchair—while the jolly green giant questioned them.

To her left, Stiles responded, "At the same time."

"At the same time as who?"

"At the same time as me," Scott told his father.

"By coincidence?"

"What do you mean coincidence?"

Things were not helped when Stiles decided it was time to be a sarcastic little shit. It was well known that Stiles hated Agent McCall—she had heard many, many rants about his best friend's dad—so everyone knew what he was doing. Answering questions with questions, offering sarcastic quips that answered nothing, and silent smirks were what they've been having to deal with since their questioning started. Olivia loved Stiles Stilinski, she really did, but he was wasting their time, precious time where they could be sleeping. He really lived up to his mischievous name.

"That's what I'm asking you," Agent McCall gestured to Stiles and Scott. "The two of you arrived at the same time. Was that coincidence?"

Scott's face twisted in confusion. "Are you asking me?"

"I think he's asking me," Stiles mused.

"I think he's asking the both of you," Lydia said dryly, as annoyed with the boys' antics as Olivia was.

"Okay," Agent McCall interjected sternly. "Let me answer the questions."

Olivia rolled her eyes at him, completely unimpressed with his sense of professionalism, and glanced at Stiles. His lips were pursed ridiculously, like he was taking a selfie with the terribly cliché duck face; she had to admit, it did make her want to laugh, especially when she caught sight of Noah holding back his own laughter.

Seeing the amused faces staring back at him, Agent McCall realized his mistake. "Let me ask the questions," he corrected himself. "Just so I have this absolutely clear: Barrow was hiding in the chemistry closet at the school. Someone left him a coded message on the blackboard telling him to kill Kira. Then Barrow took Kira to a power substation and tied her up with the intent of electrocuting her, which blacked out the entire town."

He closed his notebook, where he had been writing down the information they gave him, with a final snap.

"Sounds about right," Stiles sighed; with his right hand, he idly played with the ends of Olivia's ponytail.

"How'd you know he'd take her to a power station?"

"Well, cause he was an electrical engineer," Stiles scratched his temple with his free hand. He shifted his other away from Olivia until it was folding over his stomach. "Where else would he take her?"

There were a billion other places that Barrow had taken Kira, but they couldn't exactly tell Agent McCall that they knew they were at a power station because of Lydia's newfound banshee abilities. Then they'd be shipped to Eichen.

Agent McCall raised a dubious eyebrow at him. "That's one hell of a deduction there, Stiles."

"Yeah, what can I say? I take after my pops, he's in law enforcement," Stiles swiftly smirked, winking at his dad from where he sat behind McCall.

Noah audibly snorted, amused by his son's answer, but covered it with an awkward cough when McCall gave him a glare. "Stiles, just answer the man."

"We made a good guess," Stiles said finally, wrapping his arm back around Olivia's shoulders. She closed her tired eyes and rested her head in the crook of his neck, inhaling and relaxing at the scent that was pure him. Stiles always smelt so good, like sandalwood and musk and minty gum.

Agent McCall set his sights on Scott and Kira. "What were the two of you doing?"

"Eating pizza," Scott answered at the same time as Kira spoke, "Eating sushi."

Olivia rolled her eyes but didn't bother opening them; couldn't they have gotten their story straight before McCall started questioning them?

Scott and Kira glanced at each other awkwardly and cleared their throats.

"Eating sushi."

"Eating pizza."

Jesus Christ.

"Eating sushi and pizza," they finally said together.

Olivia opened her eyes just as McCall looked back at Noah in disbelief. "Do you believe this?"

"To be honest, I haven't believed a word Stiles has said since he learned how to speak," Noah spoke candidly, ignoring the offended gasp Stiles gave in response. "But I think these kids found themselves in the right place at the right time and that girl sitting there is very lucky for it."

"Kira," all heads turned to her when Agent McCall addressed her. "is that how you remember it?"

At once, Stiles, Olivia, and Lydia leaned forward to stare at Kira, giving her their own keep-your-mouth-shut looks. Kira only hesitated for a second before she answered him. "Yes...Could I get my phone back now?"

The police hadn't taken the rest of their phones, but apparently Barrow had started videoing Kira while in the power station. It was officially evidence. Which meant...

"Sorry, but no," McCall refused her as he stood from his seat on Noah's desk. "All right, I think that's it for now. If I have anymore questions, I'll get in touch with you. Kira, a deputy is going to take you home but we'll need you to fill out some paperwork first."

Olivia sighed in relief once they were ushered out of Noah's office. Sticking close to Stiles and Lydia and as they exited the police station, she pulled out her phone. She needed to call Isaac and see if he was okay. Because while Scott and Stiles were in danger with Barrow, Isaac had some other trouble that he had gone into.

There was no electricity pulsing through Beacon Hills unless it came from a generator. Despite this, the students of Beacon Hills High still had to attend their regular classes. Though the sun provided some light in the dark hallways and classrooms, everyone was still bathed in shadows and had to resort to their phones for flashlights if it was too dark for them.

Thankfully, Olivia's house had a generator that ran long enough for the food in their refrigerator to stay fresh and their phones to stay charged. She didn't want to be one of those people, but she would be seriously lost without her phone.

"Class starts in five minutes," Coach boomed through his trusty megaphone as he walked past Stiles' locker where he and Olivia stood before classes started. "Just because there's no power don't expect there to be no school."

Olivia looked up from her phone to narrow her eyes at him, knowing that something was off with that sentence.

"That was a triple negative," Stiles called out as he dug through his locker. "Very impressive, Coach."

"Copy that!"

Olivia snickered and shifted so she was leaning on her side at the lockers next to Stiles'. "Your relationship with Coach is so intriguing."

Stiles chuckled at her, smirking. "What, like how madly in love we are?"

"Exactly," Olivia laughed while pointing a manicured finger at him. "So, am I considered the side chick, or...?"

"Actually, you are," Stiles nodded seriously. "By the way, on a completely unrelated note, I have to cancel tonight's plans. I'm busy..."

"You're gonna Netflix and Chill with Coach? Damn..."

Stiles' amused face immediately creased into one of disgust. "Okay, gross. We took it too far."

Olivia laughed, her heart racing when Stiles gave into his amusement and chuckled along with her.

"Speaking of tonight," Olivia said when their laughter died down. "I'm kinda, sorta, throwing a party?"

Stiles blinked at her in shock. "You hate parties."

"But I don't hate Danny and every year he throws a Halloween party," she explained. "Jackson's not here to help him out and now with the power out, he doesn't have a place, so Lydia and I offered our house because we have the generators."

"At least I'll finally be invited to one of Danny's parties," Stiles paused and looked down at her with wide eyes. "I am invited, right?" when Olivia teasingly grimaced; Stiles' jaw dropped in offense. "Livvy!"

"Of course you're invited, sweetcheeks," Olivia rolled her eyes at him and shifted closer to him in order to wrap her hands around his right arm. "I was just teasing you."

"I have a fragile heart, you can't tease me about that kind of stuff," Stiles ducked down so he could whisper in her ear, his lips grazing against her skin. Olivia shivered and tightened her grip on him. "You know, unless we're alone, hopefully in a bed, though I wouldn't be against a shower or the back of Roscoe..."

Olivia held back her gasp but biting her lip. "But your fragile heart...?"

Stiles chuckled and quickly pressed his warms lips against the sensitive spot behind her ear. "You caught me. My heart's fine, it just beats really fast in your presence so I thought I might have a heart condition."

"You're so fucking cheesy, Stiles Stilinski," she giggled and lightly pushed him away from her. In the process, Stiles' backpack brushed against his locker, making his keys fall to the floor. "Oops, sorry."

"It's fine—and you love my cheesiness, by the way," Stiles winked at her and then bent to retrieve his key ring. He paused when he noticed a key that he didn't recognize. "Hello, where did you come from?"

"What, the key?" Stiles nodded at her; Olivia shrugged. "Maybe your dad put it on there. Oh, there's Scott."

Stiles, who was about to disagree with her about the key, turned around to see his best friend stepping into school. He waved at him, but Scott's focus was not on Stiles or Olivia. No, Scott was staring at Kira, who was at her locker down the hall. Before Scott could even take another step in her direction, Stiles quickly intervened.

"No, no, stop, stop," he directed Scott over to Olivia by his locker.

Scott gave him a disgruntled look. "What? I need to talk to her."

"No, you need to remember someone left a coded message telling Barrow to kill her," Stiles corrected him.

Olivia sighed. To be honest, she was with Scott on this one. Kira had a serial bomber go after her and try to kill her, and though she was mysteriously able to survive an astounding electric blast, Kira was a sweet girl and they needed to check up on her. It was out of the norm for her, she was fully aware, but since Kira was like them—at least, she was supernatural—maybe she needed friends, or a pack, to help her along. Olivia and Scott were willing to extend that olive branch.

"That's why he needs to talk to her, Stiles."

Stiles gave her a betrayed look. "Don't take his side!" he looked at her and Scott sternly. "Guys, until we figure out if she's just another psychotic monster that's going to start murdering everybody, I vote against any and all interaction."

"Stiles, she uses an elephant backpack, for crying out loud," Olivia rolled her eyes. "Does that seem psychotic to you?"

Stiles cocked his head, seriously considering her question. Before he could answer, Scott spoke, "What if she's like me?"

Scott's comment seemed to make up Stiles' mind. "That girl walked through 1.21 gigawatts of electricity," he pointed out, annoyed, and slammed his locker shut. "She's not like you."

Olivia turned her head toward Kira's locker. Kira seemed nervous, as though she could feel their eyes on her, as she rummaged through her locker. Quickly, she grabbed a textbook, shut her locker, and walked away, glancing back at them only once.

"Maybe Stiles is right," Olivia gave in, looking over at Scott. "Werewolves can't take that level of electricity. So...until we find out what Kira is, maybe you need to give her some space."

Stiles gave her a proud look while Scott sighed and shook his head. "Fine," he finally agreed. "Let's go to class."

Together, they walked to physics class. Today was the first day that Olivia's aunt, Natalie, would be taking over Mr. Harris' classes. Olivia was very proud of her aunt and excited to be able to learn from her, as she usually didn't have time to sit down and discuss the sciences with her whilst at her previous job at the local television station. No longer would they have subpar substitute teachers trying to teach them about higher levels of science—if Olivia was going to be challenged for the rest of the year, she needed a real science guy and Natalie more than fit the bill.

"Scott, Stiles," Natalie greeted the boys when they passed her to find their shared table. "Olivia, sweetheart, can we talk?"

"Sure, Aunt Nat," Olivia stepped aside to allow her classmates to walk into the room. "What's up? Are you nervous for your first class? Because you don't have to be. You're gonna be amazing."

Natalie smiled gratefully. "Well, thank you, Liv, but that's not what I wanted to talk about. I know we discussed the party at the house tonight, but Sherry's house doesn't have power, so I was hoping we could have book club at our house. We're the only ones with working generators..."

Olivia smiled to hide her disappointment. "Don't worry about it, Aunt Nat. I'm sure book club will be fun. I have to go talk to Danny, though..."

"Of course," Natalie nodded. "I have to pass out these worksheets anyway."

Olivia gave her aunt one last smile before scurrying over to the lab table where Danny was seated. Usually she and Lydia were lab partners and Danny shared with Aiden, but they could handle a switch for one day. She clambered onto the lab stool next to Danny, and gave Lydia, who was seated at the table in front of them, a significant look. Lydia could read her easily and since she knew about the party plans, she was able to realize that something was going on.

"You're my lab partner today, huh?" Danny gave Olivia a confused look.

"It's because I have bad news. We can't use my house tonight, my aunt's having book club."

Danny visibly deflated. "So we have no venue?"

"Do we know of another place that's big enough for a party and has generators?" Olivia mused. The only other place that she, personally, could think of was Derek's loft. Derek would never go for it, would he? "Wait a second..."

Every Halloween, since Derek was around fourteen, his mom, Talia, would take him and Laura to a showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. It was very shocking that Derek enjoyed such an event, but he never failed to go each year, even after Talia died. Olivia had been with to the show with her cousins once, and though she liked the movie, she didn't much enjoy being surrounded by strangers who sang louder than the actors or threw stuff at the screen.

Yes, she was entirely aware that she was a party-pooper, thank you very much. The point was that Derek wouldn't be at the loft, as the nearest showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show was an hour away. He'd be gone all night and would be none the wiser of a party.

Danny perked up, seeing the scheming look on her face. "You have a plan, don't you?"

"I know a place where we can have your party."

She pulled out her phone to text Derek.

Ollie: Are you still going to Rocky Horror?

Derek: Yeah, why?

Ollie: Jw. Have fun and be safe!

When Stiles thought about how his Halloween was supposed to go, he certainly hadn't thought of today's events. He'd been expecting a scary movie marathon with Olivia by his side, allowing him to hide his head in her neck at the scary parts. He'd been expecting them to hand out candy to trick-or-treaters that stumbled upon the Sheriff's house because the Stilinski's always gave out the best candy in their neighborhood.

He wasn't, however, expecting a rave at Derek's loft—that Olivia helped plan, by the way—or helping Scott and Kira break into the police station.

When Scott had approached Stiles, asking for help get into the police station, he had immediately said no. Agent Jackass McCall was already trying to get his dad impeached, and there was no way he was taking part in any plot that could get Noah into even more trouble. Unfortunately, he felt obligated to change his tune when Scott told him exactly why he and Kira needed to break into Agent McCall's office.

Apparently Kira had already known that something was off with her before the Barrow incident. She had taken a picture of herself and found a sort of aura around her, one that definitely couldn't be explained if you didn't know about the supernatural happenings in the world. Now that McCall had Kira's phone, he had access to that picture and they absolutely could not let him know about the supernatural side to Beacon Hills, let alone his son's current nature.

So, instead of helping Olivia, Danny, and the twins set up the rave at Derek's loft, he was stuck playing sidekick. Fun. Yeah, it was totally what he wanted to do on Halloween.

Bitterly, he chewed up the rest of the Snickers bar he had been snacking on and threw the wrapper away in the small bin he kept in the backseat of his jeep. When he turned back, facing the front, he saw Scott and Kira pull up on Scott's bike.

All right, here we go.

It wasn't that Stiles didn't like Kira—honestly, he didn't know enough about her to like or dislike her—but he certainly didn't trust her. After everything they went through since Scott was bitten by Peter, how was he supposed to trust anyone new? Especially when she happened to be immune to electricity and instantly took a shining to Scott.

Stiles grabbed the station keycards that he had sneakily copied from Noah and handed them to Scott one by one. "Okay, this one will get you into all of the perimeter doors," he passed another one. "this one into the evidence room, and this one's for my father's office."

Scott looked at him, alarmed. "You didn't steal these, did you?"

"No, I cloned them using the RFID emulator."

It was clear that Scott nor Kira had no idea what he was talking about. "Is that worse than stealing?"

Stiles rolled his eyes; the two of them had done a lot worse than stealing before. "It's smarter."

Scott nodded, his lips quirking up, impressed by Stiles' actions but he was quickly pulled away by Kira. "Scott, can I ask you something?"

Stiles narrowed his eyes at her. That wasn't suspicious at all. "Okay, I'll just...wait here..."

Luckily, Kira and Scott's conversation was brief. They joined him back at the jeep, Kira smiling widely up at him. "Okay."

"Okay," Stiles mimicked her, raising his eyebrows as he glanced between her and Scott. "So, now almost everybody's out dealing with the blackout, but there's always somebody at the front desk, dispatch and usually a night shifter or two," he pointed at the only door in the alley where he and Scott parked. "You guys are gonna use the service door entrance by the dumpster, all right? Nobody uses it."

Scott and Kira glanced at the service door and nodded obediently.

"Now, I'll text you if anyone comes out," Stiles continued. "But, Scott, if you get caught, I can't help you. My dad's under investigation for an impeachment because of your dad, so if anything happens, I will run and leave you both for dead."

Kira blinked and smiled nervously at him while Scott nodded, knowing how serious he was. "I got it. Seriously, dude, thanks."

Stiles pressed his lips together and nodded. "I'd ask my dad, but you know..."

"No, I know," Scott assured him earnestly. "I get it."

"All right, just, uh, hurry up," Stiles waved them off. "Be careful."

Scott and Kira scurried off and once they were inside, Stiles let a big sigh of relief. Hopefully they'd have no trouble and get in and out after deleting the pictures on Kira's phone. However, a part of him knew that it wouldn't be that simple. When were they ever given the easy way out? The answer was that they didn't; they had notoriously bad luck.

Stiles waited silently, impatiently fiddling with his key ring. He tossed them round and round his index finger until he caught sight of the key he had noticed earlier at school. He didn't know what it was for and he knew the purpose for all of his keys. He had his house keys, his jeep keys, his dad's car keys, Scott's house keys, and even Olivia's house keys...but this key? Well, he had never seen it before and it was bugging him out. How could he not remember putting a new key on his key ring? How else would it have gotten there?

Bright headlights seared his eyes for a moment as a vehicle pulled into the alleyway behind the station. He didn't know who it was that had parked there until the headlights went off and the man got out of his car; Stiles would recognize that tall, lanky figure anywhere.

Fucking asshole, he cursed to himself as McCall rounded the front of his car. Fuck, Scott, where are you? Come on. Oh, fuck it. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Despite telling Scott upfront that he would leave him and Kira, he couldn't do it.

"Fuck," he opened his door and jumped out as McCall entered the station. "I'm go going to regret this."

He quickly ran around the building, entering only a few seconds after Agent McCall flashed his badge to the deputy at the front desk.

"Hey, hey!" he called, waving to the workers at the desk before catching up to McCall. "Wow!" he exclaimed when the agent turned to face him, confused. "Thank God you are here. Oh, boy! Thank the lord!"

As always, Agent McCall was not impressed with his antics. "What do you want, Stiles?"

Shit, now he had to come up with something to talk about. "I was...I was just...I was thinking on the case," he blurted out nervously, his absentminded thoughts taking over for him. "I was thinking I should clue you in on my thinking. Here's my thinking, I was thinking this..."

He grimaced at the annoyed glare McCall was giving him. "I was thinking that Barrow, right...I was thinking that Barrow received the information about who to kill at the school, right, you know that?" he was fully aware he was rambling but the more his brain worked, the better he felt about this excuse of a conversation. "So, I was thinking that maybe the person who gave him that information—check this out—might actually be someone at the school."

Agent McCall raised his eyebrows and Stiles laughed awkwardly, poking his chest. "And that's, uh, my thinking."

McCall hummed for a moment, eyeing him suspiciously Stiles honestly thought that he was caught and he had just given him the very reason to fire Noah, but then the older man spoke. "You're right."

"I am?!"

"Yeah, we, uh...we started looking for links between Barrow, faculty, and students last night," McCall informed him.

"So you already, then, know that stuff?" McCall nodded at Stiles' question. "You already thought of that."

"Your dad did," McCall shared, his mouth twisting into a disapproving smirk. "His one useful suggestion."

A storm cloud of rage bubbled in Stiles' gut as McCall went to enter the bullpen. He was so fucking sick of this man coming around and ruining everyone's lives just because his sucked so bad. McCall made his bed and instead of laying in it, he was destroying everyone else's.

Without thinking, Stiles firmly grabbed McCall's arm, stopping him from entering the bullpen. "You know, this attitude that you have toward my dad? You can dress it up to all the professional disapproval that you want, but I know the real reason you don't like him."

McCall chuckled sarcastically, sending Stiles deeper into his silent fury. "Is that so?"

"Yeah," his voice lowered threateningly, his nostrils flaring angrily. "because he knows something that you don't want him to know. And guess what?" his whisper took on a sing-song tune before quickly diving into a hard whisper. "I know it too."

McCall swallowed uncomfortably and a thrill went through Stiles as he congratulated himself on being able to intimidate an FBI agent who was trying to fuck up his dad's life. "Go home, Stiles. There's a curfew."

Stiles smirked as McCall pulled himself from his grasp and stepped around him, clearing his throat awkwardly as he entered the bullpen. Without another word, he left the police station, riding the high that the whole interaction had caused him.

He waited only a few minutes by his jeep until Scott and Kira ran out of the building, huge smiles on their faces.

"We did it," Scott told him enthusiastically. "All the pics are deleted."

"That was awesome!" Kira crowed, bouncing in place. "I mean, terrifying, completely terrifying...but kind of awesome! I've never done anything like that before. Have you guys?"

Stiles snorted and shared an amused look with Scott. "Yeah, once or twice."

Scott grinned back at him and then sighed, looking to Kira. "I guess I should take you home."

It was very clear to Stiles that Scott didn't want to stop hanging out with Kira. They were obviously having a good time and, really, what trouble could they get up to at a party? Olivia liked Kira, too—as much as he could like someone that she hadn't really hung out with—so it wasn't like Kira would be unwanted at the rave.

"Hey," he patted Scott's shoulder pointedly. "Don't forget, Livvy's throwing that party at Derek's loft."

"Oh, yeah," Scott perked up and glanced back at Kira. "You wanna go?"

Kira smiled shyly—that was all the answer the boys needed.

Olivia was only a little tipsy.

She was being responsible tonight—well, as responsible as one could get while throwing a party at your cousins loft while they're out of town—and not drinking as much as Danny. He needed to have fun and relax a bit, and while Olivia wanted to have fun too, she didn't need alcohol to do so.

The only reason she was drinking at all was because Lydia had begged her to take a couple of shots with her and it seemed socially unacceptable to not drink a beer at your own party.

So, yeah, she was feeling a little bit buzzed but not enough to feel it in the morning. She knew her limits and she wasn't the type of person to go over them.

All around her, people were dancing, drinking, and having fun with neon paint dripped all over their bodies. The black lights that she, Danny, Ethan, and Aiden put up around the loft made everyone glow in the dark and with the pumping of the loud music that the awesome deejay that Danny hired played, it was enough to make anyone excited. She didn't even like most parties and she was having a great time. Besides, after what Beacon Hills went through with stupid Jennifer and the million human sacrifices, they needed a time to let loose.

So, even though she normally couldn't stand Aiden—or Lydia spending time with him, for that matter—she couldn't help but smirk when she saw him and Lydia dancing up on each other. No doubt Lydia was trying to keep her mind off of Scott and his newfound crush on Kira by focusing on the former alpha. It wasn't the best way to deal, but who was Olivia to tell Lydia how to live her life? Lydia was completely capable of taking care of herself.

"I cannot believe that Olivia Martin threw a party," her attention was caught by Allison as she and Isaac walked over to her. "at her cousin's loft, no less."

Isaac laughed and added, "I'm guessing Derek can never know about this?"

"Maybe in a couple of years," Olivia quickly wrapped her arms around them in a short group hug. "How are you doing, Isaac? You never got back to me."

She didn't like the way that Isaac and Allison immediately shared a loaded look with one another, as if debating on how to answer her question. She wasn't dumb, she knew they were hiding something. Why, she didn't know.

Isaac knew that she wouldn't give up and though he knew he owed her some sort of explanation, he had promised Allison and her dad to keep his mouth shut for twenty-four hours. "Enjoy the party, Liv. I'll tell you after."

"Promise, both of you?" Olivia gave the two of them a serious look.

Allison grinned while Isaac nodded, both of them speaking together. "Promise."

"All right, fine. Why don't you guys get something to drink?" Olivia glanced around the group of dancing bodies before pointing out where the bartender was set up. "Oh, and get painted up, too."

"Yes, ma'am," Isaac hooked Allison's fingers with his and pulled her away, pointedly ignoring the amused look their friend sent their way.

Olivia shook her head, eyes following Isaac and Allison as they slipped into the crowd. She should have known something was going on there, but she guessed she had been a little preoccupied with everything else going on in their lives. Still...Allison and Isaac? Yeah, she could see it. Allison was badass and strong and she was the firm ground of support that Isaac needed and Isaac was light and funny and could definitely get Allison to let loose. They complimented each other, they were cute.

They didn't need her approval whatsoever, but they had it anyway.

Out of nowhere, a sharp pulse came from Derek's tether before fading away. Olivia paused, her hand on her chest, and focused in on him. He was fine now, but it was odd, they way he lit up and went dark so soon after. Right now, it didn't concern her. Maybe he almost missed a red light or something...

Thoughts about Derek slipped away as she spotted the loft door opening. She recognized the neon-striped t-shirt that Stiles had worn to school earlier that day, and was instantly on her way toward him. She was tipsy, she wanted to have fun, and her hot-ass boyfriend had just entered the premises. There was no way she was just going to stand there and wait for him to come to her.

She made her way through the jungle of her drunk classmates, her eyes never leaving Stiles. As she got closer, she heard Scott—who was with Kira—asking him about leaving so they could figure something out. Before Stiles could respond, she was grabbing his arm, turning him and standing on her tiptoes so she could kiss him on the cheek.

"Happy Halloween, sweetcheeks," she purred into his ear, giving him a seductive look before letting him go.

"It can wait, it can wait!" Stiles shouted at Scott over the music. As Olivia began to slip away, he grabbed her hand so she would take him with her. "See ya!"

Olivia smirked knowingly when Stiles tightened his grip on her hand and abruptly pulled, swiftly turning her to face him. "Look at you, baby."

She was fully aware of what her outfit would do to him. Other than the fact she thought she was hot, she knew that her short, flowy shorts, and neon orange bralette would turn him on. And the body paint brushed all over her, well, that was just a bonus. "You like?"

"I love it. You're so fucking hot," he pulled her closer to him, their fronts pressed together; Olivia instantly grabbed his biceps, not fighting when he smashed their lips together.

It had been about a month since Olivia and Stiles had sex because of their busy lives. Of course, they did other things when they were in the mood but they never had time to go all the way again. Both of them were feeling the strain; they were crazy in love and so terribly attracted to one another, so of course, hormones were always pulsing through them. That night, they reached a pinnacle of tension that they couldn't ignore.

Within minutes, Olivia and Stiles found themselves upstairs in the bedroom Olivia used when she stayed over at Derek's loft. The both of them completely ignored the full-sized mattress in favor of the back of the door that Stiles pressed her up against, the wood soothingly cool against her back.

Stiles' hair was a mess under Olivia's fingers as she lost herself in his mouth, tongues wrestling together in a fight that neither of them wanted to lose—or win, for that matter. Stiles' palms were hot against her thighs, pushing her up until her legs wrapped around his waist, and when they moved tantalizingly slow to her ass and squeezed her cheeks, she gasped and arched her chest against him.

"Shit, Stiles!"

"Mmhm," Stiles moaned against her lips as her movement pressed deliciously against his cock. Slowly, he kissed away from her mouth and down her jaw to her neck, sucking harshly against the smooth and silky skin he found there. He loved the way she reacted to him, pushing herself against him again as she groaned under his demonstrations. "Livvy."

An indescribable warmth curled in Olivia's belly as she and Stiles rubbed up against one another. Letting go of his hair, she moved one hand down the length of Stiles' body to the band of his jeans. She easily popped the button and took a second to play with the wiry hair of his happy trail, knowing that it would lead her right to paradise.

"Mm...want you, baby," Stiles abruptly pulled away from her neck to stare at her with blown eyes. "Can I have you?"

Olivia didn't need to think about it. She wanted him just as much as he wanted her. "'Course, babe."

A wickedly sexy grin split Stiles' lips and Olivia's head nearly hit the door with how forcefully he kissed her. She was so caught up in their kiss that she didn't notice Stiles using one hand to pull her bralette down, freeing her breasts; it wasn't until he pulled away from the kiss and wrapped his lips about her right nipple when she realized. She moaned loudly, the pitch arcing higher when Stiles pushed his left thigh between hers to take some of her weight so she could grind down on him.

"Fuck, Stiles."

Stiles playfully bit at her nipple in response, prompting a pleasured sigh that turned more intense when he sucked at her. Shit, he felt so fucking good.

"Please..."

Stiles pulled away from her breast, licking his lips, and smirked up at her. "Please what, baby?"

Olivia's chest heaved as she breathed, "Please fuck me."

In a rapid succession of movements, broken up by awkward giggles, loving kisses, and whispered promises under their breath, Stiles and Olivia stripped from the rest of their clothes. The heat turned back on once Olivia's panties were officially out of the way and Stiles took it to his advantage, playing with her clit with the pad of his thumb.

Olivia moaned and ducked her head into his neck, her mouth finding traction between his neck and collarbone.

"Ready?"

"Mmhm."

Both of them moaned together as Stiles slipped into her with one single thrust. Quick to find a rhythm, they moved their hips together, taking pleasure from one another that was freely given.

"So fucking good, baby," Stiles groaned into her collarbone, gently nipping the skin there. By now, some of the neon paint on Olivia's body was starting to rub off on him and boy, did he not mind. They were like some kind of sexy painting together, they could totally be in a museum. "Love you."

"I love you," Olivia returned, arching back when he hit a particularly good spot inside of her.

She gasped when he licked from her collarbone all the way up to her chin before uniting their lips. Pressing her up against the door so most of her weight was resting on it, Stiles moved one hand to hold her jaw, keeping her lips on his, and the other to her clit, rubbing it firmly.

"S-Stiles..."

"You gonna come for me, baby? Huh?" he dragged his lips over to her ear, whispering to her with hot and heavy breaths. "C'mon, baby. Come with me."

The coil of pleasure that had been starting to build since she first kissed Stiles that night was wound too tight. Even though it felt so, so good to stay on the edge while Stiles thrust in and out of her and played with her clit, heading over the precipice would be even better. That's just how orgasms with Stiles went: pleasure, pleasure, and more pleasure.

Moving her right hand from where it was attached to the firm muscles in Stiles' back, she grabbed the back of his head and pulled her back to her lips. Their moans harmonized together as they reached their peaks, coming within just seconds of each other with sharp sighs.

Ten minutes later, after waiting out their aftershocks and post-orgasm bliss, they cleaned themselves up, shared a few more kisses, and went back downstairs where the party was still going strong.

Reminiscent of their first dance together, Stiles pulled Olivia onto the dance floor. They made fools of themselves as they danced crazily together, pulling out silly dance moves from the blue. The goofy grins on their faces told outsiders how madly in love they were and the warmth inside their chests proved it to themselves—not that they had any doubt, either way.

Before long, Stiles mentioned how thirsty he was, so they scored a couple of beers off the bartender and went to sit down.

"Let me see your bottle opener," Olivia held her palm out to Stiles expectantly, knowing that he kept one on his key ring.

"Oop," Stiles rummaged through his jean pocket and pulled the key ring out, handing it over to her. "Here ya go."

"Thanks," she detached the caps from their bottles and paused, her eyes lingering on his keys when she went to give them back to him. "You know, your key has phosphors on it."

Stiles furrowed his eyebrows. "Phosphors? What the hell is that?"

Olivia rolled her eyes and smiled patiently at him. "It's any substance that luminesces," she told him. "It's in your teeth and your fingernails, laundry detergent, this paint," she brushed her thumb against his lips, where some of the leftover lipstick she had one glowed against his flesh. "this..."

Stiles cut her off, urgently smashing his mouth to hers. Her stomach flipped pleasantly as she kissed back. After a few seconds they pulled away, both of them inhaling deeply.

"It reacts to the UV light," she finished, breathing heavily. "that's why it glows."

"How would I get phosphors on my key?"

"Probably lots of ways," Olivia shrugged carelessly. "You could have touched them after chemistry class, or after you washed your clothes..." she trailed off when she saw the frown playing at his lips. "Stiles, are you okay?"

Stiles forced a smile. "Yeah, yeah...um...I'm sorry, I just thought of something and I really have to go."

"What?" Olivia was understandably confused. "Stiles, what are you talking about?"

"I want to stay, I really do, cause I love you and you're so fucking beautiful," Stiles rambled quickly, standing up and setting his beer bottle down on the floor. "but I need to go see something, so you stay here, okay. I love you. Drink a bottle of water, okay?"

"Stiles, wait—"

"Love you, be careful!" he called, slipping away before she could stand and go after him.

"Stiles!"

Olivia wanted to follow him, she really did. She knew something was bothering him and she wanted to know what it was so she could help him. But before she could chase after him, Lydia's tether flared brightly and disappeared just like Derek's had before. Just like Isaac's had the night before, which could not be a coincidence.

Worriedly, she dived into Lydia's tether and looked for her. In a daze, she started walking, not even noticing when Danny had started to follow her, worriedly calling out her name.

"Liv, what are you doing? Olivia!"

Lydia, Lydia, Lydia...

She opened the door that led to Derek's balcony and paused when she saw her cousin laying still on the ground, her fingers seizing lightly. "Lydia!" she rushed to her and knelt down, finally noticing Danny. "Go get Aiden, hurry!"

"I'm so sorry, Lyds," she murmured, using all her strength to pull Lydia into her lap. She wrapped her arms tightly around the shivering red head and dug her head into her neck. "It's gonna be okay. You're gonna be fine."

What the hell happened to Lydia? What had attacked her and left her freezing on the balcony, unable to move or call for help? Whatever it was, was this the thing that got Derek and Isaac?

It was only a minute before Aiden and Danny rushed back out to her and Lydia.

"What happened?" Aiden asked as he knelt down next to the girls.

"I have no idea, but she's freezing," Olivia's eyes stung, feeling helpless, as she helped transfer Lydia to Aiden's warm arms. "I think she's hypothermic. We gotta get her inside."

Aiden nodded seriously and got to his feet, lifting Lydia with ease. "Let's go."

"Over here," Danny pointed to the nearest wall as they passed him to go back into the loft. "there's a heating vent!"

"Thank you, Danny," Olivia placed a grateful hand on his shoulder before following Aiden.

The former alpha set Lydia down in front of the heat register—thankfully the building used propane for heat, so the lack of electricity didn't affect it—and held her tightly, rocking her back in forth in order to get some heat back inside of Lydia. Olivia immediately started rubbing Lydia's bare legs, hoping that friction could offer some heat too.

"I'll try to find a blanket," Danny volunteered.

"Upstairs, the first door to the right," Olivia told him; he nodded and took off into the crowd. "Lydia," she called loudly so her cousin could hear her over the music. "Lyds, what happened? Can you tell me what happened?"

Lydia stared at her, wide-eyed, and gasped, "They came out of the dark."

"Who?" Aiden asked. "Who came out of the dark?"

"Lyds?"

"They—they looked like n-ninjas," Lydia stammered, her teeth chattering. "I—I couldn't scream, it took my scream."

Olivia and Aiden shared a dreadful look, both of them thinking the same thing. Shit.

Then, Olivia heard it, the ferocious growl that filled up her whole mental map. Derek's tether lit up brilliantly as he called out for her and Scott. It was then that she realized that she had horribly screwed up, ignoring his tether earlier. She could have done something if she just took her warnings of Derek and Isaac's injuries seriously. She was a horrible person.

"Derek!"

Aiden looked at her sharply. "This happened to Derek too?"

"I think so."

Danny quickly came back with a blanket and draped it over Lydia's shoulders. Though the redhead was still kind of out of it, she was slowly warming back up to the point where Olivia felt a little better about her health. Just as she was about to suggest they move Lydia to her room, the music was abruptly cut off.

"GET OUT!"

Yeah, that was definitely Derek. Olivia was so fucking screwed.

At once, the crowd started running for the door. Olivia helped Aiden get Lydia to her feet and let Danny take some of her weight. "Can you take her home please? I'll deal with this."

Danny nodded, giving a very angry Derek a wary look. "Yeah, okay." And with that, he towed Lydia out of the loft, leaving only Olivia, Derek, Aiden, Ethan, Scott, Allison, Isaac, and Kira.

Well, there were the dark shadows that appeared out of nowhere, too. Just like Lydia had described them, they looked like ninja assassins, with silver masks and glowing yellow eyes draped in black robes.

In unison, the robed ninjas took a step toward Aiden and Olivia, their glowing eyes glaring at them.

"Guys," Aiden called to the rest of the pack, reaching for Olivia to move her behind him. "Guys, they're looking at us. Why are they all looking at us, guys?"

"Ollie, go!"

Olivia didn't hesitate, taking Derek's warning. She ran away from where Aiden stood toward Isaac, Allison, and Ethan, who was leaning heavily against them. At the same time, Derek and Scott attacked, turning as they went to fight the dark ninjas.

Olivia focused on Derek, watching with a grimace as she realized that the ninjas were much better than him and Scott at combat. Sure, Derek had experience and strength, but these guys that came from the shadows seemed unbeatable. At one point, Derek had even snapped one's neck, only for it to pop back in place.

Derek was not doing well in his fight, his tether pulsing brightly, and neither was Scott. Once they were both on the floor, tapped out, Isaac stepped in, sharpening his nails into claws as Olivia took the rest of Ethan's weight to help Allison.

Isaac growled at one of the ninjas but the being did not look at all intimidated. In fact, he pulled a long, sharp sword from the middle of his chest and held it out toward Isaac, swinging it around threateningly. Smartly, Isaac stepped back—protecting Aiden, of all people, was not worth the sword to his stomach.

The ninja turned away from Isaac, facing Aiden like the others.

"Someone do something!" Allison called out, looking between Scott and Derek.

It was too late. Two ninjas grabbed Aiden's arms and held him still while a third stood in front of him. He looked into the former alpha's eyes and cocked his head, reaching up to grab a hold of his ear. A rattling noise came from its chest as it used one strict flick to make a mark behind Aiden's ear; Aiden immediately collapsed onto the floor, looking much like Lydia had when Olivia had found her.

Another step and all the ninjas were looking at her.

"Oh, shit."

Scott raced in front of her, Ethan, and Allison, growling fiercely at the beings. Before any of them could take a step forward, the sun began to shine through the large window. With only a touch of the rays against the ninja's, they disappeared in a black mist.

Finding his strength, Ethan left Allison and Olivia's grasp to run across the room to his brother. At the same time, Olivia went over to Derek, helping him up from the floor and wrapping an arm around his torso to keep him upright.

"What the hell were those things?" Scott asked, looking around the room for any answer.

None of them knew...except maybe Allison and Isaac.

Isaac stepped forward, glancing at Allison. "Your dad's twenty-four hours are up."

(Gif is not mine)

#teen wolf rewrite #stiles stilinski x oc #stiles stilinksi x reader #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski fanfiction #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles stilinski x original character

21 notes · View notes

alias-b · 4 years

Text

sins of my youth. 009

Billy Hargrove x OC! Evie Fenny~ Also posted to my AO3

Summary: It was common knowledge that Billy Hargrove hated Hawkins. Hated Cherry Lane. Even loathed the strange girl next door. Evie Fenny wasn’t too fond of the chaotic Cali transfer either. An awful high school tradition sparks a chain of events that changes everything, ultimately bringing two frayed souls together.

A/N: Making some good headway with this fic so new chapter!! Revenge is a dish best served cold. Forgiveness is warm. Billy and Evie make some more progress. LONG chp! Enjoy!! TW: Student/teacher relationship. Sexual refs. Abuse warning. Gaslighting.

TAGLIST OPEN!! Chat with me about this couple :))

Chapter 9: Everything Is Blue

“How much did she want?” Heather asked, crossing into the bedroom with a giant bowl of popcorn.

“She heard my voice and said she’d do it for free after Billy gave her two hundred that night. I think we should still give her something.” Evie was sitting on Heather’s bed so her friend joined. Billy leaned back in the desk chair across the way, eyes flickering all over Heather's royal bedchamber.

“Told you I gave the money away.” He muttered.

“Where did the rest go? You got three hundred.” Popcorn crunched.

He looked down with this somber shrug.

“I gave Brock’s date a ride home. She was waiting for a taxi and, I don’t know, she looked scared.”

“His fourteen year old date.” Evie remarked. Poor girl. Probably took her just because he could get away with it.

“What!” Heather almost dropped the entire bowl. “What a disgusting-”

“Yeah.” Evie shook her head.

“I gave her the rest, felt like shit.” Billy finished, eyes meeting Evie’s when he looked up. She peered aside in a flash.

“So, Brock goes to church every Sunday if you can believe it with his parents and girlfriend. Her folks too since her dad’s the pastor. Usually gets out just after noon. People linger outside, you know, to catch up. I think that’s when you want to move in on the guy. Right in front of everyone before he can run off with his dick friends.” Heather offered the bowl to Evie so she could munch on some.

“It’ll work. Bubbles was all too excited to play actress.” Evie smiled, cocking her head so Billy would cross to eat with them. He sat on the end of the bed. Peeked at Heather before grabbing some popcorn.

“Tommy didn’t question why I asked for her number, he’s not a fan of Brock either anymore.” Billy licked his thumb. “Apparently, they figured he paid her and he got disqualified last minute. He gave Bubbles thirty just to show up so he’s broke now.”

“Tommy and Carol hate what you hate.” Heather rolled her eyes.

“That too.” Billy gestured and grabbed more popcorn, chewing. Weird to be sitting around like they were something close to friends. Revenge brought people together.

“If he sees us, he’ll know something’s up.” Evie spoke. “I don’t think Tannen sticks around after church though. Maybe we need someone in his circle to distract him long enough for Bubbles to make her move once everyone is out in the open. He’ll definitely run the second he sees her show up. She told me the outfit she was going to wear. Whew, it’ll be something.”

“Might be weird if I show up. I mean, our parents run in the same groups and they get along...but I make it obvious I hate him.”

“Turn him down a lot?” Billy pulled at his tee.

“Once a week, at least.” Heather reclined to think.

“Who else do we know that’s rich and unsuspecting?” Evie set the bowl aside, glancing around at Heather’s walls covered in cut out magazines. They looked at each at the same time.

“I got it!”

Both girls peered at Billy’s confused face before he appeared disgusted.

“Oh, no. Not him.”

“Time for you two to suck it up and get along.” Evie got up to grab Heather’s phone. “I think I remember his number.”

“...How’s that?” Billy's interest piqued.

“He’s been a gentleman and giving Evie rides to school when I can’t.” Heather saw Billy’s brow twitch at that. Smiled wider.

“Steve, hey.” Evie said into the phone. “Sorry, I’m calling from Heather's. I wanted to ask a favor, can you meet us here at her place?” A beat before she laughed. “Yeah, it's top secret.” Evie bit her lip and Billy huffed to himself. “Sure, see you in five.”

She hung up.

“On the way.”

“I’m still hungry, let’s order Chinese." Heather perked up. "I know what you like, Eve. Billy will get what I order and like it."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Be back. My folks left money on the fridge.” She sat up to go. "We'll feast. It's a possible last supper."

“Extra spicy, please.” Evie grinned as Heather walked out. Leaving her and Billy alone there. Slowly, she came back to sit on the bed. “So.”

“You seem more excited about the revenge than I am now.” He leaned in to catch her eyes.

“Might be nice to see that asshole fall apart for ten seconds.” She shrugged, legs crossing to settle her hands in her lap.

“Hey,” Billy uttered even softer, one leg on the bed, “you’re still here with me.”

Eyes panned to meet.

“I am.” Evie almost seemed to realize it too.

“Why’s that?” A dry curl fell into his face. Billy searched her and Evie didn’t peer away.

“Already told you, my calendar’s open too.” Evie looked fluttered at him. Thought of confetti falling when Billy curved toward her. One hand pressed on the bed and Evie turned her head last minute.

“Hey, he got here quick. Food’s on the...way.” Heather paused with Steve Harrington behind her. Billy and Evie shot back from each other.

“Him?” Steve had flared, pushing his initial confusion aside. “Hell no.”

“Round two, Harrington?” Billy stood up. Revved.

“I am not sitting in a room with this asshole.” Steve shot back.

“Easy, easy. Let us explain.” Heather touched Steve’s chest.

Explaining didn’t help because Steve pounced on Billy before they’d even gotten to the revenge part. Knocked the broad boy off the bed into the carpet.

“Man, you’re sick!”

Billy was snarling under him. Not actually moving to hit back when Steve’s fist cocked.

“Stop it!” Evie grabbed Steve’s arm to pull him off. “Hey! We’re here to get Tannen back! Steve!”

He paused to look at her. Straddling Billy with one hand clutching his tee. Got shoved off. Heather rushed to pull Steve up with Evie. Billy stumbled backwards to his feet after.

“Trying to make it right.” He heaved out, palm smoothing his shirt.

“I spent a night in the fucking hospital because of you,” Steve seethed, “but bringing Evie into that shit? You had no right.”

“Not asking for forgiveness, I’m just-”

“You should be on your fucking knees begging her for it!” Steve burst out. Evie touched his shoulder again.

“Look, I haven’t...forgiven it."

"No, he's right. Evie." Billy sunk to his knees. The saturated colors of him glimmering there. Evie's brow jumped as he grabbed her hand. "I'm on my knees in front of Heather...and Heather's acquaintance."

Steve went flat.

"Asking forgiveness. I haven't earned it, but I'll stay here and beg for it." Billy's low baritone shook her knees. Big, bright eyes that melted her down. "Please, Evangeline."

"Jesus Christ." Steve's arms crossed, eyes rolling. Heather snickered to herself and Evie gave that usual scrunching look. The one that made Billy smile.

"Easy, boy. On your feet."

"As you wish." A smirk danced and Billy rose. Evie had to take a breath and compose herself, turning aside. Billy still had her hand so she snatched it to function again.

"I’m not letting him off. But, Tannen manipulated us both and I see that. I’m doing this for the other girls, he needs to be taken down a peg. Ignore Billy and his camp while we do this.” Evie reasoned, meeting Steve's eyes. Shoulders falling. “You can help us get him back.”

Steve looked between her and Billy.

“Okay.” He sighed. “Okay. I’ll help you out. What did you need me to do?”

“We might need some of that Keg King flare back.” Evie nudged him.

Steve laughed at that. A small sound as he scratched the back of his head.

“Might be able to fake it.”

** ** **

A plan was set. Strange still to be sitting around a diner table the next day with this group. Drinking cold beverages in the winter. Almost friends. Big question mark. Unlikely allies. Heather drove them out because her car was the least suspecting.

“How’re we doing on time?” Evie leaned over to see Billy’s wrist. Sipped a chocolate milkshake because she had a craving and plucked the shiny cherry up to put it between her teeth.

He was too busy watching that to tell time. Her tongue sliding over the juicy, artificial red of the fruit before she plucked the stem to chew.

“Hey, I’m just gonna guess that’s your friend.” Steve cocked his perfectly styled head in the direction of the window. Bubbles lingered there, unsure if she should come in. Coat pulled close over her dress and tights. Heavy makeup illuminated her entire face. Evie hopped up with a smile.

“Just in time.” She clicked out to grab the older woman’s hand and pull her inside. “I ordered you some fries, wanted you to eat something.” A basket full of hot gold was set down. Billy scooted over a chair so Bubbles could sit, smashing her cigarette out.

“You brought a cute friend, sweetie pie.” Came the happy rasp.

Billy lifted his head to beam and sunk when he saw her instead pinching Steve’s cheeks pink. Heather covered her lips giggling, but Steve liked it because for once, Billy wasn’t getting the attention.

“So, you wanna get this guy bad, huh?” Bubbles was reaching for the ketchup to feed herself. “Least Tommy was nice to me, not handsy like the others there.”

“Brock’s reputation is everything. We embarrass him in front of his people, that’ll burn. Really play it up.” Evie crossed her arms over the table.

“Oh, I know exactly what to do. Gimme a ring if it works. We’ll all want to disappear quick after. My car’s around back. Seemed like a fun gig. I always wanted to be an actress.” Bubbles gestured with a fry and bit into it.

“Here’s for helping us. Means a lot strangely.” Heather offered a couple bills.

“I like you kids. Sticking it to the man as they say.” A shrug followed. “I saw that man’s date. She looked like my daughter. We don’t speak anymore. Happy to help knock an asshole off the saddle.”

“Tannen’s eighteenth birthday was last week. They had this massive party at his dad’s biggest casino. Glad my parents already had plans or they would have made an appearance.” Heather made a face. “His girlfriend’s sweet, maybe she’ll dump his ass finally.”

“Almost showtime,” Steve perked, “look across the street.”

Bodies in their Sunday best. Rich folk meandering around the front doors. Expensive cars crossing.

“You’re up, Steve. Go bump into an old rival. Shoot the shit.” Evie gestured. “Bubbles will follow your cue. Get out of there once she’s close.”

“I hope your boy is ready for this.” Bubbles stood while Steve chuckled on the way out, fluffing his hair. Her bracelets and necklaces clicked together. Hands adjusting her bra crudely. A wink and she strutted out too.

“Let’s get better seats, ladies.” Billy lit a quick cigarette. Made his way out before Heather swiped it to puff too. Billy didn’t fight her on that. Evie trailed behind them. Eyes on the pastel crowds. Men in khaki and women playing a game of ‘my obnoxiously decorated hat is better than yours.

Frozen streets that made the bright colors even more annoying.

The trio hid around a building across the way. Leaning into a fire escape. Saw Steve swaggering like he was out for a Sunday stroll in the rich area of this town.

“Hey, Tannen, that you? Long time no see, man.” Steve cocked his head to flash that winning smile.

Brock covered his disinterest with one that matched.

“Stevie boy. Didn’t know you still hung around these parts.”

“Where else would I get my hair products?” Fingers swept his voluminous mane.

“Not like Hawkins has a lot to offer, I guess. I hear they’re building a fancy mall.”

“Should give us something to do this summer.” Steve shrugged.

“I missed my shot at you in those last few games.” Brock’s arms crossed. He touched his chest where the silver charm used to sit.

“Ah, yeah. Wasn’t for me anymore.” Steve’s brow quirked. Tannen’s girlfriend and his parents weren’t far behind. Making nice with the pastor.

“Hargrove said something similar. True about you guys?”

“Yeah, I heard some wild stuff about you though. Some tiff the football players like to reenact with that girl. Pretty one. You on the floor wailing, the details escaped me.” Steve laughed for effect and Brock joined him. Artificial overlapping sounds. “Well, so great to catch up.”

“Say hi to your old man for us. I know he’s busy with work and his secretary.” Brock’s lips lifted in an empty fashion. “Love to catch up with the folks. Especially when those college letters come in. We’ll be having a party or two to celebrate me getting into Stanford. Where all did you apply again?”

Steve’s smile faltered.

“Pshh. So many places.” Steve patted his back. “See you around, man. I’ll let our football team know I ran into you. You're their favorite subject.”

“Right.” Brock narrowed as Steve went around him. Tried to puff his chest out and intimidate. "Yeah, why don't you make like a tree, and get out of here?"

Steve hitched this breathless laugh and caught himself. Jesus fucking Christ. Instead he winked with a finger gun.

"I'm gonna do just that, Tannen. Don't ever change, ya hear?"

He went into the crowd, leaving Brock to feel great about himself.

The prick didn’t hear the peppy clicking.

Ruby red curtains parted somewhere. An overture bloomed. Show time.

“Brock, baby! It is you? Hey-a, honey pie.” Bubbles opened her animal print jacket to flash a bright pink ruched mini dress. “You didn’t forget about me, did ja? I can barely walk.”

She grabbed his face in front of everyone. Smacked a Barbie pink kiss into his mouth. Moaned.

“Oh, baby, I had such a great time last night. You’re an animal.”

Across the way, Evie was leaning into Heather to laugh. Barely able to stay upright. Brock reached into his mouth and pulled a wad of chewing gum out.

He hadn’t been chewing it a moment ago.

Frantic hands wiped his lips off.

“Evie, your new friend is my hero.” Heather cackled. Smacking at Steve’s chest when he appeared behind them. Bubbles was talking animatedly. Clinging as Brock tried to push her off and explain to his family behind him.

“Oh, his girlfriend’s about to blow. Look at her face. I feel almost bad now.” Evie shifted back to touch Billy’s arm. Blue eyes turned to see her nails. Painted a fresh rose red.

As if he felt it, Brock’s head snapped in their direction.

They all ducked behind a dumpster. Evie pressed into Billy’s side.

“He see us?” Heather muttered.

A commotion built as Bubbles flashed her wiles and clicked off. Practically skipping. Leaving Brock in a pastel lion’s den. Jesus himself wasn’t coming to save him.

“Don’t feel bad. It’s open season and Tannen’s not winter surviving material.” Billy remarked, peeking again. "Look at their parents. Fuck."

“We should jet, this guy’s about to explode.” Steve pulled them to stay down and race toward the other end of the alleyway. “The gum was genius.”

“I think his mom fainted into the pastor.” Heather laughed, unlocking her car.

“Let’s get out of here.” Evie stole the passenger seat, leaving Steve and Billy to glare at each other in back. “Let’s see him explain his way out of that.” She waved to Bubbles appearing down the block.

“You guys want to hit up a movie or something? There’s no way I’m going to sit at home after that.” Heather turned the key so they could go. Evie looked around. Smiled genuinely.

“Actually, that sounds great. I’d kill for some sour patch kids.” She was mid turn to see the boys before Steve jumped to attention. Eyes wide at something beyond the front windshield.

“Guys! Problem.” He reeled to point. A sleek black car screeched around the corner. Not bothered by the cold in his fury, Brock clicked the roof to come down and stood. Shouted something unintelligible.

“Ah, shit. Heather, go!” Evie gestured until their little silver car skidded to turn down the street. “Drive.” There was some yelling in the backseat as Billy was tossed into Steve. Having not put his seat belt on.

“Ack, get off me, you damn brick...” Steve shoved the puffing boy away. Forced Billy into the seat and pulled his belt over. Got smacked off so Billy could click it in.

“He’s following, Heather!”

“I’m trying! I’m not prepared for a race today.” She peeled out through an alley back to the road. “I’m not getting pulled over for this asshole!” Her cheeks flushed red like a pair of cherries. Whipping around the next corner with Tannen in hot pursuit, probably freezing because his roof was still down.

“Hey, hey, there!” Billy leaned in to grasp Heather’s seat.

“I’m not gonna make that.” Heather panicked at a soil truck backing up toward a garden being constructed. Ready to block the way.

“Wanna bet? Punch it.” He gripped tight as Heather’s poor car revved forth. Weaving between vehicles and behind the beeping truck. Evie idly grabbed Billy’s arm turning to see Brock on their tail.

No way he was going to make it.

Heather hit the brake to stop at the next red light. They all whirled to see him. Chickening out, Tannen’s car swerved to a hard stop. Bumming into the back of a rickety truck on its side. Scratching paint and denting metal in.

“Holy shit.” Steve gasped out. "Are we dead?"

Brock was still raging at them when the back of the truck burst open. Sending a pile of filth into his open expensive car. Billy about howled. The upset teen was buried until he had to spit it out of his mouth. Profanities whirling as the driver came around to scold him aimlessly.

“That's...manure…” Evie realized. More laughter echoed through the car. Heather turned back to follow traffic off. “We are dead, aren't we?”

“We’ll just look out for the jerk. He’s got brain cells in the negative.” Heather had replied, reaching to turn her Madonna tape on. Billy sat back with a groan.

“Oh, I love this one.” Steve spoke over him, earning a look. "With Brock in deep shit...literally, his dad will be on him. The team's gonna love this one."

They drove from the city. Left Brock Tannen to stew in his own mess.

“Did you see his face when he pulled that gum from his mouth?” Evie chattered still. “His parents are gonna have him on lock down. No credit cards. No dates. Nothing. It's beautiful.”

“You're hot when you’re plotting someone’s downfall and reaping the benefits.” Billy scooted to lean between the seats.

“Ugh, sit back.” Heather grimaced, switching lanes. Billy peered at Evie’s profile and reclined. “Movie offer is off, we almost died.”

“You guys think Tannen is scrubbing himself of shit right now?” Steve piped up. Billy actually gave a snort at his rival. Faces went flat as they glanced at each other.

“Might as well throw the damn car away.” He’d added. Steve smirked a little and stifled it. This is the guy who busted his face open a couple months ago.

“Probably trying to explain himself as we speak. I hope he likes being single.” Evie played with the zipper on her jacket. “Four of us didn’t make a half bad team.”

“Admit it, I’m growing on you. I pressed you into this, Angel.” Billy got sly. Stared and knew she felt his eyes. Another laugh with an inch of sarcasm.

“Hard pass. I'm the evil genius here.”

** ** **

Word spread about Brock Tannen’s mishap in front of the holy father. His retaliation hadn’t come, being in trouble with his rich parents. No one knew about the four who kick started it. But, the legend would live on.

Evie had more glowing news. She’d made it two weeks without eating foreign objects. There wasn’t an empty feeling, not yet.

Maybe it was an odd phase. And she could stop.

Because she was in control and could stop whenever she wanted. This wasn't a problem.

February started off even colder than January. All the snow that melted was back with a vengeance. Even the ponds and lakes in the area froze over. Stilled in wait.

“Your 18th birthday is at the end of this month.” Fredrick spoke while he set a plate down. Cheese and mushroom pasta. Evie thanked him quietly. Bowers seemed happier about the upcoming festivities than she did.

“Mom’s already planning a surprise party I’m not supposed to know about.” A giggle followed. Secret date Friday night, first day of the welcomed midwinter break. Evie wore a pretty dress with something lace underneath.

“I just wondered if you considered your options.” He even poured her white wine. Tall glass.

“Options?” A fire crackled in the living room. Hard sounds she felt in her bones somehow.

“You and I.” Fredrick went on. “If you wanted to go. Start our lives that we talked about. These dreams we had for months, we talked and now...it just feels so close.”

Evie almost dropped her fork. Saw his eyes dip to see.

“Sorry, it’s sudden. Ah, I can’t drop out of high school, you know. Didn’t we always talk about how important my education was?” She paused quicker. “But, I thought about it. Us.”

That was a lie. Not while Billy Hargrove was batting his lashes at her locker every day. Snapping at anyone who dared to speak down to her. Groveling. Joking like they might be friends. Flirting endlessly. Billy and those iridescent eyes ruining her with their glitter.

This game they played where she hid smiles until he walked away.

“No, you're right. It was foolish that I even pressed it. I shouldn’t hope for you to…ah, well.” He only smiled. “This summer. I could relocate and you could come with me. You'd like to get away, wouldn't you?”

“My mom and I have all these plans to get my music out.”

“You can still sing your songs with me, Evie. You know, your mother wouldn’t understand us if you came with me. I think it would be best for some distance. She’d have time to come around to the idea. Understand that you're happy with me. You are happy with me, aren't you?”

"Of course, I am. You put me back together."

Bowers loved that and sipped some wine. Evie stared at her plate and felt something well that took her appetite away.

“I love you," he professed, "I will marry you. Do this right. But, I’ve waited quite a long time, Evie. I hope you understand that.”

She brought her hand up to her cheek in a motion like she was comforting a baby. Something she'd picked up since eating these things she shouldn't have.

“I do. I…”

“And you’re always saying your mother doesn’t understand. She keeps things from you. I just hate to see her hurting you. Neglecting you. You deserve so much better.” Fredrick shook his head. Sighed like it was truly unfortunate.

Poor Evie with no one. No one, but him.

“She tries, she’s just hurting after the divorce. She’s not good at…”

"It feels like she doesn't even want you some days, isn't that what you said?"

"I was just mad at her over it all. We don't really fight." Her protest came out weak.

“Your father can’t even be bothered to call his amazing daughter. Can’t man up and explain. It breaks my heart.”

“My dad...loves me.” Evie said a little snippier than intended. Trying to convince herself too. Jack Fenny was always holding her. Kissing her forehead and rubbing her back. Protecting her from thunder storms. Evie sighed and blurted something else. “I kissed someone else.”

“What?” Bowers paused, lowering his fork.

“A boy. Well, he kissed me.”

“I didn’t think you were that kind of girl.” Fredrick offered that sweetly.

“He’s been a real jerk and I think he was just playing with me. But, now I think he was really trying to make it up to me."

"He forced you?"

"No, I kissed back and I didn’t tell you because it didn’t mean anything. It didn't.” She told herself that once a day thinking about it.

Billy’s moans into ruby gemstone lips. His hands under her shirt. Hot.

“Evie. It’s fine. You’re allowed to have those teenage experiences. Frankly, I’ve told you to be open. It’ll help us go unnoticed.” A beat. “Did you sleep with this person?”

“No."

"Do you want to?"

"No! Never.” She laughed, eyes elsewhere as if she’d also never thought of it.

As if she didn't think about Billy's fingers and his tongue and how he'd devour her. How he'd spell the word Angel between her spread thighs.

How wet it made her to consider it while she sat at the table with the god damn teacher she was fucking.

“I won’t be upset if you do.” Fredrick caught her eyes again. The pupils blew.

“No, I’m with you. It’s you and I. Like we planned.” She shook her head. A grin followed Fredrick’s lips. Pride. “We can talk about summer, I just think…we should do it carefully.”

“You’re right. I won’t push you. Can’t blame me for wanting you, Evie. You're like a drug.” His tone was more so unsettling.

She blushed there. Drank her full glass of wine down. Head spinning. Stood to cross and plucked up his glass to down it too. Fredrick watched. Pleased. Enchanted.

Then, she leaned down to kiss him. Hands on his face. Edging into his lap to tug so he'd take her to bed.

Bowers forgot his meal was there. Got up still kissing her to lead them off.

"I want you to fuck me." She asked like a grown woman. Lashes fluttering and flushed from the wine sloshing in her belly. His thumb pushed into her teeth. Faces close.

"Really asking for it, huh?"

One hard shove sent her into the bed. Evie felt drunk finally, wobbling to turn with her fingers smoothing over the cotton blankets. A neutral expression crossed her face. Eyes drew to an decorative plant in the corner.

It badly needed water. Once shiny green leaves drooped a dry brown. Poor thing.

Evie couldn't stop thinking about it.

Poor thing.

Weight shifted and he was over her. Whispering naughty things.

His shadow stretched until she was lost to it.

** ** **

Evie was home just before dark. Sore and holding her coat close. Walking down Cherry Lane, a car hood smacked shut. Billy peered up at her there, wiping his deft hands on a rag.

“Too cold to be working on your car.”

“My baby gets what she needs when she needs it.” He winked, tongue sweeping. Eyes scanned her outfit and this empty expression crossed. “Don’t need to ask where you’ve been.”

“No, you don’t.” Evie crossed her arms tighter until her coat sleeves rode up along her wrists. Watched Billy pull his cigarettes out to light one. Smoke puffed and he narrowed on her again.

“The fuck is that?” Billy was crossing, jerking Evie’s arm out to pull the sleeve down before she could react. A chill seeped. Violet and rose flower petal like bruises on her forearm and wrists. Splotchy and discolored already. “He do that to you?”

“I didn’t even notice it.” She yanked away. “It’s nothing.”

“Gets rough in the sack. Trying new things because he has a bouncy, cool girl. Or one who acts the part. It's not you, Evie.” Billy inhaled to flick his ashes.

She didn’t move. Just stared at his eyes. Wondered if Billy thought less of her. She hoped he didn't.

“Plenty of people like it rough.” Evie scoffed. “He worries about me when I leave.”

“He worries you might spill the truth to someone. Grabs to make the point. And it sticks long after. Literally.”

Evie blinked. Went around him.

“See you later.”

“You bet.” Billy turned and watched her before leaning against his car. Evie snuck in and heard her mother’s chattering into the phone. More ice up her spine with the low tone.

“Yes, I got it. I don’t want your money, Jack. I told you. Leave us alone.”

“Mom?” Evie gasped it, hurrying into the kitchen to see her mother slam the phone down. Crumbing a letter in her dainty fingers. “Was that dad?”

“No, baby, just calling your aunts to let them know I’m headed out.”

“But, I heard you. I heard you say his name.” Evie pressed. “Did he ask to talk to me?”

“Evie, it was nothing, baby.” Mona hurried around her to toss the envelope into the fire. “Make sure this goes out before you go to sleep tonight. I left money on the fridge and we’re stocked up for the week. Salon will be fine and call if they think they need some extra hands.”

“Mom, I know that was dad. Why are you lying to me?”

“Evie, I’m not going to discuss this. I’m already late to the airport. My taxi’s pulling up.”

“No! Tell me the truth. What’s going on?” Evie had her mother’s luggage so Mona pulled for it. Yanking her daughter to the door. “Mom!” She hated that tears burned her eyes. “Stop lying to me! What’s going on with dad?”

“He doesn’t want us, Evie!” Mona huffed like it truly pained. And it did. “We just have to be fine with that. Sometimes, the Lord tests us. We endure.”

“So, we just don’t talk about it?” Evie tugged again. Flaring up. "We don't talk about anything that isn't pretty!"

“Your daddy was a godless man!" Mona burst. "I won’t let him hurt you ever again.”

“Again?”

“Evie, I’m late, baby, I love you. Don’t do this.” Mona pulled her bag free and grabbed her coat. Clicking down the stairs.

“My father loves me!” Evie called after her, stepping onto the porch. Mona’s shoulder rose as she crossed down and ignored it. Got into the taxi as fast as she could so they skidded off.

Evie puffed there. Wiped her sleeves on her wet cheeks.

“Evie?” Max had joined Billy on the sidewalk. Conversation disrupted by the drama at the Fenny house. Evie exhaled cold and blinked until her makeup started to run. Sniffling. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah, fine.” She saw Billy step toward her and scurried back inside. Listened to the fire crackle some and went to her room. Unable to breathe right, hands felt around the bookcase. All the trinkets waiting.

She thought of Fredrick and his hands squeezing. In bed. Ropes. All the fucking orders he coos in her ear. Her head spinning and it's not enough to take her away. Not enough for her to dream deeper. Those hands. Yanking as she’s trying to leave to warn her against letting their secret out.

But, he loved her too much. That's all. Emotional repetition.

Thought of Mona unable to look at her so often. Unable to notice her unraveling and speak of it. Paint a happy face.

Thought of lightning cracking to underscore a boom of weighty thunder. Palms on her legs.

Not that kind of girl.

Evie covered her ears.

“Stop crying!” She wept with trembling lips. Too many hands roamed her body in darkness. Voices soothed her ears and only made it worse. She stood there patting her cheek, trying to console herself.

Evie plucked up a tiny padlock shaped in a heart. Something you’d clasp your secret diary with. Pushed it into her tongue. Palms flattened on the wall as she tried to swallow. Choked the rust taste down until she was gasping. The lump sunk lower.

Breathing slow.

In control of her thoughts and emotions again.

Evangeline wondered just what kind of girl she was.

** ** **

“Were they fighting?” Max had turned back to Billy leaning into his car. The cigarette smashed under his boot. An aimless shrug followed as the sky began to darken. Eyes fixed on were Evie disappeared to. Streetlights flipped on.

Smoke edged out Billy’s lips before he popped a mint. Woke his senses up.

Max peered at him in a winter coat that was too big for her. Looked like a marshmallow on fire with her red hair.

“You should go check…” She craned to listen for a raspy squeaking under the cold wind. “Hey. Do you hear that?”

“What?” Billy came off his car as she went to the back wheel.

“That crying.”

“Crying?” Billy turned, earring dangling to hear it. “What the hell?”

“Look, it’s…”

“A fucking huge rat trapped in my… Get out of there, you little shit.” He reached over the wheel and grasped trembling fur. Not caring if it bit him.

“Careful.” Max actually laughed at him grunting. Pulling a squirmy ball of matted fluff out to let it dangle there. “It’s not a rat! It's-"

"Ugly."

"It’s a scared kitten.”

“Feral thing. It’s just cold and hungry.” Billy watched the nubby paws flail around. It spat a grumpy hiss at him. “Probably lost its mom.”

Max went quiet at that. Billy sighed. Actually looked softer and cradled a dirty grey kitten close to his leather coat. Looking around.

“Little shit.” He broke while it chewed on his thumb. Round head and hungry, little body. Bright blue eyes.

“It’s a sign. Go give it to Evie.” The redhead smiled there. "She misses Bourbon.”

“Max, that’s...ah, a good idea.” He stood taller. Made a face. “When did you wise up?”

“Always been smart, you just never noticed.” She grew cheeky. “Don’t come home until Evie feels better.”

Max turned to go back up to the house. Billy exhaled at her, crossed around with the squirming beast. Thumb rubbing soothing circles into it.

"Look cute and friendly for a second, I want this girl to like me." Billy joked to the kitten, practicing a line to himself with a grin. "Hey, Angel, this cat's been on a journey to find you and I'm just getting it home. I am your destiny."

Three knocks. Some shuffling followed before the door cracked. Evie’s face was splotchy. She’d changed into a burnt orange sweater and black leggings.

Billy forgot all his lines.

“What-?” Evie didn’t have time to react before he was pushing a ball of fur at her chest.

“Here.” He gruffed. “Found it hiding in my car. Smells like exhaust.”

A raspy meow followed.

Evie stammered a few words he couldn’t even piece together. Eyes bulging at the squeaky thing he’d just shoved at her. Hands scrambled to take it.

“You lost your cat, we figured this one needed a home with someone batshit for cats. Know anyone?” Billy let her gape at him. Blinking several times, Evie tried to speak.

“I, uh...uh, okay. I guess I could...could…” She melted looking at it. "Aww..."

“Already likes you.” Billy watched the thing curl up and slow blink at its new mother. Evie sagged, licked her lips to marvel. Words came.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Wouldn’t have made it much longer out here without its mom.” He looked at the empty swing on their porch. They had one in California. His mom liked to sit on it and hum. On good days. “Mona leaving for the week?”

“Yeah, seeing her older sisters in New Orleans. It’s just me until next Sunday.” Evie was beaming at the kitten. Comforting it. “Poor thing needs a bath, it’s covered in grease.”

“Well, just don’t give it a stupid name like Cherry because we found it on Cherry Lane.” He paused, joking. “Or Camaro. Won't hurt my pride.”

Billy was turning to go down the steps. Evie bit her lip. Smiled softer.

“What about Blue?” She observed the kitten. “It’s a little girl.”

“Blue?” Billy laughed and peered back at her.

“For the color of your car. And her eyes.” And your eyes.

A grin crossed Billy’s lips.

“Not terrible.” He shrugged, leaving.

“Billy.” Evie stepped out onto the welcome mat. Saw him pause there against a sea of white. Illuminated. Obscene. Beautiful boy. “Did...you maybe want to help me get her set up? I was thinking of ordering pizza and heating some apple cider.”

“With caramel?”

“Obviously.” She shrugged. “If you wanted to come in…”

“Is this you forgiving me?”

“I’ll let you think I am.” Evie rolled her eyes and turned with Blue content in her arms. Billy flashed his teeth. Climbed the steps to follow after. Shut the door behind him.

** ** **

“I know, baby, I know.” Evie was washing dirt and grease from the squeaky creature’s fluff. “Poor thing. Hiding in that loud, scary car.”

“My car was its safe haven.” Billy had the phone pressed into his shoulder.

“Loud, scary machine.” She continued, amused. Let him finish the order and hang up.

“Extra cheese and pepperoni fine with you?” Billy crossed to the kitchen sink where Evie settled a tiny makeshift cat bath in.

“Sounds amazing. I didn’t eat much today…” She trailed off. Caught Billy’s eyes on her bruised arms again with her sweater pulled up. “He doesn’t hurt me. He’s just scared.”

“Men hurt worse when they’re scared.” Was all Billy said. Evie frowned, plucking up the wet kitten to bundle it in a towel.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” She continued. Cheeks fresh with strawberries. Lips upturned. Calmer while she nurtured it. Billy took note.

“Were you fighting with your mom?” He asked. Evie barely glanced at him.

“Not from my mom’s point of view.” Her head shook. “My...My dad called. I heard her telling him not to.” Evie’s eyes lifted. “How many times has he tried to call before? Has he even asked about me?”

“You get along with your dad?”

“He was gone a lot for work business, but we were close. Closer than my mom and I even. He was...really kind and affectionate. Always buying me things. Bringing little gifts home from his long work trips. I used to think he and my mom had this perfect marriage. Something out of an old sitcom.”

Evie didn’t like to touch these things. Especially not in front of others. But, Billy Hargrove was looking at her. Staring pointedly and unashamed. Something admirable there even if he liked to deflect from himself.

“I’m not sure now if my parents ever loved each other.” Billy had replied. Offering a sliver of himself to ease her pain. “Not sure if dad loves Susan either. But, she’ll do anything for him. I think he loves that. My mom stopped playing that game.”

Evie felt this ocean within her heart roll softly upon a shore. Echoing distant calls.

“Hey, that thing is almost cute now.” Billy’s quip made her snort. Huge, alien eyes blinked up at them.

“Probably just barely weaned off its mother. Little runt. I have some soft canned food for now until I can get to the store. Hope you’re okay with Bourbon’s smell in the house still.” Evie cradled the cat and reached into a cupboard. “Let’s get you set up in my room. Shall we?”

Billy perked as she looked to him.

“Pizza should be here when I’m done...did you want to pick a movie or something?” Hesitation had her feet shuffling. He could leave.

They seemed to both consider it. Why they were still here. Meeting each other halfway. Did it matter?

People can surprise you. All you can do is let them.

“What’d you have? Dolly’s collection.” He smiled at her expression there.

“Only on mom’s display. C’mere. Bottom shelf. Be amazed.” She cleared her throat as Billy entered the bedroom behind her. Neared one of the many bookshelves. This one covered in novels and VHS tapes. Evie set up a litter box and found some toys that hadn’t gotten much use. Let the kitten roam her bed and squeak. “Well?”

“I’m impressed with the selection. Carpenter, Craven, De Palma, Hooper… What’s a nice girl like you doing with all of Argento’s flicks?”

“Enjoying every minute.” She knelt down by Billy as he plucked up a tape, laughing.

“Evangeline Fenny owns The Slumber Party Massacre?”

“I love a shitty dumpster fire of a movie that can make fun of its own genre. And it was directed by a woman.”

“No way,” Billy turned it over, “jesus.” He pushed it back. “Sleepaway Camp, Carrie, Black Christmas, The Funhouse, Phantom of the Paradise. How about a classic... Michael or Leatherface?”

“Myers.”

“Leatherface is way better.” Billy grabbed Halloween.

“Psssh.” Evie plucked Blue up. “He can act like he is.” They went into the living room, paid for the food, and got set up. Movie, warm apple cider, and pizza. Not a date. Just a hang out. Plus the cat. Blue wandered the top of the sofa and tried to play with Billy’s curls.

“Hey, I saved your life, rat.” He leaned forward to bite into a gooey slice. Licking the grease from his lips. Evie giggled at him as the movie started. Technicolor and firelight bathed the dim room. Crackling peacefully.

Evie peered at Billy again, dressed down in a fitted black tee and jeans. She curled her sock clad feet up on the couch. Sighed.

“Is there anything pizza can’t solve?”

“My experience, sex solves whatever’s left.” Billy spoke around a mouthful of food. Earned himself a scowl.

“You pig.”

“I love it when you talk dirty,” he swallowed, wiping his mouth on a napkin, “you do this with the teacher?”

“Still prying.” Evie picked at some crust and went for another slice. “He makes me these fancy dinners. Wine and all. We watch mind numbing old movies. Most of them are three hours long about some boring old guy or they’re a documentary.”

“And that turns you on?”

“No, but Fredrick admires my mind, I like that. He asks me my opinion on things. That’s how we got closer. Through shared books.”

“Until he started prying into your home life and then your skirts.” Billy paused. “He liquors you up?”

“Not really, but sometimes it helps when we have sex.”

“Helps?” Billy set his plate down after four slices. One hand came back around the couch, neared Evie’s hair. Blue stumbled into his denim clad lap to get comfortable. “Does it hurt or something?”

“I don’t know, sometimes I can’t relax.”

“And he still has sex with you.”

“It’s not a big deal, Billy. I like sex.” Evie turned, speaking over the haunting instrumental on screen. Michael Myers stalking his prey. “It’s not like he popped my cherry or anything. He’s been there for me and I was his confidante too. We have things in common. He just got out of a bad relationship.”

“Yeah, and now he’s collecting on that. Listening to you.” Billy shrugged, reached to pat the kitten in his lap. Evie pressed her lips at the scene, shoulders sagging.

“It feels good with him. I do...feel safe after. Ever been with someone who makes you feel safe?”

There was a lingering beat of them staring. Eyes twinkled while the fire became tangerine embers.

“No, I can’t say that I have.” Billy scooped up the kitten, heard it chirp before he offered it to Evie. Scooting just a little closer to her while Blue got settled again. “Hey.”

“Hm?”

“You’re still here with me.” He smirked, staring at the TV.

“You’re running out of lines, heard that before.” Evie drew closer of her own accord. Felt Billy go impossibly still when her head tipped to his chest. A bold move on her part.

“Just a reminder.” He breathed slow. “What else is there to know about you, Evangeline?”

“Gotta ask questions.” She mused and became too serious. “Who are your favorite female role models?”

“What?” Billy chuckled, touching her curls.

“Mine are Gloria Steinem, Linda Marchiano, Katherine Johnson, and Sacheen Littlefeather. Oh, and Maya Angelou and-”

“Stevie Nicks?”

“Duh.”

“I was hoping this would be some easy questions. Like tell me about your favorite pornstar or the biggest dick you've ever seen?”

Her head came up.

"I'm looking at it right now." Evie's leveled tone had Billy bursting with laughter. She went down again. Pride built because he cackled as hard as he did.

"Okay, I back flipped my dumb ass into that one. Fuck." A finger wiped his eyes.

She felt him illuminate. Why was everything he did breathtaking? It felt almost unfair.

“Billy Hargrove can’t name a woman.” Evie sat up again, amused at his flat expression.

“Joan Jett and Debbie Harry and Etta-”

“You’re so trying to win me over with musicians.” She poked his chest and settled down against him. Tucked in.

“Is it working?”

“Maybe.” She smiled into his chest, inhaling that cologne he liked to bathe in. Aramis. Billy felt her grin and sucked in his cheeks. They continued watching for all of five minutes.

Evie shot up again to face him. Billy near shrunk at the staring.

“Do I have something on my face?” His brow rose.

“Okay, I’m asking it because I can't settle.” Evie touched her lips and narrowed. Blue cradled close with one hand while the other lifted to point. “I asked it before so don’t have a cow about it-”

“No, I don’t think we look funny together. That’s all you, babe.”

She deflated, hand dropping.

“How’d you know I was gonna say that?”

“You worry too much.” Billy spied the TV briefly. Peered back at Evie.

“I see the pretty girls you date, it’s hard not to think about it. You’re here, but are you here because you actually like me? Or is this some weird guilt thing set up from the lies you told earlier.” Evie batted her lashes.

“We have a week off of school and I’m eating pizza and watching a horror flick in the Fenny living room.” Billy’s head cocked while he explained. “Yeah. I lied. But, I like hanging out with you. Sue me.”

“This isn’t some weird conquest, is it?” She watched Billy scoff and shake his head before she shrugging. Voice growing lush. “Do you like my stomach?” He chuckled again, flicking golden hair aside before he drew his fingertips up her side. Earned a shiver.

“Yeah, it’s nice.” He said. Those fingers brushed her chin. “I’m still here with you. I still like it. Do you like it?” He licked his lips. Evie studied him and slowly came down. Nestled into his chest to consider it.

A small syllable.

“Yes.”

Billy’s arm shifted to rest upon her. Palm grazing her hip. Evie blushed. Wondering how his fingers would feel wandering between her thighs again. A burning chill pricked her skin. Billy inhaled that amber scent she was known for. Sighed. Thought about tracing her lips. Thought of her mouth on his neck. And then lower.

Fuck. Not now. Billy tried to breathe again.

“Billy?” Evie piped up after the lengthy beat.

“Yeah?” He shivered. Acutely aware of Evie’s body heat and beating heart against his frame. Her legs pressed into his thigh. Curled into him comfortably with Blue now snoring.

“I forgive you.”

A weight lifted off them both.

When he was dead silent, she went on.

“I called Bubbles, you know, to check on her after the whole Brock thing. Couldn’t stop laughing. She told me about that night. You punching him and the money. I know you’ve been trying to make it right and you don’t even have to. She said she saw you pull up and check on Brock’s date after looking for me. And I...I did really want to go to that motel with you. I haven’t had a night like that with a boy in… Well, never. Maybe we're not supposed to hang out, but it's stupid cause I like it-”

Billy cupped her chin and brought their lips together without ceremony. The intensity of a supernova charged his veins. Evie felt it too.

Blue scrambled up and pounced off them to the carpet. Away from Billy pawing for more of Evie. Until hands slid up his hard chest. Tasted the salt on his lips while she threaded fingers into his curls. A salted, caramel kiss from the cider. He roamed her body, unabashed.

Too many sensations. Stars busting. Waves hitting a rocky shore. Absolute fireworks exploding against a sapphire sky.

All those things that made a fairy tale magical. Happening in perfect sync.

Evie didn't shy as he touched her. Squeezed. Lips on her neck and back to her mouth.

Desire had her dancing in an endless dream.

“Billy…” Evie kissed him again. Deepened it all on her own. Pushed Billy back into the couch which earned a sound that was truly entertained. Enthralled.

Yes, she wanted him. It almost felt like she needed him and that didn't jar her one bit.

A hand palmed her bottom then tugged at her shirt. She heaved to come up. Blinking some awareness back.

“Let’s go to your room.” Billy came up for more. Fingers tucked hair aside. He nipped at her lip and Evie gasped.

“We can’t...I can’t. I’m still. I’m with him. I can’t be…” She slid off. Left Billy breathless there puffing. Throbbing. His pants already had the tiniest wet spot.

“But, you want to?” He shoved up. All fluttered. “It’s okay if you don’t.”

Evie curled herself into the smallest ball she could. Faced elsewhere.

“Yes.” She strained. Hugging herself close. “It’s not that I’m still mad. Fredrick even said I could… But, I know he doesn’t mean it. He’ll get upset and freak out thinking I told someone. He broke things off with me after summer and I never told anyone, but I know...he might have been just seeing if I’d come back. And I did.”

It seemed to hit her for the first time.

"I'm sleeping with my fucking teacher. Oh fuck."

“He’ll leave more bruises on you?” Billy stilled as she snapped to see him with glossy eyes. Face scrunching.

“I like it when he’s rough.”

“Because it helps you go somewhere else in your mind.” Billy huffed, leaning in. “When my dad… When he… Sometimes I like it when it’s hard. Because I press into walls and pretend I can sink into them.”

Evie thought of Fredrick and how he complained about her way of sleeping.

“He helped me and I helped him." A crack. "No one's ever gonna love me like he does."

He leaned in with intensity building.

"If he told you that, Evie, he doesn't love you." Billy uttered that too inordinate in sweetness. She almost shattered.

"He’s taught me things. He wants me... He sees a future and I think I can’t turn away from that.” She whimpered pitifully.

“Only thing he’s teaching you is how to give in and hate yourself quieter.” A cord struck so Billy eased it. “I’m not trying to make you feel like shit. You need to hear this.”

“He wants me, just me.”

“He wants his image of you! Does he tie you up? Some of those look like rope burns, Evie.” Billy slid in and grasped one hand.

She wiggled and didn’t pull away. Saw Billy’s eyes.

“Adults are supposed to fucking help us. Maybe he did at first, but he crossed a line with you because he couldn’t keep his weird fantasies in check. Of course he taught you things, you’re young..."

"It doesn't matter."

"All of it matters. What, does he liquor you up and make you watch porn? Point and ask why you can’t be more like those girls crying on screen because they’re moaning and sobbing and being pushed past their limits.”

“He says he loves me and he's proud of me. I like making him happy.” Evie made an odd shuddering sound. Lips pressing before something fractured distantly. “I can’t just leave him. I love him too, but-”

“But, what? There’s no such thing as an ‘I love you, but’…”

“I’m scared, Billy, and I’m so stupid.” Evie buried her face in her knees when the pressure built. Lost it.

Cried there in front of him. Hating herself for being so fragile and weak. It jarred Billy to see Evie Fenny truly hurt and terrified of this relationship she mooned over so often.

Trauma twisted you like fresh snow covering what was there before. Frozen solid to hide it with something that shimmered.

Arms lifted to bring her into his chest. Evie resisted on instinct and then melted down. Sobbed into his tee. Wet the soft fabric. Clung. Listened to Billy’s heart race.

“I don’t know what to do, he keeps talking about the future. Whisking me away and marrying me, I thought I wanted that. I’m supposed to, but I don’t.” Evie pushed up to wipe her red eyes. “He doesn’t even care about my music, he wants me to be a housewife. I can’t even fucking make descent pasta.”

She laughed bitterly at that.

“Fredrick wants all these kids and I don’t. I'm...I'm still a kid. Fuck, I..." Felt like she only just realized that too. "I don’t even have myself together, how could I put another kid like me into the world? And what if I get old and he finds another young girl with issues, huh, what happens then? I know it's all fucked, I do, but I can't stop it.”

“Evie, hey, look at me.” Billy was trying to cup her face. Met with more resistance as she couldn’t stomach looking him in the eye while crying. Evie backed out and wiped her face again. Swallowed the empty lumps in her throat. Tremoring. “You gotta leave this guy. He’s gonna get worse. You’re fucking shaking.”

“...I know.” She squeaked. “Sometimes I feel like I might shatter if I disappoint him. Have you ever felt like that?”

"Yeah. And I shattered anyway."

Billy Hargrove stopped dead. Displayed this blaring vulnerability that was miraculous on him.

Saw a girl in clear, ruby red danger.

"I'm just so tired, Billy, I never thought I'd be so tired at seventeen." Evie started to cling again and he let her. Fingers pulling for more of him and so he offered more in return. Tucked Evie under his chin. Still here with her.

Frankly, neither of them worried about that any longer.

“My mom didn’t leave my dad when she should have. Not early enough. He messed her up pretty bad. She had a lot of problems she never got over.” Billy cracked through the layers of volcanic rock hardened around his heart. She shifted to see him there. One finger drew the tears from her cheeks. Evie searched his eyes. Flickering. No longer hearing the screams on screen behind them.

“What happened to her, Billy?” She saw this star fall behind his eyes and wished she could have caught it.

Billy pulled her in closer until they were lying together. His mouth pressed into dark ringlets to murmur. Inhaling all the heat in her perfume. Honey amber.

“She died.” His lips cast too gentle syllables. Evie held him back. Tangled bodies.

Souls locking together without fear among dwindling embers.

"And I don't want you to die too."

~~~~~~~~

Thanks all for reading!!! As always, feel free to chat with me about Billy and Evie. Askbox and taglist are both open. ^_^ 🍓

@80sbxtch @nottherightseason @orxhidshavana @alagalaska @alongcamedolly @kellyk-chan @stanley--barber @10blurredsmoke10

#billy hargrove #Billy hargrove x oc #Billy Hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fic #mine #writing #SOMY #Billy x angel #angel fenny

48 notes · View notes

fanfic-corner · 4 years

Text

Slow Burn

You ever want to read a fic that is probably as long (or longer) than a book series, but not have the main love interests kiss until chapter 300? Then you probably have some issues, but I'm not a therapist, so here we go.

Stand By Me by whelvenwings on AO3. (31,252 words).

Tags: Zombie Apocalypse AU, Post-Apocalypse, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed, Slow Dancing, Smut, First Kiss, Canon-Typical Violence, Touch-Starved Dean, Love Confessions.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Dean Winchester has been alone for a long, long time. When he and Castiel happen to find each other - a couple of survivors in a world that’s been all but wiped clean - Dean’s looking for his brother; Castiel is looking for something to look for. They stick together, because neither of them much wants to be alone. They hate each other at first, of course. Dean hates Castiel for being weird and quiet and ironic and antagonistic and proud. Castiel hates Dean for being blunt and reckless and coarse, for drinking, for refusing to talk about how he feels and just pretending everything is fine. Most of all, they hate themselves and each other just for being alive. What right do they have to be alive? No one else seems to be. But against his own will, Dean starts to notice things about Castiel that he likes. Starts to hope that Castiel might like him, too. And together, they start to fight for a world where they're both alive - and that's a good thing.

Notes: One of the first fics I ever read, and one of my faves! The ending was slightly unsatisfying, but not so much that I would drop a star.

Angel's Wild by LimonadeGaby and riseofthefallenone on AO3. (389,271 words).

Tags: Alternate Universe, Wingfic, Hurt/Comfort, Wing Kink, Slow Build, Slow Burn.

My Rating: 5 stars. (If I could give it more, I would).

Description: But that’s the whole reason he’s here, isn’t it? He’s not out here hunting Humans. He’s not even hunting deer, or bears, or anything else that featured in Bambi. He’s out here, freezing his nuts off every night, because he’s hunting Angels. Sometimes Dean wishes that Angels were like how they’re described in the Bible. How people from time too old for him to care much about thought Angels were messengers and warriors of God, protectors of Humans. He knows that how they’re really described in the Bible is actually pretty terrifying, but at least they were told by God that they’re supposed to love Humans, right? That’s a thousand times better than what Angels really turned out to be.

Notes: I would be lying if I said I didn’t read all these slow burn fics just so I could rec this. I would also be lying if I said this wasn’t my favourite fic of all time. The pining is so intense it is practically unbearable to read. Honestly, I don’t care if you think it is too long or it isn’t really your thing; I would rec this to anyone with ears. I will still be reccing this in Hell. It is absolutely phenomenal.

a turn of the earth by mishcollin on AO3. (95,274 words).

Tags: Time Travel, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence, POV Dean Winchester, Alteration of s10 lore, Homophobic Language, Smut, Pining Dean, Preseries Dean, Mutual Pining.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Dean’s your typical half-orphaned, monster-killing 22-year-old until a trenchcoated stranger crashes into his back windshield one September night, claiming he’s an angel that knows him from the future and that he’s on the run. Frigging fantastic.

Notes: An absolutely excellent plot, which is excellently written, and is somehow simultaneously angsty and adorable.

Forget-Me-Not Blues by noangelsinthegarrison on AO3. (68,689 words).

Tags: Romantic Comedy, Firefighter Dean, Professor Castiel, Weddings, Misunderstandings, High School AU, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Sam and Jess are getting married and Dean couldn’t be any happier for them. Honestly, they’re kind of disgustingly perfect for each other and Dean’s pretty damn excited about staying with them the week before the wedding. He’s Sam’s best man, of course, and he doesn’t even mind that Jess has her own best man to share in all the organisational duties. The more the merrier, right?Except Dean must have done something to epically piss off the universe because Jess’s best man just happens to be Castiel friggin’ Novak. He’s got even hotter since High School, but apparently no friendlier and if Cas wants to spend the week pretending like they’ve never met before? Fine. Two can play at that game.

Notes: Jesus Christ, I have not read a single fic which sums up exactly how stupid Dean and Cas can be sometimes. I loved it.

the cost of a thing by quiettewandering on AO3. (74,198 words).

Tags: Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fake Marriage, Human Castiel, Protective Dean Winchester, Touch-Starved Castiel, Mutual Pining, Jealous Dean Winchester, Slow Burn, Depressed Castiel, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Sharing a Bed.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: 16 months ago, Cas became human.12 months ago, Cas left the bunker and a broken-hearted Dean behind. Now they must work a case together, where married couples are dying mysterious deaths and the only way to earn the neighbors' trust is by pretending to be married. Slowly, Dean finds that he loves being in a relationship with Cas, fake or not, and Cas finds his loneliness retreating, despite the harsh reality looming right around the corner. As Dean and Cas navigate this fake, but all too real, relationship, can they find the monster that is on a mysteriously motivated killing spree before it’s too late?

Notes: So cute! All the angst! My favourite trope! (So many exclamation marks!)

In All Your Borrowed Finery by vanishingact on AO3. (67,950 words).

Tags: Winged Dean Winchester, Winged Sam Winchester, Winged Castiel, Winged Gabriel, Spells & Enchantments, Hunters & Hunting, Case Fic, Harpies, Canon-Typical Violence, Major Character Injury, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Fluff and Humor and Smut and Angst, Wingfic, Fanart. My Rating: 5 stars. Description: Dean finds an interesting symbol in Kevin's angel tablet notes and, against Sam's counselling, uses it in the heat of battle with a pair of angelic assassins. Side effects include pain, disorientation, and uncontrollable new appendages for the Winchesters. A disgruntled Castiel and a delighted Gabriel show up to help. Hunting (and life) gets interesting when wings are involved. Notes: Okay this was literally adorable and you can not convince me otherwise. Every time I read a fic with everyone’s favourite archangel, I miss him just a bit more. (This fic is slightly more Sabriel than Destiel, but only by a little).

In This Secluded Spot I Respond As I Wouldn't Elsewhere by RhymePhile on AO3. (33,953 words).

Tags: Modern Setting AU, Teenage AU, High Scool AU, Romance, Best Friends, First Love, First Kiss, Slow Build, Minor Violence, Bullying, Homophobia, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Protective Dean Winchester, Texas, Slow Burn, Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, No Sex, Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester are Raised Separately, Mary Winchester Lives, Artist Castiel, Nerd Castiel, Grieving Castiel, Jock Dean Winchester.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: It's 1995, and Castiel's high school years are destined to be difficult: home-schooled until eighth grade, he is awkward, shy, and socially inept. The weird kid with the funny name would rather isolate himself and draw in his sketchbook than deal with the constant bullying he faces every day. Things only get worse in his junior year when he excels in home economics class, leading the captain of the baseball team, Alastair, to start taunting him for being gay.Then new student Dean Winchester arrives at Flour Bluff High School, sharing many of Castiel's classes. Castiel has seen his type before -- handsome, athletic, arrogant, and sure to be the most popular kid in school. But Castiel eventually learns that he and Dean have more in common than he thought, and they form an unlikely friendship.

Notes: Pretty cute, and I did enjoy reading it. Not sure why like half the slow burn fics are set in a high school, but hey.

'Star Wars is Overrated' by leftdragonpainter on AO3. (38,186 words).

Tags: Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Pining, Drinking, Writer Castiel, Mechanic Dean, Neighbours, Swearing, Winchester Logic, Big Brother Gabriel, Clueless Dean, College Student Sam, Awkward Dates, Slow Burn, Injured Sam, Emotional Constipation, Angst, Confessions, Smut, Drunk Texting, Love Confessions, Temporary Amnesia, Angst and Humor.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: When Dean Winchester turned sixteen he was disappointed by the words that appeared on his chest. He never expected that it would take so much to find his soulmate. He never expected to not remember meeting them...

Notes: Every time I thought I knew what was gonna happen in this fic, something completely different happened. I think I have whiplash (but I love it!).

The Elysium High by EllenOfOz on AO3. (44,768 words).

Tags: Post-Apocalypse AU, Los Angeles, Dystopia AU, Angels are Dicks, Addict Sam Winchester, Recreational Drug Use, Witch Sam Winchester, Detective AU, Confused Castiel, Drugged Sex, Slow Burn, Cyborg Castiel.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: In the not-too-distant future, climate change has wreaked havoc on the city of Los Angeles. When sea levels rose, and the Los Angeles Basin began to flood regularly like many coastal areas around the world, the population of the city moved up, off the ground and into the scrapers. Many years later, the city is divided into three rough zones: the Topzone, where the very wealthy live in the sunlight; the Midzone, where those of the less-well-off population live amid the flying traffic, the smog and their coffee addictions; and the Groundzone, what's left at close to ground level—dim, grimy and occasionally very wet. Sam and Dean Winchester are drug investigators in the LAPD. During a bust, Dean is saved by Castiel, one of the mysterious Angels, the elite fighting unit of the LA City Council. When Castiel insists on taking Dean to Paradise because he says they have work for him, Dean has little choice but to go along. But when a new drug, “Elysium”, hits the scene, people all over the city start dying. The brothers and Castiel must work out where the drug is coming from and stop its spread before it's too late.

Notes: There was nothing wrong about this fic, it just wasn’t really my cup of tea. I found the fic that it reminded me of though; I Know A Place by whelvenwings. It is fairly similar, but in my opinion a tad better.

So there we go: slow burns! And if you’re thinking, ‘Lina, where are all the ridiculously long ones? I want them to have their first kiss 300 chapters in?’ just know that I do not have the patience or the time for that. Mostly the patience. Okay, maybe I avoided them because they make me want to smash my phone. Whatever. Another day, maybe.

#slow burn #fic recs #fanfic #destiel #sabriel #jam #supernatural

18 notes · View notes

goldenpinof · 5 years

Text

so basically here’s a script of “Basically I’m gay” by Daniel Howell, if someone needs it

link to a google doc

Hello Internet.

«Sex! Secrecy! And a whole lot of internal screaming. Starring Daniel Howell. One of the greatest mysteries of our generation. What is Dan’s sexuality?»

Spoiler alert. I’m not straight. Sex, the foundation of life and the only thing we’re really supposed to do. Everyone’s obsessed with it. You bunch of degenerates. In the list of things that identify a person, one of the most important for other people to know is their sexuality. For, if sex is the primal force propelling all of these humans forward by their hips, they have to know. Are we gonna fuck? Or like could we? Or are you, ‘cause I’m just wondering. Now, we live in a heteronormative world, which is a long scary word that makes people feel attacked for some reason. Shh it’s okay.

What it means is people are presumed to be straight. If you’re not, then at some point, you have to “come out”, which is a whole thing. Or people might just try and guess based on something you do or the way you act, because yay stereotypes. So this is something you have to be clear on, because if you’re not, how are all these other people that aren’t you going to cope? But I’m pretty sure no one that knows me thinks I’m straight. So I don’t really need to come out as much as just clarify what the hell is going on. As here I am at age 27 and my sexual preference is seemingly still a vague, debatable, confusing, impenetrable mystery. But why? And what is it? Well, those are some big questions. Are you sure you wanna know my answers?

[YES]

Okay, well, if you say so 'cause this is a complicated and sensitive issue and when it comes to me, boy, there is a lot to unpack here and it is a total clusterfuck. So strap yourselves in and let me tell you a queer little story about a boy named Dan.

Chapter 1 – The Word

♪ When I was a young boy ♪

♪ My father ♪

Didn’t have much time for me because my conception was clearly an accident and he was a narcissistic proud man suddenly inconvenienced in the prime of his life and this emotional neglect gave me lasting problems.

Sorry that’s not all relevant right now.

I was an only child for seven years and with working parents. This meant I had to make my own fun so I was imaginative and loud which is something that my teachers used to say quite a lot followed by, “However.” Here I am age five. Look at me. Cute, poised, sassy, turning out this photo shoot like sorry, Grandma, I stunted on this set. Are you seeing this? In almost every way, I literally peaked age five. I loved being the center of attention. People said I had an infectious happiness, that my beaming smile brought them hope and joy. People that know me are laughing right now. But a boy, in the '90s being happy and generally polite acting? Sounds kinda GAY if you ask me. Literally, masculinity was so fragile, people were so proud and scared and society so aggressive that a boy smiling!?.. appearing to be empathetic or in any way emoting was seen as a threat. How dare they laugh and feel comfortable? They must be soft and weak and girly and GAY. So basically thanks, Grandma, for raising me to be a nice child, you dick. Just kidding. That’s a joke and I told you not to watch this video because it would be rude so if you send me a disappointed text telling me you’re offended, I don’t know what to tell you. Although, now I think about it, you did make me go to church for 10 years, which in hindsight probably also didn’t help ♪ Hallelujah ♪ the issue here so. But then it was time for little Dan to go to school and this is when it

♪ All went wrong ♪

'Cause it turns out most children, evil pieces of shit. Doesn’t matter if you try to raise a happy innocent child, throw that kid into school, aka, a literal Mad Max Battle Royale with the feral offspring of your local community. Yeah, that crap’ll be undone in about two weeks. I was six years old running around the playground pretending to be Sonic the Hedgehog or something when two brothers come up to me aged seven and eight with an unexplained aggressive look in their eye. And the younger one pushes me to the ground, kicks me in the stomach, and just says, “GAY.”

This was the first time I ever heard that word. Well, I don’t know what the heck gay means but apparently it means people kick you on the floor so that ain’t good. I didn’t know this child or give them any cause to have an opinion on me. And, actually, I never directly interacted with them again. What epic clustershit of failed parenting and general culture brought this tiny child to get angry and attack someone, then call them gay for looking like they were having fun outside. Are you okay, 1990s? And so my relationship with sexuality began.

I wasn’t looking to define myself as a child indiscriminately playing doctors and nurses with various friends until once somebody’s mum walked into a room to find three fully naked children sat on a bed sticking sellotape to each other’s butts. Yep, which I don’t recommend. Also, Jesus Christ, the poor woman that saw that. Then you get to the magic age around 10 or 11 where everybody suddenly wants to pretend they’re totally a “cool teenager” who’s doing all the drugs and the sex and the fights, totally. Boy, gay was a really popular word back then.

[[Boy] Uh, homework is gay. [Girl] Uh, my mum’s so gay. [Boy] Uh, you touched a girl, gay.]

This one little shit who I won’t name was one of the school bullies and he loved the word gay. He had it in for me and I have no idea why. You know me, Mr. Winnie the Pooh Meets Slender Man. Well, when I was 10 just Winnie the Pooh. I didn’t do nothin’ to no one ever and yet this guy used my pacifism as a punching bag where any group situation was an excuse to single me out call me gay for some reason and then make everyone else exclude me because they were scared of him. I had a girlfriend. We dated for six whole weeks. We kissed in a game of spin the bottle once by literally sucking on each other’s faces. Then she ended dumping me over speakerphone at a birthday party that everyone in my class but me was invited to but, hey. I don’t know what I was doing wrong, but at this age, I understood one thing. Being gay, whatever that meant, was clearly the worst thing you could be. On a Darwinian level, I was being told, okay bitch, “Survival Code”. Don’t be this apparently. Evolution. Plot twist, this bully I think he was a bit gay because once he asked me to have a sleepover at his house and I thought was me finally getting socially accepted only for him in the middle of the night to come up and ask me, “So who’s going to be the boy and the girl?” I was an innocent smol bean who didn’t really understand what he meant because, to be honest, I didn’t actually understand get how babies were made yet. But needless to say I think he was disappointed. Wow, closeted child turns into homophobic bully. Thanks again society. But this whole primary school journey was really just an amuse-bouche for the full six-course tasting menu of suffering that would be secondary school.

I went to an all-boys school. It was a literal hellscape. I thought it was hard making it through a school of 200 kids with two or three bullies. Try over a thousand where a clean 800 are fully psychopathic gorillas fueled by testosterone, Red Bull, and Eminem albums. Making sure that the word f- no longer means an innocent bundle of sticks or a cigarette anymore in the British lexicon. Nope, now it was a cool homophobic slur along with gay, gaylord, gayboy, puff, pufter, ponce, batty, batty boy, bum-boy, bender. Shit, this is so long. People have a lot of words for something they don’t wanna think about. Look at me in this stupid blazer. Oh, “you’ll grow into it at some point in the next four years”. Thanks, Mum. Day one, kid in form class, some stupid hedgehog-looking motherfucker side eyes me and says, “What you lookin at, puff?” First interaction at a new school. Great! My entire existence on a daily basis then becomes navigating this school like I’m in the bloody “Maze Runner” trying to avoid aggressive pricks with chode ties. And you know being verbally abused for being a nerd or a Greebo at least felt relevant to me at the time. Greebo, definitely one of my faves there and I’m sure that Korn and Slipknot would have been proud to have 12-year-old me as a fan. I kinda knew who I was in the hierarchy at that point. I was essentially a theater kid who spent all of his free time playing Runescape on the AOL browser on his mum’s PC instead of football. I accepted it. But at least I wasn’t actually this “gay thing” people kept throwing around because by now I understood a gay is a boy who fancies other boys. And to be honest I don’t really feel like I’ve ever fancied anyone before.

Then puberty happened.

Oh yeah, this is fun, tingly feelings, I smell bad. It was quite fun dribbling on this girl’s face playing Truth or Dare, maybe later we’ll go behind that bike sheds and, there I was sat in English class, my friend next to me. I watched as he delicately removes a pencil from its case. We briefly make eye contact as he flutters his long black eyelashes with a blink before staring forward. His eyes are so bright and beautiful yet they seem so sad and deep with emotion. I wish I could just understand. Oh fuck, I think I’m a bit gay. You’re telling me this whole time I actually have been the bad thing that people keep calling me? Shit!

Chapter 2 – Feelings

Oh do you hear it that faint hum, something coming from a deep, dark place too powerful to control? It’s the self-hatred. She is here and she’s only getting started. Short version, I fall hopelessly in love with a friend of mine who doesn’t feel the same way which crushes me into a million tiny pieces and years later actually it turns out he was gay the whole time. He just really specifically didn’t like me. [Double kill.] Here I am, 13, crying to evanescence alone in my bedroom feeling like there’s no point in really being alive as I’m clearly a faulty outcast person that has no place in the world. I stopped going to church with my grandma because I felt like I wasn’t really supposed to be there. Also, by this age, the whole Christianity thing didn’t really make much sense to me. And the adult services were dry AF compared to coloring in a picture of Jesus’s face at Sunday school. So other than the free tea and biscuits they gave away after the sermon, religion didn’t really have much to offer me. Damn, there was some good biscuits though. I miss that. But wait! All is not lost yet. Do you see that? A triumphant, rallying cry of guitars, stripey hoodies, and black hair dye. Emo had arrived! I swear to God, emo is one of the best things that happened to pop culture in the last 20 years. As well as inventing eyeliner and skinny jeans, a new word hit the theater, nerd, goth, band, kid corner that would change my world forever.

Bisexual. You can be normal and gay at the same time and some people think it’s cool? Well, slap a long fingerless glove on my arm and sign me up to Myspace 'cause Mum, I’m bi. It was a good term 'cause it was a catchall for anyone who felt sexually confused or curious that didn’t want to commit to something stronger which is very me. Big commitment issues. Thanks, fam. To be clear, regardless of whatever the 2006 teenagers thoughts and feelings were, being bi is valid and should not be excused away or erased by anyone. Thank you.

From this moment, I was a loud and proud raving bi to my close friends and the strangers on the internet who saw my clearly-labeled sexual preference on my Myspace page. And the emo friends I made at this time were awesome. We just used to hang and make out with each other and listen to music and drink bottles of Smirnoff Ice until we were sick on each other with no judgment. The judgment came several years later looking back at the photos that you can’t delete. So I didn’t need to tell my family or people at school anything. But the thing is with a Myspace page, anyone with an internet connection can read it. And so the rumors started spreading through my neighborhood that Dan Howell was in fact a bisexual. I had a friend in French class who one day, totally unprompted, just turned to me and said, “Hmm, yeah, I thought so. You give off a bi-vibe.” A bi-vi-, what the fuck is a bi-vibe? Great, yeah, nothing to make a 15-year-old feel self-conscious about his behavior like being told he emanates a bisexual aura. What am I supposed to do with that? Sorry that I give off mixed signals. I’m versatile. Turns out it was actually a social upgrade from being called gay all the time 'cause bisexual was a new word that only referred to sexuality so people actually had to decide how they felt about the fact I was attracted to boys. As opposed to gay which as we all understand is synonymous with bad and also implies a general threat, plague, curse/evil force that simply must be destroyed. People at school were actually almost nice to me with curiosity about it and a few of the boys that previously loved to just generically call me gay while throwing a compasses at me or something, now started to low-key flirt with me and some stuff happened. Go figure.

But then I entered the dark ages and no I’m not talking about my hair because I was never actually cool enough to commit to dying it black. As quickly as they arrived into my life, my emo friend group vanished into the night. Like the tip of an eyeliner pencil snapping or the HTML on your intricately-crafted MySpace page falling apart when the host websites of your embedded gifs die, so, too, did my social life. One had to suddenly focus on school, another moved town, two of them just fell out with each other and started hanging out with their old friends again. Well, we don’t all have back up friend groups, Lindsey! I went all in on the emos! You’re telling me I have to go back to sitting in my kitchen playing Runescape now! Thanks a lot. So for a year I literally had no friends. And this is when the bullying at school really stepped its pussy up. The things people used to say offhand to me in a corridor were now said loudly in classrooms where everybody would laugh. People used to sing songs about me being gay on the bus while my fellow nerds sat around me just stared awkwardly out of the window not wanting to get involved. People shouted things out during GCSE exams in front of the whole school and the low key pushing became punches. People used to wait for me after school just to throw things at me. Once a guy put his hand around my throat and pushed my head against a coat peg in the locker room while everyone was watching and just slapped me for five minutes. But I never reacted. I never cried or got angry or fought back 'cause then I’d be giving them what they wanted and I refused to play along. But this way of dealing with things definitely had an impact on my relationship with emotion going into life. I became a total outcast. No one wanted to come near me out of fear that they’d get targeted, too. So no one ever stood up for me. And, you know, I don’t blame them. I just resent them even to this day. No, I’m kidding, I don’t really. I do. No, I don’t. I, hmm. Teachers at the time obviously did nothing. In fact, one of them saw this happening to me and laughed 'cause you know, boys will be boys especially the gay ones that get killed by the other ones, am I right? Ah, classic lad banter. And home. See, keeping this on the topic of sexuality and not economic class, violence, addiction, and health issues, let’s just say some shit was goin’ down. I didn’t think I could ask my family for help or share my feelings about this, mainly due to my dad. Funny guy, kind of a woke hippie who did and said a lot of things I did respect but at the same time used to walk around the house saying how he hoped someone he had a problem with at work would *clears throat* “die of bum cancer.” Yep, so picked the one area to be a bigot that would further traumatize your child. Nice! This experience coming from a childhood hearing the word gay meaninglessly thrown around as an insult at home and school, in music, on TV, to then realizing I am actually kinda gay, to then very specifically being attacked for it was traumatic. The world was clearly telling me if I ever wanted to be accepted by anyone or, in my particular environment, survive, I couldn’t be gay. I was afraid of it, literally homophobic of myself. I am talking Pavlov, sunken place, North Korea-level mind alteration that made me terrified of and repulsed by this part of me. This is called internalized oppression. It’s a real thing and it’s some real shit.

Chapter 3 – Internalized Oppression

From this moment I was no longer advertising myself as bi. No, BRB deleting that Myspace real quick, xD lemme get on that Bebo. “My Chemical Romance”? No, I’m listen to what’s this, N-Dubz? Jesus Christ. I go away for the summer break and come back to school quiet and serious and fully straight. *coughs* I needed me some new friends that were a bit higher up the social ladder, you know what I’m sayin’ for security so I go ahead and join “The Inbetweeners”. Literally this group of friends, the exact middle ground between nerds and desperately wanting to be cool. And oh how desperate we were. The great thing about these friends was they knew loads of girls. So firstly, instant cool points. Secondly, if I date a girl *scoffs* super not gay. The problem with that was it’s not like everyone just forgot everything that’s been said about me and this group of friends, casually homophobic pretty much all the time and also they hung out in places near some even more aggressive and super homophobic peeps. Just full-time Runescape would have been a better in hindsight. I find myself going through the same shit at school but now voluntarily going through it at the weekends from the people that are supposed to be my friends thinking I’m doing the right thing whilst constantly telling myself I’m now totally heterosexual. So I did what many people choose to do at that point and I got a girlfriend. But this is pretty messed up because I really liked this girl. In fact, I loved her as a friend and I was genuinely attracted to her but I was so afraid of sexuality I didn’t even wanna do anything straight in case I had some weird gay panic that I was totally frigid and I led her on. And when she got pissed at me, understandably, for being a terrible boyfriend, I just felt even worse. This was someone who I liked that I was hurting and lying to but I couldn’t leave as then I’d have no armor. Beautiful irony here is having a girlfriend didn’t in any way stop the abuse 'cause remember, gay is a great all-purpose general insult. (Call someone gay today and we’ll throw in a free set of steak knives.) And when these neighborhood teens started heavy drinking and getting into drugs, things suddenly got quite scary as people joked about setting fire to a tent as I slept in it at Reading Festival. Or saying, “You know that notoriously unstable guy? Yeah, he said he’s gonna kill you next Saturday.” Awkward.

This was definitely the lowest point in my life. I just felt totally alone, confused and I deeply hated myself. I used to ask God, in case he was there, to please, just make me straight and everyone stop. But I saw no end, no escape, no way to change the world or who I was. So one evening I thought fuck it and I attempted suicide.

I say attempted, because just before it was too late I thought

“oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit what have i done what have i done fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck?”

“what will your grandma think don’t do this to her she tried her best and she loves you”

“your family aren’t total dicks and this will fuck them up can’t you just get over it surely”

“you’re gonna get to the last year of school and give up now really what was the point”

“I heard this is one of the most painful ways to die so not a great choice if I’m being blunt”

Felt kinda bad for a few days otherwise I pretended it never happened and I didn’t tell anyone, until now, literally. Hmm, I know pretty dark right, but hey spoiler things kinda worked out. I mean still gotta lot of issues but here I am. I’m so glad I failed for so many reasons, for the people in my life, for the future I would’ve wasted. The most important being that I thought I was trapped in a situation forever when in reality, the entire world I lived in and my life changed completely. I thought it was hopeless when in reality there was so much to hope for and that’s it. Time changes everything. With the lives that we have, we can try anything we’ve dreamed of. I want anyone that’s ever felt like this to realize you are never trapped. There is always hope. You just need to believe in yourself and get to the other side. So yeah school age 6 to 18, I’m gonna give that a bad Google review. The thing is I did stand out. I’ve always been a loudmouth, class clown, annoying shit. Since graduating, it turns out half the people I knew were fuckin’ gay. That group of friends I had, all lovely people now. Five of them were gay, five gays! That is statistically irregular. Oh but they flew under the radar. All I’m saying is I wish people just hated me for being annoying and immature. Leave the gays alone!

My light at the end of the tunnel was university. I was gonna get my A levels move to a new town and ghost these bitches. But I took a gap year first to earn some money which was very boring sitting at home and working at ASDA where I was not happy to help. My shift started at 5 a.m. on a Saturday. Signed up for a Twitter account to run my mouth off and then bam. “So my name is [Dan].” My YouTube story begins, a new chapter of my life to redefine. So you know what I do? Get a Formspring because nothing gives you that attention feeling like one of those anonymous question and answer websites that are inherently toxic and no one should use. And straight out of the bat bisexual Dan returns. 'Cause hey, just like Myspace, I’m only telling a few people on the internet right now. It’s not like one day I’m gonna get so many followers that random strangers and my family might see it. Wow, I had a lot fun with many different kinds of people in 2009. Let’s just say I got a lot out of my system. Got a couple of things in my system, too. Sorry.

And this is when, through the magic of the internet, I met Phil. And obviously we were more than friends but it was more than just romantic. This is someone that genuinely liked me. I trusted them. And for the first time since I was a tiny child, I actually felt safe. And the relationship we formed at that point was something that I needed in my life. We are real best friends, companions through life, like actual soulmates, not that souls are a real thing that exist. It’s so lucky to just find someone you can be that compatible with and especially to anyone that has experienced the kind of self-hatred that I have dealt with, one person accepting you can make all the difference. And I bet so many people wanna know so much more about that which, honestly, I take as a compliment. But here’s the thing. I’m somebody that wants to keep the details of my personal life private. So is Phil. I know lots of people these days, thanks to social media, want to share and monetize every aspect of their life and then as soon as something changes suddenly it’s this huge drama because everybody got invested in the story of your life like it’s a soap opera. I don’t want that. I wanna do certain things without an audience. I wanna be spontaneous. I don’t wanna feel afraid to take risks. I want to enjoy totally fucking something up and not have to post a statement about it. And if anyone thinks people really have to share these things about their life, you need to rethink your position. And look, I understand that sex is a fun and interesting thing to talk about. I get it. I am also a disgusting pervert. But the specific minutiae of who I be fuckin’, when, why, where, how long, how, uhh, I mean? Sexuality is a general fact that it can be very useful to know about a person for several reasons, but we can’t force people to disclose that either. We don’t know this person’s life story, what they’ve been through, if they haven’t told people, if they’ll lose their job, if they’re in danger. There are so many reasons someone might not be open about it. We can preach the message that being out is good, but aggressively speculating or trying to out someone is really bad. They might not be gay, in which case we’re just harassing someone and probably stereotyping. And if they are there’s gonna be a reason why they haven’t talked about it. So I don’t wanna see any responses to me finally talking about this like no one is surprised. “Dan we been knew.” Wow, you huge galaxy brain genius. What’s it like walking around with all those brain cells in there working overtime? What, you got like three in there? Don’t lose your balance, mastermind. I haven’t exactly been subtle have I? I’m an awkward, sexually ambiguous nerd. “What the fuck even is your sexuality?” That’s not the point. I’m already dead inside so it doesn’t matter here, but to me if someone’s reaction to a person coming out is just, “yeah, I knew”, they’re showing no empathy towards the issue or that person. They’re just making it about themselves like it was a fun piece of gossip they already knew. All we have to do is listen and be accepting.

So anyway back to the tale. Whilst things were looking up for Dan aged 18, things quickly got messy again. Wow, that beats the emo streak of temporary self-acceptance by like six months, nice. There was a point around 2011 where the relationship with my audience shifted from what felt like direct communication between me and individuals that just saw me as a comedy creator to communities of people that formed to talk about me when I wasn’t there. Which is fine, but for some people it was about getting generally invested in me and my real life which I thought was a bit strange 'cause inevitably like anyone who puts themself out there, some people started to really dig into my private life to find out information about me that I wasn’t ready to share. And this was around the same time that YouTubers finally started to get mainstream recognition in the British press. We had the BBC knocking at our door trying to offer Dan and Phil a radio show. From that, Dan and Phil became this entertainment duo that we could have a creative career with. And we love working together, so when all these opportunities came for Dan and Phil, we were really excited but I was also scared as people clearly knew I wasn’t straight and I hadn’t told my family that. None of my old friends knew about this, and what me and Phil had was ours and personal and yet some people were trying to get access to it for their own satisfaction. It was no longer a few people on the internet, no big deal. So I just shut down. It felt like I was back at school again, surrounded by threatening people trying to expose me for their entertainment. Most I’m sure just wanted what was best for me and I feel such genuine sadness and am sorry that I couldn’t be closer to and more truthful with the people in my life that were just trying to be nice but I wasn’t ready to deal with it at this time so I had to do something to contain it. I definitely sent some mixed messages. Some were just joking around, others were super defensive that in my panic came across like “I’m now telling everyone I’m totally straight” when all I really meant was “please fuck off and don’t invade my privacy, you creepy stalkers, thank you”. But this experience seriously triggered some PTSD in me and I was back in the dark place. I didn’t want to just disappear from the internet to escape it and throw away this creative hobby that actually started paying rent. Thanks. So I just decided to put anything to do with my sexuality in a box to come back to later as I was still processing my past and I wanted to understand my identity on my own terms and timeline and not just have it hijacked as fuel for people’s sexual fantasies or some headline in an article. And whilst we’re not exactly living in a utopia yet here on YouTube, the general internet culture only five or six years ago was a much less wholesome, progressive place as this little bubble is now. Sure, a lot of people probably would have been supportive, but there was just as much open bigotry and general toxicity 'cause people felt less accountable and it was okay to say certain things 'cause it’s just on the internet and I couldn’t handle that at the time. And, generally, I can handle a lot. I have big hands with a very wide reach for playing piano, you fucking.. get your mind out of the gutter. We can’t ask people to just put their lives on hold to address their sexuality first. If a kid dreams of being a footballer and age 18 gets signed to a club and all their dreams come true but they’re scared to come out because of the insane homophobia in that community, they shouldn’t turn it down. Yes, it’s so important to be truthful about who you are and open and proud in front of the world but it’s our society’s fault that these people are scared to say who they are. So let’s all focus on making it a welcoming place and people will come out when they are ready. So when was I ready? Well, it’s always been on my mind that I need to talk about this at some point. I couldn’t just keep going forward in my life ignoring it, not only just so I can be authentic, which is very important for general existing, but also just letting people know what kind of sexual attention I want from the world. All of it from everyone. God I’m so thirsty. And if anything motivated me, it’s the idea that I can help someone else 'cause that’s basically my whole career, isn’t it, admitting to shit that I’ve been through so you will feel better about yourselves. There we go, you’re welcome. I have a platform and a following of millions of people, many of whom I know have been through exactly what I have. And if I tell my story as painful and flip floppy and flawed as it is, I know it will mean something to someone as every time someone speaks openly about sexuality, it saves lives. I’d never met a single out gay person until I was 18. And if I had, or even just seen better representation in the media, I wouldn’t have felt so totally alone. I wouldn’t even be saying this to you now if it wasn’t for TV shows, musicians, and public figures in the last couple years reinforcing this to me. It doesn’t matter if I was living the life privately as there was still so much confusion about my feelings and fear. But things are better now, on the internet, on TV, in my real life. It’s not perfect but it feels safe enough in this space right now for me to feel confident. So thank you, sincerely, to all the brave people that came before me and to any of you that made this world seem welcoming for me. And instead of procrastinating from this by focusing on work, which was a way for me to insure my own independence and survival in case I was rejected, or just doing things for other people to take my mind off it instead of asserting my own needs, which my therapist keeps telling me is one of my biggest problems. Here I am with a fresh void of time in front of me to fuck up however I want. Now look, we all have different experiences in life. Some of us are lucky, some of us not. It just so happened that the first 18 years of my life were horrendously shit. It failed me. But we get dealt cards from the start, too. If you look at my life, I was born into this world as an able-bodied, white, cis-man in Britain which immediately gives me so much privilege in this current world and I am fully aware of how much harder making it to today could have been for me, which is why we all need to stand up for equality and social justice even if it doesn’t apply to us. No one stood up for me when it mattered the most and that almost cost me everything. So if you see a woman being harassed, a gay being threatened, someone muttering something racist, say something, do something because if you’re still or silent, the victim will just think that you are against them, too. We all have a responsibility.

This tale was just some of the stuff relating to sexuality. We all have a whole sob story if we wanna tell it but I just wanted to explain the journey of how I got to this point and overcame the obstacles that tried to block this path. And now I’ve arrived.

Chapter 4 – Labels

Okay cool story, bro, it’s answer time. What’s your answer. Whaddayalikedafuk? Here’s the thing, you want me to talk candidly about sexuality as if it’s something that I understand? I don’t know what it is, why it is. Turns out no one knows. I’ve been sitting here for years waiting for scientists to just work it out like bleep bloop. [Oh this is why and exactly how it’s different for people. There we go.] Thinking I shouldn’t run off my mouth on the internet in case my theories and opinions on varying gayness get debunked next week. Well, I waited long enough and it didn’t happen. Science, ya fucked up, you let me down. And I fully expect to have to delete this video in two weeks when you find out all the answers suddenly. Thanks a bunch. What makes someone gay or straight or all the things in between? What the ever loving fuck is gender about? This is a mess. Yet people want you to give them a word because that’s how humans communicate with words that have meanings. Which is why our disgusting species is impatient, stupid, and obsessed with labels. And this applies to everything, sexuality, gender, political identity, what obscure genre of synthwave you listen to. People just want a label that represents something they understand so they already know how to feel about you and don’t have to bother thinking. [Oh you’re a feminist well I don’t need to know anything more. Oh you’re a leftist. Oh you’re a K-pop fan but but but but.] If people just want to find a way to disagree with you or dislike you, they can refer to the label and turn off their brains. Hey, what does my label say? Huh. The issue is, especially when we start talking about the writhing mass of confusion and suffering that is sexual and gender identity, the limits of language and specific terminology become a big problem. What does being gay mean? You never thought about a boob once? What does being a man mean? You wanna be an emotionless rock rubbing raw steaks against your biceps? It’s not like humanity is all in agreement right now. I don’t like the stereotypes and drama that come with all this terminology so I’m just not gonna use it. Thing is gender identity isn’t my issue. I feel comfortable with the identity that I’ve had my whole life. Dan, a tol boy from England. But being a man means nothing to me. I wouldn’t feel uncomfortable wearing makeup or a sickening pair of heels, though I can’t even draw in a straight line so that would be a disaster. Also is anyone really comfortable wearing heels? Hmm. Icons of masculinity aren’t really a big part of my life. Might as well call me a fucking formless blob that sounds more relatable. Shout out to all my formless blobs out there, rise up. I don’t have to do anything or be anything and I personally wouldn’t feel offended if I wasn’t referred to as a he. Well, she’s feeling hungry today. Stop fucking judging me, Susan. I’m sad and I’m gonna eat this whole damn cake whether you like it or not. But anyone that has this don’t really care attitude about their gender identity is in a way privileged 'cause some people, especially trans, care a lot about their gender identity and using the correct pronouns which other people should respect. Likewise with sexuality, whilst to me the endlessly increasing list of tribes and flags being flown is a bit daunting and confusing and personally stresses me out 'cause I almost find it constrictive, some people like it. Because if you’re feelings are confusing and then you look at a word that represents something and go, “wow, that me”, it can help you realize you’re valid and find a community and that’s great. There is so much controversy around this issue and others but if we all just calm down, respect each other’s experiences and try to just be nice, reasonable people, which is a lot to ask, let’s be real, it’s quite simple. If you wanna use language to express your honest feelings and identity, that’s great and other people should respect what you say. Likewise, if you hate labels and you just wanna be a formless blob, that’s fine, too. No one should force you. The only thing that isn’t cool is telling other people what they should or should not identify as 'cause that ain’t your problem or your business, bye. This was one of the things that held me back from talking about this for years. Shit’s confusing, man. Let’s just go back to cellular reproduction by mitosis so I don’t really have to be specific. Two people that I really look up to and respect, Harry Styles and Janelle Monae, both famously say that they don’t feel the need to label it which, to be honest, is how I feel and is perfectly okay. But I get it, for me, you want a word. Oh, that’s hard, though. I’m an annoying guy. I feel uncertain specifying my sexuality in the same way I wouldn’t say I am an atheist. Who the fuck am I to say whether God does or doesn’t exist? I don’t know shit 'bout shit and neither does anyone else. I mean I think it’s unlikely in the same way I know I like DICK. But I’m not gonna pretend to have a definite answer here. Looking at my public statements is inconsistent and confusing. Looking at my personal track record through life is super confusing. And looking at the void inside my soul threatening to crush the entire universe with the force of its event horizon of misery and melodrama, well, fuck let’s close that shit up. One thing’s for sure whatever heterosexual is, I ain’t it. Really if you ask me, I don’t think anyone’s totally straight. I think there’s a lot of social and emotional issues getting in the way of yet to be understood feelings of attraction that can be very flexible. And trust me, I’ve known a lot of straight guys until a couple of drinks, some deep conversation, and lingering eye contact, and suddenly they just start leaning in. What does that make them? And am I totally gay? No. Am I slightly more gay or is it just easier for gays to hook up with each other because of societal norms. It’s not like the signs for male and female bathrooms are what I’m attracted to. I don’t care what flesh organ you have between your legs, what your hair’s like, if you’re covered in it or a fuckin’ beluga whale. I’m gonna be honest, I’m not picky. I’m easy. So am I bi or pan or poly? Well, now we’re just in a clusterfuck of defining language and I’m confused and sad and horny. This is why I personally love the word queer. I understand that some people don’t as it is a slur but as someone that’s been the target of it several times throughout my life I’m up for some reclamation. It’s like recycling. The definition makes sense because until society is equal with all sexual and gender identifies, it is literally strange from a conventional viewpoint plus it’s better than a super long acronym, it’s inclusive of everyone and therefore great for formless blobs. There we go, an identity I feel comfortable with. A highly-strung, depressed queer praying for a giant meteor to hurry up and finally eradicate humanity. LMAO, yeet!

But to come full circle, I know that even today, deep in my heart the word gay scares me because that’s how I’ve been conditioned my whole life. So, you know what? Fuck the literal definition and the scientific definition and what everyone thinks. I finally have to just confront and accept this.

I’m gay.

Oh look, didn’t spontaneously fucking combust. Well, there we go, that was a lot of stress about nothing, wasn’t it? Bloody hell. So yup, I’m here, I’m queer, and don’t worry I’m still filled with existential fear.

WE’RE HERE, WE’RE QUEER WE’RE FILLED WITH EXISTENTIAL FEAR.

Chapter 5 – Fear

Even though I’m at this current place, there is still so much I’m afraid of and this has taken months to make because of that. Telling my family was a big fear. I have problems connecting with them emotionally because reasons. So I only came out to them this month and if it didn’t go well, as I’m now the independent adult that I fought so hard to be, I was ready to cut them off like the bottom of a sweater turning into a seasonal crop. But I didn’t have to, love you. I didn’t think they’d reject me these days but coming out is still a surprise. It changes things. And I’m a pretty awkward person generally but the idea of just dropping this in conversation in front of them all terrified me. And I tried several times this year to do it but I just couldn’t. So you know how I finally came out to my family? E-mail. Yep, I literally just sent them an e-mail saying and I quote,

“Hello gang. I’ve been meaning to talk to you all for a while, something quite important that should be disclosed at some point. I thought I would around Christmas, then Mum’s birthday, then last Easter Sunday, etc., but every time I meant to, I either felt like I would ruin the mood of the day or I just felt awkward and didn’t want to. So I decided just to email you all instead which is really inappropriate and just weird but that somehow seems appropriate for me and at least I’ll just finally say it.

Basically I’m gay.”

Yup. It was just getting ridiculous so I thought screw it and hey, it worked. Turns out my remaining family, pretty chill bunch of people. Even my Christian grandma said this,

“We love you for being you. It must be a great relief to finally acknowledge who you are. Popsie and I just want you to be happy. People are born as they are and have no say in it. I hope that now you will feel free to live your life as you want with no pretense.”

Aw.

“Don’t forget the iPad.”

Yes, I said I’d give her my old iPad. She mainly cares about that I thing. Wasn’t so sure when I was 17 but it went well now and I know that makes me lucky but, hey, it shows that times change. As for the other people in my life, obviously all the friends I have now are cool. If anyone in my life I’ve ever known isn’t cool with it then I don’t care. And sure here online there might be a few incredibly lost bigots following me or just some classic trolls who I think should get fucked. No, like literally, I think you should try it. You’ll probably enjoy it and you might learn something about yourself. Inevitably some of you watching this might have a weird reaction if you just feel like it was a shock or you feel hurt that I kept it from you. But I feel like I explained myself reasonably here and going forward I can’t have any space for that, sorry. I’ve come to terms with who I am and now you have to, too, ha. Funnily enough straight up homophobia is probably the one thing I’m not that afraid of, because I just don’t agree so it doesn’t hold much emotional power over me but you bet I’m opening myself up to all new kinds of in real life and international discrimination now which is fun. But one of the other big fears holding me back was, honestly, that I wouldn’t be accepted by the community. I know that it’s a big pride flag covering a lot of ground and even the idea of it and certainly most of it is amazing. But there is a lot of drama within it right now especially on the internet. You’ve got Grindr gays arguing about how manly gays should be, bi’s getting ignored, trans people, especially of color, not being historically appreciated, acephobia, fucking SWERFs and TERFs. No thank you. So even though they are my people, I know some of them will have problems with something. And even then, just seeing such a loud and proud, strong and opinionated group of people celebrating something just intimidates a smol introvert such as myself. And in my mind if these people don’t accept me because I’m not being definitive enough or I took too long then I almost feel like I’ll be alone all over again, and this is a fear that a lot of people have honestly. But I’m a nice guy and I’m trying my best so you better be welcoming, you bunch of fuckin’ queers. And obviously with the topic of sexuality, it doesn’t matter where we are or how far you think we’ve come, by merely mentioning it, I will be opening up a primordial box of bullshit which will include every single stupid argument and question since the dawn of time. [It’s not natural.] There’s gay animals. [Adam and Steve.] That’s based on a story and the protagonist that arrives later probably doesn’t agree with you. [Why can’t we have straight pride?] I could spend 10 hours on all the classic crap and people would still be asking the same things. This being posted on the internet, my hopes are so incredibly low, lower than my self-esteem. Wow, that is unhealthy. I need to stop doing that. This video is about internalized oppression and the problems of language. I’m not here to pontificate on every topic tangentially related to the entire concept of gayness. *ASMR voice*: Pontificate on every topic tangentially related to the concept of gayness.

There’s other humans and all the time in the world left for that. The time in the world coincidentally being not much longer. Climate change LMAO. But I had to tell my story so people would understand me and these things. Why coming out is still a big deal because queer people are often invisible and suffering until they have to do it. Some people grow up in supportive environments and it’s a positive experience. But more likely, especially around the world outside of the big cities, it isn’t. This is not a fight that is anywhere near over. Even in Britain today people are debating whether children should be taught to be accepting of sexual and gender identity in school.

Queer people exist. Choosing not to accept them is not an option.

To anyone watching this that isn’t out, it’s okay. You’re okay. You were born this way, it’s right, and anyone that has a problem with it is wrong. Based on your circumstance, you might not feel ready to tell people yet or that it’s safe and that’s fine, too. Just know that living your truth, with pride, is the way to be happy. You are valid. It gets so much better. And the future is clear. It’s pretty queer.

So there we go. Now I can proceed authentically in my life with full disclosure. Cute mutuals know to slide into the DMs. And you can all fuck off and leave me alone.

Bye.

#basically i'm gay #daniel howell #danielhowell #dan and phil #amazingphil #phil lester #yes im tagging i dont care #if there's a flaw somewhere (like a missed part or sm) dm me so i could fix it #id go through it again anyway but just in case #oh and it's literally just dan's substitles so all credits to him or whoever did that #hmm i wonder if they hired someone. interesting #have fun #the script

2K notes · View notes

mageicalwishes · 4 years

Text

Read on AO3: here

Summary: A softer re-imagining of the morning after the forest fire. "Pulling back, I take him all in - His hair fanned out against the pillow, and a raw, dazed expression gracing his face (All traces of his usual smugness, thankfully, removed). Before he quickly snaps back into himself - Grimacing up at me, and turning his face to hide it in the pillow. The tips of his ears colouring slightly, as he does so, clearly embarrassed (I wonder if he can blush properly. He hasn’t yet, I don’t think, but maybe I just need to try harder. It would definitely be worth the effort)."

Tags: Fluff, Dramatic Tyrannus Basilton “Baz” Pitch, Morning Kisses, Morning Cuddles

Words: 2,476

Simon

Baz has barely a second to properly open his eyes, before I jump him again - Pressing him down into the mattress, and littering his face in kisses (I’ve been awake for at least an hour just waiting for him to wake up, and I’m not known to be the most patient person, so I don't want to waste a second).

Pushing his palms against my chest, he rolls me away onto my back besides him, with a groan.

“Snow. You need to brush your teeth,” he complains.

But I’m so distracted by the lushness of his voice, still deepened with sleep, that I miss most of what he’s trying to say (It isn’t my fault, though. He sounds fit. Super fucking fit). I do, however, catch that he’s gone back to calling me Snow, which is annoying. I wish he’d just call me Simon. He did last night.

“What?” I ask, dumbly.

“You need to brush your teeth.”

“Nu uh,” I argue, propping myself up on my elbows and smiling down at him. “You’re not the Queen of bloody England, Baz. You can handle morning breath.”

“I absolutely can not.”

I roll my eyes. Dramatic bastard.

“Just spell them then, fusspot.”

“God, please don’t tell me that you just spell your teeth,” he moans. “I remember your ‘Clean as a Whistle’ showering phase in Fourth year, you know? I won’t tolerate a repeat of that just because we snogged.”

“Just because we’re snogging,” I correct. “Present tense.”

He arches an elegant brow up at me, but he doesn’t argue - Which is good. We’re definitely still snogging. Whether he wants to admit it, or not.

“I don’t spell my teeth, you dick!”

“Fine. Then go and brush them.”

Pouting, I grab a hold of his wrist and squeeze. His skin cool against mine - Although, definitely warmer than it was last night (I must’ve warmed him up with all the cuddling - He slept in my arms last night. It was proper ridiculous).

“No, Baz,” I whine, shifting and straddling his lap.“I wanna’ stay here with you. So just … spell them, or suck it up.”

Scoffing, he reaches over and grabs his wand from his bedside table - Apparently unwilling to argue it any further.

“Fine, you mule. Smile.”

Pleased, I obey - Flashing him my widest photograph smile, as he rests his wand against my front teeth (There’s a slight gap between them, but he doesn’t say anything about it).

“Minty Fresh.”

“There we go,” I say, smiling down at him properly now. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Well ... you say that, but it clearly goes beyond your level of capability. So, I’d argue that it’s hard enough.”

While his words are as sharp as ever, I can tell that he doesn’t really mean them. There’s no malice in his voice, just light amusement. It’s teasing, not taunting. And I like it. I like this. A softer Baz. A sweeter Baz.

“Whatever,” I groan, leaning down towards him, so that our faces are mere centimetres apart. “Can I kiss you now?”

“If you must,” he breezes, nonchalantly (Although his voice wobbles slightly - Giving him away. He wants this just as much as me, I know).

And so I do, reaching down and pressing our lips together without further discussion. Baz falling soft and pliant, as he sighs contentedly. My chest constricting at the feel of him - All safe, and warm, and happy, with me.

And it’s all so much slower this time - Languid and unhurried where it was clashing and desperate (Last night was a bit of a fever dream) - but it’s no less good. In fact, it’s better like this. In the still daylight of morning, it all feels far more real. Far less fragile. And it’s driving me barmy - My heart swelling and racing, eagerly, with every move against him.

Shit. Maybe I am Gay? I probably wouldn’t be enjoying this as much as I am, if I wasn’t, right? I mean, I know some straight people, like, ‘experiment’ with stuff like this, but I’m pretty sure that’s not what I’m doing. Last night I kissed him ‘cause I wanted to, not for … science, or some shit. I just … wanted it. I still want it. So that must make me … Something?

But as I start to question myself - What all of … this makes me - My throat fills with that typical stressed tightness, and I decide to stop thinking about it (For now, anyway). There’s much better things to focus on, at the moment. Like Baz. And breakfast (I hope we’re having breakfast. Sometimes he skips it at Watford, but that’s probably ‘cause of the fang thing. Hopefully he won’t today).

Pulling back, I take him all in - His hair fanned out against the pillow, and a raw, dazed expression gracing his face (All traces of his usual smugness, thankfully, removed). Before he quickly snaps back into himself - Grimacing up at me, and turning his face to hide it in the pillow. The tips of his ears colouring slightly, as he does so, clearly embarrassed (I wonder if he can blush properly. He hasn’t yet, I don’t think, but maybe I just need to try harder. It would definitely be worth the effort).

“Take a picture, Snow. It’ll last longer,” he drones, his voice filled with, what I now suspect, is faux confidence.

And, even though he clearly doesn’t mean it, I really think that I might. He’s so beautiful.

————————————————————————————

We’ve stopped kissing now; opting, instead, to lie together, quietly. Snuggled up together under the warmth of his duvet.

We’re positioned similarly to last night - Bodies pressed firmly together, and an arm slung over his waist - Except this time, we’re facing one another. The tip of his slightly skewiff nose resting against mine, as we look at each other. Well … I’m looking at him - At his stormy grey eyes, and his slightly cut bottom lip (It must be from the fangs. It’s so fucking wicked that he has fangs). But he’s looking … somewhere behind me. His brow furrowed, and a gnarled little scowl spread across his lips (I would try to kiss it away, if I thought that it would work, but I doubt it. He seems too … stressed, for all of that).

Instead, I splay my hand out against his stomach. Tracing, what I hope are, comforting circles against the soft skin there. And it all feels a little bit strange; since I haven’t done anything like this before (Agatha wasn’t big on physical affection), but he isn’t complaining, so I think he’s happy enough. Baz is definitely the kind of guy to scold a - Lover? Boyfriend? Enemy roommate with benefits? Whatever - for doing something wrong. He’s not one to accept mediocrity (Which sort of makes me wonder what I’m even doing here at all, to be honest), so his silence must be a good sign.

“Baz,” I whisper. “Are you alright? You seem all … far away.”

“I’m alright,” he sighs, scrunching his eyes shut (Even though he definitely doesn't seem it). “I’m just thinking.”

“‘Bout what?”

“You.”

Oh. Crowley. He shouldn’t be allowed to say things like that.

“What about me?”

“About how … I’m not entirely sure that all of this, isn’t just the effect of some kind of ‘Sweet Dreams’ spell,” he says, jaw tight, and voice strained. “I hope you know that, if I wake up and I’m back at Watford, I won’t hesitate to throttle you.”

Helplessly, I beam over at him (Even though that’s probably a more-than-a-little-bit of a fucked response to being threatened).

“I know. But this ‘ain't a dream. I promise. See?” I laugh, pinching at his waist, forcefully. Pulling a girlish little yelp from his lips (Much to my delight). “If this were a dream, that would’ve woken you up.”

“Brute,” he grumbles, swatting at my wrist. “There were less aggressive ways you could’ve proved your point.”

I shrug. “Probably. I couldn’t think of any, though. And I didn’t do it that hard, you’re just being sensitive.”

“Whatever you say, Snow.”

“Yeah,” I smile. “But, uh …. Why would it be a dream, anyway? This would be a bit of a weird dream, no?”

“Trust me, I’ve had weirder.”

“Starring me?” I ask, curious (And perhaps a little puffed up).

“Starring you,” he confirms, eyes searching my face desperately.

Jesus Christ.

The absolute earnestness of his confession takes me by surprise; knocking the breath right out of my lungs. Since he definitely isn’t taking the piss (He looks much too frightened to be joking).

“Wicked,” I breathe. And I really am trying my best to be reassuring, but my apparent go-to tactic of calling things he’s insecure about ‘wicked’, probably isn’t doing much in terms of restoring his self-esteem. “I mean … not that. No, I mean that is wicked, but just … I dream about you too.”

“Yes, Snow, I know,” he sighs. “I’ve been witness to plenty of your nightmare sessions.”

“No,” I groan. “I mean … sometimes, yeah. But you’re in my nice dreams, too, sometimes. More so, recently.”

He scrunches up his face, apparently unsure of what to say (And I never thought that I’d live to see the day where I finally succeeded in leaving him speechless, but here we are).

“Baz, um … how long have you actually … wanted this?”

“Why?” he drawls, hands scrunching up into tensed fists, against my chest.

“I’m just curious. It doesn’t, like, matter or anything? I just wanted to know.”

Silently, he draws a hand up and starts smoothing the lines of my upper-arm, anxiously (I think he might have a bit of a ‘thing’ for my arms, to be honest. He kept on squeezing them last night, like he couldn’t get enough. And, I suppose that, with all the sword-wielding I’ve done over the past few years, they’re pretty alright. If he didn’t have his vampire super-strength bullshit, I reckon that I could have him in an arm wrestling match).

“A long time,” he mumbles. “I … figured it out for sure, in Fifth year. But it started before then. Long before then.”

“How much longer?”

“Basically the day we met.”

“Oh,” I gasp.

And I know that I should probably think of something better to say, considering that he’s just fessed up to having had a crush on me for the better part of a decade, but I’m feeling a little ... overwhelmed, to say the least.

“Yes. ‘Oh’,” he spits, all bitter and sulky.

And while I do understand his frustration with my … underwhelming reply, I’m really not sure what else he was expecting. We both know that I’m no good with words, and it’s not like he spent all his time at Watford writing me love letters (Pretty much the opposite, actually).

“Don’t be like that,” I groan, reaching out and brushing a stray wave of hair away from his face. “I only realised yesterday, but … I think that it’s been longer than that for me, too. Penny may have had a point about the football matches, you know.”

“The football matches?”

“Yeah, um … you know how I used to go to all of your games?”

“Of course. Simon Snow: my greatest enemy and number one footie supporter. Bit of a contradiction.”

“Yeah, well … Penny said that she thought it was weird. Not in like a … homophobic way, or something-” He snickers then, put I press on, regardless. “I’m not even … you know. But she said that I should think about why I really wanted to go to them so badly, considering that there was pretty much no chance of you plotting while you were on the pitch-”

“Which I tried to tell you, several times,” he interrupts (Apparently incapable of stopping himself from butting in, for even a minute).

“- Yes, which you tried to tell me ... Anyway, back to what I was saying! I never really listened to her when she said it - I just got all stroppy with her ‘cause she was always complaining about me being obsessed - But … I think maybe I should’ve. ‘Cause, I think she may have had a point. I’m not so sure that it really was about the plotting. I mean, I think even I knew, deep down, that you couldn’t have been doing that. And … I always kind of, secretly, wanted you to do the thing where you lifted up your shirt to wipe your face. I never really thought about it at the time, ‘cause it stressed me out a little bit. But it definitely used to confuse me. I … just tried put it down to jealousy, and all that, at the time, but I’m pretty sure that I was wrong, given … recent events. I think I probably just thought you were a bit fit, to be honest.”

The last few words come out horribly stumbled and rushed, and I’m definitely blushing like an idiot, by the time I’ve finished. But then he’s grinning up at me, the corners of his eyes crinkling up cutely (And it’s still a weird to think of him like that, since he could probably drain me dry in half a second, but it’s definitely fitting when he’s like this. All joyful and barbless), and my humiliation is suddenly all worth it.

“Is that so?” he purrs.

“Yep. Definitely.”

And then he’s muttering something in Italian (Mera-viggy-soemthing-or-other), and pulling me back down towards him by the back of my neck. Shutting me up in the absolute best way possible - Pressing his lips against mine greedily. And it’s all a little apprehensive - Breaths stuttering, and a slight tremble running up his spine - But what he lacks in confidence, he more than makes up for in enthusiasm (He’s always been a quick study, but I can finally appreciate his, oftentimes annoying, meticulous nature, for myself). And soon enough I’m just fucking melting into his touch - So hot and insistent - But I still can’t stop the words from bubbling up inside me:

“Baz,” I sing, sitting back and cupping his face in my hands. “You know that this isn’t fair at all, right?”

“What?” he startles, a worried twist overtaking his brow. The concern on his face so genuine, that I almost feel guilty for what I’m doing … Almost (He definitely still deserves it for being so bloody prissy all the time).

“You didn’t spell your teeth. It’s well harsh making me all Aero-y, if you’re not willing to do the same yourself. Both disgusting and grossly unfair,” I tease, doing my best to mimic his signature ‘I’m Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch and I think I’m better than everybody else’ voice.

Glaring up at me, he grabs at his wand and fires out another quick “Minty Fresh”, before reaching out and grabbing at my curls, giving them a not-so-gentle tug.

“Happy now, ‘fusspot’?”

“Oh yeah,” I glow. “More than.”

#carry on #wayward son #snowbaz fic #snowbaz #simon snow #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #my fic

12 notes · View notes

vikingpoteto · 4 years

Text

we don’t have to dance (to the beat of their songs)

Chapter 4 on AO3

______________________

Relationships: (Gen) Tim Drake & Jason Todd

Tags: Battle for the Cowl, Alternate Canon, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Mental Health Issues, Past Child Neglect, Domestic Fluff, Canon is not valid I am, and I want them to be friends goddamnit

Summary: In the middle of their battle, Jason asks Tim to leave the nest and be his Robin. Tim decides it's not a bad idea, after all.

________________________

When Tim walks out of the crappy motel room, the sun is already up. He curses inwardly, guessing it must be past eight in the morning at least. He hadn’t meant to stay up all night, but that’s what happens more often than not. He remembers reading somewhere online that ADHD people have a different sleeping cycle, something about working better when sleeping from 2am to 10am or something. He didn’t read the full article because it didn’t seem that relevant at the time.

Alas. Since he’s up, he might as well get himself some breakfast. He walks to the vending machine he was planning on visiting anyway. He blinks his blurry eyes trying to see the options in front of him. He considers buying just an energy drink and calling it a day, but he doesn’t think his empty stomach will appreciate that course of action.

“The fuck? You’re still here?”

Tim turns around. Jason is in front of his own room, only half wearing his leather jacket.

“I’m a paying customer?” Tim says. He hadn’t meant to make it sound like a question. God, he’s sleepy.

“I thought you’d be back in Gotham by now,” Jason says.

Tim frowns at him. “Where would I go?”

Jason considers that for a while. Usually, Tim would be bothered by being scanned like that, but he can’t find in himself to care or to try and figure what Jason might be thinking right now. Finally, the older boy sighs.

“You got breakfast yet?”

Tim gestures vaguely at the vending machine full of snacks.

Jason stares, his expression empty. Then he rolls his eyes, grabs Tim by the collar and starts dragging him as though he’s a sack of potatoes. It’s a testament to how tired Tim really is that he stumbles and barely manages a noise of protest.

“Jason,” he whines, the tone in his voice catching even himself by surprise.

A couple gives them a judgemental glance as they cross the street. Tim wonders what they look like to strangers. Tim’s clothes, while a lot more expensive than Jason’s, are battered and faded from his misadventures. His painfully pale skin doesn’t match Jason’s dark tan at all, even with all the freckles he got from having fun with assassins in the desert. Still, to a passerby, Tim’s juvenile tone and pathetic attempts to slap Jason’s hand away should make them look like bickering friends. In spite of Jason’s size, his young face still betrays his real age. They could pass as…

Tim straightens himself in a swift movement. Whether he’s finally successful in his attempt to free himself or Jason notices his tension and lets him go, is up for debate. He shakes his head and pretends that no stupid thought almost crossed his mind.

“What are you doing?” Tim complains.

Jason points at the building in front of them — an old diner — and walks in, expecting Tim to follow. He does.

A tired looking waitress squints at them as though she’s expecting trouble for whatever reason. Tim doesn’t know why, he’s sure they look perfectly innocent as they find themselves a place to sit. They make a beeline towards a table in a discreet corner, partially hidden behind a nook of the wall. The spot allows them to see almost all the other patrons without being too visible. Tim notes, but doesn’t comment on the fact that both of them chose that spot seemingly at the same time.

When they sit across one another, however, Tim has a weird feeling in his gut. Maybe it’s the sleepless night, but he has a hard time not thinking about the last time he sat across Jason like this: the older boy had been in jail and Tim’s stupid plan to get him out resulted in… well.

Babs used to say Tim talked a lot or didn’t talk at all, and she had been the first person to realize that the former meant Tim wasn’t thinking and the latter meant he was thinking too much. Tim does what he does best when he’s nervous or uncomfortable: he starts talking. A terrible mistake in retrospect, really.

“Are you buying me breakfast?” he asks.

Jason glares at him. “You’re richer than I am. Buy your own food.”

“Not really. Plus you dragged me here.”

“You said you were a paying customer.”

“Yeah, at the hotel. Credit cards are hackable and Babs taught me a thing or two in case I ever found myself in a tight spot, which I definitely am right now.” Tim points at the ‘cash only’ sign behind the counter. “The pocket change I have is cool for a vending machine, but a diner is fancier than what I’m ready for.”

Jason groans and rolls his eyes. Tim thinks that the closest thing he’ll get from a yes, so he takes it.

Without talking about it and even though they’re not talking about anything too secretive, they go silent when the waitress walks towards their table. Rather than greeting them, she shows her little notepad and arches an eyebrow at them. Tim is loving the service already, it’s doing great things to his nerves.

“Coffee. Black,” he says.

She turns to Jason, but he’s still looking at Tim as though waiting for him to say something else. When Tim simply gives him a quizzical look, Jason appears annoyed.

“What do you mean black coffee?” Jason says. “You’re making me pay for your food and you’re not even ordering actual food?”

“Uh… I’m fine? I don’t eat much this early, it makes me nauseous.”

“Jesus Christ, kid. We gonna have your largest order of pancakes for this stupid child.”

Tim kicks him under the table.

“Little shit,” Jason hisses.

And Tim almost falls over when he pushes his chair to avoid being kicked back.

“Cut it out, Jason!”

While their feet battle under the table, the waitress rolls her eyes and walks away. Tim really wishes he could give this place a five star review.

When Jason’s sole finally connects to Tim’s chair and he has to hold onto the table to avoid toppling over, he groans:

“Truce.”

“Nah. You lost.”

Tim stares.

“Admit you lost and I stop.”

“Fine, you oversized baby, I lost!”

Jason smiles. It’s stupid to get so worked up at such a small thing, not to mention how extremely out of place it feels after his little vacation with the League. Still, Tim can’t help but think this is the first time he’s seen Jason look so satisfied. Annoyingly smug, sure, but satisfied.

Silence stretches. Jason grabs a napkin from the table and starts methodically tearing it apart for no apparent reason. Tim wishes he thought of doing something like that, because his hands are itching to do something. It’d look dumb if he started doing the same thing as Jason, wouldn’t it?

“I thought you were rich,” Jason says, startling Tim.

He shakes his head, reprimanding himself for spacing out. “What?”

“I get not using your own credit card so you can’t be tracked,” Jason says, “but you’re so obsessed with planning everything. I kinda expected you to have a secret stash of money somewhere.”

Tim frowns. “What, you think I just stole Bruce’s money before leaving?”

Now that Jason mentions it, that would’ve been smarter. It’s not like Dick would miss it, and money would’ve left less of a trail than the fake credit cards he’d been using. Maybe Ra’s wouldn’t have found him if… He’s spacing out again. Jason is speaking. Crap.

“... your other father?”

He needs a few blinks to realize what Jason means. “My dad lost everything before he died. You didn’t know?”

“Wait, so what are you going to do when you go back to Gotham? Go back to the manor?”

Tim frowns. “I don’t think that’d be a good idea.”

“He’d take you back.”

At that, Tim gives him a pointed look. Jason realizes his misstep.

“Don’t,” he grits out. “Don’t you dare say it. We’re not the same by any means.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Tim says simply.

He never does. Ever since he reached that weird truce with Jason, Tim only said it once. He said that Jason should go back; Jason told him to fuck off. Tim said that Bruce wanted him back and Dick missed him; Jason told him to be quiet. Tim told him that Alfred wanted to see him; Jason stormed off.

Since then, in the very few times they’ve met and talked like semi-civilized people, Tim never brought up Jason going home again. Jason seems to firmly believe that he’ll never be forgiven. Tim knows that he’s the last person Jason wants to talk about family, and it’s not like he has any arguments that could change his mind, so Tim keeps quiet. It works, unless one of them (usually Jason) is trying to kill the other (Tim). Even now, after the whole clusterfucker before Tim’s trip - had it really happened a few weeks ago? - there is no doubt in his mind that Dick and Alfred would take Jason back with open arms, more than willing to work on their issues. Perhaps Dick would still be a bit upset about Jason shooting Damian, but hey, the kid barely stayed down for a day.

As it is now, neither of them are planning to go back. Once more, the question looms over them. Why would Tim make the same mistake again? What was that fancy quote about insanity? Something about doing the same thing and expecting a miracle or whatever. Tim hopes Jason won’t ask.

But then again, if Jason asks Tim why he wants to stay, he’ll have to explain why he’s accepting it, and Tim doesn’t think he’s too keen on that.

The waitress comes back with their food. Tim twists his nose at the pile of pancakes in front of him. Jason threateningly points a fork at him until he sighs and starts eating.

“We’re taking off after I’m done eating, so get to chewing, Replacement.”

Tim feels a smile stretching his lips. “We?”

“Don’t be a smartass. If I regret this, I’ll dump your ass in the middle of the road.”

“Can’t do, boss. It’s part of Robin’s job to call you out on your shit.”

“But you’re not Robin anymore, are you?”

That wipes Tim’s smile off pretty fast. He has to keep reminding himself that Jason can be as much of an asshole as Tim can, if not worse. He resumes eating in silence, pretending he’s too mature to be bothered by Jason’s stupid smug face.

Never mind that he has to grit his teeth to hold back at least three different smart retorts. He doesn’t want to risk Jason giving up on him out of spite and the son of a bitch knows it.

Tim takes his sweet time poking at his pancakes and sipping his coffee, hoping that Jason will be done first and they’ll leave. When Jason realizes what he’s doing, he starts barking out threats and insults until Tim is kicking him again.

They don’t stop fighting until Tim’s plate is empty and his stomach is filled to the brim.

The waitress looks unreasonably relieved when Jason throws a couple of crumpled bills at the counter and they turn to leave. Tim didn’t think they made a fuss big enough to warrant that reaction. But, then again, maybe they just look like trouble makers.

“We’re going back to Gotham?” Tim asks.

“What do you think, genius?” Jason rolls his eyes. “God, my territory must be a mess by now.”

“No one told you to fall from that height, dude, I’m surprised you’re not out of commission for longer,” Tim says.

“Replacement, I swear to God…”

“Just sayin’,” and his mocking smile is back. “We’re going to one of your infamous safehouses?”

“Hm.”

“The one in Burnley? Or the one behind Crime Alley? Or…”

Jason stops walking. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “No one likes a smartass, Tim.”

“Jokes on you, no one likes me anyway.” Tim grins. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure Dick doesn’t know about the Burnley one.”

“Guess that’s where we’re going then,” Jason huffs. “Can’t have them breathin’ on my neck while I get my stuff together. Can’t believe I have a fucking kid now.”

“You’re only two years older than me, Jason. Less, if we consider you were dead for a couple months.”

Jason ignores that. “You better not go running to them, Replacement. You’re on your trial run. You fuck this up, you not gonna like the consequences.”

Tim rolls his eyes, but says nothing. Jason will find out soon enough how good he is at keeping secrets.

They grab their things at the hotel, not that Tim has a lot of luggage. Jason grabs a motorcycle that definitely isn’t his. Tim doesn’t comment on it, because the one he’s currently riding was paid with money that wasn’t his either.

They hit the road, and the sleepless night and the breakfast still threatening to come back don’t bother Tim as much, because he feels like he’s finally moving again. Finally has a sense of purpose again.

Tim didn’t expect to live with Jason. He thought he’d look around his place, help him set up a functional computer system - how Jason survived alone for so long with the tech he had was beyond Tim - and then he’d leave to figure out what to do. His credit card fraud system wouldn’t work as well in Gotham, at least not if Barbara was in town, but he was willing to figure it out.

The fact that he came this far without a plan told him that his month with the assassins had thrown him off his game. He’d grown used to winging it because the last weeks had been so unfairly unpredictable, but he has to go back to his old modus operandi as soon as possible.

Or at least that’s what he thought, until he emerged from the secret Red Hood bunker downstairs and Jason casually told him to take the vacant room upstairs.

That solved a lot of logistic issues, so Tim forces his mouth shut and heads upstairs.

If you forget about the heavy arsenal in the secret basement (a secret that Tim will spend the whole weekend tinkering because holy shit, his childhood bedroom was more secure) the house is almost… normal. Like an abandoned middle class house. There are boards on the windows and signs that it should’ve been demolished at some point. Other than that, Jason had made the place a functional home. It’s a bit sparse in the furniture department and not unlike the hotel room Tim found Jason in: mismatched pieces, old wood and dust everywhere. There are marks on the wallpaper where pictures had presumably hung once, but that was probably before Jason took over the place.

It occurs to Tim that he’s probably going to be on cleaning duty, which is a bit worrisome. As much as he’s okay with less than hospitable places, he’s never had to clean. Ever. He hopes there’s a YouTube tutorial on it.

His new room clearly belonged to a very feminine person at some point, and all they left behind was an old bed with no sheets, a beaten dresser and marks on the pink walls where posters had probably been. Tears in the wallpaper hint they were carelessly ripped off. Tim carefully removes the mirror from the dresser and puts it out of sight before dumping his duffel bag near the bed. Home, sweet home.

Someone clears his throat by the door.

Leaning against the frame as though he doesn’t know what to do with himself, Jason crosses and uncrosses his arms.

“I’m going on patrol in a bit. Gotta assess the situation.”

Tim nods and waits. This would usually be the time Bruce gave them instructions for the night. Jason shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Whether he’s deliberately trying to be less like Bruce - which is futile, since Bruce is the only reference he has - or he simply doesn’t know how to handle a sidekick… Tim takes pity on him and says:

“I’ll be ready to join you in five.”

Jason aqcuiesces stiffly. Then heads down the hallway. Tim swears he hears Jason mumbling to himself as he leaves, which would be amusing if he wasn’t feeling just as awkward.

He grabs the light chainmail armor from his bag and puts it on. The black, sleek outfit that follows still feels uncomfortable and foreign, but Tim supposes it will have to do. He hesitates before pulling on the black hood and even more before reaching for the Spoiler-like mask that will only cover the lower half of his face. Finally, he discards the piece of fabric to a corner. Associating the thing with Steph does the opposite of making him feel better about it. He’ll have to ask Jason if he has a spare domino mask he can borrow.

He heads downstairs just as Jason is emerging from the kitchen in almost full Red Hood gear, his helmet under his arm. He tries to ignore the tug at his stomach when he sees it. Judging by Jason’s expression, he was thinking something similar.

“What the fuck are you wearing, Replacement?”

“Discreet clothes for an undercover mission. What are you wearing?” Tim tries to play it off as nothing, but, judging by Jason’s expression, he’s failing. “Look, I didn’t have Robin anymore, okay? I had to wear something and this is what Ra’s gave me.”

“Yeah, I’m not going out with a mini-League of Assassins recrutee.”

Tim wishes he had a logical argument against that. He thinks there is one, but the sleepless night is finally getting to him and he can’t think straight. “Well, damn, Jason, what do you expect me to do? Go out in civies? Not all of us can pull off the leather jacket.”

The older boy considers him for a moment, and an irrational part of Tim’s brain keeps him frozen on the spot. This is it. This is when he realizes this has been a mistake, and me thinking he’s like me was a gross miscalculation. He’s going to send me away. He’s going to tell me to go away.

“Stay here,” Jason says. “Now that I think about it, if I go alone there’s less of a chance of them finding out I’m back.”

Tim is panicking, but not hard enough that he misses the opportunity to quip: “I’m not the one with a bright red helmet.”

“Shut it. Do digital detective work while I’m gone. Can you find out what happened in my territory for the past month without bringing Oracle down my ass?”

“Of course I can. What do you think I am?”

“Inferior to Barbara.”

“Bitch…!” Tim pauses. Takes a deep breath. “Okay, fair, I am. But she isn’t actively looking for me and I know her M.O.”

Jason nods. “Then do your thing. I’ll be back in the morning.”

Tim watches him head to the door. So he isn’t fired again, which is good.

“Jason?” He calls, because apparently he can’t take a win and keep his damn mouth shut. “I’m not going to stay indoors. I’m not the computer guy. I’m in this to fight crime and I didn’t look for you to stay back because you don’t like my fashion choices.”

Jason looks absolutely disgusted at that. “The problem with smart people like you is that you keep thinking everyone else is a fucking idiot. I’m not. And you know that, since you chose to come after me.”

Tim could tell him Jason offered first. That would lead to a childish back-and-forth until accusing the other of starting wouldn’t be enough and they would have a fist fight on top of the ratty couch. Considering the thing looks like it’s about to collapse under the mildest gust of wind, Tim wisely stays quiet for once in his life.

He turns around and heads to the kitchen, to the secret entrance that leads to the secret basement. He hears when Jason leaves. He’s still pouting when he boots the stupid computer in serious need of an update.

He’s going to hate this.

Tim hates that he enjoys himself.

It’s been quite a long time since he worked in such a simple case. He’d forgotten how enjoyable it is to work on a puzzle and watch the pieces fall together with ease. Like skating for fun after spending months practicing complicated maneuvers. He doesn’t see time going by as he takes notes and prints info, compiling a thorough report on everything Jason missed, up to some cold trails from when he was in Blackgate.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep.

At least not until he wakes up and immediately lets out an unholy screech because his bed vanishes under him. Except he isn’t on his bed, he’s spinning around on the computer chair and he scrambles to stay on the seat before the chair finally hits the wall and stops.

After the shock is gone, he looks up and finds a rather smug Red Hood smirking at him from across the room.

“What the… Did you seriously kick my chair?” Tim gasps.

“My chair,” Jason corrects. “That I let you borrow in exchange for work. Slacking on the service on the first day?”

Tim shoots up. “I was not! Fuck you!”

Jason blinks, his eyes widening. “Easy there. And I’m the one with anger issues.”

“I gathered everything that there is to find from the past month,” he protests, frantic and irritated all at the same time. “Sure, I didn’t finish the time you were locked up, but that’s because your internet is fucking slow. Give me until morning and I-”

Strong hands grab his wrists and Tim looks up. Jason’s expression is so oddly telling that Tim thinks he’s trying to manipulate him somehow. His brows are knitted together and his warm brown eyes are still mildly wide. Enough that Tim can see the specks of green in the dark iris, a reminder of Jason’s dip in the Lazarus Pit. He tries to come up with an explanation, because Jason has no reason to make Tim think he’s worried about him.

“The fuck is wrong with you? I didn’t expect you to be done before I got home. And I didn’t expect you to get info about the time I was in jail either.”

Tim is confused. He misinterpreted his mess up? “You didn’t want me to know what was going on before? That’s counterproductive. Plus a lot of this isn’t new information, I was monitoring…”

“Tim,” Jason cuts him off again.

It’s weird that he says Tim and not Robin. It’s correct, because Tim isn’t Robin anymore, but this is Robin time regardless. Tim feels as though he’s back at the cave and he’s 13 years old. This time he doesn’t have Dick’s hesitant encouragement or Alfred’s worried glances, but it feels too similar to being around a grief-stricken man, broken almost beyond repair. That man is his boss and, in order to earn his stay, Tim has to succeed.

Except next time Jason speaks, he doesn’t sound like Bruce. Not like Bruce after he started healing. Definitely not like Bruce sounded when he first met Tim. He sounds - and that’s extremely weird - like Cassie when she found Tim pulling an all-nighter reviewing the case files. It was right after they got their team approved and could take over Titans Tower. Tim had to make sure everything was running smoothly, but Cassie thought not sleeping after sparring all-day was a bad call. She had been absolutely bewildered by the concept, for some reason.

It’s ridiculous that Red Hood reminds him of Wonder Girl.

“I don’t fucking care that you checked old news,” Jason says. “I’m just surprised you’re done already.”

Tim’s brow furrows and he reviews the night, again trying to assess his mistake. “You said I was supposed to do digital work while you were on patrol,” he repeats slowly, almost to himself.

“Yeah,” Jason agrees, letting go of his wrists. “I thought you were gonna collect some info and go to bed. Continue tomorrow.”

Tim gives in and straight up asks: “And you’re angry because…?”

“I’m not?” Jason is the one looking confused now. “You think me kicking your chair was me being angry? I was just being a jerk. I didn’t think you were that sensitive.”

Oh. Tim feels his cheeks warming. “I-I’m not! That is, I don’t care that you kicked the chair and sent me careening across the room while I was asleep.” There’s a beat. “Wait, no, I do care about that, what the hell, Jason?”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Come on, I’m gonna make it up to you. Don’t get used to it, though. Just come here and take a look.”

Tim notices a bundle of what looks like fabric on the computer desk. It definitely wasn’t there before he dozed off. His confusion peaks when he notices it isn’t simply fabric… it’s leather and kevlar and a freaking cowl connected to a cape and…

“You stole Dr. Mid-Nite’s suit?” Tim asks.

“Wha- No, dumbass! It’s my suit! My old suit, anyway.”

Tim takes it and holds it in front of him. It’s a bit heavier than his old Robin suit, but it looks more resistant, if not as much malleable.

“From the time you went to a different dimension,” Tim gasps.

“How the fuck do you know that?” Jason asks, bewildered again.

Tim turns to him. “Why do you have this?”

Jason shrugs. “I grew out of it. Figured you could have it. You’re a bit taller than I was then, and skinnier too, but nothing you can’t work around. Beats making a whole new suit from scratch.”

Words fail him and he simply stares at the suit, unresponsive.

“If you don’t like it, deal with it,” Jason says, suddenly less blase. It’s almost as though he’s nervous. “Or make a new suit, I don’t care. Just don’t go out in that stupid ninja suit.”

“R.R.” Tim mutters, his voice hollow. “What does R.R. stands for?”

It’s Jason’s turn to hesitate. Silent stretches for a little before he blurts: “Red Robin.”

“Huh.” Tim says, eloquent as ever. “What’s with all the red? I thought your favorite color was green.”

“How do you-” Jason sighs. “Whatever. Grab your shit and get the hell out of here.”

Tim whips around, alarmed again. “Why?”

“Because I wanna fucking change,” he gestures at his clothes, “and it’s weird to do it with your scrawny ass down here. This ain’t the Batcave, I only got one room.”

Oh. That sort of “leaving”. That makes more sense. “Right. I’m gonna go… uh... “ Where, again?

“To bed,” Jason snaps. “You’re gonna sleep on an actual bed instead of drooling all over my keyboard. Scram.”

Nodding jerkily, Tim obeys. The suit he holds tightly against his chest feels heavy and not because of all the body armor hidden within layers of leather.

#jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #batfam #poteto writing #red bros

6 notes · View notes

mininky · 6 years

Text

Love is for the birds baby!

Summary: You refuse to believe in love. It’s a concept created by big corporations like hallmark to get sad saps like you to buy their shit. But it’s all fake. You’re convinced of that at least until a series of events with a certain tattoo artist who you loved to hate makes you question everything you’ve ever known.

Pairing: Tattoo artist!Yoongi x (fem) reader

Genre/Warnings: Romance, slow burn, fluff, comedy, smut warnings include: unsafe sex (always wear a condom), oral sex (male & fem receiving), multiple orgasms, spanking, light breath play, mentions of squirting. Non smut warnings for lots of cussing. Lots.

Word Count: 13.3K

A/N: A special shout out to @mzpandylu for inspiring me with such odd dialogue. Also challenge accepted, a quivering starfish is mentioned.

Love is a completely abstract and intangible concept to you, at least romantic love is. There are many forms of love. Familial love is a concept you sort of understand, let's just say that your home life wasn't the greatest but you do at least understand the concept. Platonic love you completely understand. But romantic love? You very secretly yearn to understand it, desperately trying to figure out how the fuck some people get so lucky that the spark happens. You've dated, sure. But try as you might none of them have ever made your head spin or your heart sing. Lust you get. You've had plenty of flings and even some longer relationships, but love? Love is for the birds baby.

You refuse, absolutely refuse, to admit that you have in any way shape or form an interest in this bizarre concept that is the investment and endeavor of romantic love. You've carefully hidden away all of your fanfics and all of your shojo mangas and all of the things that others would say is honestly completely normal to keep questions at bay. You know that your friends are interested in love, and unlike you they have no shame in admitting it. They talk about it all the time. They fall in 'love' with each man they date. But you're convinced that's not love. It's something more than like, sure you'll give them that but you're sure that it'll all end eventually. Love isn't sustainable because it's all a lie. Maybe you're too romantic at being romantic, perhaps you've just been suckered into all these stories into believing that a whirlwind romance is possible until one day the crushing realization that it wasn't possible occurred. That the sparks of electricity and burning hot embers of passion aren't sustainable and aren't indicative of love.

You were twenty, he was twenty-one. The two of you had been dating mutually for three years at that point, a lifetime in college years. Billy Johnson. Fucking Billy. He was smart and funny and he actually knew what a clit was, and he kissed you under the night stars and made you feel like you were in love. Maybe you were, but you like to think that the feelings you felt weren't actually that strong. It made the fallout easier. Which brings you to the fallout, that realization that romantic love is all a big corporate lie to sell shitty grocery store roses and cute snuggly teddy bears and dime back novels to sad sops like you. A marketing ploy. Not a reality. Fuck Plato for being the first to sell the idea of soulmates, and fuck Billy too. Billy Johnson was a cruel heartless asshole who fucked your best friend. And in one day you lost two loves, one romantic and one platonic. In turn, you gained a distinct hatred for romantic concepts and a world-weary view on relationships, waiting for the other shoe to drop every time you encountered someone new.

You dated again after that, but now at the young age of twenty-six, you've decided that it's time to give up. Or maybe you gave up after Billy. You can't say you've ever actually given it a real try after that if you're being honest. You know when to call it quits. You refuse, absolutely refuse, to be a corporate sellout. And your feelings are in no way shape or form reflective of the animosity at being broken up with by Johny last week because you were too 'sarcastic' in the middle of your vacation to Busan. Too sarcastic your ass. You'll show that motherfucker sarcastic. God, sorry, you're getting off track here. Where were you again?

Ah yes, love is for apparently everyone that isn't you. So you'll just be a cat lady. An affection earned entirely by ear scritches and feeding them. A reward system that makes sense. You take care of them and they tolerate you. Now that you understand. That makes sense. Why in the ever loving fuck would you try romance again when instead you can have a mutually beneficial understanding with something as cute as a cat that can't tell you 'I think you're a bitch' in a language you understand? Fuck Johnny, and Billy. And every other man for that matter.

You're ruminating in anger as you order your coffee, eyes staring straight into the young and timid barista as you slap down the change. Poor kid, it's not his fault but today you just hate the world. You try to smile but you're pretty sure that just scares him more if the way his eyes go large and round in fear is anything to go by. Christ, you need to work on your people skills. And you're totally not thinking that because of that dick weasel who you've decided will no longer be named.

Normally once you get your caffeine fix you're in a much better mood, but today the only thing you want to do is karate chop your own throat. Or maybe just play Red Dead Redemption 2 and kill a bunch of people in a completely legal way. Not online though, you really don't need another 13-year-old boy slurring about how much girls suck unless you want to unleash the crazy bitch inside of you to the point of no return. But unfortunately, you have bills to pay. Caffeine fixes to afford. Student loans to pretend you'll someday actually pay off except interest is a bitch. Which means going to work. Normally something you love, but today you're really not in the mood to edit another shitty sci-fi story where the physics of breasts go beyond the dudebro fedora lover that wrote the shitty thing.

Be an editor they said. You love books they said. You'll be great they said. They hadn't warned you that being an editor at a major publishing house still meant reading through a painful amount of crap writing that you would, in turn, make all pretty and nice and somewhat more presentable garbage for public consumption with no acknowledgment or credit for all the hours you spent trying not to bash your screen in with your face. At least you were close enough to walk to work.

You grab your piping hot venti quad shot vanilla latte (with soy) as you go back out into the frigid air. Your eyes are cast down on the pavement, trying not to bump into too many of the zombie state morning foot traffic as you make your way into the office. At least you have an office of your own, a salvation of peace and quiet away from prying eyes that allows you to wallow in self-pity safely. The rest of the day goes by in a blur, your normally somewhat antisocial personality becomes far more present as you hide away from even your beloved breakroom coffee pot to avoid too many interactions. You just knew that you would end up running into Susan. Nice gal, but she talks way too much and she set you up with Johnny no wait, the douche canoe. You forgot he must never be named again. The last thing you need is her bringing up how he dumped in you in the middle of your vacation.

You're also the last one to leave tonight. For someone who didn't really want to step foot into the building, you sure do seem to be having a hard time getting out of here. But there are deadlines to meet and your vacation meant that there's a pileup of work that needs to be done. That and you really don't feel like going into your empty apartment to binge watch on Netflix while you host another internal pity party.

By the time you're finally out the door and into the freezing winter night, you can feel exhaustion seeping deep into your bones. Or that might just be the joint pain that this super shitty winter is causing. That's another thing the world lied about, joint pain isn't just for old people. It's apparently also for future cat spinsters who hate everything no matter their current age. Your head is stuck on the last chapter you were editing, trying to make sense of how exactly you might be able to convince the author to scrap the whole damn thing politely as your nose picks up on the smell of a cigarette wafting over. Your stomach rumbles, brain shutting off as fingers twitch. God, it's been two years since you stopped smoking but it smells so painfully fucking good right now.

Your face whips up as you see the small trail of smoke wafting over to you. It's the guy from the tattoo shop, Min fucking Yoongi. You should've known. The guy is hot you'll give him that. Eyes just sharp enough to give him that bad boy image when paired with his full sleeve tattoos and the crawling cherry blossoms on his neck. The chronic scowl that says 'try me' in a way that oddly makes him hotter. Hair that looks like he spends way too much time on usually. Today however he's decked out in a beanie and black leather jacket with pants just tight enough to make you wish he would turn around and walk away. But in the last year since you've unfortunately gotten to know him you know that he's every bit as snarky, bitchy, and firey as you. He's also as much bite as he is bark, although so far you've never been the one he's pointed his bite at.

"(Y/N), I see you were working late again." He takes a lazy drag on his cigarette, eyes staring straight through you as his lips quirk up into a smirk.

"Yoongi." Your eyes narrow in on his, fingers twitching at your side as you bite down the incessant desire to beg for a cigarette. You won’t break, especially not in front of him. Just because you’ve had a series of bad days doesn’t mean you actually need that cigarette.

"Jesus, what's wrong with you? You seem even bitchier than normal. I guess this cold snap we're having is because the ice queen decided to control your body."

"Har-har-har little man." He bristles at the jab and you can't help but cackle internally at your small victory (pun completely intended.) "No for your information the world is a cruel, evil bitch and yet again I fell for its corporate seductions and evil capitalist ploys."

"Right, I'm going to nod my head and pretend I understood what that meant just so you don't kill me. Hey, so are you ever going to get that tattoo or not?"

You reach into the trenches of your memory, recalling months ago on a particularly good day when you told this same tiny Satan that you wanted to get a tattoo. He had seemed oddly impressed that you wanted a snake on your upper thigh and all was well until he told you that he pictured you wanting some shitty positive statement, most likely placed on your collarbone or ribcage and adorned with little doves or a dreamcatcher or some other shit. Bleh. That's when he first learned that you are possibly insane and most certainly a bit of a bitch. It's all been downhill with him since, each run in turning into a battle of insults.

He stubs out the little remaining part of his Marlboro before gesturing to the warm shop. "I've got an opening to do a consult if you wanna talk about it more."

Perhaps this is it, maybe this is what you need to do. Something different. Something that doesn't include your usual routine of wake up, caffeinate, work, work, work, and Netflix binge all in between minor anxiety driven breakdowns. Besides, it's just a consult, not the actual tattoo. "How do I know this isn't an elaborate plan to eventually see me half naked?"

Yoongi rolls his eyes as he opens the door to the shop, glaring at you as he speaks slowly. "You might be hot, but I have a feeling you'd be the type of girl to try to peg me with no lube. I prefer cuddling. Trust me, I'm not interested in getting you naked and seeing where it goes." You're thrown for a loop at that one, shuffling slowly behind him as your brain tries to make sense of it. You know you should be offended that he seriously thinks you wouldn't use lube, but Yoongi likes cuddling? The guy who scowls at life itself? The guy who you've watched physically throw out a neo-nazi who wanted a tattoo? The same guy who rides a motorcycle and refuses sugar in his coffee because he likes it as bitter as his very soul? Man, life is really fucking weird.

You follow behind him tentatively, shocked to hear rather calm hip hop station on. Maybe you stereotype too much but you pegged him (pun not intended this time) as a Lamb of God kind of guy, definitely not a Dean and PH-1 fan. He takes you over to his office, gesturing at a free seat before he sits down at his desk. Every surface is covered with intricate artwork. From Japanese style tattoos to Sailor Jerry flash pieces to pops of dystopian Disney paintings. "So, you still thinking about doing the same thing?"

"Yeah. Red Belly black snake. I'm thinking upper thigh/hip area." You stand up and move your coat to the side to point to the area.

"That's a good sized piece. Have you thought about adding anything more to it? Maybe some hyacinths on the left and right of the snake, I'm thinking in maybe a pale pink so it doesn't offset the red in the snake too much."

"You know what a hyacinth is?" You snort slightly, glaring back at him when he leans onto his elbows to shoot a look that he's probably hoping will kill you.

"I'm a tattoo artist. Do you know how many fucking flowers I have to draw every day? Swear to god I should open up a flower shop next door and make a killing with my amazing arrangements." This time you give a full-blown laugh, shocked to hear him mirroring quietly. In all the time you've kinda sorta known him you've never heard him laugh. It's nice, deep, and the gummy smile he gives has your heart doing little flip flops that you absolutely refuse to analyze.

You take just a beat too long to look at him, your head tilted slightly as you mentally murder the lone butterfly that has survived all of the anger you've culminated in the last few years. "How about a peony instead? I think it would look better."

"We can do that. With the size you're looking for and all the color work I'd guess that we're looking at at least 6 hours if we want to make sure it's done right. We can split it into two three hours sessions. I charge $200 an hour so you're looking at at least $1200, but you might want to be thinking to around the $1600 range just to be safe. I also require a $300 deposit usually just for a consult and another $300 later but I figure I can always hound you if you don't come in." He opens up his computer, clicking away for a moment before adding, "I have enough time to get started this Friday night if you want? At 8:00."

"Gee thanks for the trust. Yeah that all sounds good, I'm down."

He nods quickly, hands grabbing at some paper as he starts making drafting up some rough sketches. You try not to invade his space as you look over the paper, brain desperately searching for a small talk topic. God, you've always been bad at this. "So...how long have you been a tattoo artist?"

"Well I started my apprenticeship right out of high school at 18 so 10 years total, but as an actual artist only about 8 years." Interesting, so that would make him two years older than you. For some reason, you feel a need to put that in one of your mental files. "What exactly do you do at that giant office building down the street?"

"I work for a publishing house in there as one of their many editors."

Yoongi snorts, nodding his head as he keeps sketching away. "Yeah, I can see you working with books. Your creative insults suddenly make so much more sense."

"I'll take that as a compliment." You lean back into your chair, taking in your surroundings a little more closely before focusing unabashedly at the man before you. His tattoos are on full display now that he's taken off his jacket. Almost all are black and white with small splashes of reds and pinks laced mostly on his neck where cherry blossoms fall delicately off a branch. His eyes are cast in complete concentration, lower lip bitten as he works. There's something painfully sexy about the image. You almost want to burn it into your brain to use for late night consumption.

You aren't sure how long the two of you sit there in silence, but it's comfortable. There's something soothing about listening to the way his markers glide over the paper as soft music, buzzing tattoo guns, and chatter filters in fuzzily through the closed door. You can feel yourself finally start to relax, all of the earlier rage and grudges held at the world slipping away momentarily as you enter a near-meditative state just watching him work.

Finally, he glances up, a smile on his face as he pushes the paper over the desk to you. It's beautiful, a little rough around the edges without the finishing touches but it's better than anything you thought of. "Wow, Yoongi this looks great."

"It's just a rough drawing. I still need to work on some of the other touches but if you're good with that I'll get started on making the transfer later this week."

"Yeah..." You words are quiet as you look at the picture, elation growing in your heart. You might turn into a cat lady, but at least you'll be a badass one. "Okay, so seriously though do you want me to put down the deposit now? I have no problem with that."

"Nah, don't sweat it. Oh, but I do need your full name and number to actually book it. And don't give me some shit about this being a ploy for your number." You roll your eyes before giving him the information. Standing up slowly when he opens up the office door and leads you back out to light snowfall. "Alright, see you this Friday (y/n)."

"See you Yoongi. Thanks again." As you turn back to send a smile something painfully familiar stirs in your brain when he flashes that gummy smile and sends you on your way.

---------------Friday----------------

By the time Friday rolls around you've been through a whole litany of emotions. You're of course excited about the tattoo, that's not the problem. No the source of all evils is Min Yoongi. Sexy. Witty. Can handle your sarcasm. Enjoys cuddling. He's plagued your thoughts, gummy smiles invading your daydreams and inky tattoos hovering over you at night. It's been a long time since you've actually crushed on anyone. Dating as an adult is an entirely different experience. Usually, you know someone who knows them or met them on tinder and you're just praying that they aren't a secret serial killer and that you share enough interests to talk in between getting railed while praying for an orgasm. At least, that's been your shitty experiences anyway. You know that it isn't always the case considering that just about all of your friends have gotten magically engaged or married recently. But Yoongi? There's something about him that stirs up all of your previously assumed dead thoughts on love. All of the secret romantic pinings combines with lust in a painful swirl but luckily the thoughts you have of him are usually fleeting.

You step forward into the tattoo shop after grabbing a bite to eat, two warm cocoas in your hand as you try not to freak out that the big event is finally here and you'll be face to face with tiny, sexy, tattooed satan yet again. The man behind the counter looks over at you, and you can't help but wonder for a moment if being really good looking is a requirement to work here. Deep dimples, sunkissed skin, glasses perched on his nose.

"Hi, do you have an appointment?" You shake your head yes, staring at the floor for a moment before finally squeaking out that you're there to see Yoongi.

"Ay, (Y/N)'s here!" He shouts out towards Yoongi's office and you see him strolling out just a moment later.

"Jesus Joon, you've been spending too much time around Hobi. I think the whole shop could hear you." Yoongi steps around the desk eyeing the other cup before you hand it out to him.

"It's just cocoa, I didn't lace it. This time. Also, it's made with soy milk." You can hear the man called Joon laughing in the background as Yoongi slowly grabs the cup and squints at it before taking a tentative sip.

He gives a small nod that you assume is to signify satisfaction before he starts walking over to a curtained-off section in the back. "You ready to get started?"

"Yep, all ready!" You take a sip of the cocoa and sit down on the tattoo chair slowly.

"Alright, just check over this transfer and let me know what you think before you undress so I can put it on." You look over the image, heart warming up slightly at the brush of his fingers before you finally nod a silent affirmation. "I need words babe, is it good or not?"

You can feel yourself bristle at the tone, sighing wearily before you finally bite out, "Yes, babe, it's perfect."

"Cool. I'll leave you to get undressed, I'll be back in just a moment." The one shitty thing about the placement of your tattoo is that it will require not only pants to come off but underwear too. Before nerves can take over you strip quickly, laying back down on your side before you can think about it too much. Getting undressed faster than you can sneeze was probably a bad idea though because now you're forced to just sit there with your ass cheeks freezing and mind shutting down while you wait for him to come back. After a minute you hear him announcing that he's coming in before opening up the curtain.

Your eyes are trained on the floors. Jesus, you wish you could get your tiles to glisten the way their's does. They must mop a thousand times a day, you can't even see a speck of dirt in the grout. The sound of him clearing his throat has you jolting a bit before turning around to glare at the sound of his laughter. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I'm just going to disinfect the area and put the transfer on then I'll have you take a look and let me know what you think of the placement." You decide to go mute apparently as your only response is a feeble thumbs up before quickly turning to resume your ever so interesting study on what floor cleaner they use. Probably Fabuloso.

You force yourself to stay stock still when you feel his warm hands on your hip as he cleans the area and peels the transfer on before he gives a light tap to your thigh. "Alright, take a look." With all the grace of a hospice patient you slowly swing your legs off and walk over to the mirror, trying to not pay attention to the fact that you're awkwardly half naked in front of arguably the hottest man who's admitted he enjoys cuddling before you finally relax at the sight of the transfer. "Man, this is going to look rad. Alright little satan, do your thing!"

"Little Satan? Really? What happened to all your usual creative bitchiness? What was it you called me that one time?"

"Oh! Degenerate Malfoy with a nicotine problem? Or was it wannabe colon inspector?"

"Neither actually, it wasn't even something you called me now that I remember it. You once told me 'Ah I see the fuck up fairy decided to mess with my life and force me to see you yet again.' That's a good one by the way, I've used it a few times."

"Glad I could help, but I wish I could copyright it so you could pay me the rights to use it." You try not to get too nervous as you hear him slip on his gloves and the needle buzzing ominously behind you. The pain won't be that bad right? "Relax, you'll be fine." His voice for once isn't laced with sarcasm. It seems that even the formidable Yoongi has a professional voice that he employs occasionally.

After what feels like ages filled with anxiety-ridden thoughts you feel the needle prodding away, moving quickly while leaving tingling and ever slight burning sensations in its wake. It does hurt, but not to the point of being unbearable. "See it's not so bad, scaredy cat." You resist the urge to turn around and pummel him in his annoyingly handsome face.

"If you weren't tattooing me right now I'd choke you out."

"Kinky, but I prefer a chick to at least buy me a drink first."

"Already did jackass, the cocoa remember."

"Huh, you did didn't you. Okay, well it's still off the table for you. You'd probably keep going until I actually died."

"Hell misses it's little satan though, I'd just be helping you reunite with all your friends."

"Do you have a snarky remark for everything princess?"

"Nah, depends on the day and the person. You're a special one Min Yoongi, something about you makes me want to bludgeon things."

"Oh, what a sweet compliment. Isn't that how people feel when things are too cute too?" You don't even need to look over to know that he's smirking as you flip him off.

"Or annoying." The rest of the three hours the two of you spend going back and forth with each other to the point that some of the other artists passing by started to call out their two cents in. By the time you're done, you have the outline complete and some of the black shaded in. The rest will be done in just two weeks time at his next opening.

-------------2 weeks later-----------

Oddly enough for once, you haven't seen Yoongi outside during his normal smoke break time when you leave work for the last couple of weeks. You also haven't seen him getting his normal disgusting black coffee either. Not that you've been looking for him. Okay...so maybe you have. There's just something about him other than the really good looks you like. In one sense it's almost like walking on a blade the entire time you're with him, never sure when he's going to make a jab. On the other hand, he's also easy to talk to. In a way where everything is oddly comfortable even with this underlying lurking sexual tension. Or maybe that's just in your head. Maybe there's no sexual tension and it's just been so long since you last had a good lay (the dingleberry boy who shall not be named was terrible) that you're starting to hallucinate. Which is a rather real possibility.

This time when you walk in with another cocoa it's with far fewer nerves. No, you're ready for the battlefield and only tremble ever so slightly when you have to face him with a bare ass in his face.

"Alright sunshine, let's finish this bad boy up." Is all he states before he gets right into it, ever the professional. By the time he's finished, you're 110% positive that you were just imagining the sexual tension because his eyes don't even wander as you check the tattoo in the mirror. Which is a good thing right? Because you're supposed to be on your fast track to nundom not trying to bag the super hot tattoo artist who works near you.

There's a bizarre sinking feeling in your heart though when you realize the tattoo is done and you won't be able to see him for extended periods of time on such a good excuse. An expensive excuse, but an excuse nonetheless. Now, however, with your beautiful, intricate, and very sore skin you'll have to go back to happenstance run-ins. You think that maybe, just maybe, if the somewhat hollow looking smile he gives you when you leave is anything to go by that he doesn't really want it to end either. But that's probably just the few embers of hope remaining in you that needs to be crushed out.

--------1 month later---------

You've spent another night overworking yourself. This time there wasn't really a good reason to either. You're not only on schedule but way ahead and yet you've decided to just keep busting through work until dusk begins to fall and the shitty flickering streetlights by you turn on. Almost every night for the past few weeks you've been working longer days and as much as you hate to admit it it's to try to keep yourself from wallowing too much at night about your impending lonely doom. Tonight will be different though. Tonight you'll ruminate and bask in the fucked up world with your dear old friend Irene as she's finally decided to have a night away from her obnoxiously good looking fiance Taehyung. She might not be able to relate to your doom and gloom sentiments on life but she's always a good friend for a pick me up.

You set off in the opposite direction of your usual route, winding through the chilly streets until you get to your favorite bar that serves oddly impressively delicious fried chicken. The moment you step in you notice Irene sitting at one of the few tables at the place, glaring at a man who clearly can't take a hint. Marching over you grab the seat across from her before biting off a 'Jesus how much aftershave do you use? Did you put in on your asshole too or something?' Knowing he's now outnumbered, and out bitched, the two of you watch the man leave without protest.

"You know you really should be careful. People are crazy, aren't you ever afraid that you might get hurt or something?"

You shrug nonchalantly before sighing at the doe eyes she gives you. "Irene, I love you but I'm not curtailing my inner bitch just because some douche might murder me. There are countless absurd ways I could die, if I have to check myself in fear of that then I just let all those asshats continue being menaces to society without being put in their shitty sad places."

"So what you're like a superwoman with a bad attitude only you save the world one dick at a time with well-timed insults?" You know that voice, you know that voice all too well. Your ears perk up and your jaw drops open as you whip around to come eye to eye with Yoongi. For one whole month, you haven't seen him even with perfectly timed coffee runs around his smoke breaks. Not that you learned his habitual schedule or anything. Nope. Nothing like that at all. Just coincidence is all. And you just happened to notice he wasn't there. That's all.

"Yoongi!" You hate the way your voice goes up an octave, excitement making your voice quiver like a little puppy reuniting with their owner after a short separation. You can already feel the heat bursting on your cheeks as his head tilts, eyes watching you carefully before he cracks a lazy smile.

"Um, (y/n), who is this guy? Do I need to mace him or something?" Irene whispers to you, but just loud enough that as Yoongi steps closer he can hear her.

"Please don't mace me. I promise, I only bite if you're into that."

"Hey, watch it, mister. She's a taken woman." Reluctantly you wave your hand over the free seat to invite him over before looking back at Irene. "Irene this is Yoongi, Yoongi this is Irene. Yoongi did my tattoo for me."

"Oh, you got a tattoo? Can I see it?"

"We'll definitely get a free round of drinks if you show it off, that's for sure." You can't help but smack Yoongi's shoulder, shocked at the sturdiness of it. Considering how slight he looks you really didn't think that he worked out but now your mind is starting to wander.

"Yeah well, kind of can't show you in public considering I have to take my pants off. Oh! But I do have some pictures!" You pull out your phone, swiping through until you find one and turning it to show her.

"Wow, that looks like it hurt. It looks great though you did a good job..." Irene pauses, eyes going wide with panic before she finally adds, "Yoongi."

"Thanks." He almost looks shy and you can feel your heart breaking. Yeah, typical to have the hot dude fall for your friend and not you.

"Did you order drinks yet?" At the shake of Irene's head, you're grateful to have an excuse to flee to the bar not rushing to grab the bartenders attention and face falling slightly when he sidles up next to you immediately. The world is a cruel place. You want them to take their time and they're there immediately. You want them there right away and suddenly so do seventy other people. Luck. Or murphy's law maybe. Whatever.

You huff out a sigh before plastering a smile on your face, "Two cranberry vodkas, please. Tall and stiff." The bartender nods as you slap down a twenty, praying that perhaps he'll at least make the drinks slowly but oh no this man must be one of those bartenders that enters fucking speed competitions because he's sliding both drinks over before you can fucking blink. Unbelievable. The service at this place is just too good and it's making you twitch slightly in irritation.

Trying not to huff, you grab the two drinks and make your way back to your table. Heart sinking even more at the sound of Yoongi being strangely amicable to Irene. This was not the night you wanted at all. You wanted to get drunk and hang out with Irene and forget about how shitty boys are, not have glaring reminders everywhere about how the capitalist ploy that is romance will suffocate you to death. Okay so maybe you're being a little melodramatic. A lot. Whatever. It's your pity party, you can cry if you want to.

When you finally sit back down and hand Irene her drink you can't help but guzzle yours back right away, ignoring the acidic burn in your throat and the quirked eyebrow from Yoongi.

"So...(y/n)...any new boys after Johnny?" Irene refuses to look you in the eyes as she asks, smart enough to sit just out of reach from your possible rage.

"I refuse to fall victim to the bullshit masquerade we call love yet again. I've called it quits. I'm just going to be a spinster with a million cats who will inevitably be forgotten until my landlord finds that mittens, my favorite cat, has eaten my left asscheek for sustenance after my untimely death."

Irene bawks, trying immediately to rush into lengthy reasoning as to why you shouldn't stop searching for love as Yoongi nearly falls off his chair laughing so hard. At the end of Irene's dialogue, Yoongi wipes away a stray tear before shooting you a gummy smile. The kind that makes you want to hate him less, but you refuse to. Because that's dangerous territory. Territory you've sworn to never cross again. "You don't actually mean all that bullshit right? Love is natural, it's needed. It's biologically ingrained in us to be social creatures and affectionate."

"Don't you judge me and mitten's life path!"

"You don't even have a cat!" Irene looks exasperated as she takes a sip of her drink, silently judging you. "Listen, I get it. You've been fucked over a million times by terrible guys. But that doesn't mean that the whole world is that way." At the withering look you send her Irene sighs, shaking her head but falling mute. You feel a little bad that yet again you've ruined the mood so you try to lighten it up a bit, reaching over to pinch her cheek lightly.

"Thanks, Irene. I'm sorry. I'm just...I don't know. I've been in a bit of a mood." You bit your tongue from further sarcasm at the pointed look she gives you. "Things haven't been so hot lately. I'll get over it. In like a decade. But you know that's better than never." You can feel Yoongi peering at you, analyzing you from the corner of your eye.

"Why though? Why are you so convinced that love is such a sham?" Yoongi's words don't seem to hold any judgment or his usual quiet hostility, instead just honest curiosity.

"Well if they don't cheat on me they always grow tired of me. I'm a bit too much of a bitch for my own good. I should really work on that." You shrug, staring at your almost empty glass as you try to shush the self-loathing thoughts that want to invade.

"I like that part about you though. You've got spunk doll, it ain't a bad thing. You just need to find a guy who can match it." He smirks at the way you go quiet before leaning slightly into you at the table. "I don't know, I think I'm up for the challenge if you are." He grabs a card from his pocket, placing it next to your cup as he stands up. "That's my cell on there. Text me sometime babe." You hate the way your brain shuts down, playing back the way he calls you babe until all senses fail.

"You should do it. You know he was asking about you the entire time you were getting drinks?" You feel your heart sink even further at the realization that you judged the situation too quickly before suddenly soaring at the idea that Min Yoongi asked you out on a date. You. Snarky, bitchy you found a match in hell. Capitalist ploys be damned! You'll at least find out if he's cocky for a reason. If you don't chicken out that is.

-----------------------------------

Later that night after all the alcohol has left your system and you're snuggled up under enough blankets to possibly suffocate you, you find yourself staring at your phone. You entered in his contact almost immediately after he left at the urging of Irene. Apprehension has held you back from actually sending anything though. Your fingers hover over the screen, bottom lip stuck between your teeth as you suck in a breath. What have you got to lose?

[You]: Hey...

[Yoongi]: (Y/N)?

[You]: Yeah

[Yoongi]: This is unusual. I'm used to quippy remarks. Don't tell me you've grown soft?

[You]: Fuck off. I'm just confused that's all.

[Yoongi]: What's there to be confused about? You're funny, you have no problem with giving it right back to me, and you have a fantastic ass

[You]: Well that was blunt

[Yoongi]: I'm an honest man [Yoongi]: So listen, about that date, I wanna take you out Sunday

[You]: That's in like a day from now

[Yoongi]: Yeah well I've wanted to take you out from the first time you told me off for smoking on the street. And that time you told me you were going to shove my tattoo needle up my ass solidified it.

[You]: You have some odd kinks sir

[Yoongi]: Is that a yes babe?

[You]: Hmmm....yeah I'll go

[Yoongi]: Great send me your address I'll pick you up at noon

[You]: You aren't going to chop me up in a million pieces and feed me to the fishes right?

[Yoongi]: No I prefer my women in one piece

You send over your address, butterflies swarming around as you squeal into a pillow before sending him a quick good night. You don't need to embarrass yourself by saying something off the wall as exhaustion starts to set in. Like "I want to kiss your face" or "Fuck me in your office." Yeah, that's not good pre-date material. You need to keep it kosher for now.

------------------------------------

You had spent all day Saturday cleaning to keep your nerves at bay. Not that you can really tell much in your closet after you ransacked it. And not that you can tell you went through all of that energy just to pick a simple oversized black hoodie and jeans. It's too cold to go all out anyway. You've been staring in the mirror, double checking your hair and makeup a thousand times as you hear the doorbell chime through the apartment. It's a good thing no one else is around to see you nearly trip over yourself as you slip on your shoes and answer the door. "Hi!"

Yoongi is wearing his usual black leather jackets, skin-tight black jeans, and cat-like smirk. "Hey. You ready?"

"Yeah, oh just let me grab a jacket." Pulling one off the rack you shut the door behind you, locking the door before shuffling behind Yoongi. Much to your surprise, he slows down until your right next to him, clasping his hand around yours and smiling as he silently leads you to his car.

"What, no motorcycle today?"

"Nah, I figured you'd strangle me and we'd crash. Dieing on the first date just seems tragic. We need to get on date number five at least." He shoots you a wink as he opens your door, shutting it lightly behind him as he jogs around to the other side.

"So...where exactly are you taking me?"

"You're a curious little thing today, aren't you? Well at first I was thinking something simple like coffee, but let's be honest that's overplayed and boring. So then I thought about going to an aquarium just so I could make a joke about feeding you to the fishes but then I thought nah too easy. So I spent more time than I'll tell you plotting. And I realized exactly where we needed to go. We're going to the river for a picnic. Something that's oddly ordinary and you'll secretly love but no dude's ever actually done for you. Am I right?"

You're at a loss. You certainly didn't expect him to think this through to this extent. Honestly, no guy has ever cared this much about a first date before. You figured that only existed in stories and movies at this point. "You're certainly right. Isn't it a little cold for a picnic though?"

"I have brought plenty of cocoa and jjigae to keep us warm, don't you worry your pretty little head about it." You can't help but fidget slightly, nerves boiling over until his hand rests soothingly on your thigh and you feel yourself melt. Or maybe boil over until you malfunction. But that's something to dwell on at a later time.

It doesn't take long after that until you pull up at the river. During springtime it's packed, everyone comes out to drink under the cherry blossoms, but right now it's serenely quiet. You're almost the only people in sight save the zealous runners and elderly couples strolling through on their daily walks. When you try to help set up the blanket and food Yoongi refuses, so instead you watch him meticulously lay everything out. Maybe this is a post-season Christmas movie because you swear you can feel your dead cold heart grow as you watch him. It's an oddly domestic feeling. Certainly romantic. Painfully sweet. And for once all of your usual bitter snarkiness has drowned it's self in the river to leave you a heart-eyed mess.

"Come on, come sit. I told you before, I don't bite unless you're into that."

"I'm into that, but right now I'd rather have cocoa and jjigae." You watch him pour out your drink as you sit down, carefully handing you the piping hot drink before pulling the still boiling soup out of the basket.

"Alright, so I figured that being you'd probably refuse to tell me too much out of wariness. So I propose that we play 21 questions. What's your favorite food?"

"Tofu, in all it's many forms. What's your favorite color?"

"Black, just like my coffee."

"And your soul." You duck as he tosses a napkin at your face, laughing at the gummy expression he sends your way.

"Aish. Okay, next question, what are your hobbies?"

"Reading and video games. Why'd you become a tattoo artist?"

"I love drawing, but I especially love the idea of a living canvas. It's just so interesting. Although I hate that I don't usually get to control the outcome of it, some people have god awful tattoo ideas. Most people actually. I'm at least booked enough now that I can refuse those ones without worrying about my bank account too much. Why are you so afraid of love?"

You weren't expecting that question. You figured he'd keep things easy but then again you should have known better. Of all the many ways you can describe the man before you easy isn't one of them. "Trust problems I guess. I didn't have the best home, parents kicked me out young and we haven't talked since so that's probably at the root of it all. I don't know though, never seen a shrink about it so that's just an educated guess. Add all the boys that I've dated either dumped me or cheated on me and it makes it tough to believe that love, especially romantic love is real. Why do you believe in it?"

"Because love is the very essence of humanity. The best way to fight a shitty system that tries to keep us all down is through love. It's not power or money or any of that other bullshit they tell us we need. It's love. We all just need someone who understands us. It doesn't need to be a ton of people, just one who really gets us and bam! Everything's good. Sometimes those people come and go, but that doesn't make the love you held for that time discounted. It just means that now you need to find someone else who understands you." He chooses his words carefully at first, but when he sees that you're held in rapt attention he grows passionate. Eyes blazing as if to dare you to disagree. And suddenly you're seeing the world through a different lens. Here you had been chalking romance up to marketing, which isn't entirely untrue but that's just one part of it. But love the way he sees it? To him, love isn't about marketing or money it's just about human connection. And suddenly you're starting to understand that abstract intangible concept. You also realize that what you were looking for wasn't love, but perfection. You didn't want to do all the work, you just wanted all the pieces to magically fall into place for you and gave up when expectations weren't instantly met. "Next question, why'd you say yes to this date?"

"Because you're hot." You roll his eyes at the exaggerated wink he sends you before eating a bit of the jjigae. "Okay so that was a part of it but mostly I was curious. You're this weird enigma Yoongi. At first, I thought I had you all figured out. Tough dude with tats and a motorcycle who probably has a slew of booty calls waiting for him. But then you said you liked to cuddle and I got curious. And then I realized that I didn't have the whole picture, just a glimpse. Why in the world did you ask me out? And for the love of god don't say 'dat ass.'"

"Okay but dat ass though." The way he laughs full heartedly, slapping his knees at the sight of your glare almost makes you not elbow him. Almost. But you have a reputation to uphold. "You've just got this thing about you. You're like a fortress. A puzzle. I guess that same idea of wanting to figure a person out is the same reason why I'm so attracted to you. You see at first glance you seem to be just brutally honest, but then when you look closer it's easy to see that you're vulnerable. Fragile. Callous due to a previous naivety that landed you in shit places by the sounds of it. I like that you have spirit, you aren't afraid to tell people to fuck off. But what I like most of all is under that there's this heart of gold. At least if your interaction with your friends is anything to go by you do." Fuck, you think you have something in your eye. It's definitely not your long extinct tear ducts learning how to work again. Nope.

You can feel his thumb brush a stray tear, hand cupping your face as you automatically nuzzle into the warmth before he clears his throat. "Next question-"

Before he can finish the question your lips are on his. They're chapped but still soft, plush under yours. And suddenly that tailwind romance you thought was all fake feels so real as a spark of electricity zaps you. Or maybe that's more carnal, but whatever it is it feels so right. As if his lips were made to be against yours. And when you feel him kiss back roughly, hands weaving through your hair as he pulls you in closer you know that he must be feeling the same thing. You're floating. High in the clouds. Weightless. The sound of someone running past finally has the two of you breaking apart slowly. "Right next question, can we do that again?"

This time there's a fire behind the kiss as your hands grab onto his jacket and his tongue slips into your mouth. This time you know it's more carnal. Burning bright. Passionate. Hungry. Needy. But before it can devolve into public debauchery you reluctantly pull back, blush creeping up your neck as you see his molten brown eyes focused on you in a way that clearly states that he is indeed as dangerous as he looks. At least if your definition of dangerous is sex right out in the open at a very public park anyway.

"My turn. What's your favorite music?"

The rest of the date goes by too quickly and you learn about everything Yoongi related and he learns everything about you. You're positive that you've never learned so much about a person on a first date, or hell even by the third. You've learned his birthday, his favorite music, all about his friends, how he actually co-owns the tattoo shop and how that all happened. You've learned about how he came from a poor family and how he makes sure to send a little bit each week to help out on top of the apartment he bought them. Suddenly the $200 an hour fee makes a whole lot more sense.

By the time you're pulling back into your apartment, the two of you have already planned a date for next Sunday. And as he puts the car in park you can't hope but wish that somehow it was already magically next week. But when he pulls you in for a heated kiss and presses his forehead against yours before sending you off you're too much on cloud nine to pay any attention. You'll have to add that Yoongi is certainly the best kisser you've ever known to your mental file.

-------------1 week later---------------

Well, it's official. You're nuts. You'd like to blame Yoongi but let's be honest, all you needed was a little help to push you over the ledge. Except the problem is that before you were very sure of life. Completely comfortable with anger, bitterness, and believing that everything inevitably fails. And in some sick twist of fate, his words have been playing back in your head over and over every single day for the last week. Before you thought it was all or nothing. Love was there or it wasn't. You get one shot at true love and if it fails then it never existed. Except now your world is flipped upside down.

Perfection is a fruitless endeavor. An impossible task. One with zero rewards. And what you've been looking for all this time is perfection. A perfect love. A whirlwind romance. But if it's perfect it's fake. It's all a lie. An elaborate performance. Which is mostly all you've ever gotten, granted usually in short-lived moments but sometimes longer. And when the curtains closed each time you thought, "this show wasn't a real show. I'll go to a better play next door." Except the play was still very much real. A part of you. A part of them. Which means that love is indeed real it's just not always very grand. But when it was there it was beautiful, you were just blind and ignorant in even the good moments. Unaware of the magic in small acts. But with Yoongi suddenly you want to see all the small acts. You want to not just see the show but be a part of it. Go behind the scenes with him. See how this plays out.

Which is completely fucking nuts. You're already talking about your entire worldview changing and the concept as something as obscure as falling in love with a man you barely know and have only been out on a date with once. It makes you afraid. It makes you feel free. It gives you options. It's like being able to use all of your senses at once for the first time. Except that's scary because there's too much coming at you at once. But it's equal parts exhilarating. You've been through every single possible emotion a person could have every day.

By the time your second date finally arrives, you're suddenly calm about it all. As if everything is right and the puzzle pieces to life are aligning and maybe just maybe you have a chance to see things differently. And while before you would have rather poked your eyes out than face rejection again this time you just want to see where this takes you. You aren't thinking so much about the end results, rather the journey.

Tonight Yoongi is taking you out to his favorite record store. While you don't own a record player you can certainly appreciate the aesthetics of vinyl. There's something oddly charming about them, even if it is ridiculously impractical in the modern world of space-saving technology and cramped apartments. Perhaps the impracticality of it is apart of the appeal, however. This time you aren't tripping over yourself to get to the door. But that's because you're standing right by it giving yourself a pep talk. Not that he needs to know that of course. After smoothing down your hair and doing a quick checklist in your head your pulling the door open.

This time he's wearing an oversized sweater but again the same tight black jeans. The man must have stock in them. Not that you blame him, it looks good after all. "You look great, babe." Heat blossoms on your face as his eyes scan you from head to toe, that signature lazy smile adorning his face before he takes your hand in his and leads you to his car.

"Still no motorcycle?"

"Nope, still don't trust that you won't freak out and kill me accidentally. Why? You seem oddly keen on the bike."

"It just looks fun that's all."

"It is. There's nothing better than a good ride, and you can take that any way you please." He winks at you, laughing when you scoff and punch his shoulder. If any other guy said that line you would have jumped out of the now moving vehicle, but for some reason when he says it you turn into putty. Maybe it's the charm of being absurdly good looking. Or that tattoos. The bad-boy charm. Or maybe it's because in all his infinite aloof glory he's just Yoongi. Comfortable and confident in his own skin without being sleazy.

The record store is quiet, playing a selection of upbeat jazz. Your brain is trying to figure out the tune until you finally snap your fingers and softly say, "Giant Steps!"

"You know jazz? Are you a secret Coltrane fan or something?" Yoongi is giving you that look. The look that says he's clearly analyzing you. Studying you. Dissecting your brain as you speak.

"Sort of. I dated this guy in college for years, he was a jazz major. His thesis was going to be on Giant Steps, it's been years since I've heard it though. Are you secretly into jazz, Min Yoongi?"

You watch him shake his head no as he scans the records before pulling one out. Outkast, ATliens. A great album, one that invokes nostalgia. He quickly puts the record under his arm before he continues searching. "Nah, I'm more of a blues guy myself. Nina Simone. Etta James. Bill Withers. The building blocks to all modern music. At least hip hop, R&B, and all the subgenres of rock."

"You know an awful lot about music considering you're a tattoo artist. What's the background story on that?" You peruse next to him as you speak, flicking through the music slowly.

"Once upon a time I wanted to be a rapper." There's something far off about his voice. As if he's reliving the memories. A gentle smile on his lips as he shakes his head as if to push them back into their little file in his brain to not be disturbed for some time. "But I had bills to pay. I'm not complaining though. I love music, adore it. But I love what I do too. It's almost like trying to pick between your two children. You might actually have a favorite, but it changes depending on the day."

"Let's hope you only have one kid then."

"Nah, I'm going to have a horde of mini Mins. Take over the world with them and overthrow capitalism. It's my diabolical plan to get housing prices back to normal and get student debt forgiveness."

"And how exactly do you plan to have this army of darkness? Polygamy? A sex cult?"

"God that just sounds exhausting. I can hardly keep up with you let alone more women. No, I think I'll actually stick with two children. You know, just so on tough days I can look at one and go 'ah yes today you didn't fuck up.'" You pray that he doesn't look over to see your cherry red face. He in a way made it sound like he's thought about children with you. Clearly, that's not what he means but now your mind is wandering. Mini mins. They'd be cute. Probably slightly evil but cute nevertheless. They might be born glaring though. Or smirking instead of crying.

"What happens when they both fuck up?"

"Then I've got you." Fuck, he was implying you. Holy shit. Holy shit. Act natural. Don't look at him. "Ooh look! They have a Frank Ocean Blonde vinyl. Unopened this bad boy is worth a few hundred. Man, I can't believe how cheap they're selling it for." He tucks it under his arm before cataloging through some more. For a short while the two of you work in silence, falling into a pattern that when you stare at one for just a little too long he's plucking it out of your hands and refusing to listen to you protest.

By the end of it all, the two of you are walking out with a dozen records after learning a wealth of information on all of Yoongi's favorite artists. You also learned that once upon a time his rap name was 'Suga.' Which led to you immediately and passionately singing Sugar by System of the Down quickly increasing in volume until he clamps his hand over your mouth and stares at you with the rage of a thousand suns. Totally worth it though. Especially when the dude behind the counter picks up where you left off.

Dinner goes by too quickly. You wish you could freeze time, force it to slow so you can languidly explore his world. It's with a heavy heart that you unbuckle your seat belt before leaning over and pulling him into a heated kiss. One that makes your head spin again and proves that the first date wasn't a series of flukes. Nope, Min Yoongi really does have a skilled tongue. When you pull away you can see stars in his eyes, his hair ruffled and cheeks red as he tries to even out his breathing. The most dangerous part about Yoongi is his duality. The way he can flit between sexy to cute and somewhere in between without trying.

------------2 months later----------

You've lost count on how many dates you've gone on at this point. He's taken you out on his bike finally to go stargazing. Out to plays and art galleries. Sometimes you've just stayed in and watched movies together. You have lunch together at least twice a week now, grabbing coffee together for a short reunion in the mornings after spending all night talking about everything and nothing over the phone. It's as if a time before Yoongi didn't exist. It's comfortable. Oddly easy.

It's to your chagrin and surprise that you learn that Yoongi wants to take things slow. He doesn't rush you into bed. He's the perfect gentleman. A punk Disney prince, albeit with a sharp tongue. No even after the third and fourth date when you try to heat things up he's quick to pull away and tell you that he doesn't want to rush things. Not with you, he says. He wants you to trust him first. He wants you to be truly comfortable first. He doesn't want you to think that he's only in it for that.

You get it. In fact, in a twist, it actually makes things hotter. But the build-up is getting almost painful now. The sexual tension mounting to epic proportions. Your poor vibrator would hate you if it wasn't inanimate. He wasn't lying about loving cuddling. He's also apparently a man of extreme patience because no matter how many times you've felt his hard dick against your ass mid-spooning he's refused to act on it. Or let you. It's left you more than slightly frustrated on multiple occasions. It also wasn't helpful that it, in turn, made you an awkward mess. In fact, you remember jokingly mentioning some gibberish about your starfish quivering to try and crack the tension and for a while you thought he would never let you live that terrible joke down. Starfish, really? What were you thinking?

What you belatedly realize though is that his master plan fucking works. Because somewhere along the way you started letting down your guards. Somewhere along all your dates, you find yourself falling. Allowing yourself to be human. Allowing yourself to stop fearing love. Allowing yourself to trust. Without fighting it. Without running. It's no longer terrifying. It's no longer something that gnaws at you in the chasm of anxiety.

And just shy of three months into dating Yoongi you realize that you love him. Love. Abstract. Intangible. Yet not. It's the way he looks at you. The way he holds your hands. The way he thinks about the things that make you tick. The way the two of you try to find joy in the tiniest of things. Marie Kondo would tell you that you've finally found something that sparks joy. But it's not just from him. No, even when he's not around you feel lighter. Freer. Happier. You're still sarcastic. A bit of a bitch. But this time it's no longer from a place of longheld bitterness and pain, rather it's from your twisted brand of humor.

This realization comes to you as you after hanging out with Yoongi's friends and coming back to his place to just chill and listen to his vinyls. When his thumb soothingly rubs your hand as you curl up into his chest. It's so natural. So right. "I love you." The words come out a soft sigh, muffled slightly into his chest but he hears them loud and clear.

Yoongi twists, pulling your face up to his. "Did you just say you love me?"

"Min Yoongi I love you." You don't expect to hear anything back. You aren't saying it for affirmation or reciprocation. You just want him to know.

"I don't think I've ever heard better words. Say it again." That gummy smile is back. The one that stirs up butterflies. The one that warms your soul. The one that you fell in love with.

You swing your legs over his lap, straddling him as you stare into his eyes. "I. Love. You."

"God, you don't know how bad I've wanted to hear that. I love you so fucking much. So much. Holy fuck. I want to kiss you, can I kiss-" Before he can finish the sentence your lips are on his. Soft and pliant under yours, a lingering taste of leftover chapstick and nicotine. It's captivating. Dizzying. It's so easy to get drunk off his lips. His taste. The soft groans that leave him. Tongues intertwine as his hands roam your body before landing on your ass with a firm squeeze. It's messy. Needy. Sloppy but full of passion. As if you're the only cure for each other. Each emotion lingering in the air. Your hips swivel down, grinding against his pants as one hand weaves into your hair to pull your neck back and attach his lips to there.

You can feel the small bruises blossoming already. Love bites and harsh sucks leave cherry blossoms along your neck, mirroring the pattern of his own tattoo. Quiet moans of need are spilling out, desire pooling into your panties each time his teeth scrape against you. "You, doll, are the hottest thing I've ever seen. I could worship you. Dedicate a temple to you. Can't wait to feel you. God, I want you so bad. I love you so fucking much." Each word spills out from him like a deep moan, reverberating through his chest and chewing them off at the end. A loud mewl of satisfaction leaves you. He loves you. He loves you. You're in love. Over the moon. How could you ever think that love wasn't for you? How could you ever give up? How could you honestly think that you were destined to be a spinster when a man like him wants you?

His hands claw at your shirt, quick to remove your bra and leave you partially bare. Even with the slight chill seeping in through his apartment you still feel feverish. Each time his calloused hands roam your skin you can feel your temperature increase. God, you've never wanted someone so much. It's almost an out of body experience. Sex elevated off the mortal plane. You swear you might cum just from him touching you at this rate. His lips brush against your nipples before biting down, one hand reaching back into your hair as you arch into the touch.

"Wanna touch you Yoongi. Wanna feel you." The words come out drunkenly. Wobbly. Laced with honey through your swollen lips. When his grip lets go of your hair you lean down to his neck, pressing kisses around his tattoo, tongue laving at the branch as your teeth scrape against his soft skin. The deep moans hiccuping out of him are music to your ears, urging you on as your grind against him. Desperate for friction. Desperate for release. Your hands toy at his shirt before finally breaking away to pry it over his head. Your eyes dance over his half-naked form, taking in the sight before you. Almost every square inch is covered, ink swirling around in intricate stories. God, you're about the fuck the hottest living canvas.

His chest is heaving, breathing uneven as the two of you make eye contact again before lips come crashing together and he's picking you up. Carrying you out of the living room and into his bedroom, stopping occasionally to push you against a wall just to latch onto your neck or chest. By the time you make it to the bed, you're sure that for the first time in your life you could actually forgo foreplay. You're so wet that you can feel it seeping through your underwear and leaving a mark on your jeans. He stumbles onto the bed, your head hitting the wall with a loud thwack that has both of you pausing for a moment. "Shit, are you okay?"

"Mmokay, take your pants off." You rub at the sore spot before reaching up to place a reassuring kiss on his lips. You hold your breath as you watch him strip, dick springing out proudly. Smeared with precum. Red. Throbbing and twitching. "You don't wear underwear?"

He looks almost bashful for a moment. "It's laundry day actually..." At the sound of your giggles, he takes the opportunity while you're disarmed to unbutton your pants, freeing you from your jeans and leaving you in just your flimsy lacy panties. The mood shifts back again when you see the hunger in his eyes. As if he's staring at a feast. "Christ, can't wait to taste this pussy. Make you cry my name." His hands are shaking slightly as he slowly pries your underwear off, eyes narrowing on the way your juices stick to your underwear finally tossing it off the side of the best.

"Please taste me, I need you. I can't wait."

"Who knew you'd be so needy? So quick to beg for my tongue?" That usual lazy smirk is back on his face as he looks at you, hands hooking around your thighs and pulling them over his shoulders. His tongue flattens against your sex before you can respond, a choked moan drowning out your words. Jesus, he's good with his tongue. It moves slowly, languidly against your dripping pussy. Rhythmically. Diving into your folds only to swirl up around your clit, sucking lightly and releasing with a soft pop before going back down all over again. It's when his tongue dips even lower, swirling around your puckered rim that you can feel your eyes roll back and breathing cut off. Two fingers slip into your dripping cunt with ease, scissoring to stretch you. The dual sensation of his tongue on your ass and fingers filling you up has you clenching. Spiraling. Bright white flashing behind your eyes as a silent scream tries to leave your throat. Toes curling, his name finally rolling off your tongue as you chase the sensation, your orgasm consuming your senses. It leaves you dizzy. Panting. A mewling, drenched mess under him.

Through fuzzy ears you can hear his low voice, "God how do you taste so good? Fuck, I could watch you all day baby girl."

His fingers move slowly as he watches you return to earth, twitching underneath him at the oversensitivity. You feel so sated, but at the same time, you want so much more. The look in his eyes makes you hungry all over again. You want him to feel just as good as you. You look up with hooded eyes, hand wrapping around his drooling cock as you speak. "I wanna taste you too Yoongi."

His adam's apple bobs, hands leaving your thighs as he pulls you into another messy kiss. It's almost all teeth and tongue this time, a thin line of saliva breaks apart when you separate. You shuffle off the bed slowly, knees gingerly falling to the floor before looking back up as your tongue swirls around his head before pulling back to lick a long stripe along his prominent vein. You pepper tiny kisses along his base, one hand cupping his balls gently as the other one twists around his base. You envelop his velvety length in your mouth, working slowly into a steady rhythm. Each sigh from him, soft moans of pleasure spurs you deeper. Jaw aching slightly as you try to take him deeper, using your hand to help stimulate the places you can't reach. His hands grip your hair tightly as he reaches past your molars, pulling you off of him with a loud pop. "Sorry love, I'm not gonna last much longer if you keep doing that and I really want to fuck you."

You gulp at the way he's watching you. As if he's a predator and you're his prey. A feast for the night. You wouldn't have it any other way. He helps guide you back onto the bed, twisting you onto all fours as his hands glide over your ass. "Best ass I've ever seen. God, I've had so many wet dreams over this ass." His hand comes down sharply, the sting bringing a wave of pleasure to ripple through you as it soothingly rubs over. Your thoughts are quickly brought back to the throbbing between your thighs as his cock rubs against your swollen clit. "Please, fuck. God." You're incoherent, words stringing together slowly.

"What's my name doll?"

"Yoongi, come on. Fuck me before I bite your head off!"

"Yeah yeah, we'll see how much sass you have left in you when I'm done." You wiggle your hips impatiently as you hear him spit into his palm, adding lubrication before he glides into you. "Holy shit." He stays still for a moment as you spasm around the intrusion. He's just thick enough to have you crying out in pleasure, just long enough to have you seeing stars as he sinks deeper.

"Oh, fuck. Move, please move." You push back, sinker further onto him as he stays still before his hands snake around your throat.

"God, you are so mouthy. And as much as I normally love hearing you talk back right now I really just wanna fuck you." He pulls out almost completely before slamming back in, balls slapping into your clit in a way that has you seeing stars. Each movement is harsh, quick, with stamina and vigor you didn't foresee him having. The feeling of his hand wrapped around your throat, cutting off just enough circulation to stutter your breathing, has you gasping and rutting underneath him. Fuck, was sex supposed to feel this good? In your fucked out state, you can barely make out the sound of him chuckling darkly behind you. "Look at you baby, already fucked out and I've barely started. Do you wanna cum again baby? Already?"

"Fuck, please. Don't stop!" Your high pitched begging has him drilling in deeper, his free hand moving off your ass and onto your clit in quick circular motions that has you clenching around him. This time your orgasm is earth-shattering. Loud. Wet. When his hand finally lets go of your throat you face plant into the pillow, legs shaking around him as he keeps moving.

"You're so beautiful when you cum, did you know that? My pretty baby girl, all fucked out on my cock. Now that's a sight I never want to stop seeing." Another loud smack to your ass has you sobbing into the pillow, moans spilling out as your release gushes around him. "Jesus, how is your pussy so fucking wet? Are you always this wet?"

"No. It's just for you Yoongi."

"That's right. This pussy is mine, isn't it? Say it, doll."

"This pussy is yours Yoongi, fuck. Hold on, I wanna ride you." He stutters, pausing before pulling out so the two of you can shuffle around. You smirk as you crawl over his lap, one hand holding onto his cock as the other grabs his arm while you sink down. You're sure you look a fucked out mess, but so does he. Sweat is making his fringe cling to his forehead, kiss-swollen lips, hickies covering his neck visible even over his tattoos.

You neck snaps back as you sink down completely, the new angle bringing him right to your g-spot and making your legs shake in overstimulation. You fall forward onto his chest, pulling him into another kiss as you circle your hips in small figure eights. You bite down on his lower lip, pulling it between your teeth as you reach behind you and gently roll his balls in your hand. You delight in the way he groans, eyes rolling back at the sensation. "Keep doing that and I'm not going to last (y/n)."

"That's the point. Come on, cum with me Yoongi." It doesn't take much in your overstimulated state to get right back to the point again. Hanging over the edge as you dip your hand down to circle your clit, relishing in the dulcet moans from him as the two of you climax together. His nose scrunches up, eyebrows furrowing as he grips at your hips as you ride him into his own orgasm right after your third. It doesn't take long before he twitches inside you, painting your insides white as you slow down. At the feeling of him coming to his own completion you slump forward, your head falling into the crook of his neck as his hands circle your waist.

"Wow. That might easily have been the best sex of my life."

"Yeah, that was, wow." Your breathing is still unsteady, legs shaking as you feel him soften inside you.

"Did you realize you squirted?"

"Ah, yeah. Sorry to break your heart but that's actually somewhat normal for me."

"God that is so fucking hot." You laugh into his neck, exhaustion taking over as you sigh. "You know, the first time I ever saw you I knew. I just knew. You were all sass and fire, and I just knew that you were it. You were the one."

You wish you could reciprocate and say you thought the same thing when you first saw Yoongi, but you suppose it's better late than never. "I never would've guessed when I first met you that you liked cuddling, or saying such cheesy lines, or absolutely hated scary movies."

"Yeah, but you love that about me."

"Yeah. But I'm pretty sure I just love everything about you Min Yoongi."

"You know, when you say my full name like that I get oddly turned on. Do you think you're up for a round two in like, half an hour?"

You really should say no, you really just want to sleep. But just the thought has your mind spinning. Lord give you strength because you're going to need it, or at least better stamina, to last in survive this man.

You never would've guessed that love could feel so right. So natural. So normal. It isn't always a crazy spark. It isn't all fire and passion, even though it certainly has its moments. No, it's softer. Gentler. It grows and evolves with you. It changes. It takes work. And the two of you do somehow make it work. Even after moving in and trying to learn how to love someone when there's only one bathroom. Even after you get married and fall into a routine. Even after you get pregnant and go a smidge hormonally insane both times. Even on days when both of the kids drive you batty. Even when they leave home and leave you with an empty nest all over again. Because love is something beautiful. It's something innate within us all, it's just a matter of both parties wanting it enough. Working at it enough. And whenever anyone asks you what love means to you it was simple from that day forward. Min Yoongi.

#btssmutclub #yoongi smut #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #yoongi reader insert #yoongi reader pairing #tattooed yoongi

3K notes · View notes

bionicdragonguardian1 · 4 years

Text

Ranma 2/4

Part 3; Final: chapter 26-38

After this it’s on to good and proper timeline deliberation

These two are honest-to-God morons and I want to punch them in the face

*sigh* Ranma…

Y’know I almost had hope that this differed in the manga

Guess not

I DO NOT approve of alienation

However, getting emotional character development out of Ranma is like pulling teeth

So alienate away

Emotional Oof

THANK YOU!

*chuckles* Ryoga, you’re great

BREATHE

He’s dying don’t kill him early

FINALLY!

Ooo

didn’t see that coming

*tightly* I’m fine

okay, Ranma, you know what to do

*heaves giant ass sigh* RANMA!

*screams*

Look I know no chill, kay, shut up

RIP my shipping heart

*sighs* FUCK!

Not gonna lie, I’m Ranma

Careful, Akane might kill you

And with the way Hinako’s acting she deserves it

I’m actually with Nabiki on this one

I love how Ranma is rolling with this

Ooo that’s gonna sting

Those 3 are terrifying, honestly

Hinako, your timing is awful

STOP USING RANMA AS YOUR LANDING PAD SHAMPOO!

Ranma blubbering hurts WAY more than I thought it would

Ranma, you’re digging your own grave here

Someone call me when he learns his lesson FINALLY

*cringes* Yikes, tbh I can’t tell if she’s playing him

Ranma you shit

WHY

Why is it always Kuno?!

Oof this gonna hurt w Kuno’s understanding of Ranma’s curse

Expect all Ranma and Kuno- especially Ranko- interactions to hurt really bad

Ukyo, you’re an idiot

You too Ryoga

Honestly

Alright, that’s funny

Ukyo, you’re lucky they’re dumb

Oh God, you two are SO wrong, but I love it

Aaand what does that say about you two Akane?

Ooo I could make this really mean

It’s SO tempting

Well, that went nowhere

Poor Ranma

So many trans vibes, honestly

*screams* HOW? Who? WHY?!

Wha-wha-what?!?!

Ouch, that’s gonna sting SO bad

heheh

Ouch, that hurt surprisingly more than I thought it would

Further proof that Genma SUCKS

Just this once, gimme soft

PLEASE

Close enough…

Okay, this fight was AWESOME!!

*sigh* Why am I even surprised by Genma’s reasoning anymore?

If Ranma cries, Imma cry

Excuse me while I go scream

I literally don’t even know what to do with this

Chuck it in the fuck it bucket and move on, I guess

okay, the end was funny though

Soun, is that bird didn’t look out of it’s gourd I’d believe you

*Chucks whole birdhouse* “fair”

A+ pic of Ranma

In his defense, he can argue something else, they just won’t listen cuz Shampoo won’t go with the truth

Alright, so Shampoo is smart, but with Ranma she’s an idiot

Wouldn’t the smart idea be to send Ranma AND Akane in with all 4 objects at the start?

Ok, Shampoo Sleep-Fighting is funny

Ranma is so underwhelmed that he’s just not even caring anymore

How Kasumi the scariest one to be possessed

Alright, anything with Nabiki on the cover worries me

Holy Shit he played Nabiki

I’d be impressed if I wasn’t annoyed to hell

Let’s all be glad right now that Genma never mastered this

Where do you think he would’ve sent it?

My inclination’s the Tendos

If nothing else I’m impressed by Nabiki

Now play this man like a kazoo PLEASE

When Ranma lectures you on how you’re acting like kids, you done fucked up

I’m with Ranma

Are you sure Akane?

Cuz I’m not

Heheheheh

Thems the breaks Ranma

You deserve it

Holy Shit Ryoga, nice

Now, I understand that Pigs are your life, but you might be dead

And honestly, I don’t blame him

Okay, that one’s gonna hurt

No matter how you slice it

Morality, Ranma, I know you have it

I hate this

Ok, that was uncalled for

Ranma he’s gonna kill you

Also WTF are you thinking?!?

Oof

Wait… what?

I’m officially concerned

Ok, I actually kinda like this interlude

Akane… seriously, trust is a thing you need to learn

One would think she’d learn…

Okay, that is actually creepy

I would too Ranma, I would too

Jesus fucking Christ, you suck Happosai

LetRanmaMeetHisMomCOVID19!

Gemma you shit

Happosai, go fuck yourself

Nevermind, don’t let him meet her, this is ridiculous

“Where’s the fridge?” “Akane wanted it”

I shouldn’t’ve laughed as hard as I did

*sigh* I just want Ranma to have ONE normal parental figure in his life, is that too much to ask?!

I already hate this idea

He comes back Imma scream

Since when?

On what planet does penpal = boyfriend/girlfriend?

Ryoga, PICK ONE!

I’m getting annoyed with you Ryoga, which sucks cuz you’re one of my faves

Ryoga, how are you this gullible?

You deserved that Ranma

I would wish the fate of being Kuno’s wife on no one

Ever

Congrats Ukyo you’ve actually made me freak out

I don’t appreciate it

At all

*shudders*

Oh this is SO weird

Of y’all keep making comments like this WHY do you keep trying?!

Nevermind it’s Hiroshi and Daisuke, they’re in the know

I’m going to say it again

AKANE LEARNS TO SWIM LIKE A NORMAL PERSON!

This is why you don’t buy cheap food people

I can’t lie, I’ve been waiting for Akane to get possessed

That moment when the ghost is honestly being a bit too sensitive

Actually, he didn’t, so shut up

I could make the Hawaiian thing so Explicit

But I won’t, cuz y’know consequences and stuff

I’m not going to ask how Ashura drowned at Josenkyo

Taro, quit being a dick, you turn into a Minatour-like thing

God he’s dumb

When Crazy and Crazy wanna duke it out, Ranma’s got the right idea

Excuse me, what?!

Ooo, now you’ve made Akane mad, run

Wtf is wrong with you, Kodachi, he’s literally unconscious!

I think that was almost character development?

I can’t tell

Ranma should not look that good in a suit

Whoa, she actually like… said it

Damn

Everyone’s got 4 sec to start treating Ranma like a person

Oof, right in his pride

Akane, I need you to stop being cute for 3 sec so I can focus

Yeah, I ain’t making it dormant

Ranma, I can’t tell if this is sexism or jealousy, either way it looks ugly on you

“At least he’s scaring the cats” harsh Kasumi

Okay, so I’m 90% sure it’s just jealousy, which better but still ugh

Ranma, you can be kickass when Akane is too

Ya goddamn moron

I’m going to beat that into him

There will probs be some angst about that

Not gonna lie

Look I’m good at it

Sorry

Ranma, if you want to get MURDERED that’s the way to do it

Smooth one, idiot

Called out

You better do this right or I swear, I’ll kill you myself, Ranma

I believe that is a fail

Of epic proportions, congrats

You NEED to learn to keep your mouth shut Soun

Awww

But he’s not lying!

Ranma, just run, she’s actually pissed this time

FUCKING RUN!

Alright, Akane, NO

You’re playing into the patriarchy

Oh, right… 80’s...

I’m changing that!!

Oh My God PLEASE tell me Ranma gets deaged!! Please!

Ranma’s got more patience for assholes than I do

Jesus

Hah

He deserved that

Part of me wants to see Kasumi actually get pissed off

YES!!

I LOVE degaging plots!

Ranma, I want you to math that one out, just a little

YES!

I am LIVING for this!

There is so much wrong with that sentence Kodachi

Ok, that was a little too cruel Akane

Someone either get Mousse recognized as Legally Blind

Or someone get him glasses that work!

Either one, but PLEASE

I just got a “draw me like one of your french girls” joke from a horse

Even though the widespread joke is LITERALLY at least 30 years later than this image

OOF

Ice Cold

We’re running out of chapters for her to find out

She better have a canon way of doing it otherwise I’m gonna be really mean with it…

Bean… Gun… Plant…

Eh Seen weirder

Aww Valentine’s Day chapter!

Yes!

Poor Ranma

These two are blind to each other

Heheh

Aww

I love these dorks

Heheh oops, busted

I still just find the principal an honest annoyance

Wait… when did Ranma start wearing a school uniform?

Congrats Miss Hinako!

I just now realized that I’m going to have write someone who is ok with having a female chest

Gag me with a spoon

Bleh

I’m bad at that

I really do want to give Ranma clothes that do actually fit his female form

Ranma needs to look at the terms and conditions of good curse

Cuz this is getting creative

Uh oh

Ranma you have a brain, please use it

Hehe, she’s doing her body laundry

Oh shit

THANK YOU SOUN!

Fucking Happosai

Why are you the actual worst!

Oh shit

Goddammit Nodoka

That one was ALL on you

I expected this from Nabiki, but wtf Nodoka?!

Happosai you twisted fuck

Heheheh alright that’s funny

If nothing else Shampoo is sneaky

WHY is that the only way to undo it?!

Poor Akane she is so lost

Aw, poor Ryoga

Definitely not, Akane, but thank you for posing that question

Thank you for calling him out on his ego

This would be hilarious to see this before anyone had any bit of a clue about Ranma’s two forms

Also, Ranma, you need to keep her safe from the Kunos

*sigh* Akane, you’re wrong

Ooo, not good

And that is what no self control looks like folks

What is with that ending?

And this is what manipulation look like folks

Also, y’know, robbing someone blind

I’m assuming this is Konatsu and I love them already

I’m using they/them cuz I’m unsure of what pronouns to use

Y’know I thought the Cinderella thing was a joke, turns out I was wrong

I do not understand Konatsu’s thought process w Ukyo at all

Also, can you not knock them out?

I am forgetting the name of that one Hero from Supergirl but if my understanding Konatsu is correct I’m DEFINITELY going to do that

Yeah, that’s NOT how that’s gonna go over

Okay, can we all agree that the trick Kuno used on Ranma is HORRIBLE, right?

Wholeass mood for Ranma

Like you two need to shut up

I just want Ranma to wear a sun shirt and trunks to the beach ONCE

Ryoga… how are you so lost that you came up through the ground?

Ranma, how are you both a dick and a good friend at the same time?

Just tell me How on Earth did Akari justify the hot water for Ryoga with revealing that he’s Pchan

I’d like to think that’d be something they wouldn’t skip over

No questions, just punches a grave

Why does that grave hit back?

Honestly Nodoka almost finding is stressing me out

I could be SO angsty with the Neko-ken Fear thing

Someone tell me not to I’m that much of an asshole

So glad that she’s apparently gonna learn bc I would’ve been SO mean

God, Genma you actually suck

Oh, thank God she’s not too smart

The fact that he’s 300% ready to die is actually depressing

That was actually quite touching

If we ignore the way Ranma phrasing that is just plain wrong

Uhm… what?

C-can she do that?

I hope not

God, you two are so dumb!

Is her definition of “manly” emotionless?!

Bitch, have a heart!

Oh God make them ALL leave! ALL OF THEM!

You feel? You said “you’re leaving”

Ranma, the fact that you didn’t put that together I can’t help you Like my dad says “I can’t fix stupid”

The fact that he feels the need to run screaming from his own house…

Nabiki, WHY

I’m convinced at this point that there is something Nabiki HATES about Ranma and that’s why she’s making his life a living hell

Cuz you do realize at least ⅓ of his problems are because she told someone something that was private

I can’t tell if that’s an insult or a backhanded comment

Either way, RUDE

I can’t tell, is that Konatsu or is that Tsubasa?

Must go back and check cuz Akane’s comment about “trasvestite and a homosexual” confused me since Ranma mentioned being “the first male kunoichi”But then who HAS TO BE Tsubasa says they’re a straight guy

*sigh*

Yep, nope, that’s Konatsu

My understanding was that Konatsu was like actually trans in canon

Apparently I mixed that up

I’m making it canon

MtF Konatsu

Bisexual Konatsu

One of these days someone is going to teach people to cook before assuming they know what they’re doing

Seriously It’s not that hard

Did they seriously just try to marry an unconscious Akane to Ranma?!

What The Fuck?!

Aww, she’s cute

Ryoga has a bad sense of direction, but he’s never missed before…

Okay, that’s a little strange

Why is she hatching?

Poor Mousse

Lol, that was so sweet until Ranma was dumb

It’s still sweet, who am I kidding

“Do I look like I wear Totoro underwear” oh that’s GOLDEN

Le shit

Firstly, Genma is still and idiot

Second, how is he already in Moscow?!

Third, why do I find this hilarious

Oh fuck

YES Kick her ass Akane!

I’m confused

Ok, was heralding back to the first chapter intentional?

Why does he have the staff in the bath?

Ok, I THINK I know what’s happening here…

Oof Can you two leave?

Ok, I was DEAD wrong

Wait…

If she…

If the DROWNED AKANE Imma commit murder

Damn, if you wanna piss off Ranma that’s how you do it

I don’t know why anyone would think pissing him off is smart

Oh, thank God, she’s okay

What is with this kid?

Why is he such a pain in the ASS?!

So I know she’s not dead

Unless SEVERAL DOZEN Fanfics have lied to me

Which is entirely possible since they were all listed as AUs

Uhm… Ranma… you okay?

Good, get him out cuz he’s clearly in shock

This hurts

Okay, hate to be the one who complains that Akane’s not dead, but that doesn’t track

At all

Can I rescience this?

Please?

Am I going to be an ass about it, probably, but it’s me no one should be surprised by that in any way

“Honored and crazy guest” I mean, accurate

Alright, Shampoo you’ve got exactly 1 chance

Then I’ll maybe apologize for calling you names constantly

Oh I am gonna be such an asshole in this scene

Also extend it some

Oh, God I could be such a dick

I’ll restrain

I’ll just write one-shots instead

Mousse do the right thing

You have a Moral Compass I know that!

“Anytime THIS YEAR!” Damn the witty quips

Yeah, but you won morally

That’s what’s important

Why the Scooby-Doo line?

Go Ranma!

Ok, so that comment about Ranma basically fighting a God is NOT an overstatement

Noted

Congrats Ranma you made me Google a word

Turns out it is a word that had its height of use in the 80s

Neat

Explains why I had no clue what it meant

Someone shoot those damn chicken brains OUT OF THE SKY!

“Only rocks”, rocks Ryoga just confirmed are 3 Tons

*sigh* I’m gonna have to physics the shit out of that

Joy

I cannot tell you the amount my heart dropped when I saw a full color double spread

Jesus Christ

DAMN

You’re gonna make me cry, dammit

Aww

YAY!

Heheh poor Ranma

Chill, hun, you’re good

Aww he’s tiny!

WHAT IS WITH YOU 2?!

STOP trying to marry your kids while they’re unconscious!

I’m not crying you are!

*tightly* I’m fine

Kodachi LET IT GO

Literally everyone else too! I hate you all

Just so it’s on the record I’m pissed

Ok, so “back to the start” is definitely an oversimplification because Akane knows Ranma loves her Ranma knows she knows

Akane! Your turn!

Ooo, IDEA!

6 notes · View notes

dreamwritesimagines · 6 years

Text

Don’t You Love Me? 25- Coming Back [Steve Rogers x Reader]

A.N.: Final chapter! <3 Thank you so much for your amazing support guys, love you!<3 (Due to the linking issue, you can get the earlier chapters on my masterlist! 😀 )

Characters: Steve Rogers x Reader, Tony Stark x Pepper Potts, Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton

Warnings: Drinking, mentions of addiction, self destructive behavior, cussing, explicit language. Read with care please.

Summary: Recovery takes time.

Word Count: 3143

The beautiful moodboard is made by fictionwillneverdie

Gif’s not mine!

Waking up in the hospital after practically exploding a chip in your heart wasn’t as fun as you thought it would be. In all honesty, you had a feeling Steve hadn’t found it fun either, judging by the fact that he had yelled at you for almost half an hour, about how reckless you had been-

And contrary to popular belief, getting yelled at by Steve because you had been reckless didn’t take away the irony of the situation, as Bucky had told him before dragging him out of the hospital room.

Also, it seemed as if the team had made this deal to yell at you in turns, because as soon as Steve was pulled out of the room, Pepper had walked in;

“I’m going to ask your doctor when you can leave this place, so that I’ll know when to smack you in the head.”

“Good thinking, can you tell them to change the jello as well? I don’t like strawberry.”

By the time you were ready to leave the hospital, you had already made your decision and came up with this huge speech but of course, it wasn’t extremely helpful with Steve. You had told him how he couldn’t see you while you were in rehab, and as expected, he had reacted very badly.

“You can’t be there alone!”

“You were the one who found the place Capcake, you know people aren’t alone in there.”

“Y/N, you just got better-“

“Yeah, it’s either now or never. I already talked to Fury-“

“But I can visit, right?”

“No.”

“Doll-“

“There’s no fucking way you’re seeing me like that, Steve.”

So that meant ninety days without seeing Steve, or anyone on the team. You had to admit, you never thought they’d actually respect your wishes and not show up, but for all you knew, Tony could’ve built a habit of hacking cameras so maybe they had seen you without your knowledge.

You drummed your fingernails on the small coffee table, clicking your tongue before you heard someone pulling the seat across the table, and you looked up to see Jake.

“Holy shit,” he said as he gawked at you, “You’re sober.”

“Yeah man, I’m as shocked as you are.”

Jake covered his mouth, still blinking dumbly, then lowered his hand, “That’s why you have been MIA for the last months?”

“Three months, yeah.”

“How-?”

“Oh long story,” You shook your head, “Um… My ex kidnapped me, basically made me an addict again, then I had uh… I had a heart attack-“

“What?”

“Yeah and I saw the light- of the operation room, and um… then yeah- then rehab. I have been planning it for a while but near death experience sort of… speeds stuff up, who knew?”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Exactly. That’s why I’ve been away, not because of being a dickhead,” you thought for a moment, “Well half of it. Half of it was still because of me being a dickhead.”

“And I’m guessing that’s the introduction to a speech. Strong start.”

You stifled a laugh, “Straight to it, huh?”

“I’m familiar with stages of recovery, comes with the job.”

“So I don’t need a speech at all then, you got the idea. Good talk.”

He shot you a look, “Y/N. Come on. You spent three months in rehab, start the amends speech.”

“Fuck’s sake- okay,” You cleared your throat, “I um… I put you in danger, even if you didn’t know about it.”

“How?”

“My asshole of an ex, he apparently-“ You pressed your lips together, “He hurt the people I slept with. You got lucky, some of them- not so much.” You mumbled, “I didn’t know though, I swear to you.”

Jake nodded slowly, “When did you leave rehab?”

“Uh- today.”

He gawked at you “I’m sorry?”

You nodded, “You’re the first person I spoke to, I actually-“ You motioned at your duffel bag, “I haven’t had a chance to drop by my apartment yet.”

Jake smiled at the waiter when he approached you and ordered a coffee, while you sipped on your water.

“And you and the national hero?”

You shrugged slightly, “That’s some complicated shit.”

“I still have an hour until my shift.”

You huffed out a breath, looking up at the sky before you cleared your throat,

“I told him he could…do whatever in these three months.” You muttered, “See other people and everything. And if he still- if he still wanted me by the time I left rehab, we’d be together.”

“And?”

“I haven’t seen him yet.”

Jake licked his lips, “Scared of finding him with someone?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” You nodded, “I have this image of him and a chick with a pink frilly skirt from fifties which makes no sense because he was frozen during fifties.”

“You could totally pull off a frilly skirt.”

“You shut your mouth.” You told him, making him chuckle as the waiter brought his coffee.

“No, I-“ Jake eyed you up and down, “Have you checked a mirror since you left rehab?”

“No man, I came here without seeing my reflection because it’s important to avoid self-conceit, what the fuck-“

“No, Y/N-“ Jake chuckled, “You look really different. In a good way.”

You bit down on your lip, trying to control your smile and sipped your water again, while Jake thought for a moment.

“But hey, if you want to shop for a pink frilly skirt, I’m game.”

“Screw you too.”

“No I’m serious, I could give some guy perspective on the matter-“

“Oh I’m so gonna hack you.”

You had to admit, maybe Jake was right. Seeing your reflection in the mirror and just how much it had changed kept surprising you, but seeing yourself sober and actually pulled together was definitely a shock you wouldn’t shake off anytime soon.

The dark shadows under your eyes were gone, for starters. Your skin looked much better, and that sickly feeling that tended to show on your face was also gone. Your eyes weren’t red-rimmed anymore, instead you actually looked-

Healthy.

“Well I’ll be damned,” You muttered as you put down the lipstick, and fixed your hair. You felt like a girl on her prom night, only your prom date wasn’t aware that you were back from rehab and could have moved on in these three months-

You shook your head, trying to get rid of the thoughts and left the bathroom, and looked around the apartment. Even if you dreaded seeing the bottles, you knew you had to clean your your fridge eventually, so you figured you could take out the trash on the way out and walked to the fridge then opened it, but then froze.

In the fridge, there were multiple bottles of water instead of booze, and there was a note stuck on one of them. You slowly reached out to take the bottle, your eyes skimming the lines.

Natasha has your keys, she let me borrow them.

Steve.

You could barely feel the tears filling your eyes as you smiled, he had come to clear it for you, while you were away.

For when you’d come back.

Oh God, you were in so much trouble….

You grabbed another bottle before you closed the fridge, then grabbed your backpack and made your way out of the apartment. You got into the first cab that you could find, gave him the address, then bit on your nails, looking out the window.

“And listen, now that we’re talking about it, I don’t want you to feel obliged.”

Steve looked up, frowning deeply “Obliged?”

“Yeah, to wait for me. Even I don’t know how long I’ll be staying in rehab-“

“Y/N-“

“So if someone….like, catches your attention, or your dick’s attention-“

“Y/N.”

“No, I’m not trapping you, okay?”

He gawked at you, “Trapping me?”

“Steve, if you like someone else while I’m gone, go for it-”

“Are you breaking up with me?”

“No, I-“ You closed your eyes, and took a deep breath, “I might be gone for a long time, and it could… it could lead to you realizing things. If you find somebody, I don’t want you to force yourself to wait for me.”

His blue eyes narrowed before he shot you a stubborn look.

“But I am waiting, Y/N. No matter how long it takes.”

Maybe he had done exactly what he said he would.

Or maybe you’d just find him with a girl with frilly skirt.

“Jesus, what is it with me and skirts?” You mumbled before the driver pulled over in front of Steve’s building. You took a deep breath, then paid the driver before you pushed open your car door and stepped outside.

His light was on.

You half wished you had brought a boombox but you were sure he wouldn’t get the joke, so you quickly climbed the stairs, walking past Sharon’s door and stopped at his. Your heart was beating in your throat, but you gripped the strap of your backpack with one hand and knocked on the door with the other.

“Please don’t let there be a chick unless she’s up for a threesome, please don’t let there be a chick unless she’s up for a-“ Your prayer was cut off when the door opened, and you looked up at him.

“Holy shit, you grew a beard?”

He stared at you, as if he couldn’t believe you were actually there, and you cleared your throat, trying to distract yourself from how handsome he was.

“So I would’ve brought wine and condoms but um… you know, the sober thing, so we have water bottles. And- and condoms- am I allowed to joke about alcohol now?” You wondered out loud, “So um… yeah. I’m back. Hi. Nice beard- Jesus Christ Steve, I prepared a speech but my ovaries are screaming right now, that’s a dick move.”

He looked almost frozen, and you shifted your weight.

“Anyway I… okay, here we go, are you ready? So apparently you have lots of time to think in- in rehab, who knew right? And to be honest, somehow all my thoughts kept going to you, and I know I said you could go for it if you found someone but I- I hope you didn’t find someone, because I- I love you.” You paused “Holy fuck, I actually said that. I- I mean apparently I love your beard more, but you know, you can live with-” You were cut off when he pulled you closer to kiss you deeply, making you breathless and you almost stumbled when he pulled back, holding onto his arms.

“Welcome back,” Steve said, making you smile, then pulled you into the apartment and closed the door.

You felt like you could actually spend the eternity there, in Steve’s bed, just like that. He dragged his fingertips over your naked back while you rested your head on his chest, deep in thought as the morning light shone into the room.

Peace.

It was actually peaceful.

“How do you feel?” he mumbled to your hair and you looked up at him, heaving a deep sigh.

“Played.”

“What?”

“Sober sex is better than drunk sex, who knew?”

Steve chuckled, “I meant overall, Y/N.”

You took a deep breath, and shifted slightly in his embrace, “The first couple of weeks were bad but then- I’m better now.”

“But do you miss it?”

“Booze?” You shrugged, “One of the things they teach you is that it’s not- it’s not like flu, you know? It doesn’t go away like that, sometimes it takes years, but you have to fight through it.”

Steve nodded slowly, nuzzling to your hair, “I missed you,” he mumbled and you smiled softly,

“So I take it you haven’t been seeing anyone.”

“I told you I wouldn’t, Y/N.”

You swallowed thickly, and tried to play it cool, “Yeah good. I mean there was this really hot doctor back at rehab-“

“Wait, what?”

“But I was never the one for the naughty doctor fantasy- I’m joking!” You let out a laugh, “Oh God Steve, your face…”

“What, I didn’t see you for three months now.” He mumbled, looking down at you, “So what now?”

You took a deep breath, and rolled onto your back before you sat up, pulling your knees up to your chest,

“I’ll go and see Fury, he promised I could go back to my job when I came back.”

“Don’t you think it’ll be a little too much?”

You shook your head, “I can handle it. Besides, I need to keep busy, you know? That’s really important in the whole… after rehab thing.”

“I read that people need stability too,” Steve nodded and you pulled your brows together,

“Wait, you read about rehab?”

“Yeah and- I think we should both go on runs, they say exercise helps.”

“Steve, what-?”

“And I read this website that says learning new things can also help, so I’ll teach you how to draw. It could get your mind off….that.”

You gawked at him,

“You actually made research?”

“I actually have a list,” he reached out to grab a small notebook from the bedside table and handed it to you, but as soon as he did, someone knocked on the door. You took the list from him as he pressed a kiss on your forehead, then grabbed his pants and shirt to put them on before walking to the door. Your eyes skimmed the list, a smile warming your face but you turned your head as soon as you heard Bucky and Natasha’s voices.

“Jesus Christ Rogers, you missed the meeting?”

“Why aren’t you answering your phone, punk?”

“I was uh-“ Steve cleared his throat, “Busy.”

There was a couple of seconds of silence, before you heard Natasha’s voice.

“Whose shirt is that?”

“Hm?”

“The shirt I’m seeing, thrown on the couch. Whose shirt is that?”

Oh shit.

“Steve, I’m going to kick your ass!” Bucky snapped at him, “Y/N is in rehab, and what- you have a girl here?!”

Scratch that, this was gonna be fun.

“What? Buck-“

“I can’t believe you’d do that!”

You laughed to yourself before you grabbed Steve’s shirt to put it on, then silently opened the door.

“After everything she’s been through-“

“Yeah Rogers, what gives?”

“Yeah Rogers, dick move.” You said as you approached the living room, crossing your arms and leaning sideways to the doorframe, “Hi guys.”

Bucky and Natasha fell silent almost immediately before Natasha snapped out of it and rushed to pull you into a hug. You hugged her back tight, then grinned at Bucky as soon as Natasha pulled back,

“Nice to see you guys took over the mission of giving him a hard time while I was gone,” You winked at Natasha and Bucky punched Steve’s arm gently,

“Why didn’t you tell us she was back?”

“I was going to, but…”

“They were occupied, Barnes.”

“Yeah man, catching up,” you wiggled your brows while Steve rubbed the back of his neck, looking elsewhere, “Anyway, none of you dickheads thought of letting me know he was growing a beard? I would’ve escaped from rehab.”

“Exactly why we didn’t tell you.”

“Come on Y/N, tell him he looks like a caveman. I was waiting for you to come back so that you could tell him-”

You shook your head, “No way man, the beard stays.”

“See? She likes it.” Steve shot Bucky a proud look and you turned to Natasha.

“How’s everything at SHIELD? Do I still have a job?”

Natasha scoffed, “Fury fired about ten different people in the last three months. I’d say he’s looking forward to seeing you. That being said-” she turned to Steve, “Everyone is in the tower, including Fury, and we need you there. And her.”

You and Steve exchanged glances and you clicked your tongue, then shrugged,

“Great. I’m gonna go and get dressed then.”

“Pepper, you know this sober thing doesn’t change the fact that I need to breathe, right?”

Pepper let out a shaky breath as you patted her back and she pulled back to let you breathe.

“I was so worried, Y/N.”

“Yeah, you made my life a living hell and you weren’t even here,” Tony stated before he pulled you into a hug, making you smile and hug him back.

“You should be used to that by now.” You said as he pulled back, “So, what’s happening?”

Tony stole a glance at Steve over your shoulder,

“It’s about Trent.”

Steve took in a breath, “Tony,”

“I know-“

“No, stop,” You motioned between them, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat, “What about him?”

“They’re putting him on a trial.”

“And?”

“They need evidence.”

“I sent all of you the evidence. All those files-“

“He has some really powerful lawyers so they want a…” Tony cleared his throat, “Why am I always the one who’s giving you guys the bad news?”

“What do they want?”

Tony heaved a sigh “A witness.”

“Tony, she just came back.”

“Listen, I’m not enjoying this more than you do-“

“No, no it’s okay.” You tried to laugh, “If anything, it’s great. One last middle finger and then I can help taking down HYDRA, like-“ you pumped a fist in the air, “Like I know it’s my destiny.”

“Easy there, Hacker Potter.”

“I was actually going for Pokemon, but that also works.” You said, “Hey, uh… ehm, Capslock, can I borrow you for a moment?”

Steve’s head shot up at the safe word, then even if he still wanted to argue, he nodded, “After you.”

You walked out of the room to make your way to the elevator, then pressed the button, and took a deep breath, Steve stealing a look at you as soon as you both walked into the elevator. Both of you were completely silent until you left the elevator and Steve pushed open the door to the roof, letting you walk out before he did. You approached the edge, then crossed your arms and turned to him.

“You know stress causes early aging right?”

Steve scoffed a laugh, “Doll…”

“You don’t want me to go up there, on that witness stand.”

“I just- I don’t want anything to trigger something, okay?”

“That’s not how sobriety works Capsy. I won’t run back to booze the moment I’m stressed, I can’t live my life like that.”

Steve heaved a sigh and you smiled slightly before wrapping your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes to peck him on the lips.

“Hey,”

“Hm?”

“I can handle it.” You said, “I always do, remember? With you.”

Steve brushed your hair off your face, “Okay. Then I’ll be by your side, darling.”

“Deal.” You smiled before you kissed him again, then pulled back, and entwined your fingers with his to pull him to the door.

“Come on then Capcake. Time to bring HYDRA down.”

The End

Special thanks go to: @theskytraveler @asongofmarvelanddc @thorohdamnson @girlwhoisfearless @fictionwillneverdie @aikeji @evanstar @thatprofessionalfangirl @stargeek727 @superwolfchild-fan@marauderskeeper @whogaveuspermission @local-space-ace @marvels-mistress @part-time-patronus @vikrone @not–even-a-real–fan @bb8falcon @mamaraptor @propertyofpoeandbucky @myrabbitholetoneverland @love-for-fanfics @alyssiamarierenee @kiddikatxd @marvellousrunningbang @kimmiestrawberrykiwi @original-wintersoldier @supernaturaldean67 @sunnyshoes @wannabebeautyqueenx @justbook-s and lovely anons! Without you, I wouldn’t be able to write this, you’re amazing! <3

906 notes · View notes