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anightflower · 3 years

Text

Come and Find Me

Chapter One: I’m Stuck

I won’t lie when writing the cute parts of the story I listened to “I’m Stuck” by Noah Cyrus.

Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: None

Read Prologue here Masterlist

You stumbled into your favorite coffee shop. You were a mess this morning and it’s all because your alarm decided to fuck you over and not wake you up on time. Luckily your body didn’t completely betray you, naturally waking up an hour later than you had planned, but still giving you a half hour to get to your meeting.

You had screamed when you saw the time, this meeting could be your next big break, and getting there late was not how you wanted to start a new design deal. At a mere 23 years old you were still making your way up into the world. After graduating college a semester early you had worked your ass off and started your own independent interior design business. You focused on designing office spaces for big businesses using workplace psychology to create an environment that brought up productivity and reduced the stress of workers.

Your business was slowly gaining traction, but the company you were meeting today could really put your name out there.

You had planned to wake up early, put yourself together and center yourself over a cup of coffee, however, life can never be that simple. So here you were, quick light makeup and your hair in a simple bun rather than the elaborate “I am a professional” look you planned. The one thing you did have going for you was your outfit, a white blouse that complimented your figure and tan capri pants, with a strappy heeled sandal. You had made sure it was spotless and ironed before your big day today, so at least you had that going for you.

“Oh darling, you look a bit out of it, are you alright?” Your favorite barista and dear friend Ava, asked, her green eyes filled with concern.

“Av, you would not believe the hell of the morning I’ve had.” You groaned. “I woke up late today and I have that huge meeting I told you about and all of the things I had planned to keep me grounded and ready flew out the window.”

Ava let out a tsk sound and patted your hand. “Oh babe, in that case, coffee’s on me. Take a deep breath. You’ve been planning for this meeting for weeks and with that amount of work and dedication, you’re definitely going to knock’em dead.”

“Ave, you are the light of my life.” You said, already feeling lighter than you did when you first entered.

“Oh babe, I know.” She winked, brushing a stray purple bang out of her eye. “I want an update on everything afterwards, you’ve got my number! James will have your coffee ready for you at the other end. Good luck!”

“Thank you! I promise I will!” You grinned and made your way to the other end of the counter, where your coffee was waiting.

Knowing your order by heart, James had already started your latte the moment you walked in, you thanked whatever God listening that it was ready so fast. James gave you a shy smile and handed you the coffee. “Here you go.”

“Thanks James.” You gave him a kind smile and turned to leave. Glancing down at your watch, you realized you had ten minutes to get to your meeting, but luckily it was just up the block so you would get there right on time.

But like you said nothing is ever easy. You weren’t exactly paying attention as you walked out of the store, you were double checking your bag to make sure you had everything, so naturally you slammed into someone, causing coffee to get all over your blouse.

You let out a yelp, while a large hand came out to steady you. “I am so sorry! Are you alright?” A male voice asked.

“Well, aside from the fact that I have a meeting that could change my life in 5 minutes and now I look like a disheveled mess with coffee on her blouse, I’m fine.” You grumbled finally looking at the face of your accidental attacker. Your heart stopped for a moment.

He was stunning. Shoulder length curly brown hair, caramel eyes, and a TALL, fit body.

He was clearly flustered as your eyes met. His face had a gentle dusting of pink across it and his eyes could barely meet yours. “I really am sorry, I wasn’t paying attention- uh- here!” He began to shrug off his cardigan. “This should be able to cover up most of the stains.” He thrust the sweater towards you.

Now it was your turn to be flustered. “Oh no, really, I can figure something out-”

“You said this meeting is supposed to change your life right?” He interrupted before you could stutter out anymore excuses. You nodded. “While I don’t want to be the person that ruins your life. Just wear it to your meeting and uh, how about we meet back here tomorrow morning and you can just give it back to me then?” He blushed a deeper crimson, as a big smile grew across your face.

“I would love that, thank you so much.” You put on his cardigan and buttoned it up. He was right, almost all of the stains were covered. “How do I look? Professional?” You asked him.

“Beautiful- I mean yes, professional, you look great!” He smiled, pushing a shoulder length curl behind his ear.

You blushed, but quickly forced yourself to regain your composure. “So I’ll meet you here at 7 tomorrow-” You paused looking at him for his name.

“Dr. Reid, well, Spencer, call me Spencer.”

“Spencer.” You smiled. “I will see you tomorrow then.”

That was the first time you met Spencer Reid.

________________________________________________________________

The next morning, Spencer arrived 30 minutes early to the coffee shop to get a table, he felt fidgety and nervous. He hadn’t even caught your name yesterday before you left and he felt like an idiot. Of course he bumps into the most beautiful girl he has ever seen, spilt coffee all over her, AND forgot to ask her her name. Part of him was worried you wouldn’t even show up, it’s not exactly the best first meeting.

30 minutes later when you walked in, he thanked a God he didn’t even believe in. You looked less bewildered than you did yesterday, but no less beautiful.

You had chosen to go for a business casual look, your hair curled and flowing past your shoulders, a deep red blouse, black denim jeans, and black heeled boots. You had Spencer’s cardigan draped over your arm, you had made sure to wash it before giving back to him.

You searched around the patrons until your eyes met Spencer’s, your whole face lit up as you made your way over to him.

You had no idea that somebody else was watching you as you made your way over to him. You were too distracted by Spencer to feel the angry gaze that burned into your back.

“Hi.” You said shyly as you sat down.

“Hey.” Spencer said smiling at you.

“Were you waiting long?” You asked, a concerned look crossing your face.

“Oh no, not at all, I just came a few minutes early to get us a good seat.” Spencer lied, not wanting you to know how early he actually came.

“Well you choose right, this is the best seat in the house. It’s right by the counter where you pick up coffee, but it’s the perfect window seat to people watch.” You explained.

“Yeah, did you know coffee is actually a fruit?” Spencer asked you. “They’re actually the pit of a berry and grow on a bush.

You let out a giggle, “No, I had no idea that was even a thing. At least I can use that as an excuse when I get chastised for drinking too much. Where did you learn that?”

Spencer blushed. “I tend to pick up random knowledge here and there. Which reminds me, I never got your name yesterday before you ran off.”

“Well Dr. Spencer Reid, my name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” You grinned offering him a hand. “No fancy title, but I am doing my best for simply being a Miss.”

Spencer would usually avoid handshakes due to all the germs, however he wanted nothing more than to shake your hand, which was warm and soft.

“(Y/N).” He tested your name out on his tongue. You smiled.

“Have you gotten a coffee yet?” You asked him, getting up to head to order.

“I had one a bit earlier, but I could use another one.” Spencer answered, getting up to follow you.

As you approached the counter you tried to ignore the smug look Ava gave you, praying she wouldn’t say anything. She gave Spencer a not so subtle up and down look, checking him out and obviously finding him attractive. You gave Ava a stern look that told her not to say a word.

She just gave you a wink. Spencer had picked up on all of this, his profiler skills not missing a thing. A small smile crept across his face and he swallowed back a laugh.

You gestured for Spencer to go first, “I’m buying, to thank you for letting me borrow your sweater yesterday.”

Spencer looked at you in bewilderment. “No way! If anything I’m buying for destroying your coffee and spilling it all over your blouse before your ‘life changing’ meeting!”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Spencer, just order the damn coffee. I promise you it won’t break my bank. Especially after I got the design yesterday.” You grinned.

Ava let out a squeal. “You did not! Oh my god, I knew you could do it girl! All of your hard work paid off!”

Spencer’s face lit up. “Congratulations! I’m glad our collision didn’t ruin anything.”

You let out a laugh. “If anything I think your cardigan brought me good luck, I even got a couple compliments on it. I may just have to keep it.” You teased

Spencer’s heart warmed at the idea of you wearing his clothes. “Well if it brought you that much luck, maybe I’ll just let you keep it.”

A voice behind the two of you cleared their throat. “Are you guys going to order? Some of us have places to be.”

You glanced behind you at the woman, a small line had apparently grown behind you and Spencer. “Sorry about that. Ava I’ll just do my usual. Do not let Spencer pay.”

Ava raised her hands defensively. “I’m just here to make coffee love.”

“I’ll just do a large coffee with extra cream and a lot of sugar.” Spencer said.

You went to grab your wallet from your purse, but Spencer cut you off, cash already in hand.

“Spencer.” You whined and Spencer just shrugged.

As you made your way to the counter, you found it a bit strange that James had just left your coffees there. Usually he would at least wait a moment to say hi before taking off to make more orders, but you shrugged it off, they did have a line right now so he probably had to focus on getting the coffees out to customers.

Though the two of you only got to spend about an hour together, the two of you had immediately hit it off, completely unaware of the eyes that had been burning through you as they watched throughout what you and Spencer would later consider your first date.

_______________________________________________________________

From there it was a whirlwind of dates snuck between cases and your design jobs. After a little over a month Spencer had asked to officially call you his girlfriend and you had obviously accepted.

It was ridiculously cliche how quickly the both of you had fallen for each other, but you had just seemed to click right away. You loved Spencer’s logical mind that went on and on with random facts, he loved your creativity and energy. Your minds worked well together, helping each other out when the other got stuck.

As your relationship progressed, you found yourself spending more and more time at each other's apartments.

“Ava, he's just a dream. I’ve never felt like this with anyone ever.” You explained joyfully.

You had sat in your regular window seat, while Ava remained on the other side of the service counter. It was a bit slow in the shop today, so she had come over to get all the details on “your smokeshow boyfriend.” Since she was the manager of the shop and beloved by her boss, she could get away with it.

“Oh hon, if he has a brother, let me know.” She purred, sneaking a glance over her shoulder to check on James who was holding down the fort for her. The boy stood by the register, poor thing looking a bit bored.

James was a year younger than you and apparently starting grad school, but his shyness made him seem so much younger that you felt this slight protectiveness over him even if you only knew him from around the shop and stories from Ava.

His eyes met yours and you gave him a sympathetic smile. He blushed deeply and turned away, scampering to busy himself.

You looked back at Ava, giving a little nod towards James, “What about James? He seems sweet and he’s cute.” You waggled your eyebrows at her.

Ava snickered. “(Y/N/N), he is sweet, but way too shy, he can barely look me in the eye. I need someone who’s more of a dom if you know what I mean.” She smirked.

You pouted at her. “Poor James.”

Ava shrugged, “He’ll find his someone. Anyway you’re switching the topic, back to your dreamboat. You said he was an FBI agent? That’s heroic and sexy.”

You rolled your eyes at her. “Yes, he’s part of the Behavior Analysis Unit. They create profiles to help solve different criminal cases. It’s actually amazing. Spencer is giving a lecture about it at a college this Friday if you want to come with me.”

“I’ll come, but only if I get to officially meet your sexy doctor superhero boyfriend.” Ava smirked.

“Well obviously.” You smiled.

________________________________________________________________

The boy’s breathing was heavy as he struggled to control his anger. He watched the Doctor’s tall form strutting across the stage, his long brown hair swinging back and forth as he broke down profiling and the criminal cases he and his BAU team had solved.

From where he sat in the lecture hall he could watch the doctor while also keeping an eye on you. You were sitting near the front, your friend by your side. It was hard to miss her with her deep purple hair, that’s how he always found you. Though to him, you outshined everyone in the room. Even the ridiculous doctor.

He growled to himself as he observed your look of awe. He knew you two had made your relationship official. He knew almost every detail. Like how last weekend, the Doctor had come home early from a case and had surprised you with your favorite flowers: pink dahlias. You had spent the whole rest of the weekend together; you had brought him to your favorite Thai place, then went to both of your favorite bookstores. He knew everything.

He knew where you lived, your schedule, the design projects you were working on. He watched and he listened. He followed you home some days. Other days, he would simply wait outside your apartment building. He knew what window to watch if he wanted to catch a glimpse of you.

The worst days are when the Doctor would be with you. He would watch as you two joked around and kissed, it made him sick.

He didn’t like the Doctor. He hated hearing him ramble on to you. Fact after fact, never shutting up. But he understood him as he had researched him, found his accomplishments; he was a prodigal, graduating high school at the age of 12 and earned three PhDs. He worked for the FBI, catching criminals and profiling them. The Doctor constantly had something to prove, how could you be with a man so weak?

The Doctor was someone who could hardly befriend anyone besides his books, so how had the Doctor gotten you, when he had always been there? The Doctor did not deserve you, the Doctor could not give you what he could. Yet here you were, giving this man a ridiculous moon-eyed look that he did not deserve.

He couldn’t take it anymore. He got up and left.

He made his way down the hall towards an all-too familiar office, one that he practically lived in.

He was greeted by his usual cheery eyed professor, Professor Irving.

Never one to miss anything, Professor Irving raised an eyebrow. “You’re back early, how was the lecture?” Professor Irving asked. “Isn’t that Dr. Reid something else?”

“He’s alright. Someone worth looking into for sure. I left early to get ahead of these reports you wanted me to help grade, I do have a life outside of classes.”

Professor Irving smirked at him. “Son, I have known you too long, the only three places you go are classes, your job, and your apartment. I was hoping this lecture would show you how much the world has to offer, I mean look at Dr. Reid! He was one of the youngest to ever join the BAU-”

“ENOUGH about Dr. Reid!” He growled, interrupting his professor.

Professor Irving just stared at his student, shell-shocked.

The boy shook his head and rubbed his face. “I’m sorry professor, that was uncalled for, I have just been stressed lately.” The boy began picking up the papers he had to grade. He wanted to get through some of these as quick as possible, that way he could spend his weekend with you.

Professor Irving solemnly nodded. “I understand. I know you’ve been stressed lately, is that girl of yours acting up still?”

The boy sighed as he shrugged on his bag full of student’s reports. “Something like that. Listen, I know you said Dr. Reid is going to continue to come back and give lectures every few weeks or so. I will go to those ones and actually stay for them. Who knows? Maybe it will help me with my thesis paper. I just- I just can’t focus tonight, but I will do better. I promise.”

Professor Irving nodded. “Of course, let me know if there is anything I can do to help.”

The boy nodded then left the room.

________________________________________________________________

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bellisperennis0 · 3 years

Text

The Bet

Word count: 1,924

Warnings: None

A/N: Two stories in two days, who even is she? Feel like there isnt enough Coco, so enjoy some sweet Coco fluff. As always Thank You for reading. GIF credit to @angels-reyes ❤️

--------------------

Walking out the Police Station, you roll your eyes as you spot Coco out front leaning against his car.

“I hate you for calling him Franky.” You say as you look over at Franky, who was walking you out.

“Yeah, yeah. You’ll thank me later.” He tells you.

“Hay, thank you for this Franky. I owe you.” Coco tells Franky as you two approach him.

“Did it more out a favor for her then anything.” He tells Coco. “You good?” he then turns to ask you.

“I would rather sleep on that nasty ass cell bench, then go with him.” You spit out, crossing your arms across your chest.

“You going to be okay with her?” Franky asks Coco.

He just chuckles, “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.” Coco tells him as you just roll your eyes at his comment.

“Please don’t give him a hard time, Y/N. Get home safe.” Franky tells you as he gives your arm a gentle squeeze before heading back into the Police Station.

“Let’s get you home, querida.” He says.

“You have no right to call me that.” You shoot at him.

“Let me take you home, please.” He says as he opens the car door and waits for you to finally slide in.

----------

Two months. That is how long it had been since the last time you had seen Coco before tonight.

The last clubhouse party you went to, a drunken Gilly had let slip that the reason Coco was with you, was because he had made a bet with him that he couldn’t get you to sleep with him. Your entire relationship based off a stupid bet; nearly a year down the drain.

To say you weren’t taking the break up well was an understatement. Most nights EZ or Angel was around to keep you from completely spiraling out of control. Tonight was your rock bottom.

After much convincing from your friends, you decided to get out for the night and enjoy some drinks at the local bar with some of your girlfriends. You were having a great time, until you spotted, Marie, one of Vicki’s girls at the other end of the bar. She was always trying to push up on Coco, even though he always turned her down and was well aware that you were with him. She was also the one you found sitting on Coco’s lap, tongue down his throat, the night you decided to try and talk things out with Coco a couple weeks after Gilly told you about the bet.

The second you spotted her at the bar, you instantly saw red. Next thing you knew you were being pulled off her by security, hand cuffs being slapped onto your wrist shortly after. Leading to Coco coming to your unwanted rescue.

Now you were sitting next to Coco as he drove you home. As angry and hurt as you were, you couldn’t deny how much you have missed him. The scent of his cologne, mixed with smoke and exhaust, wafting in the car overtaking your senses. A part of you wanted nothing more than for him to reach over and just take you into his arm. Another part of you wanted to yell and scream at him, letting him know how hurt you were.

---------

At some point during the drive you had fallen asleep, slightly waking up as you felt Coco gently lying you down in your bed.

“I hate you so much, but I love you even more.” You mumbled as Coco went about taking off your shoes.

Placing a kiss to your head and pulling the covers over you, “Get some sleep, querida.” He tells you as he gently moves a strand of hair from your face.

“Please don’t go.” You mumble again as you roll over and cuddle more into the pillow, his pillow.

“I’ll be on the sofa if you need me.” He tells you as he makes sure you are fast asleep before slipping out to the living room.

---------

Waking up the next morning, you grumble as everything that happened the night before hits you like a freight train.

Looking over to your night stand you make note of how late in the day it already was, but then notice the bottle of water and Gatorade, and a couple Advil’s also sitting on your night stand. Clearly placed there by Coco.

‘Fuck’ you grumble under your breath. Completely embarrassed at the way you acted, and that fact that Coco had to see you the way you were last night.

After getting a well needed shower in, you prayed Coco had some club business to deal with and was long gone. The second you stepped out into the hallway and heard the TV playing in the living room, you knew he was still around.

Walking into the Living Room you couldn’t help but smile as you found Coco sprawled out on the sofa, fast asleep, with some well forgotten sports game playing on the TV. How you would usually find him on most Sundays or his days off.

Tip toeing past him, making your way into the kitchen to make some coffee, you do your best not to wake him.

As you waited for your coffee to brew, you were staring into space, the night’s events on a constant loop in your head.

“How you feeling?” you hear Coco’s voice, causing you to jump slightly, bring you out of your daze.

“Like a fucking idiot. I’m really sorry about last night.” You confess.

“Think I’m the one that should be apologizing.” He tells you, unable to meet your eyes.

Unsure of what to say or even if you were emotionally ready for this conversation that you knew you two needed to have, you fidgeted with your hands, avoiding his gaze.

“You want some coffee?” you finally break the silence as you go about grabbing a couple mugs out of the cabinet.

“That’ll be great!” he says.

You poured him his cup, adding in sugar and a splash of milk, just like he likes it. He gives you a smile as you handed it to him.

“Sorry. Old habits.” You shyly tell him.

“Its perfect. Thank you.” He smiles as he takes a sip.

Trying your best to keep yourself busy and put some distance between you two, you make your way back to the living room, finding anything that you thought could use some tidying up. Clearly there was nothing.

“You didn’t have to stay all day, I’m sure the club needed you more.” You say from the other end of the living room.

“It wasn’t a problem. Bish understood.” He tells you as he finally makes his way into the living room.

Making his way towards you, he gently reaches out to grab your arm, as you absentmindedly fidget with the magazines on your coffee table.

“Hey.” He whispers to get your attention.

Exhaling you finally look up to meet Coco’s eyes, your heart clenching at all the sadness you find.

“Can we please talk?” he asks as he steps back a little, pointing towards the couch.

Nodding your head you make your way to sit on the couch, your breathe catching in your throat at the closeness between the two as he takes a spot on top the coffee table in front of you.

Without warning you burst into tears, hands instantly covering your face as you sobbed. On instinct, Coco is quick to pull you into his arms.

“Hey. Hey. It’s okay.” He whispers as he gently stroked your hair, trying his best to calm you.

“I miss you so fucking much.” You manage to say in-between sobs.

“I know, querida. I know. I’m so fucking sorry.” He says as his voice slightly cracks.

After releasing all that pent-up emotions, you pulled away from Coco sitting back onto the sofa. Giving him a small smile as he wiped away your tears.

“I know no matter what I say, it won’t make the situation any better. Yes, I had a stupid bet going with Gilly when I asked you out. The only reason I agreed to it was because I’ve been wanting to ask you out for the longest time, but was too scared to ask you, afraid you didn’t see me in that way. The bet with Gilly was a push to man up and finally ask you.” He started, his thumb rubbing small circles on your hand, letting you process everything he was throwing at you.

“Why didn’t you just ask me? Why did you need a stupid bet to do it?” you ask him.

“Come on querida. No way someone as perfect as you falls in love with a complete fuck up like me. I always thought you were too good for me.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Coco always told you he was not good enough for you, you knew how he felt, but you never saw him that way.

“And look how well we work together.” You tell him, giving him a smile.

He smiled back, “we are pretty fucking perfect together.” He says giving your hand a kiss.

“Sure at first I wanted nothing more than to sleep with you, but then I got greedy, and I wanted you to love me. I’m sorry for everything. For that stupid ass bet, you seeing that sucia on my lap, tongue down my throat, not fighting for us. For all of it. And I’ll spend forever and a day proving that to you.” He tells you as he gives your hand a gentle squeeze.

“It’s going to take some time to get over the hurt, but I can’t go on without you, Johnny. I love you!” you tell him, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over.

In an instant Coco’s lips were on yours, taking you into a passionate, needy kiss. Moaning into the kiss, you bask in the moment. In how much you have missed his kisses, his scent, his touch, him.

Coco breaks the kiss, both gasping for air, your lips tingling from the slight stumble on Coco’s face. Moving to sit on the sofa next to you, he pulls you to straddle his lap.

“Do you know what today is?” you ask him as you gently caress the nape of his neck.

You sit and watch as he places his back onto the couch, trying his best to figure out what day it was. You giggle when you notice his eyes go wide.

“Holy shit! Is that today?” he asks you in surprise.

“Mmm-hmmm, that’s today.” You tell him

“Well that’s a good thing I have this with me.” He says as he reaches over for his kutte that was lying on the arm of the sofa, pulling out a small velvet box. You gasp once you catch sight of the small box.

“Johnny?” you whisper, eyes once again filling with tears.

“I love you, Y/N. These last two months made me realize I never want to spend another day without you.” He opens the box to reveal the gorgeous diamond ring. One you obviously knew Letty had a hand at helping pick out.

Taking your shaky hand, “Will you marry me, baby?” he asks, a proud smile on his face.

“Of course. YES!” you practically screamed in-between your sobs.

Taking the ring out of the box and sliding the ring onto your finger, “Happy Anniversary, my love.” He says before claiming your lips once again.

-xx

#coco cruz #coco cruz imagine #coco cruz x reader #mayans mc #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc x reader

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moonlitwings1 · 3 years

Text

Icing on Top

Christmas cookies were a tradition in the Mayfield house, and Max isn’t going to let two obnoxious Hargrove men ruin it this year. They didn’t do it the year before because someone thought that cookies would be bad for his cholesterol. Old man problems, Max thinks. If Neil doesn’t want his cholesterol to increase or whatever, why doesn’t he just not eat cookies. Seems simple enough to her.

Thankfully, Neil’s not here right now. He’s with her mom going last minute Christmas shopping. She could’ve gone with them, but she doesn’t have anymore money to buy anything, spent it all on the arcade last week. She’s just going to give Neil and her mom cards, same as last year. Thank you for being the best mom! Max internally cringes. It sounds so fake every time she writes it. It’ll be even worse to write one for Neil. For Billy...well, she doesn’t know what he likes besides music and being an asshole, so he’ll get a card too.

She doesn’t believe in Santa anymore. Stopped believing when Billy ruined that for her literally the day they met. Laughed in her face and told her she was stupid for not realizing her mom’s the one who puts the presents under the tree. She remembers going to her mom and crying because the new boy just told her Santa’s not real. Turns out, when you stop believing in Santa, you also stop getting gifts from him. So for a couple years now, Max has only gotten one gift under the Christmas tree instead of two like she used to. No more presents from Santa, but at least Neil was happy about that. He said that he never thought this Santa business was any good for kids. False idols or whatever. Religious shit she doesn’t care about. Neil acts like he’s oh so religious, but they go to church about five times a year, and the entire time Neil’s only focused on Billy, who is doing everything in his power to annoy Max.

Well, tomorrow’s Christmas and her mom bought a horrible red dress with little white fluff across the edges, the same kind she’s seen too many little girls wear. She’ll have to convince her mom not to let her wear that. Later. Right now, she has a different focus, cook book stuffed underneath her arm as she searches for the ingredients.

“Flour, sugar, baking soda, butter, eggs,” she mutters under her breath, repeating the ingredients to herself over and over again. Sounds easy enough. She’s never made cookies by herself before, but wherever Neil is, her mom is, and she doesn’t want Neil to get in the way of her Christmas festivities, as he likes to call them. So for now, she’s going to have to figure out how to do this by herself. She’s definitely not allowed to use the oven without an adult, but tonight, she’s planning to prove that she’s not a fucking child.

She had just gotten started on the wet ingredients when she hears the back door slam shut, making her flinch hard. You’ve got to be fucking kidding. They haven’t even been gone for ten minutes. Neil must’ve forgotten something. She thinks she’s screwed and frantically starts hiding the bowls when she realizes those steps were far too heavy and obnoxious to be Neil’s. Max almost lets out a sigh of relief when Billy struts into the kitchen. He’s an asshole, but at least he’s not Neil.

She doesn’t know where he went, probably went to hang out with some girl like he always tells Neil, but she swears the cologne he’s wearing smells vaguely similar to the one Steve had on the other day. Maybe they’re friends now? Nah. Must be some new popular teen cologne, she thinks, rolling her eyes. She won’t give it much more attention.

“The fuck are you doing?” he asks, the scarred eyebrow lifting. He sounds more interested than angry.

“Making cookies. Go away,” she spits before turning her back to him and bringing her focus back to the wet ingredients.

He hums, amused like he always is when he’s annoying her, “Don’t think you’re supposed to be making anything by yourself, Maxi.”

She pauses what she’s doing, closes her eyes, and lets out a long sigh, tries to control her temper. “I’m not a fucking child, Billy. Go away,” she repeats. “I can handle it. And don’t call me that.”

He peers over her shoulder to look at what she’s making. She tries to ignore him, but she can literally feel him breathing down her neck, and he’s standing way too fucking close to her. She knows he’s doing it on purpose.

“Maaaax,” he whispers.

She continues ignoring him, mixing the bowl furiously, but after another minute of Billy just standing behind her, he snorts like somethings funny. And that pisses her off because nothing’s funny right now. He’s just an asshole who’s ruining her Christmas.

So without warning, she spins around, slams two hands into his chest and pushes him as hard as she can (which isn’t saying much, but she’s not going to admit that). Billy didn’t see that coming. She can tell because he actually stumbles a little bit. So she doesn’t stop there, tries to push him out of the kitchen completely before he regains himself. She wasn’t fast enough.

When he realizes what she’s trying to do, he laughs. It’s not even the scary laugh that he made while beating up Steve last year. He’s laughing at her. The fucking asshole’s making fun of her, and it does nothing to soothe her frustration. This time, she aims a slap at his face, but he catches her wrist before she could do anything. She gasps aloud because ow that stung.

“Ouch, you jackass! That fucking hurt!”

She starts hitting him with her left hand, gets in a few good hits before he snatches that one away too. If he were any closer, she would bite his wrist. She considers kicking him in the dick, but he must see what she’s thinking because he spins her around and bear hugs her from behind, trapping her arms to her side. They’re both panting now, but one from exertion and one from laughter.

“Jesus Christ, Maxine,” he laughs. “I didn’t fucking do anything to you. The hell blew your fuse?”

“Stop laughing,” she huffs, struggling in his arms and trying to glare at him, because he still has a sleazy grin plastered on his face. She can fucking hear it in his voice. “And get off of me!”

“You cool?”

She’s totally not cool, but she’s not going to tell him that. “Yes I’m fucking cool.”

“You su-”

“YES IM SURE, BILLY.”

He chuckles one more time before letting her go. “Whatever you say, Maxi-pad.”

She decidedly ignores his comment and rubs her shoulder from where his arm pressed into hers. “Can you leave now?”

“Not until you tell me what you’re making.”

“I already said cookies.”

“What kind?” Max knows he’s not actually interested in her cookies. He just wants to find a reason to bug her longer.

“Sugar. What else would I make for Christmas, dumbass.” She’s lucky he doesn’t immediately attack her for calling him ‘dumbass.’ She probably shouldn’t push it anymore.

“I want you out of the kitchen in an hour,” he snaps, “And you better not burn this house down.” He strides out of the room before she can reply but not before giving her a stony look that warns of death. Asshole.

Alone at last. Even if Billy’s home, it’s not like he’s going to leave his room anytime soon. He’ll lock himself in there and stay put for hours. She wonders what he does in there for so long and slightly winces when his music starts vibrating through the house. Max lets out a long sigh. She forgot about that. He usually doesn’t put it too loud when Neil’s home.

She tries to block out the music and focus on the task at hand. Do they have any more eggs?

---

Twenty minutes later, Max is staring at the oven proudly, hands on her hips. The cookies are currently baking, and she has a good feeling about them. They’re not pretty, and they’re oddly shaped (since they don’t have any cutouts), but she’s sure they’ll come out ok. She’s not, however, looking forward to cleaning up the entire kitchen. Its a mess, bowls everywhere, and the hand mixer is dripping onto the floor, but she can clean it up later, preferably before Billy comes out of hibernation and screams at her about it. But for now, she deserves a fucking break.

She heads off towards her room, and lounges around for ten minutes, looking through some comics, while waiting for the cookies to finish.

Things were going so well. So fucking well until the fire alarms starts blaring and makes Max jump out of her skin. She hears Billy’s music suddenly shut off. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

She’s too scared to move. She doesn’t move when she hears loud footsteps walking towards the kitchen, and she doesn’t move when the fire alarm stops ringing. She definitely doesn’t move when those loud footprints start getting increasingly louder, coming closer to her room. She’s going to die. She’s going to be murdered by her own brother. She shoots a quick prayer to whatever god out there that maybe she’ll survive this one long enough, so she can tell her mom goodbye.

Her door bursts open.

“MAXINE.” She recoils from his voice.“ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID?”

When she doesn’t say anything, his voice goes deathly quiet. “I leave you alone for barely an hour, and you manage to fuck it all up.”

Max still doesn’t say anything. She imagines she looks like a deer in headlights because she’s totally frozen, sitting on her bed just staring at him. It must piss him off though because he starts towards her. Thankfully, something turns on in her brain and she immediately goes and stands on the other side of the bed where he can’t easily reach her.

“Jesus fucking Christ, I’m not going to do shit to you,” he says, running a hand over his face. When she still doesn’t move, utterly unconvinced, he continues. “I just want you to see what a bang up job you did of making those fucking cookies, so get out here.”

She’s still not totally convinced, but if she stays there any longer, he might try to drag her out himself so she’s just got to suck it up. She moves cautiously towards the door, side-eyeing Billy to see if he’s going to pounce, but he doesn’t.

Thank God nothing besides the cookies were burnt. If anything was actually damaged, she wouldn’t even be alive right now.

“I-I don’t know what happened, Billy. I literally followed the recipe so don’t try to blame me for this,” she snaps, turning around to glare at him.

He scoffs at her. “What happened,” he growls, grabbing the open cookbook and stabbing a finger into the page, “is that you didn’t read the fucking directions correctly and set the oven at 450 degrees instead of 350 degrees.”

Max looks at where he’s pointing and her spirit drops when she realizes that he’s right. It says right there, Preheat the oven to 350°F. She internally curses herself. How did she not see that? If she had just paid attention, she wouldn’t be in this mess.

He watches her reaction and snorts. “Someone can’t read,” he says, and reaches out to ruffle her hair. She tries to slap his hand away, but it just makes him ruffle her hair harder.

“Now clean-” But before he could complete his sentence, Max storms out of the kitchen, taking a wide turn around Billy so there’d be a smaller chance that he’d try to grab her.

When she looks over at him though, it doesn’t look like he was going to anyway. She doesn’t know why he’s like this, why he always switches emotions every two seconds. Five minutes ago, he had barged into her room, murderous, and she was sure she was going to die. Now? Now he’s fucking joking with her. He literally just ruffled her hair like she’s his sister. She hates it. Why can’t he just be normal?

She slams the door behind her and locks it as she walks in. Thankfully, Neil still hasn’t taken away her lock like he’d done for Billy, so she still has a semblance of privacy. She’s almost in tears, and she doesn’t know why. She’s just...frustrated. The sound of heavy footsteps come her way, and she immediately dives under her covers, pulling the duvet up and over her head. She’s embarrassed from her stupid mistake that Billy will inevitably make fun of her for. Thinking about it just makes more tears sting the corner of her eye. She wants to be left alone, but Billy’ll never let that happen.

He pounds on the door. “Maxine, open up.”

She doesn’t answer, digging her head into her pillow harder. Maybe if she ignores him, he’ll leave. In the back of her head, she knows that that’s not what’s going to happen.

"Hey shitbird, get your ass out here,” he says again, back to asshole mode and pounding harder on the door. “Did ya see the fucking kitchen? You better clean that shit up before Susan and Neil come home.”

She still doesn’t say anything.

“Max,” his voice goes deadly quiet, “if you don’t get your ass out in the next ten seconds, I’m going to-”

“GO AWAY BILLY! I JUST WANTED TO MAKE COOKIES WITHOUT ANYONE BOTHERING ME FOR ONCE AND YOU JUST HAVE TO GO AND RUIN ANYTHING!”

“You ruined that shit for your-”

“Leave me alone, Billy.” Her voice cracks when she says his name, and he must hear it because he does. She knows she’s going to have to clean the kitchen up eventually, but she can’t bring herself to right now. Maybe it’s because she’s going to start her period any second, or maybe it’s because Billy’s just a jerk, but she feels abnormally upset. Unreasonably miserable. Billy’s antics don’t usually put her in this bad of a mood, and she feels stupid for letting it.

Ten minutes later, she hears him stomping around the house and the jingle of keys. The back door slams shut, and she knows he just left the house, probably to cool himself down before he actually murders her.

She’s alone.

----

Max wakes up startled from her nap with the sound of someone picking at her lock. She looks around widely for the time. An hour has passed, who’s-

The door burst open, and there stands a triumphant looking Billy. “HAH,” he shouts. “I’ve opened the door!”

She doesn’t know what to say to that. He sounds more stupid than usual. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t see him with a smile on his face very often.

“What are you doing?” she asks cautiously because she doesn’t want to accidentally piss him off.

“Come out here,” he says. Oh, not this again. She huffs and plops her face right back into the pillow, turning to her side so she’s facing away from the door. She’s not dealing with this again. If she wants to be locked up in her room, why can’t she?

“Max,” he calls, walking closer to her. “Get up, I’ve got stuff for you.” That peaks Max’s interests, and she raises her head a little, getting annoyed when she sees the smirk on Billy’s face. He knew saying that would get her to pay attention.

“What?”

“I’m not telling you until you get up,” he says, tugging at her blanket now. She smacks his hand away, and plops her head right back down.

“Then I’m not getting up. You’re literally the fucking grinch so it’s not like it’s going to be anything good anyways.”

He laughs at that. “So if I’m the grinch, who are you? Cindy fucking Lou Who?”

Max covers her smile with the duvet. “Just tell me what you got.”

“Nope,” Billy says and walks his annoying ass straight out of her room.

She decides to stay in bed, refuses to give in to Billy’s obvious plan to get her to come out of her room. But curiosity catches up to her when she hears him banging around the kitchen, and five minutes later, she’s dragging herself out from under the covers and walking into the room. She stops when she catches Billy red handed, literally, with two of his fingers dipped into a small bowl of red icing.

When he sees her watching, he grins at her, teeth stained red and gross. “Oh hey there Maxine. Didn’t see ya there. I’m really enjoying this lovely frosting,” He waggles his fingers at her for emphasis. “Better take it away from me before I eat it all.”

He’s about to double dip his nasty fingers into the frosting again before Max can’t help herself and has to cut in.

She runs up to him and smacks his hand away. “Oh my God. Billy, that’s literally so unsanitary. Give it here.” She takes the can of frosting from him, and mumbles you’re so gross under her breath. The cover of the can features pretty sugar cookies all covered in red frosting and sprinkles. If only she still had her stupid cookies. Now they’re at the bottom of the trash can, all black and burnt.

“Why’d you buy this anyway? Not like I’m gonna be using them anymore.”

Billy drums his fingers on the counter. “It’s so you can decorate your little cookies,” he says. “You’re lucky I’m craving sugar right now.” She hasn’t properly decorated cookies since California when she was with her dad. It might not seem like a big deal to him, but she’s getting excited over it. He can probably tell by the smile that has just spread across her face.

“I’m giving you a second chance, so don’t fucking screw this up. You hear me?” he’s glaring at her now, all threats and ager. Of course, he immediately tries to ruin the moment.

“So you’ll let me make them again?”

“Wouldn’t be surprised if they come out shit again, though. You can’t cook to save your life.”

She huffs. Totally not true. “We don’t have any more butter though.”

He pats the plastic bag on the counter. “’s all in here.”

She looks over at the bag he touched. So is that where he went while she was sleeping?

“You went to the store?”

He grunts in response. “Figured you’d need more shit after your first failed attempt.”

“Ok, thanks,” she says, already making a grab for the hand mixer. “You can leave now.”

“Ungrateful ass,” he snorts. “Last time I left, you burnt the fucking cookies and set off the fire alarm so I don’t think so.”

Max sighs. “So what? You’re just gonna stand there?”

He smirks at her, leaning against the counter. “Hand me the mixer.”

---

Apparently Billy’s good at baking because ten minutes later he has all the ingredients combined and the dough rolled out on the table. She didn’t roll out the dough during her attempt so it makes sense now why her cookies were ugly even before they got burnt.

They only bickered a couple times. Once because Max questioned him about how he smells suspiciously like Steve. She didn’t expect him to get so defensive, but he immediately snapped at her and told her not to get into other people’s business. His defensiveness made her think that him and Steve were friends now, and he’s just embarrassed to admit it. Or maybe they’re...more? When she suggested that though, he nearly shoved her head into the dough so that’s going to be the last time she investigates on that.

The second time, they bickered over whether or not they should add food coloring to the dough. I payed good money for this, shitbird, so we’re using it. They eventually decided to make different batches, some with dye and some without.

“Do we need to cut them into circles now?”

“The fuck are you thinking? Circles are boring.”

Max rolls her eyes. “Oh I’m ever so sorry for offending you, master baker Billy,” she says sarcastically. “What do you suggest we do to spice up this atrocious dough.”

Billy points his head towards the plastic bag. “Look in there, junior baker Maxine.”

She reaches out for the magical plastic bag. It’s already given her butter and red frosting. What else could be in there? Her entire face lights up when she sees a can of green frosting, four different cookie cutters, and so many sprinkles.

“Consider this your Christmas present because you’re not going to get anything else.”

She gapes at him. He’s never done anything nice to her in her entire life. Ok, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration, but it’s definitely a once in a blue moon occasion.

“Thank you,” she says, still gaping at him. She doesn’t know what else to say.

“Yeah well stop staring at me like that.” He reaches across and flicks her mouth shut. “And close your mouth. You’re gonna catch flies.”

She doesn’t say anything to that, but stares down at the plastic bag again. She’ll decorate a cookie for her mom. A red one with green sparkles. She wonders if Billy’ll decorate one for his dad. Probably not. Guess he’ll go cookie-less. Better for his cholesterol anyways.

Her thoughts are disrupted when Billy’s fingers smudge bright, red, frosting across her face. She flinches and tries to shove him off but he does it again, icing smeared across both cheeks now.

“You asshole,” she laughs, reaching inside the plastic bag and pulling out the green frosting. “You’re so on.”

By the end of their frosting battle, they’re both covered in red and green icing. At one point Billy even started showering her with sprinkles. It’ll take forever to get it out of her hair, and there’s barely any frosting left for the cookies, but there was just enough to make it last.

Their parents were appalled when they walked in on their children covered in sugar, but it was worth it. Neil wasn’t even that upset since her mom was seemed happy enough. Susan followed them around with a camera, trying to convince them to pose together. You guys look so cute! C’mon just one picture. They retreated to their rooms to hide.

Max ended up with two Christmas presents under the tree that year.

#billy and max #billy hargrove #max mayfield #harringrove #for that one line where max smells steves cologne on him #theyre TOTALLY just friends max #i wouldnt be surprised if theres some grammatical errors hiding in there #i hope you guys like it!#merry christmas! :)

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statticscribbles · 3 years

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Summary: Sweet Pea/Reader Request: Sweet Pea finds out you’re struggling with an eating disorder. TW: Discussion of eating disorders, disordered behaviors

“I’ll catch you guys later, I have to get home to work on homework.” You lie, it’s easy enough, you know everyone else has homework so they don’t question it. You make it home changing into work out clothes. You’ve been on your exercise bike for an hour before your parents get home and you cycle for another hour before you shower and work on your homework. You cringe when you’re called for dinner and you reason can cycle for another hour, or get in some crunches and sit-ups before bed so the damage won’t be too bad. You’d hadn’t had breakfast or lunch it was likely 500 for dinner, adding in an extra 100 just to be safe, plus the sugar you’d had in your coffee and then extra just in case you guessed wrong; you’d had around 700 total for the day, pretty high, but it’s what you get for not having an excuse for dinner ready.

Can’t skip Pop’s shakes tonight, or Pizza night at the Wyrm tomorrow, they’d know something is wrong. You hide in the shadows for the most part, playing your role in the Serpent’s almost too well. You can’t count the number of times you’ve snuck up on other members, a surprising ability considering you’re on the cheer team as a flyer at Riverdale. Small, easy to lift. You hum in satisfaction your scale saying you had dropped two pounds from yesterday. Not enough. You chase the voice away for now; it’s enough for a shake later. You’re half awake when Cheryl calls your phone, an hour before your alarm. “Practice in an hour.” You huff nodding. “Of course. Be there soon.” You respond stretching and standing before pulling on your work out clothes.

Practice doesn’t take long. You’re about to finish the last lift, where they toss you back. You let them toss you up, you can tell they misjudged something because you smack into the group harder than you thought. One of them falters and drops you, tumbling both of you further into the ground. You lay there for a moment, trying to stop your head spinning. You sit up, staggering slightly as the Cheryl stalks over. “What just happened?” She snaps, and you stumble up, she grips your arm narrowing her eyes. “Did you lose weight?” She hisses shoving your towards the locker room. You don’t mean to but you shoot a horrified look towards the bleachers, not realizing the serpents are there relaxing, watching the practice. You catch them stiffen. Nerves lighting up as Cheryl grips your arm steering you towards the locker rooms and the scale. “Where you going babe?” Toni calls out, arm stretched in front of Sweet Pea who’d jumped up.

“To see how much this one weighs; that fall was cause of her.” You shrug as she shoves you through the door, you can hear Toni following. As if it wasn’t bad enough Cheryl was going to see your weight now Toni was. You’re silent as you step on the scale Cheryl pulling out her notebook for weights and stats. She glares at the number then back up to you.

“That’s five pounds less. Five pounds!” She hisses pointing to the door. You’re about to step through when Toni beats you to it. Cheryl tugs you back. “This isn’t like a thing is it? Like you know.” She doesn’t say anything nodding to you and you nervously nod back. “I have it under control, it’s not bad I swear.” She keeps her eyes narrowed at her phone as she tells you to leave. You catch Toni frowning at you when you come out, you know she knows now. ——————————————————————————–

You finish getting changed and continue on to class; relieved none of them had bothered you about eating. You drink half of the coffee you brought. You’re still dreading lunch; you’d used up most of your excuses for the past three weeks and you know you’ll have to repeat something. You’re already debating the best one to use. You avoid most of the Serpents as the rest of the day goes on. They seem content enough to let you have the day to yourself. Although you catch them staring at you when they thing you’re not watching. Sweet Pea leans against the doorway and kisses you as you walk through. “What if that hadn’t been me?”

“Well it was, besides that’s why I waited.” He laughs and you smile back. “You know one of these days you’re going to mess up and end up kissing Archie or someone.” He shakes his head looping his arm around yours. “Pop’s? I’m starved.” He nods eagerly to his bike and you smile back. “Course, I’m stuffed from lunch so I’ll pick at yours.” “I’ll get extra fries then; so you don’t feel too horrible about being a fry thief.” He hesitates as you loop your arms around his on the bike.

“What was going on with Cheryl and Toni earlier? At Cheer practice.” “Oh I just forgot about how exact the flier routine is, can’t have any fluctuation.” “You know I bet if you weren’t such a picky eater Cheryl wouldn’t have to practically force feed you protein bars every week.” “It’s not my fault I have food issues, have you ever eaten a tomato, they’re practically jellyfish level’s of squish, and it’s a vegetable so-“ “Fruit.” “No we’re not arguing over the tomato again its-“ “A fruit.” Sweet Pea winks before starting his bike, the roar drowning out your counterpoint. ———————————————————————————-

Don’t eat. You don’t need it. You want to be better don’t you? Don’t eat. You don’t need it. You want to be better don’t you? Don’t eat. You don’t need it. You try your best to shake away the thoughts in your head. You’re dreading the after game Pop’s everyone’s going to get. You cringe deciding not to bother with lunch or breakfast, even skipping the usual sugar in your coffee. Can’t waste anything; you have to eat something at Pop’s; you can’t let Cheryl and Toni catch you out. You don’t know who else they’d tell and you don’t want to risk Sweet Pea catching on. You’re shaking by the time you finish math, and walking to the student lounge is exhausting. You sink into the chair relaxing and pulling a book out to distract yourself. No one bother’s you about eating but you catch Sweet Pea watching you and you smile at him.

“Babe we’re going to sit outside, you want to come?” Sweet Pea asks and you nod. You stretch, waiting for a moment to let everyone rush a head; you know you can use the excuse of throwing your trash from lunch away; despite having managed to fast since after dinner last night. You sigh readying yourself for the head rush you normally get. You grimace as the yellow and purple spots invade your vision; you can’t help the faint panic, when the spots don’t clear and they begin to migrate across your line of sight, the edges going dark. You stagger forward, at least you think you do, your vision is no longer spotty, just an expanse of black and gray. You can feel someone’s hand on your shoulder, some sort of blurry and fuzzy sound that’s meant to be their voice. “I can’t see.” You whimper; you think you reach out but you can’t be sure. Suddenly you can feel pressure against your shoulder you sit down, surprised when you feel the couch, you close your eyes, the gray shadows go away replaced by only black. As you open them you find the spots clearing slowly. Sweet Pea staring at you looking terrified. You stand and run before he can say anything.

———————————————————————————–

You’re hovering next to Sweet Pea as he walks with you. He was usually waiting for you. After what Cheryl had said you noticed he was keeping a closer eye on you. All the serpent’s seemed to be and you’re not sure what’s caused it. You’re sitting in Pop’s wedged between Sweet Pea and Archie. They’ve both ordered burgers, Betty and Veronica splitting one and Cheryl and Toni both opting for shakes right off the bat. You sip at the malt you’ve ordered. As everyone finishes their food, and orders another round of shakes, you continue barely touching your malt as they all are swept up in conversation. You notice Sweet Pea watching you and you raise an eyebrow at him before he turns to Cheryl.

“So what was the problem earlier, with the team?” Cheryl perks up, smirking slightly. “It appears your little serpent is getting a bit too small, the team expected her to be bigger, and since she’s not they failed. But we’ve corrected it for now. It’ll be easier once she gains the weight back.” Cheryl finishes pulling her shake closer. You push your malt away a fraction and suddenly Sweet Pea is shoving his food in front of you. “Taste?”

“No thanks I’m full.” You shrug and he glares from the side of his eyes. You’re dreading the Serpent pizza night tomorrow. He drops the apparent urgency that he’d used to move his food pulling it back and continuing to drink from the shake he offered. Betty offers you a ride back to the Northside, but Sweet Pea waves her off. “Serpent talk.” He nods to you and you wait for the other serpents, nerves building as they don’t appear. “What’s going on?” He eyes you as you both start to walk home. “Nothing? I guess I forgot a couple of protein bars during the week.” You shrug; he scowls.

“Seriously, just a couple? Everyone’s noticed. Every single one of the Serpent’s are worried about you.” You nod ducking your head. “Sorry, guess I got caught up in being better at cheering.” You hope it works as an excuse. He stays silent for most of the walk home; as you start toward the turn for your house he catches your wrist. “Come over?” You nod, walking past your road as you text your parents you’re staying at a friend’s house. ——————————————————————————

You’re lounging on Sweet Pea’s bed, half falling asleep when you hear him talking. You snap fully awake, he seems panicked, you move your hand up to press it to his cheek, when he had gotten so close you’re not sure. “Christ, what was that? Your eyes went weird and you face turned gray again like-” You blink at him shaking your head. “Nothing. Just tired.” You snap; he’s moving from his bed and he’s getting himself ready for bed. You shrug off the sweater you’re wearing and move to pull your spare shirt from your bag, wincing at the head rush you get from leaning over. “Shit.” You squeeze your eyes shut whimpering as everything seems to spin. You can feel Sweet Pea moving you back on the bed.

“Christ, you’re skin and bones babe.” You blink slowly at him; everything is blurry before it clears. You can feel his arms around you, and you realize he’s hugging you; you wrap your arms around him and press your face into his shoulder. “You’re so warm. So nice.” You hum contently before he pushes something towards you. “Here, drink.” You scowl at the glass looking at the brown liquid. “It’s chocolate milk, the only thing in the fridge.” “When did you go to the fridge?” He scowls nodding back to the glass. “Just a sip.” You nod putting the glass to your lips and taking slightly more than a sip, lest he decide you need to drink more.

“Good girl.” He hums kissing your forehead. You don’t question it instead yawning as he pulls a blanket over you. “Get some rest.” You nod expecting him to leave the room, instead he wraps his arms around you, when your body touches his you realize how cold you are, how much you’re shivering as his body warms yours. ——————————————————————————-

You wake up to him nudging you. Shoving a glass of water towards you. You cringe at the other glass; it looks like it’s filled with some sort of smoothie. “So what’s going on then? With the ‘food issues’ as you call it.” You shrug. “It’s nothing.” “It’s an eating disorder.” “It’s not. I have it under control. I’m not doing anything dangerous. Besides not like you know anything about it.” You snap cringing internally about how defensive you are. “My sister does. It’s why I live in my trailer, by myself. My parents and her are up in Centerville, getting treatment.” “I’m really sorry about that Sweets, but I’m not her.”

“I know you’re not. You’re not as bad as her; you’re not as sick. You don’t make yourself vomit yet, but you will. It’s how she went.” He glares and you brush your hand against his face. “Sweet’s I’m-“ “No you will. You almost passed out, so now everyone is gonna make you eat and you’re gonna panic about it and then decide it’s just easier to eat it and throw up later and you’re gonna leave like her!” He shouts and you can’t bite back how angry it makes you.

“Then leave me first! I have everything under control. If you don’t think I do; if you don’t believe me then leave.” You stumble back slightly grabbing your bag. “Here, I’ll start.” You stagger to the door growling at yourself when the spots return, when your vision blurs completely and you can’t feel if you’re standing anymore. Everything collapses to black and you’re not sure if you’re even on the ground.

——————————————————————————————-

Everything is no longer black, but a blinding gray that makes you try to shift and twist away from it. You open your eyes unaware you had them closed but trying your best not to close them again as you’re greeted by the Riverdale Hospital’s peppered ceiling tiles. You sigh, your throat burning uncomfortably as you wiggle in the bed, unsure if you can sit up or not. You lick your lips and swallow counting seventeen dots on the smallest tile, and creating five dragon shapes from the different shadows that linger on the tile next to the smoke alarm.

“What do you mean you’re going to let her out, she’s sick, she needs help!” “She not underweight, we can’t do anything to help her. We gave her fluids because she was dehydrated but that’s all we can do for now.” You can hear the drone from the doctor and almost block it out save for Sweet Pea’s voice. “How do I help her? I couldn’t help my sister and-“ His voice crackles and you wince sitting up trying to see him; you know he’s probably crying. “Just try to listen to her, start small, eat a meal with her, or a snack; just so you know she has something in her system.” You can see the back of his head as he nods and then turns when the Doctor inclines his head slightly. You wish you’d still been pretending to be asleep. How frantic he looks and choppy he moves to your side, his entire body trembling.

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have left, I just; I know this; it’s safe.” You shrug a little and he nods softly. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t see you as her.” “No it’s okay; must be hard watching someone you care about go down the same path.” “Well maybe I can help you turn around? Start on a different one?” You nod leaning your head on his shoulder. “I’d like that. To be honest the protein bars taste like chalk.” He laughs nodding in agreement.

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harringtonstudios · 4 years

Text

vegas run. (I)

plot: it’s the annual las vegas run. let’s see what kinda trouble you get into this year!

A/N: this is an ongoing series! the first part is fairly long sorry. i currently have about 4k written so i’m excited for what’s to come. hope yall like <3 shoutout to ellie for letting me ramble abt this

masterlist!

Being invited to the annual Las Vegas run with the boys was something you had gotten used to. As Baze’s best friend from back home, you’d been to more events than you could even remember after he’d joined Machine Gun Kelly. It’d taken a couple years for them to blow up, but Baze would always ask you to fly out to Cleveland for the little things, release parties, New Years Eve, even Kells’ birthday once you’d gotten familiar with the other guys.

The Las Vegas tradition had started as an accident. You’d been with the band on their tour for a couple of cities, staying in the small tour bus that they were using this time around. It was kinda cramped with all the band, the constants slew of guests, and the little after-show parties every day. After the Vegas show, you guys had decided to party outside instead. There’d been an all-night rager in different casinos, clubs flashing their lights only to entice your friends in. Then, the bus had broken down, and it had started storming, and before you knew it, the next few shows were rescheduled, and you were stuck in Las Vegas.

It had been a week of straight craziness, constant drunkness, and chasing after Kells who had suddenly decided to mix alcohol and mushrooms. But it had been a great week, and you’d gotten closer to all the boys, learning more about them with every single incident gone wrong.

After that, Colson had decided to schedule a week-long break on those dates, marking it down as a tradition every year. He made sure you were always invited, and kept it as close to the people that were there the first time around as he could.

You’d forgotten about the Las Vegas run this year around. Things had been so hectic recently, with you opening up your own business and dealing with customers day in and out. At first, you’d started online with just a couple of orders, but after a mean deal done with one of the biggest designer companies, you’d landed your own well-deserved store with customers aplently.

The phone call came around 4pm, phone lighting up with the words Machine Gun Kelly. You hesitated for a second, wondering why he would be calling you on a random Thursday, but decided to pick up after looking around to make sure any customer was being attended to.

“Y/N!” Colson’s voice came through loud across your phone speakers.

“Hey man! What’s up, how have you been?” you questioned, pulling the phone back from your ear just a little.

“I’m good, just finished up the tour for this summer and we’re back in LA right now,” he answered, and you smiled, knowing all of this already since Baze had shown up to your store the day before with his lovely girlfriend, proud of everything you’d accomplished.

“I heard,” you started before he cut you off suddenly.

“Sorry, I know you’re working and all right now. I don’t wanna take up time, but I was hoping you’re still coming to the Vegas run?” he rambled out, and you rolled your lip into your mouth, suddenly remembering.

“Oh fuck, yeah it’s next week right?” you asked, fingers tapping on the desk as you already tried to come up with a way to get your assistant manager to cover the store for the week.

“Yeah. Baze was telling me you have the shop and all, but I wanted to ask you anyway. Wouldn’t be a Vegas run without you,” he murmured and you relished in the last few words before clearing your throat.

“I’ll try and work something out. Text me the details?” you spoke back, seeing your sales assistant walking towards you.

“Yeah of course,” he replied before you exchanged byes and shut off the phone.

It took a lot of bargaining, but soon you were clear for the next week. You had to come in on Saturday to finish up tasks and stay late a couple nights this week to sort out products, but other than that, your assistant manager was prepared to take over.

Taking a quick break for lunch, you stepped out, eager to soak in the sun as much as you could before staying in late tonight. Walking to the corner of the block, you decided to treat yourself with one of the special milkshakes from Luca’s Diner. It was a hotspot for the locals, sugary goodness & crunchy cereal sprinkled into every shake they made.

That’s when you spotted a familiar Aston Martin, violet purple standing out amongst the wave of other cars. Parked on the curb, the car seemed to be empty and you stepped into the diner, eager to find the owner.

The diner was flowing with people, chatter lighting up the air as you tried to spend a minute looking for Colson’s figure somewhere. Eventually giving up, you walked toward the counter, already smiling at the idea of having a sugar rush.

“Hi! Welcome to Luca’s. What can I get for you?” the cashier asked, fingers tapping away at the screen.

“Hey, can I get a Cinnamon Crunch Delight with extra whipped cream?” you answered, hands going into your pockets to pull out your card.

“And a basket of fries!” came a voice behind you, and suddenly there was a hand dropping around your shoulders.

You turned up to look at Colson standing there, grinning down at you as he said, “What Y/N? C’mon I’m paying.”

You smiled back at him, before gesturing to the cashier, who looked a little star-struck.

“Fries. Uhm, got it. Anything else?”

“I think we’re good,” he answered, moving his arm off you to grab his wallet. You sidestepped as he paid, waiting by the milkshake machine.

You hadn’t seen Colson in almost six months, both of you busy with different things. The last time you’d hung out was during his New Year’s Eve party and honestly, half of that night was its own blur.

“How’ve you been pretty lady?” he asked, walking over to you.

You looked up at him, taking in the drastically different look he was sporting. His hair was fluffier than you’d ever seen it, poofing up at the tops. As he tucked his wallet back in, you spotted the designs done on his nails & smiled a little.

“Busy! It feels like the phone never stops ringing,” you laughed out, fingers sliding on the counter.

For some reason, you felt the inkling of something fluttering in your stomach. You didn’t know what it was, but the concept of having a crush on your best friend’s brother figure didn’t sound good to you. So you willed yourself out of it before speaking again, “How bout you rockstar?”

“Can’t complain here,” he moved both his hands up, waving them around in jazz hands, “Touring just ended so I’m gonna probably go crash in bed for the next few days.”

“I caught your Miami show that day!” you exclaimed as his face suddenly became puzzled.

“You were in Miami and you didn’t tell us?” he asked, voice pitching higher as the question fell out of his mouth.

“No,” you laughed again, waving him off, “my assistant went and she eagerly sent me a few hundred videos of you guys doing your thing.”

He smiled at that, hand running through the messy hair before turning towards the counter, grabbing his fries. A second later, your milkshake came out and you picked it up, eyes catching the clock on the wall. You should’ve been back in the office a couple of minutes ago.

“Hey, do you wanna come around to the store? If you’re free that is,” you offered, as he walked ahead of you to a table.

“Oh dude yeah! That’d be dope, I wanna see your genius creations,” he gushed, plopping onto a seat.

You hesitated at the table before deciding it would just be easier to eat here anyway, less of a mess to clean up later. You knew that Sarah, your assistant, would be blowing up your phone soon, but you sat down anyway.

You’d missed him you realized suddenly as he rambled on about a tour story. One you’d probably end up hearing again from Baze anyway. It was weird, missing Colson when you guys weren’t that close anyways.

You’d been there for the big moments, but always as Baze’s friend first, and you wondered when that’d turned into being Colson’s friend too.

Flashing back to the last tour, you remembered sneaking out with Kells right before shows, getting high in bathrooms together, even making smoothies at 3am, waking up the rest of the guys as you blended away different mixtures. Maybe that’s when the scale had tipped, and why he seemed so at ease around you, legs stretched out, foot kicking against your ankles.

“Y/N, dude your phone!!” he emphasized, hand knocking at your arm as you clicked back into action.

“Oh shit,” you mumbled before picking it off the tabletop.

There were 2 missed calls and four very angry texts and you stood up, not wanting to lose the week off you had leveraged with Sarah. You were the manager, but she was much more organized and often kept you on track.

“That’s my assistant. C’mon we can finish your story at the store,” you uttered, grabbing your untouched milkshake as you left the crowded diner.

“Yo can I leave my car here?” he asked, stumbling behind you.

You nodded, knowing that his car wouldn’t get towed anytime soon as you sped past the few stores to get into your own.

He matched your pace, and soon you both were stepping in, his eyes lighting up at your outfits lining up the front.

“Woah,” he breathed out as you spotted Sarah in the office.

“Sorry, sorry I got caught up. What’s up?” you ran over to her, making sure to place your milkshake on the table away from your company computer.

“Finally! The fabric company’s on the line, something about the lace you ordered? I didn’t get what outfit they were talking about,” she uttered, handing over the phone as she moved out of the way.

“Oh fuck, the off-white one?” you asked as she nodded, and you groaned before picking up the phone.

“Hi Mr.Hand, So sorry to keep you waiting. What’s the situation looking like,” you started, grabbing your chair before you settled into your desk.

As the company started describing statistics, your eyes wandered, seeing Colson walk around the little store you had. He was peering at every outfit, the shirts put out, and you stopped yourself from grinning as he ran his hands over the chained pants you’d created this morning.

Within a second, Sarah was on him, and you stifled a laugh as she fell quiet, staring at him. He smiled, introducing himself with a handshake and you saw her physically shake off the nerves as she went on her sales pitch.

Within ten minutes, you’d fixed the issue, bringing up the idea of another distributor sneakily in order to sweeten the deal. Dropping the phone back, you pushed off your seat, picking up your shake.

Sipping at it, you groaned a little at the taste of it all, relieved that it was still good after waiting. Colson was sitting near the counters, swiveling around on the seats as Sarah fiddled behind it.

“Sorry bout that, things are kinda insane now,” you offered, walking up to where he was. He swirled around once more, before planting his feet, looking up at you.

“Nah, you’re all good. This is really fucking cool,” he praised and you smiled at his words, trying not to revel in them too much.

“I see you’ve met Sarah,” you motioned and she looked up awkwardly, giving you eyes before smiling at him.

“Yeah, hope Y/N hasn’t been driving you too crazy,” he said, knowing that you guys had just opened.

“Other than not letting us come in hungover, she’s been good,” Sarah scoffed, regret immediately flowing on her face as she caught your eye.

You laughed, letting her know that it was okay and she eased up a little as Colson continued, “Hungover? I’ve seen her much worse, believe me, the rule’s kept for a good reason.”

You shoved his shoulder and he moved a little, chair still swiveling around. Getting up, he moved back over to the pants you’d laid out this morning and Sarah took the opportunity to lean over, whispering, “Machine Gun Kelly just comes waltzing into our store?”

You scrunched up your face before whispering back, “Yeah total accident. I didn’t even know he was in the area.”

You both looked over at him as he picked up the pants, viewing them closer before he moved over to the full-length mirror standing in the side of the store.

“I can take things over for tonight, you know? Like if you wanna go hang with him?” Sarah offered, taking in the way your gaze lingered on him for a half a second more.

“No, it’s okay. I already have you working all day next week. I don’t wanna add more into it,” you murmured, watching Colson pose, hands gripping onto the pants out of the corner of your eye.

“Oh shut up Y/N. You’re still young, go enjoy your 20s bitch,” Sarah uttered back, trying not to laugh at the way your eyes widened.

“You sure?” you asked, trying not to let the happiness take over your face.

“Yeah. I mean it, go hang,” she smiled, and you grabbed her face, smacking a kiss on her cheek.

“I owe you everything,”’ you whispered and she blushed it off, clearing her throat as Colson walked back over.

“I kinda wanna buy these,” he said, holding the chained pants up, and you raised an eyebrow.

Within minutes, Sarah had completed the purchase and eagerly hinted at you being free until you had thrown a look, begging her to stop.

“So I’m guessing you’re free for the rest of the day?” he had asked, laughing as you rolled your eyes.

“I guess I am. You got anything in mind?” you mumbled, packing in your purse.

“You wanna come over? I know the guys been missing you,” he said, and you licked your lips, deciding to test the waters.

“Just the guys? I thought I was special Colson,” you mockingly stated, hand clutching at your heart.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve missed you too loser,” he spoke, and you grinned as he led the way out back to his car.

Walking into the house, you were immediately hit with the smell of something baking. You couldn’t quite place it but as Colson closed the door behind him, he mumbled out, “Dub’s making baked mac,” with such a fondness in his tone that you laughed.

It took five minutes, and then you were grilling up turkey burgers with Rook, laughing as Slim offered you another shot of Patron. It felt oddly like coming home, and you soaked it in, knowing that your own house was empty and cold.

Baze was gone when you got there, and you chalked it up to the fact that he wanted to spend time with his girl. Another girl wandered around the house, easily slipping into the chaos and you felt the nerves start to build back up. Colson tracked you watching her and then he swooped in right behind you again as you flipped over a patty.

“That’s Olivia, my assistant,” he murmured into your ear, and you brushed him away, feeling way too close.

“Who said I was asking hotshot,” you whipped out at him, as he leaned against the countertop, red Solo cup in hand.

“Saw you looking,” he replied, taking a sip, smirk showing in his eyes.

“Oh yeah? What else was I looking at,” you asked, voice tilting up at him.

“That’s for me to know,” he murmured, and you scoffed as he stuck his tongue out at you, lips still wet from the drink.

Then, Baze strolled into the house, Ellie right behind him and you dropped the spatula, running over to give them both bear hugs. You could hear Colson’s laugh echoing behind you.

After dinner, you attempted to head out before realizing your car was still at work. It was a dumb move on your part and you wondered if it was worth an Uber ride or if you should just ask one of the guys to drop you off.

“Whatcha thinkin?” Rook shouted, scrolling on his phone as the music blasted through the speakers.

“If I should order an Uber!” you shouted back, cupping your hands around your mouth to get the words across. He didn’t seem to hear you, shaking his head and you sighed it off, pulling out your phone to download the app.

A second later, Kells showed up, pulling your phone out of your hands, going, “I’ll drive you back.”

You throw him a little glare, but soften up as he hands you back your phone. Following him back into his Aston, you smiled up at him grateful for the ride. Next week was going to be a mess.

taglist: @iamdorka @no-shxt-sherl @bakerkells @findingmyths @rosegoldrichie @mayaslifeinabox @itjustkindahappenedreally @hnbtx @backoftheroomandnotbelonging @nowhereiswhereibelong

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sabraeal · 3 years

Text

In Plain Sight, Chapter 4

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Written for @k-itsmaywriting‘s birthday! I hope that, despite how weird the world is right now, you have an amazing day!

Shirayuki understands how this is supposed to work. She’s seem movies after all-- Witness, of course; Sister Act 1 & 2, if only because Opa thought Whoopie Goldberg was a national treasure and Oma thought she was too young to be watching Ghost; and Our Lips Are Sealed about eight times on video cassette, since she’s old enough (and Opa resisted DVD long enough) have both VCRs and wholesome Olsen twins content as a part of her childhood.

(Her favorite formative twins were Annie and Hallie from The Parent Trap; they were red-headed, just like her, and one of them had a British accent. She’d been devastated to find out that not only were both of them American, but they were also only one girl. She’d watched Double Trouble to console herself)

In any case, she knows how this goes, at least narratively. She lays down in this amazingly comfortable bed, stares up at the ceiling in a tense yet melancholy fashion for hours, and dreams in plot-relevant flashbacks. Extra points if they reference the crime she witnessed.

The problem is: she didn’t. She’s just the unfortunate collateral to her father’s personal redemption. All the life ruining without ever being part of the A plot.

There’s an upside though: the second she hits that firm cloud of a mattress, she’s out like a light.

Absolutely nothing wakes her, but Shirayuki jolts into consciousness anyway, as unpleasant as any false start. She expects to be confused; she’s not a graceful riser to begin with, and every morning in temporary housing, she’d bounce off three walls at minimum trying to find a bathroom that didn’t exist.

(Well, the bathroom did exist, it just didn’t exist where it should, which was down the hall to the right, and was compounded by the door being in exactly the wrong place too.)

Instead, she knows exactly where she is. Knowledge which is quickly followed by the low-key, seething resentment for the man who put her here.

She groans, lifting her head from the pillow. It’s fine. She’s fine. It’s just--

7:00, her alarm clock says. Tuesday, her brain provides after a long moment.

She should be getting up, habit told her. Getting her morning fix of avocado toast and orange juice with Paul Newman’s face stamped on it.

There’s worse ways to start your day than having a fine pair of eyes smiling at you, Oma would say.

What can I say? Opa’d grumble back, flipping through the paper. It’s impossible to compete with Butch Cassidy.

Her fingers curl into the sheets. There’d be none of that today. Agent Jiang-- Obi’s assistant had gotten her Simply Orange instead. A small mercy. It’s hard enough to be someone else when there’s still so much her clinging to the edges.

It’s tempting to linger in bed; she’s always been a morning person, up with the birds, but maybe Claire isn’t. Maybe Claire likes to stay up late and sleep in, sleeping past the three alarms she sets for herself. Maybe she likes to have waffles for breakfast, straight from a box, and drinks pomegranate juice. Maybe she doesn’t bike into the lab at eight because--

She groans. Because Claire doesn’t have a job. A thing that will have to change soon, since Claire has to pay for this house.

There’s a great deal of compromise that happens between bedside and bathroom; habit insists she needs to be fully dressed, ready to greet the day, but everything else--

Well, she’s not going anywhere is she? There’s no reason she couldn’t wallow in her pj’s all day

Standards, habit insists. But those belonged to Shirayuki, not Claire. Claire has no job, no friends, and nothing to do on a Tuesday morning besides--

Oh no, the recycling.

The bin is nearly two-thirds her height, but with only one day under her belt, it’s already overflowing. Good thing she’d looked at that brochure when it slipped out from between the takeout menus.

She shrugs her hoodie a little tighter, pulling it down over her leggings-- habit and hedonism settled on exercise wear as a happy medium-- and grips the handle, tugging it out the opening garage door, right into the fresh Texas morning--

And promptly throws her hoodie back into the garage. She might need that with the downright frosty temperature the house is set to, but oh, she was not going to cover her skin out here any more than necessary. Even now, she’s starting to sweat in impossible places beneath her leggings.

Hooking her palm back around the handle, she tugs the bin down the drive. Her gaze fixes to the pavement-- the last thing she needs is to trip right over herself on her own driveway taking out the trash-- and she doesn’t look up until she hits the sidewalk. It’s a struggle to get it to sit right-- these are proper curbs, white poured cement with squared edges meant to puncture cheeky tires; one of the wheels catches in a gap and refuses to budge until she hip checks it out onto the next slab.

She’s damp at this point, skin dewing with giant drops of sweat she’s tempted to shake off like a dog, but--

But Martha Kino has an arm slung along their fence, holding a tall glass of iced tea that makes her mouth water just to look at.

“Oh, um, good morning!” she calls out with a weak wave. “I didn’t, um, see you there.”

It’s only when Martha slides her gaze to her that she realizes her neighbor hadn’t been looking at her at all. Her mouth curves into a knowing smile at the sight of her. “Good morning, honey. You here for the show?”

Shirayuki blinks. “The show?”

“Mm-hm.” Martha takes a long drag from her straw, ice clinking against the glass. “Here it comes now.”

Shirayuki tracks her line of sight right across the cul-de-sac, squinting at half acre of immaculately trimmed, completely invasive Bermuda grass. Their front garden is well-kept, as well; thickly mulched with giant hibiscus blooming blood red against pristine stone facade.

Oh, and there’s a man as well. That’s probably what Mrs Kino is looking at.

He’s tall. No, tall is an understatement; he’s a giant, six foot four at least with shoulders to match. He’s trimmed with the same military precision as his lawn, clean shaven with an undercut that could scratch glass. Heavy brows draw sharply over his nose, forehead rumpling as he tears a box right down the fold--

Ah, well, all right. It’s not doing much of anything for her, but the Vitruvian man’s more ideal cousin ripping up boxes definitely counts as a show. Halfway through, he grabs the hem of his shirt, mopping his brow, and ah, hm, he could definitely have made money as an anatomical model. His rectus abdominis are, ah...very defined.

“Is he--” Shirayuki searches for the words-- “from around here?”

“Oh, him?” Martha’s gaze doesn’t stray for a second, not even as she sips at her tea. “That’s Scott. Aspen’s husband. They just moved in a few weeks ago.”

Shirayuki glances around the neighborhood. Seems like more than a few of her neighbors hope they’ll never leave either.

“Quite the pair, those two,” Martha hums. “She’ll be at the luncheon. I know you two will just get on like houses.”

More like houses on fire if she mentions she’s seen her husband’s floor show. “Oh, right. The um, luncheon.”

Mrs Kino grins as Scott hops back inside, out of this heat, just like she’s dying to do. “By the way, he mows the lawn on Sunday, just before lunch.”

“Oh, um, great.” She’ll be sure to miss it. “Can’t wait.”

It’s too early to bake cookies.

There’s not a baked good on earth that tastes as good two days later as it does fresh out of the oven; Shirayuki knows that down to her toes and bones, but still--

Stress baking. It’s a thing. And she doesn’t have to make anything right now. She could get all the ingredients together, just to make sure she has them. And then...just not do anything.

She can. Definitely. Absolutely. She’s Claire now. Claire probably doesn’t even like chocolate chip cookies.

Oh gosh, who is she kidding? Only monsters don’t like chocolate chip cookies. What next, Claire doesn’t like brownies? Apple pie? Snickerdoodles?

It’s a slippery slope, not liking things. Best to just keep it simple and eat everything, that’s what Opa always said at the church potluck.

The morsels and brown sugar already sit out on the counter when her phone lets out a piercing ting. She’s half tempted to ignore it; she’s having a contentious battle with the ten pounds of King Arthur flour that’s tucked away in her cabinet-- what was she thinking?-- and she refuses to show any fear in the face of baking supplies but--

Ting. No one knows her number. Well, no one except the government.She settles back on her heels with a sneeze. The government probably doesn’t take kindly to being left on read.

Her hands clap against her thighs, flour misting into the air as she leaves two partial prints right over the helical print. She frowns, plucking at the fabric, nose wrinkling as more powder burst into the air. Ting.

“I’m coming,” she mutters, stumbling over to the island. “I’m coming.”

Sugar Daddy i got just what u need pumpkin check ur email

The corners of her mouth dig furrows into her cheeks as she clicks on the notification. It’s the only message in her inbox, aside from the ubiquitous Welcome to Gmail spam and a few coupons for Banana Republic and a couple of other retailers. They’d taught her about this at orientation; they couldn’t do much about an empty inbox, but everyone had at least a few mailing lists they’d either forgotten to opt out of or regularly used.

Still...what about her said Banana Republic? She glances down at her spandex-clad legs. If they were going to go for a too-expensive clothing line, they could have at least sprung for Lululemon.

Ah, but that wasn’t the point. Marshal Jiang-- Obi hadn’t texted all...that...to show off some spam. Sitting at the very top of her inbox is a Cornell email address-- Cornell-- with an attachment.

Dear Claire, the message reads, We’re so sorry to see you go, but I’m glad we’re able to keep in touch. Of course we kept the copy of your old CV. Good luck to you in all your endeavors.

It’s signed by some professor; not high profile enough for her to have heard of, but she doesn’t doubt that he’s real, someone a curious party could look up on Cornell’s directory. Well, at least for the next six months.

The Columbia alumna inside her writhes in agony. Cornell. She doubts it’s a coincidence.

Me Aren’t you supposed to be taking care of me?

Not that she’s very, um, up on the specifics of such a relationship, but she’d been under the impression that sugar...children?...were supposed to be fully reliant on their sugar parent. Her mouth pulls thin. Already she’s thinking about this far more than she’d ever hope to.

Sugar Daddy a good daddy makes sure his baby can take care of herself ;)

This declaration is followed by a stream of emojis, ending with an eggplant and a peach, and she just-- doesn’t need to know. She wipes away the sweat that beads at her hairline-- from embarrassment, of course-- and downloads the attachment.

Me I’ll take a look. Thank you.

She sets the phone back on the island, face down, and glares. He can’t possibly be like this to everyone. People would complain. They wouldn’t just let him insinuate that he-- that they--

Ting.

Sugar Daddy good girl

All right. Maybe they would.

Shirayuki doesn't get homesick.

She’d been the first brownie to leap out of her car at summer camp; Opa barely had time to lurch into park before she was traipsing across the field, backpack slung over her shoulder and duffel bag dragging on the grass. Freshman year, she moved into the dorm by herself, pressing kisses to wrinkled cheeks as she lugged her suitcases onto the train; she’d almost forgotten to wave from the window.

But as soon as she lays down in bed, the lights snuffed out and the world still, it hits her. Just a soft roll of her stomach at first, the barest itch on her skin, like wearing a wool sweater on a spring afternoon. It’s fine; too much to ignore but nothing that would keep her up too long.

It doesn’t stay that way.

Her stomach clenches, tears pricking at her eyes, and it’s everything she can do to just roll onto her side, letting the chills wrack through her body. She shivers so hard her teeth chatter, and this-- this isn’t the gentle ache of nostalgia her books prepared her for. This is an illness, plain and simple, like when she caught norovirus in eighth grade can could hardly do anything but lay on the bathroom floor and wait for the next wave to begin.

This isn’t her, she isn’t like this, she doesn’t get like this, but-- but--

Before she always knew her home was waiting for her; she could leave but Oma and Opa would always keep the front lamp on, waiting for weary travelers and last minute bookings.

It’s different now that there’s no home to come back to.

7:00, her alarm clock says. She watches it tick over, like she has for every hour before it.

She must have slept at some point; it’s impossible that she’s lain awake, staring at the clock for eight hours. But that doesn’t make her any less tired, and so when her alarm starts up, beeps cutting through the quiet white noise of the air conditioner, she reaches out and slaps it off.

Shirayuki may not sleep in, but Claire is certainly warming to the idea.

Her notebook sits open on the island; neat, looping script stretches across the page, straining the boundaries of the blue lines that contains it. She’d done her homework yesterday, combing through job sites to find the most likely candidates. There’s five on her list right now, ranked according to preference, and oh, is Shirayuki glad she had the gumption to do this before, because this morning she feels like roadkill being scraped off the blacktop.

Still, she worries at her lip as her laptop boots up, peering over her list. In the cold light of the morning, five seems too few, but...desperation hasn’t set in yet. She’s allowed to still have standards.

Wrapping her hands around her mug, she glances at the next page: another list. No, a set of instructions. Edit CV. Write cover letters.

Shirayuki groans. Even with the bullet points she left for herself, composing cover letters is a circle of hell all its own. With only three hours of solid sleep under her belt, it’s an insurmountable hurdle to getting hired.

“Right,” she murmurs, hooking an ankle around a stool and pulling it under her. “Editing it is.”

She clicks on the pdf Obi sent her, scrolling down and--

“Oh no.” She rears back from the screen, heart pounding. “No, no. There’s got to be a mistake...”

“Hey, baby,” Obi’s voice rumbles through her speaker. It’s thick and warm and would be utterly distracting if she were in any less of a crisis. “A little early for a b--?”

“What happened to my papers?”

“Uh.” All the suggestion in his tone evaporates. “What?”

“My papers.” Her hand grips the phone so tight it creaks. “They’re gone.”

His end goes silent. Silent enough to make that weird click, like the line’s cut out, and she pulls back to check--

“Someone stole your passport?” He laughs, incredulous. “Some sort of luck you have, Miss. Barely had it for a day and already you’ve gotten your identity stolen.”

She blinks into the barren air of her kitchen. “What?”

“You know,” he hums, too amused, “I picked out a cute house in the suburbs for safety, and here you are, getting robbed. Did you leave them in your car? Or did you just go out--”

“N-no!” She’s honestly half tempted to say what car, until she remembers the tasteful mid-sized SUV in the driveway, the one she’s still been calling the girlfriend car in her head, and realizes-- it’s hers. She’s the girlfriend.

Except she’s not. At all. Which is fine! She doesn’t even want that! If she’s still thinking about what his mouth feels like as he wraps them around his words, then--

She really can’t be thinking about this right now. “I mean my papers! I just looked at my CV and it’s a page!”

He hesitates, though not enough for the line to click again. “Isn’t that long enough?”

“CVs aren’t resumes,” she informs him patiently, pen twisting between her fingers. “They’re dick measuring contests--”

Her teeth snap around the words, but oh, it’s too late. They’re already out there in the aether, and he’s laughing.

“Now there’s something I didn’t think I’d hear out of you, Miss.” He doesn’t need to sound so pleased about it.

“It’s something my old PI used to say,” she mutters. Oh, Garak would be so proud of herself if she knew. “It’s not very polite, but she’s not, um, wrong.”

“I’m sorry the US government made you under endowed.” His words practically rattle as he says them. “It’s not the size that matters, Miss, but how you use it.”

“Obi,” she huffs. “All the work I’ve done for the past ten years of my life now is attributed to my birth name and my birth name only! According to this CV I have the same level of experience, but less papers than an undergrad! And you can’t tell me that any of these are searchable on PubMed.”

And none of them are first authors, is what she doesn’t say. It’s a petty thing to worry about when her entire academic career is functionally extinct.

“Hm.” His fingers drum quickly on a table. Desk? It’s strange not knowing anything about the man who is her only lifeline. “I’ll look into it.”

“I don’t want to be, um, alarmist, but I can’t get a job with this.” Her hand shakes as she scrolls down her screen. “No one is going to hire a post-doc with a one page CV.”

“Don’t worry, Miss. There’s a plan for this, somewhere.” She can feel his grin when he says, “You can’t be the first academic who’s had to go into hiding.”

She smiles, despite herself. “Considering some of the conferences I’ve been to, I can believe it.”

“Besides, you could always apply to pharmaceuticals.” The very word is like a donkey kick to her gut. “The pay’s supposed to be better--”

“I can’t work for Big Pharma.”

He hesitates. “You...can’t?”

“Obi, they make little old grandmas pay eight hundred dollars for insulin!” She presses a hand to her chest. “Banting and Best didn’t sell the patent for one dollar so that people could get gouged by--”

“I get it, I get it,” he assured her. “Preaching to the choir. But as a safety, I’m sure you could find one that isn’t stealing candy from babies.”

She huffs. “I doubt it.”

He rasps out a laugh. “I’ll see what I can do. As I said, can’t be the first PhD on the lam.”

Her mouth twitches. “Just yours?”

“You are certainly some kind of education, Miss.” He hums. “Give me a day. See what I can turn up.”

“You have two,” she informs him magnanimously. “I have the luncheon tomorrow.”

“Oh, right.” She doesn’t need to see him to know he’s lounging, smug like a cat post-canary. “Looking forward to joining the neighborhood’s Ladies’ Committee?”

“Ha ha,” she drawls flatly. “Very funny.”

He is unnervingly silent on the other end.

“You’re kidding, right?” Her voice certainly does not fill with a nervous quaver. “You guys don’t have things like that around here.”

Obi hums, humoring her.

“W-what would they even do?” She picks nervously at the sticker on her laptop, prying up part of NVIDIA. “Plan potlucks? Organize the Neighborhood Watch? Cotillions?”

She doesn’t know how he makes his grin so palpable over 4G. “Looking forward to your debut, Miss?”

Shirayuki scowls down at her screen. “I think I’m firmly up on the shelf, thank you. Now if you don’t mind, I have cookies to make.”

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #witness protection au #ans #i wanted SO BADLY to get to the ladies lunch this chapter #but a lot of the lead up in here got too long #and in the interest in cutting it at a place that made sense #it all got moved one chapter over #BUT it is almost to where the true conceit of this fic arrives #always a nice place to be

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pastthebutterflies · 4 years

Text

Amantes Maledic

Fundamentally, human dances and witches’ balls sound the same: fine clothes, plentiful food, corny decorations, endless dancing. Amity has to admit, without the added risk of being cursed hanging over your shoulder, human dances almost sound like more fun. Almost. Or, Luz and Amity go to a dance and gay panic ensues.

Read here or at https://archiveofourown.org/works/25159519

The Hexside Enchanter’s Ball is the quadrennial highlight of any learning witch’s life.

Amity hadn’t been, not yet, no one at Hexside had, but her parents insisted it would be the best night of her young life.

The ball, fun fact, had been where her parents had met for the first time. Both being adept spell-casters with a twin knack for illusions, it was a wonder to half the student body that they hadn’t met stumbled upon each other sooner.

But her father, having been the night’s first victim of what was known as the Lovers’ Curse, had slipped off to the hall to sulk alone only to find her mother in a similar state soon after. The rest, as they say, is history.

(“The curse may be meant to break hearts,” her mother says one day, staring lovingly at her ring. “But I think it mended mine.”)

According to Luz, who, since joining Hexside’s ranks, had taken to skipping up beside her in the halls between classes, human schools held their own Enchanters balls- called dances , there- once, sometimes twice a semester. How they don’t lose their charm happening so often, Amity isn’t sure. A ball is a special night, meant for moments like her parents’, happening every few months, to her, they lose all meaning.

(“Then there’s this one called the Sadie Hawkins Dance, where the girls ask the guys out. I was never really sure where that left me, though…” Luz tells her one day as they walk to class. She’s not quite sure what a Sadie Hawkins is, but Luz seems into it so she tries to like it too.)

Fundamentally though, human dances and witches’ balls sound the same: fine clothes, plentiful food, corny decorations, endless dancing. Amity has to admit, without the added risk of being cursed hanging over your shoulder, human dances almost sound like more fun.

Almost.

So, a few days later, when Luz asks her to go as her date, Amity is a little less than surprised. Their relationship as it stands is rocky at times, but overall hardening into something stable, familiar.

They’ve kissed, once, in the heat of the moment after a particularly grueling rescue from the Warden’s prison on the edge of town. Neither of them had mentioned the moment and since then, Amity was nearly tempted to believe Luz had forgotten all about it.

That is, until a bundle of flowers fall out of her locker as she’s leaving.

The flowers, yellow human world orchids if she isn’t mistaken (she isn’t), are tied together using a loose ribbon with a small card attached. In Luz’s careful handwriting she reads:

Turn around? <3

When she does so, Luz is already waiting, having somehow snuck up behind her. She’s rocking on her heels, wearing a crooked grin with her fingers tangled together in front of her.

“I know the whole ‘being seen in public with me’ bit isn’t really your thing and that our relationship is kind of-” Luz makes a scattered up and down gesture with her hand that actually sums them up rather well, “but do you want to go? With me? To the dance, I mean.”

The entire speech comes out in a single, rushed breath that leaves Luz looking as if she had just run a mile. With every syllable, her eyes had gotten wider, until, by the end, there are two wide saucers where her eyes should be.

“Luz, I-”

Don’t trust her, she thinks. Luz had helped the twins that night in the library, this was all just another trick. But she stopped them, too. Not to mention helped her stop Otabin the Bookmaker from sealing them both inside his story with him forever. But the abomination trick- which she had apologized for.

Saying no would be so much easier, she thinks, then, unfortunately, remembers that she still has the fifth Azura book in her bag. Yet another thing Luz hadn't had to do.

Amity looks to Luz, to the flowers, back to Luz. Her heart stutters.

“I’d love to.”

The week leading up to the Enchanter’s Ball, Amity’s parents dart around in a flurry of excited preparation.

She and her siblings are swept up into the commotion until they’re tried every piece of formal wear in the Boiling Isles. Her mother drags Amity and Emira all across town until they eventually agree on something suitable, while their father takes Elric to get his suit fitted.

Overall, it’s a busy week filled with nothing she finds all that important, but goes along with for her parents’ sake. The dress she eventually settles on is a mix of purple and black that stretches to her knees- a bit simple for her family’s usual taste, but it’s comfortable, she likes it, and she thinks Luz will too, so it stays.

She isn’t sure what Luz will show up in. Considering she had jumped here from the human world with only her backpack, Amity isn’t sure where she’s planning to find clothes without any money, short of raiding Eda’s closet. With how secretive Luz had been about the whole night, Amity doubts she’ll know much of anything until they get there. But, knowing Luz, she had a feeling things will work out exactly as they’re meant to.

Well, that, or the entire evening will descend into chaos like they are prone to when Luz is around. She figures there’s a fifty-fifty shot.

“You know, break her heart and it’ll be the last thing you do.”

The morning before the ball, Willow chases her down on their way to school. It only takes her a moment to realize that they are stopped in the same clearing as the day Willow’s ‘abomination’ had stolen her spotlight in class...so she had tried to have Luz dissected. Good times.

The glare Willow wears as she plants herself in front of Amity is more threatening than she ever remembers her being in all the years they had known each other. She’s almost proud, Luz must be rubbing off on her.

Still indignation pokes at Amity and pushes her to snap back, “Or you’ll what? Poke me with one of your thorns?”

Willow crosses her arms in a way that’s so Willow, that it causes a twinge of regret to rise up in her chest. “I’m not the one you should be worried about, or did you forget that Luz lives with a demon king and the most powerful witch on the Boiling Isles?”

Amity scoffs, “please, King? He’s harmless.”

“But Eda isn’t.”

She’s heard the stories from Lilith countless times. Eda was- and still is- a menace when she wants to be. She won’t admit it, not to Willow, but Eda is the last person she wants to get on the wrong side of.

“I won’t hurt her,” she promises, and means it.

“I know.”

That night, her parents think she is going alone and, for once, the twins don’t try to correct them. Her parents wouldn’t care that Amity is going with a girl, people don’t care about that nearly as much as they seem to in the human world- it was more the human aspect that concerned her. Humans weren’t common in their world and neither Amity nor the twins were exactly keen on explaining that she was kind-of-sort-of dating the first one to visit in over a decade.

Instead, when it came time, the three of them slipped out the front door and went their separate ways. Elric and Emira vanished as soon as the house was out of sight. They claimed that, with every adult worth worrying about being distracted, the opportunity in front of them was too good to waste.

She hadn’t asked for details.

When she arrives, Luz is nowhere in sight. Running late, most likely.

As her classmates begin to file into the building, she waits outside, pressed against the wall. The wind ruffles her skirt as she scans the crowd, but there’s no sign of Luz, not even as Gus and Willow head in, who seem to be searching as well.

Inside, the music drifts out to shake the walls of Hexside so hard she can feel the vibrations underfoot as she waits. Party of a lifetime, now she just needed to enjoy it.

Eventually, the crowd thins out and leaves Amity alone. If she heads in now, chances are that she will find Luz waiting, ready to bounce off the walls all evening and wondering what took her so long. With all the students flooding by, she had probably missed her heading in. Nothing to worry about.

Knowing this, Amity stays outside a moment longer, scanning the empty treeline, before she kicks off the wall and finally heads in.

Down the road, just out of sight, Luz swallows around the lump in her throat, then pushes ahead.

The Lovers’ Curse, otherwise known as “Amantes Maledic,” has been with the Hexside Enchanter’s Ball for as long as time can tell.

First cast against Delaney Wail and her date, Frederick Morrister, by an angry ex-lover at Hexside’s first ever Enchanter’s Ball, the two were doomed to be bitterly torn apart by night’s end. However, inexperienced but powerful, the spell’s caster not only cursed Wail and her date, but the entire ball.

On that fateful night, every couple in attendance is said to have turned on one another in the span of an hour and, in the process, nearly tore the school apart from the inside out. Though the spell has since lost its potency, legend says that each year, the curse will still take a victim.

-Pg. 198 of “A Cohesive History of the Enchanter’s Ball”

Luz still hadn’t shown.

Amity has checked every place she can think of, then checked them again. But the dance floor is no less wild than she would expect one filled with wild, sugar-crazed witches to be, the buffet is still in stock, meaning Luz, with King most likely sneaking in behind her, hadn’t yet been raided, and Gus and Willow only look at her pitifully when she asks if they knew what was going on. She’s not here.

Luz isn’t here, but Amity is, alone.

There’s no one else around she can sit with, either. Boscha and her other friends aren’t exactly her biggest fans at the moment and sitting with Willow and Gus by herself is asking for an awkward time. If Elric and Emira were here, she could hide with them, but they’re off doing who knows where doing who knows what and Amity isn’t sure she wants to get involved in another one of their schemes anyway.

After a final loop around the room, Amity all but throws her hands up, and Willow was worried about her being the issue.

Stupid Luz, stupid dance, stupid- what were you thinking?

Deep down, she should have known this was going to go downhill. Every second with Luz was another way to crash and burn, the girl was a walking disaster magnet. For all Amity knew, she was off helping the twins on their latest plot- or this was their latest plot. But, she wouldn’t, this time wasn’t like the library, she hadn’t known.

With no one around to see, Amity kicks the wall, only to hop back, hissing, as her toe connects with solid stone.

“Come on,” she cries as she flies off balance.

Her arms start to flail as she tumbles backward, only to suddenly stop just as she expects her head to meet stone when arms wrap around her middle and pull her back up.

Better than bleeding out in an abandoned hallway, she supposes.

As soon as she’s back on her feet, Amity spins around, a thank you on her lips, when-

“Luz?”

Her outfit is a patchwork mishmash of tuxedo, bright pink skirts, and heavy leather boots, in a way that’s handsome and beautiful all at once. She’s thoroughly, one hundred percent Luz. In short?

She looks absolutely stunning.

“Amity!” The sudden sheepish expression she wears doesn’t match the rest of her at all, it’s unnerving.

“Where have you been?” She demands.

“I-”

“Did you realize I’ve been waiting all night and you couldn’t be bothered to show? Did Eda need you for some crazy spell? Is that what’s important to you?”

Hurt flashes across Luz’s face and, for a split second she thinks good, then remembers what Willow said and knows she has to prove her wrong, if only for Luz’s sake.

“Sorry, sorry,” she says. “That wasn’t fair, whatever happened probably wasn’t your fault. You just really worried me.”

“No,” Luz says, arms wrapped tightly around her torso. “I should have told you sooner. About tonight. I got scared, I almost didn’t come.”

Oh, oh .

She really should have seen that one coming. Of course Amity couldn’t keep this, she had never had it to begin with.

“You didn’t want to be here, not with me.” She backs up, ignores the way her voice breaks. “Gus and Willow are inside, you should go find them.”

She pushes past Luz to find the exit, a bathroom, somewhere that isn’t here. She knew it, knew it.

“I was scared of the curse,” Luz shouts behind her.

At that, Amity pauses, frowns. Turns around again.

“The what?”

“The curse ,” she repeats. “The Lovers’ Curse, the one everyone keeps talking about.”

Amity blinks and presses one hand to her temple.

“You...Thought we were going to be cursed?”

Face red, Luz nods.

A part of Amity wants to laugh, another part wants to kiss Luz on the spot and never let her go, while a third, much smaller part still wants to walk away while she has the chance.

Thankfully, logic steps in and tells her to take Luz by the shoulders.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

She shrugs, “look, I still don’t get all the ins and outs of the Boiling Isles. I was scared it might all be some dumb joke or just another thing I didn’t understand. I wanted you to think I knew what I was doing for once.”

There’s a good chance Amity is blushing, hard, right now. In the darkness of the hall, she hopes Luz can’t tell.

“I don’t think anyone has ever cared that much before,” her hands slide down to intertwine with Luz’s. She leans close and kisses her on the cheek. “Thank you.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Never,” she promises. “And if it helps, I heard Ervin Fowler and his date stormed out about an hour ago.”

“Those two? They seemed so solid…”

“It’s a curse, what did you expect? If it helps, they’ll both bounce back by tomorrow. Their relationship may be a mess, but the physical effects of the curse don’t last long outside Hexside.”

“So, they’ll be okay?”

“As okay as you can be after a bad break-up.”

They’re both less tense, now, she can feel it in the way Luz’s shoulders drop, not wound up, like she was waiting for the final blow. An easy grin has taken over her face, as well, the one that, on a good day, would mean she was up to something.

“Hey,” Amity says after a moment. “Do you wanna dance?”

“More than anything.”

As they slip into the crowd, the music quickly rises up around them, filling up the space between them until there’s nothing left but her, Luz, and the beat.

As the world slips away, Amity leans in and holds on tight.

#the owl house #lumity #based off the season 1b promo #listen I know they're calling it Grom #but I literally started writing this right after I saw the photo #so I'm sticking with my name #oops #lydsfics #my writing

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lovemollywho · 4 years

Text

Thoughts of the Past - Forever

Alright people, last chapter. Thank yall for coming on this adventure with me, I present to you the longest chapter I’ve ever written, which for my first fic I’m super proud of :)

Previous Chapter

CW: Angst with an open happy ending

“Soda,” Lorcan stuttered out. “Rowan asked me if I wanted a soda.” Lorcan cleared his throat and wiped his sweaty palms onto his jeans before stuffing them into his pocket. The corners of Elide’s mouth tugged into a small smile before nodding her head.

“I didn’t think you were coming, actually I didn’t even know that you knew my show was tonight.” Elide said, crossing her arms, placing her hands on her elbows.

“I, uh, I asked Rowan,” Lorcan cleared his throat again and crossed his arms over his chest mimicking Elide. “I asked Rowan about you...a lot. After our conversation at the diner I asked him to tell me when the show was.” Lorcan told Elide all while looking at his shoes. He didn’t know why he just felt like he wasn’t worthy of looking at her anymore. Elide bent at the waist bringing her head under his, forcing Lorcan to look up...or down, Gods she was so tiny.

“Why?” She asked him when he finally met her eyes. “I wanted you to know that it was never about you Elide.” Her eyes widened and he saw the look of hurt in them before she turned to look at the final piece in her installation.

“Shit, no, Ellie that’s all wrong. That’s not what I meant.” Lorcan stumbled, kicking himself for never being good with words. “Gods I didn’t mean it like that.” Elide could see from the corner of her eye when he started fidgeting with the ribbon hair tie that was around his wrist.

“Then what did you mean?” She asked, ignoring the twist in her heart.

“Oh my goodness,” a voice said from behind the two of them, “Aren’t you Elide Lochan?” Elide offered the woman a small smile before nodding yes. “Oh stars, oh wow, everything was so beautiful and I was literally telling my husband all the pieces that I want.” The lady smiled at her husband who looked at his wife with utter adoration. “Some pieces that I wanted, I was wondering if I could talk to you about if that’s alright? Just so that way, I know how to discuss them with my friends when they come over.” The older lady smiled at Elide in the way that all rich people seem to think that everyone’s time should be theirs because they had money.

“Actually, I’m so sorry but…”

“It’s fine,” Lorcan interrupted. Elide turned to him shocked. “In fact I was just leaving. Goodnight.” He bowed his head slightly in farewell. The lady was positively beaming that she had all the time in the world to talk to the artist. He got a couple of steps away before he felt Elide’s small hand on his arm.

“Where are you going? We were in the middle of talking.” Lorcan looked at the lady behind him who looked put out. “This is your night Elide. I don’t want to ruin that. I just came to support you, because I should have always been here to support you, and I know I messed up but I want to make it right.”

“Then talk to me.” Elide hated the way that she sounded pleading. Lorcan took her hand gently off of his arm.

“I will. But there are so many people who want to talk to you and praise you about your art. Tomorrow, okay? I’ll text you and we can meet somewhere for lunch or coffee, or whatever fits your schedule.” Elide looked at her hand that Lorcan was holding as he brought it to his mouth to give her a small kiss on the back of the hand.

“Tomorrow?” She asked. Lorcan nodded, “Tomorrow.” He let go of her hand and started to walk to the door. Elide wanted to run after him, had so many questions she wanted to ask but she knew that he was right. If they continued talking here, they would have kept getting interrupted. So instead she turned back to the couple that had been talking to her, placed a bright smile on her face and said, “Sorry about that, you said you had some questions?”

-------------

It had been a long day and Lorcan was ready for bed. He laid on his mattress but despite the exhaustion he was still too keyed up. Elide was entitled to her feelings, and if she decided to never forgive Lorcan, to walk away and completely remove him from her life he would have to find a way to live with that.

Sighing, Lorcan sat up in his bed. There was no way that he was going to be able to sleep, not with all the noise in his head. He got up and made his way into the kitchen to make himself some tea, while he was waiting for the kettle to get hot he saw his journal, picking up the pen that he left beside it he began to jot down his thoughts, hoping that it would help clear his mind.

-------------

Three cups of tea later, Lorcan was beginning to brew his fourth cup when he heard the sound of the front door unlocking. Lorcan grabbed the frying pan off of the stove and walked to the front door to find Elide kicking the door shut behind her, eyeing the frying pan in Lorcan’s hand.

“Elide, what...what the hell?” Lorcan said walking back into the kitchen to place the frying pan down.

“Calm down Rapunzel it’s just me.” She said kicking off her shoes and placing her bag on the hook by the door. The sight squeezed Lorcan’s heart a little as so many memories of her coming home and doing that exact routine hit him.

“It’s three in the morning El. What are you doing here?”

“You said that we would talk tomorrow, it’s tomorrow.” She said throwing herself on the couch.

“I didn’t expect you to come busting through the door.” He said moving back into the kitchen.

“First of all, I have a key. Second, the gallery show was in the neighborhood so I figured now would be as good as time as any.”

“I could have been asleep,” Lorcan muttered, coming into the room with two steaming mugs. He placed one in front of Elide and sat on the armchair next to the couch.

“I could see the light from the street, and I know you can’t sleep with any of the lights on.” Again his heart gave a small squeeze. He watched her pick up the mug in front of her and take a tentative sip.

“Peppermint?” She asked. Lorcan nodded.

“It helps with my headaches,” Lorcan said with a shrug. “It’s sweet,” Elide said before taking another sip. Lorcan took a sip out of his own mug before answering, “I added sugar to yours, I know you don’t like plain tea.” Elide looked at the cup in her hands before placing it back on the coffee table.

“You said you were in the neighborhood?” Lorcan asked.

“What of it?” Elide asked. Lorcan looked at her outfit, she was in yoga pants and a white shirt that hit around mid-thigh. Her face was clean of the makeup she wore at the gallery event except for some light mascara and the tinted lip balm she always wore. If he hadn’t seen her tonight dressed up, he probably would have believed her when she said she was in the neighborhood, there was a bakery that stayed open till 2 am, but with her hair pulled up and the fuzzy socks she was wearing, he knew that she had gone over to Aelin’s place on the other side of town first, and then traveled all the way back here.

“I’m sorry, can you put on a shirt please?” Elide asked, crossing her leg underneath her on the couch. Lorcan looked down at his bare chest, he had pulled on some sweatpants when he realized he wasn’t going to bed but he got hot quickly in their apartment and so he hadn’t put a shirt on.

Lorcan got up and smiled softly as he took another sip of his tea and walked into the bedroom to find a spare shirt. Despite all the shit that had happened in the past couple of weeks it was always so nice to be around Elide. She had steel in her bones and mischief in her eyes that told everyone that she was down for anything but wouldn’t let take anyone’s shit. Sliding his shirt on, the nervousness came back. He didn’t think he was ready to have this conversation but if Elide was then he would, for her.

He stopped short when he walked back into the room. Elide was standing, flipping through the pages of his journal, a furrow between her brows as she sped through the words.

Lorcan cleared his throat and she looked up abruptly, fire in her eyes.

“What the fuck is this?” She asked, turning her eyes back to the book. “How to fall in love again. Go to wildflower fields in the spring, learn how to make mousse, buy a dog, or rent one.” Lorcan walked over to the coffee table to set his mug down, before walking over to Elide and taking the journal from her hands.

“I’m sorry, you weren’t supposed to see that.” he walked over to one of the bookshelves and placed the journal down.

“I wasn’t...I wasn’t supposed to see that?” She asked incredulously.

Something snapped inside of Elide as she walked over to where Lorcan stood and slapped him across the face, the sound ringing out, and Elide stepped back and put a hand over her mouth as if she couldn’t believe she had done that.

“Shit!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t mean to do that.” Lorcan brought his hand to his face to rub at the area. “Actually,” Elide said running her hands through her hair, and pulling it up into a ponytail, “I did mean that. You are an ass, Lorcan. A huge fucking jackass. You haven’t called, or texted, and then you show up at my show out of fucking nowhere! And now I shouldn’t be sorry. I’m not the one who should be apologizing. Fuck you!” Elide was pacing the entire time she was speaking. Elide pulled her hair down from her ponytail and tried to pull it back up into a bun when her hair tie broke.

“Fuck!” She yelled. Lorcan snapped out of his stupor and took the ribbon hair tie off his wrist and offered it to Elide in a silent offering. Elide looked at it with eyes shining before accepting the hair tie from him. She ran her fingers over the ribbon before tying her hair back in a low ponytail. It was silent for a moment before she said, “I’m so angry.” It was said softly as if it had escaped her mouth before she could stop it.

“I know,” Lorcan responded, moving to fidget with the hair tie that was no longer on his wrist.

“That’s it?” Elide scoffed. “You know?” The fight was building inside of her once again. “What is it that you think you know Lorcan? Huh? Do you know about the nights that I just wanted you home? But you were out getting drunk and then waking me up because you’re making so much noise? I’ll admit it was cute the first couple of times but at a certain point it needed to have stopped.” Elide started her pacing again. “Do you know about how some of my friends from work thought that we had broken up a long time before we actually did because nobody had seen you show up for our lunch dates or dinner dates, or pick me up when I was sick, and I had to defend our relationship to people who didn’t even know us?

Let’s talk about the fact that there were times that I wondered if you even knew that I was here, because you didn’t pay attention to me, didn’t bother to talk to me. There were days when I wouldn’t be home. Did you notice? Did you not care?” Elide swiped her hands under her eyes to clear away the tears that were falling.

“You know nothing.” She said enunciating each word. “I’m angry, Lorcan because it took me leaving for you to get your act together. I’m angry,” She paused, “ because you told me once that I was the love of your life and yet could do nothing to help you. I’m angry because,” She stopped her pacing in front of Lorcan looking at him in the eye.

“You didn’t even try to stop me.” She whispered, her breathing becoming slightly erratic as she swiped her hands under her eyes again. Lorcan pulled her into a hug and she beat her fist against his chest. “Why didn’t you try and stop me?” She asked, full heartbreaking sobs escaping from her mouth. Lorcan pulled her tightly against his chest until she stopped hitting him.

“Our whole relationship...I never,” Lorcan signed onto the top of Elide’s hair, “I never felt good enough. Like, I didn’t deserve you, and that there were so many other people out there who could take care of you better. I didn’t know how to take care of you, I didn’t know how to communicate with you about all my insecurities because for once in my life there was this amazing thing in front of me. And I was scared Ellie, I was so scared of screwing up with you that I would take a shot of something before we went out to help calm me down, to put those insecurities at the back of my mind to just...have fun and be someone you could love.”

Elide pulled back from the embrace.

“So you’re saying that this is my fault?” She stepped back

“What? No, that’s not what I’m saying at all. Fuck, I can’t say anything right.” Lorcan ran a hand through his hair. Flexing his fingers in an open-close gesture, something that happened a lot more since he had quit drinking.

Lorcan took a deep breath. “I can’t explain anything without it sounding like an excuse. I can’t say that I didn’t know that you were hurting, because I did, I just couldn’t, no I wouldn’t do anything about it because I was, am, a selfish person.”

“There’s a part of me that wants to know everything, all the why’s and what-ifs but another part of me knows that it’ll eat away at me forever trying to figure out what was going on inside your head. You didn’t stop me Lorcan. That was the biggest fuck you to my face, to the love I had for you, for everything that we had built together.”

“I needed to think.” Elide scoffed. “El, please. I couldn’t think, my mind was all fuzzy and it was like there was this piece of glass between you and I. I heard the words and I knew what they meant, but I’m telling you that I’m an asshole and I thought that you would be here when I came back and we could actually have the conversation that we needed.”

Elide’s chin began to wobble as she tried to hold back her tears. She hated that she was crying in front of Lorcan...again. She felt a burn in her throat from restricting her tears, but she didn’t want to fall into the same cycle of cry, forgive, repeat. Ever since she left Lorcan she felt as if a part of her was missing. It was a wound that was bleeding her dry, she could feel it the same way people can sometimes still feel the limbs that they lost. That was what her show had been about, trying to take this pain that she was feeling and move on from it, so why did it hurt so much to have Lorcan assume she would just be there when he got back?

Elide walked over to the couch to sit down, trying to get some distance between her and Lorcan. “What would have made that conversation different? Huh? In fact what makes this conversation different? Are you going to tell me sorry again Lorcan?”

“No,” Lorcan said, wiping a hand over his face. Elide’s face looked murderous. This conversation was not going the way that the thought it would - granted it wasn’t as if he had high hopes for this conversation, to begin with, he just thought it would be during the day when he was a little more awake. “I’m not going to apologize, you told me that it wouldn’t mean anything if I did, and I can’t blame you for thinking that.” Elide pulled her knees up to her chest.

“So what happens now then?” Lorcan took a seat in the armchair again bracing his elbows on his knees and bringing his hands to his mouth.

“I don’t know.” He said. “Part of my recovery is to apologize to people that I’ve hurt, and I could spend the rest of my life telling you sorry El, but I know that the wounds I’ve created run deep and I... I don’t know how to fix them.” Elide could no longer hold back the tears that were streaming down her face. Lorcan got down on his knees before her, making them more at eye level. Ever so gently he put her face in his hands and brushed away the tears with his thumbs. He was so gentle and it made Elide cry even harder.

“If you let me, I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you,” Lorcan’s voice cracked with emotion, letting his own tears fall. “Every day, and I know it still won’t be enough.” Elide let her knees fall into a crossed position, to wipe away some of the tears on Lorcan’s face. Elide could feel the rage she walked in the door with slipping away. It was hard because she wanted to be angry, she was hurt but they had never had a conversation like this. Never had a conversation this open, and sure there was still so much left to say but she wanted to believe that if they could have a conversation like this now, why couldn’t they have more in the future.

But another part of her, the part that was tired and bitter told her that nothing would change. That they had had conversations like this before. That Lorcan told her that he would be better before.

Elide leaned away from his hands and wiped her face, standing up and walking towards the kitchen for something to wipe her nose. She paused in the archway of the kitchen and saw Lorcan still on his knees before the couch head bent, Elide crossed her arms over the chest, holding herself back from going over there and giving him a hug.

She walked over to him, “I don’t know.” She whispered. Lorcan turned his head to her. “I don’t know what would make this time different.” Lorcan nodded his head and turned to sit on the couch. He wiped his hands across his face. “I know. I knew it wouldn’t be easy for you to forgive me and realistically I wouldn’t ask you to either”

“I forgave you.” Elide said, still standing. “I forgave you the moment I knew I was going to come over here. It’s forgetting that’s going to be harder. I need...time”

“I wouldn’t have expected anything else.” Lorcan took a deep breath. “But I don’t think that you should forget. I need to learn from my mistakes so that I don’t make them again. I let my fears and insecurities drown me instead of talking to you. I let myself believe that my problems were my own and if you were hurting that you would talk to me.”

“That’s not fair, I told you I didn’t like you drinking. I told you when I was upset.”

“But you still haven’t told me about your uncle. You still haven’t told me about why you keep your apartment even though we’ve been together for over two years. And I’m not blaming you - how could you be open with me when I wasn’t open with you, but Elide,” Lorcan ran a hand through his hair not sure how to continue the sentence. Elide came to sit next to him on the couch, facing towards him.

“You’re right.” She said. “I didn’t want to add my problems to yours. But that’s not an excuse for drinking Lor.”

“I’m not saying it is. I just think that moving forward there has to be more communication.”

“I want to move forward. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to move forward. I just thought that maybe you didn’t want to move forward with me” Lorcan gave her an incredulous look.

“What?” He asked.

“The journal,” Elide started giving Lorcan a confused look. “It said ‘how to fall in love again’, I thought you were trying to move on.” Despite everything, Lorcan started to laugh.

“That list is for you, for us. If you didn’t want anything to do with me I would have understood, but if I had thought that there was a slight chance that I could make it right I was going to do everything on that list.” Elide’s eyes started to fill with tears again causing Lorcan to panic slightly.

“You idiot, if I loved you less I wouldn’t have shown up.” Lorcan expression changed from panic to shock to awe.

“You mean…?”

“I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you, I left because I was suffocating. And it was like,” She cut herself off. “I couldn’t breath under the weight of everything that wasn’t being said between us.”

“How did we get so lost?” Lorcan asked when Elide put her head on his shoulder.

“I don’t know,” she whispered back. They sat there in silence for a while, reflecting on everything they had said and everything that still needed to be said.

“I don’t know,” Lorcan stated after a while, “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but what if, what if we tried again.” Elide lifted her head off his shoulder to look up at him. “What if we tried and this time we talked. And I’ll continue going to AA and therapy, and we can tell each other the things that need to be said, your past, my fears, everything.”

Elide smiled at Lorcan, “But it has to be everything,” she said, “even if it hurts, even if we’re scared. Because we’re a team Lorcan, there’s no one I would want by my side than you.” Lorcan put his arm around Elide into a hug, but the angle was awkward so Elide did what she had done so many times before, she twisted onto his lap and buried her face into Lorcan’s neck.

Lorcan buried his face into her hair and breathed deeply.

“I’ve missed you El.” Elide snuggled deeper into his lap. “I’ve missed you too.” She said. And they sat there together for a while before she pulled herself back and took Lorcan’s face into her hands. “But if you ever, and I mean ever, pull this shit again there will not be any more second chances.” Lorcan smiled at her, “Yes ma’am.” Elide looked into his eyes and found whatever truth she was searching for in them and nodded at him.

“Great, let’s go then.” She got off his lap and moved towards the front door.

“Go? Where are we going?” Elide was putting on her shoes and grabbing her purse off the hook, pulling her hair into a messy bun.

“It’s like almost seven in the morning and I want chocolate chip waffles.” She stood at the door waiting for him, giving him a look of impatience that split into a smile. Lorcan walked over to the bedroom and grabbed socks and shoes while Elide scrolled through news articles about her show and Lorcan knew that he would do anything he could to keep her in his life.

--------------

It was early in the morning and Lorcan was asleep on the couch in Rowan’s apartment. After a day of hanging out at the lake and then having an all-night movie marathon everyone had finally gone to sleep a couple of hours ago, so why was someone making so much noise?

Lorcan cracked an eye open to find Elide searching for something, and while she was trying to be quiet Lorcan had always been a light sleeper.

“What are you looking for?” Lorcan asked, his voice still thick with sleep. Elide jumped slightly, “Shit, why are you awake?” She asked accusatorily, “The better question is, why are you awake?” He asked her back. She looked at him for a while before saying, “It’s like seven in the morning and I want chocolate chip waffles.”

Lorcan rubbed his hands over his face trying to wake up before he sat up.

“Okay.” Elide looked at him.

“What?” She asked.

“Okay, let's go get waffles.” He got up to find his shoes and put them on, his mouth felt gross with morning breath but he didn’t have a toothbrush here.

“You don’t have to come with me.” Elide said, “I was just trying to find my keys.” Lorcan pulled out his keys from his pant pockets and held them up. “We can look for your keys after I get breakfast.” He said and Elide smiled up at him. It was a smile so big he couldn’t help but smile back, it made Elide’s smile even bigger.

“Two.” She said, heading towards the door.

“What?” He asked, closing it behind him.

“That’s the second time I’ve ever seen you smile Lorcan Salvaterre.”

“What was the first?” Lorcan asked, trying to rack his memory.

“Yesterday at the lake, you were sitting on the curb and I remember thinking that I wanted to paint you.”

“You’re an artist?” Lorcan asked unlocking the door and getting inside the car.

“Not yet, but someday.” She said buckling her seatbelt. Lorcan smiled again, “Well buy me breakfast and you can paint me whenever you want.

Elide smiled at him again and Lorcan knew this girl was going to be trouble, “You have a deal Salvaterre.”

---------------

AHHHHH it’s done! Sorry for all the angst, it got really dark there for a moment. I’m working on some fluff to make up for it but I don’t know when that’s going to go up, maybe send me some prompts?

tag list:

@nalgenewhore @safewithintheheart @bibliophileaddict @acer6437 @tswaney17 @starseternalnighttriumphant @bat-wing-rhys @b00kworm @queen-of-glass @hizqueen4life

#Thoughts of the Past #lorcan x elide #my writing

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foreveralwaysanauthor · 4 years

Text

The Artist’s Abilities

Monthly Prompts Day 14

August 14th - Latte

AU Used: Coffee Shop AU and Modern AU

Characters: Butchy (Teen Beach Movie) and Makana “Mick” Birch (OC)

Notes: The idea for this is based off of how my parents met. I think it’s cute!

Five months, one week and three days; that was how long Mick had been working the overnight shift at Leaves and Beans Cafe. She knew all of the bikers and truck drivers that came in by name already. Most of them only stopped in for a donut or two and some coffee, but, then again, she always kept it fresh just for them and they admired that. According to many of them, the last person who had the overnight shift was a boy who “couldn’t tell his ass from his elbow” and didn’t know how to change the filters. Once or twice a night, a few of the local police would stop by for some coffee and to check in on Mick as she was the only one there from six at night until six the next morning.

Over all, Mick really liked her job.

Now and then, a few stoners would come in, high as a kite, trying to use ticket from the nearby arcade to pay for their midnight munchies. The funniest one Mick remembered was when Officer Martinez had been sitting behind the counter, playing cards with Mick when a very intoxicated woman stumbled into the shop, slapping a crumpled and tattered Monopoly dollar on the counter, insisting that it was her normal form of currency. One charge of public intoxication later, the woman was banned from the store until six months after her release from prison. Mick wasn’t exactly sure what part of that night she liked most.

Mick’s favorite night, however, was about four months into her job at the cafe. That night, a mechanic from an auto repair shop across the street stopped in. The man had never come in during Mick’s night shift before but he seemed nice enough. He seemed fairly shy at first, simply asking for a coffee, black, with a breakfast sandwich as he was going to be at work for another three or four hours and didn’t have another break to go on. It was already after midnight that night, so Mick threw in another sandwich that she decided to pay for and an energy shot that she had brought from home.

She could make it through the night no problem if she made herself some espresso later on, but this guy looked exhausted already and would need some form of a pick-me-up.

The next time he stopped by, she greeted him with civility as though she’d known him for a while. The mechanic only asked for a coffee, this time adding in a double shot of espresso. He gave her an extra three dollars from what he had to pay, leaving before she got the chance to stop him. It was a simple payback for the energy shot and sandwich she had given him the first time.

Over the next two weeks, he stopped in only when he knew she had next to nobody in the shop. After his fifth visit, Mick confronted her coworkers about the man. Nobody in the cafe knew his name, but a girl from the morning shift, an old classmate of Mick’s named Johanna, claimed that he stopped in to get a coffee every now and then, but when the place was next to empty, he would order a latte with quadruple espresso and a bacon breakfast sandwich.

When the man came in again, she asked if he had ever signed up for their savings card. He told her no and that nobody had ever told him there was one. Mick responded with the fact that, if he ordered any coffees, teas, or lattes, it would get stamped and, after fifteen stamps, he’d get a free drink of his choice. All she needed was his name for the card as she had plenty of truckers, bikers and cops in the card system already.

The man agreed to sign up, taking a piece of paper from Mick and signing his name on it so she could put it into the computer and give him his card. Once it printed out, she applied five stamps to it and handed it back to the man that she now knew as Butchy.

After three more weeks and fourteen stamps had accumulated on Butchy’s card, Mick waited until the clock neared the time Butchy had chosen as the time he would always stop in. She started up the espresso machine, ground up the beans and stamped them, preparing a quadruple espresso while she waited for the milk to be ready. She glanced at the clock, seeing just three minutes left before the door would open and Butchy would be in to get his drink.

Mick smiled as she poured the milk into the cup with the espresso, picking up a toothpick from the counter and going to work on something simple for her newest friend. She took a couple napkins from the nearby dispenser, scrawling out a message for Butchy as quickly as she could. Mick took one last look at the clock, seeing the familiar shine of Butchy’s motorcycle’s headlights as he pulled up outside and she ducked into the back room to start on the next batch of sandwiches that the one o’clock truckers would ask for.

Mick heard the front door open and close with a chime and listened as Butchy called out for her from the other room, yet she continued on working, deciding that she would hear from him sooner or later. Mick hummed along to the radio as she cooked up some sausage patties. After about five minutes, she heard the door open and close once more.

She peeked out the small window that lead from the kitchen to the main area, but nobody was there apart from herself and the guy on an advertisement for a sugar-filled soda they sold out of a cooler by the door. Mick finished the sandwiches after she made a dozen of them, wrapping them and labelling them so she could leave them on the counter for the truckers that would come in soon. As Mick placed the tray of food on the counter by the register, she noticed that the napkin and drink were gone.

With a sigh, she realized Butchy either didn’t notice the note or had probably thrown it out. She knew better; he was a handsome man and the chances of him being single were slim. If he had a girlfriend, good for them. A minute later, a set of bright headlights shone into the store, the rumble of an engine following soon after as the motorcycle it belonged to pulled away from the shop.

*ping ping*

Mick took up her phone from where she had left it by the espresso machine, seeing a new message from an unknown number.

“Thank you for the artwork on my latte. How did you know how I like it? And how did you draw that in the foam? I had no idea you could see the emblem on my bike from inside the shop, but I guess without the headlights, it’s easier to see it. You’re quite the artist, either way. Maybe we could go on a date to an art gallery or something. If you’re up for it, let me know and we can figure it out next time I stop in. If not, just ignore me and I’ll take the hint, ok? All the best, Butchy.”

For the longest time after that, Mick had a hard time wiping her smile off of her face.

#ForeverAlwaysPrompts #writing #writing prompt

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seokmattchuus · 5 years

Text

Bothered

- Requested -

A/N: Not my best? First full fic I’ve written since I came back to this blog. I’ve been writing short-ish ones for the other blog I’m on, so I’m not used it. (Ps. Maybe writing this after this whole week was a bad idea, but I felt bad because this was requested a while back, and I never finished it.)

“Are you gonna watch the show tonight?” Jinyoung asked through the phone, followed by a yawn.

“Of course I am. What kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t?” You question, slightly offended, causing him to chuckle slightly over the line.

“I wish I could tell you what to expect, but I don’t even know what episode is airing tonight. I haven’t kept track at all.” He said, sleepily.

“Well, I wouldn’t want spoilers anyways.” You started. “Plus, with the upcoming drama and comeback preparations, I’m sure you’re too tired too keep up with a previous show.” You paused as you realized he stopped making noises. “I mean, you’re practically falling asleep right now.” You smiled when he quickly denied your accusation. “I’m hanging up because you need to go to sleep. You need it.”

“But I wanna talk longer~” He whined.

“We can talk when you come over tomorrow.” You tried to negotiate.

“Promise?” He yawned again.

“Yes, I promise.” You chuckled. He was always clingy when he was tired.

“I love you.” You could hear the smile on his lips.

“I love you, too. Now go to sleep.” You smiled before hanging up, and reaching for your remote to turn the tv on, and change the channel.

You had to admit, you loved watching his dramas, but you hated that they aired so late. You’d always wanted to watch them with him, but he was always too tired from his schedules to ever actually do it.

You set your alarm and plugged your phone into the charger, given that you wouldn’t need it anymore. Also, going to the kitchen to grab some snacks since you still had about ten minutes before the show aired, returning with some chips and sweet tea, before settling into your bed right as the previous ending finished playing and the show started where it left off.

“I take it back, he should’ve told me this episode would be sad.” You sniffled, as the fight scene played out in front of you. It was expected but it still hurt like hell.

“I can’t just let you leave like this! You’re not even letting me explain!” Jinyoung’s character yelled at the younger actress, his hand slamming against the door to close it.

“What’s there to explain Minsoo?” Her voice broke as she turned to face him, tears welling in her eyes as she pushed him off of her, glaring as he stumbled back.

He looked at her, tears welling in his own eyes.

“I-I love you.”

The sincerity in his voice making your tears finally fall.

“What?” She said, shocked. Her eyes wide.

“I love you, Yujin.” He was walking back to her, his voice a little more confident than in the previous confession.

He was in front of her, his hands cupping her cheek as he wiped away her tears and lifted her head slightly so that he could easily lean down and hover his lips over hers, keeping them there for a few seconds before finally kissing her. His lips moved against hers in a way you’d never seen before, let alone felt him do with you before. Sure, you both had sex, but you could say he kept things on the vanilla side and you felt a small ping of jealousy rise in you that only grew as the kiss kept going and he pushed her against the door, that being the ending of the episode.

You sat there. Unsure of your emotions. You’d never had a problem with him kissing other girls on screen, especially when you knew Jinyoung was yours. Was it because she looked like the exact opposite of you? Because she was younger than you? What about her was pissing you off so much? Or was it because Jinyoung never kissed you liked that? Too many questions running through your mind as the next program started.

You don’t know when you fell asleep. The last thing you remember was looking at the clock, and seeing “3:00 AM”. However your phone ringing woke you up, Jinyoung’s name flashing across the screen, a picture of the both of you as his contact photo, causing you to roll your eyes before answering.

“Hello?” You groaned.

“Babe, did you just wake up?” He questioned. “Did your alarm not go off?”

“I think I slept through it.”

“I’ve been texting you all morning.” He sounded worried. “I thought something happened.”

“Can’t a girl oversleep?” You grumbled. “Just let me get ready, I’ll meet you at the cafe in like thirty minutes?” You guessed.

“I’ll just come over. You promised we could talk today, so you’re stuck me with.” He laughed. “See you in twenty.” He said, before hanging up. Leaving you to groan for the second time in less than five minutes getting up to take a shower and get ready.

After showering, you dried your hair enough to where it was no longer dripping, and you threw it into a bun, because a this point, you were in no mood to try to look good. You felt like shit due to the previous emotional breakdown, and lack of sleep, so you might as well look like it. Plus, you could always say you felt sick.

Walking by your closet, you grabbed a black long sleeve and threw it onto the bed, before grabbing some workout shorts from your drawers, along with some underwear, and got dressed.

As if on cue, you heard your doorbell ring as soon as you walked into your living room, and instead of going to the couch like you planned, you turned towards your door, and went to open it.

“Surprise!” He smiled, holding up two iced coffees in one hand, and a take out bag in the other, walking straight towards the kitchen table, you slowly following behind. “Are you not feeling well?” He asked, looking over your outfit.

“Yeah. I woke up feeling a little off.” You shrugged, walking towards the table. “Might be coming down with something.”

“I’ll buy you some medicine if you still feel like that later.” He smiled sweetly, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and you couldn’t help but remember how he acted completely different on screen the night before. The sweet Jinyoung you knew, the one that always took care of you, being so forward. Rough, almost. How could you have never seen him like that before? Come to think of it, you’d never even seen him mad or upset over anything. He was always so happy and unbothered by anything.

“You should eat.” His voice pulled you from your thoughts, placing two blueberry muffins in front of you, and pushing one of the iced coffees towards you. “Iced caramel macchiato.” He smirked. “Extra caramel.”

You gave him a small smiled, and picked at the sugar crystals on top of the muffins, not really in the mood to eat. Taking a few nibbles here and there.

“Y/n.” He broke the silence. “Something’s wrong, I know you that well.” He spoke seriously, causing you to scoff lightly.

“I told you. I’m sick.”

“You don’t eat when you’re sick.” He stated matter-of-factly, causing you to roll your eyes at his ability to know you that well. “And even when you are, you never turn down iced coffee. You even drank it when you had strep last month.”

“Nothing’s wrong.” You mumbled. Who was he to call you out?

“Just tell me.” His spoke softly. “I hate seeing you look so down.”

There it was. The sweet and caring Jinyoung you knew. And it only irked you more.

“Just drop it.” You spat. “It’s nothing you can fix anyways.”

“How would know if you haven’t even told me?” It sounded more like a statement than a question.

You cursed inwardly. Why couldn’t he just drop it? Why was he so adamant about this?

“It’s not like it’s that important. Just drop it.” You repeated, feeling your emotions build up, causing you to look down, your hand holding your head up. Why were you always so emotional when angry?

“Y/n.” He sighed.

“It’s childish.” You finally spoke, your voice softer now.

“Whatever it is, it’s making you upset and I hate that I don’t know how to help.” He said softly, and you buried your face in your hands, not wanting to face him.

“Jealous.” Was all you said, though it came out muffled, you were hoping he made it out because you really didn’t feel like repeating yourself.

You heard him sigh before he made his way in front of you, wrapping his fingers around your wrists to pull your hands down, and in an attempt to keep your face hidden, you dropped your head into his torso that was right in front of you, and wrapped your arms around his waist to hold on.

“Did you just say-” He stopped himself, placing his hands on your shoulders, trying to push you off of him, but you clung for dear life, slightly embarrassed to look at him. “Babe.” He said, his voice coming out stern. “Let me go.” He tried pushing you again, but you shook your head, and held tighter. “You can’t just say something like that and not expect me to talk about it.” He ran his hands through his hair, frustrated.

“There’s nothing to talk about. You wanted to know, now you know, so drop it.” You spoke against him, your words barely audible as you spoke into his shirt.

He sighed again. “I’m gonna give you three seconds to let go. I’m not dropping this.” His voice was stern again and it was starting to scare you. Was he mad?

“3″ He paused, waiting to see if you would do anything, when you didn’t he started again.

“2″ He paused again before placing his hands on your shoulders again.

“You had your chance.” Was all he said before shoving you off of him, and holding you in place at arms length. Had it not been for his grip on your shoulders, you were 99.9% sure you would’ve fell back.

You stared at him wide eyed, partially in shock at how he easily pushed you off but struggled the first couple times.

“I didn’t want to hurt you, but you’re really testing my patience.” Was all he said, as if reading your thoughts. “Now are you gonna talk to me about this or not?” He looked down at you.

You opted to stay quiet, trying to find the right words.

“C’mon.” Was all he said, holding his hand out to you. “Up.”

You stared at his hand, and slowly grabbed it. The second they touched, he pulled you off the chair and dragged you to the couch so you could both be eye level.

“What are you even jealous of?” His stern voice stayed as he stared at you, trying to read your face for anything. “I can’t-” He paused before closing his eyes, and sighing. “Was it the episode last night?”

You folded your lips in, not sure how to say it out loud without feeling childish.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He sighed. “What episode was it?”

"Six.”

“And what were you jealous of?” He stared at you.

“The way you were with her.” You paused.

“What do you mean?”

“The way you kissed her.” You said as if it was the most obvious thing. “You’re always so sweet and overly caring with me. But with her you just-” You felt weird saying it out loud. Suddenly wondering if it was even a valid reason to be upset. “It was a whole different you. The way you kiss me is soft and loving, but the way you kissed her. I’ve never seen you like that.”

“Wait.” He held up a hand. “You’re telling me you’re jealous because I had to act different with her than with you?” He said, trying to clarify.

“I told you it was stupid.” You said throwing your head into your hands, hoping to hide. “Plus, she’s so young and pretty. I thought it was her that made you act different.” You mumbled against your hands. “You were just so in charge of the situation. I’ve never seen you like that.”

“Babe.” He chuckled. “Put your hands down or I’ll do it for you.”

You slowly lowered your hands at the threat, watching as he smiled at you. “What’s so funny?” You narrowed your eyes

“You. You’re cute.” He chuckled again, patting his lap. “Come here.”

You scooted over and straddled his lap, watching as he stared at you.

“I hold back a lot more than I put out.” He chucked. “Why do you think you were so shocked when I pushed you off of me? You’ve never even seen me mad.”

“But I’m not this fragile little thing that you have to be so careful with.” You paused. “None of this would’ve even happened had you been like that before.” You grumbled.

“I can be like that with you if you want.” His tone changed and he looked at you, licking his lips.

You blinked at him. Was this really the Jinyoung you knew? The thought ran through your head of how he’d act and it had you biting your lip and nodding.

“I wanna hear you say it, baby.” He said, his hands wrapping around your waist to roll your hips against his.

“Yes please” You whispered.

“I didn’t even have to tell you to say ‘please’.” He smirked before doing it again. “Are you sure you were jealous of her looks? Or were you jealous of how rough I was with her?” He rolled your hips again. “I bet you wished it was you that was shoved up against that wall, huh?”

With how natural it sounded coming out of his mouth, you were starting to wonder if he’d been wanting to be like this the whole time, and only settling for holding back for your sake.

“I want words, baby.” He said.

“Can’t you just fuck me already?” You whined. He was too hot like this, and you were starting to think you couldn’t do it. You were already so needy, and all he had to do was fucking talk to you.

“Now where would the fun in that be? You said you wanted this.” He teased, his head dipping into the crook of your neck to trail kisses, while his hands kept you still. “I like to tease baby.” He said between kisses. “So that you’re nice and wet for me.” He whispered before biting down right above your collarbone, smirking against your skin as you moaned, your hand moving to grab the back of his hair, and your hips attempting to roll again, but his grip still firm.

“So needy.” He teased. “Who would’ve known.” He smirked at you before pushing you to the side so that you were now laying on the couch, Jinyoung’s body between your legs as he leaned over you. “You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to do this.” He whispered as his hand snaked around the back your neck, and smashed his lips against yours.

The kiss was rough and his grip on your neck was tight, almost like he was holding you in place while his lips gained control over yours, not that you put up a fight. Jinyoung had never kissed you like this, so you just went with it. This was something you could get used to, Jinyoung taking the lead. You’d be lying if you said this wasn’t a huge turn on. The way his lips pressed so hard against yours that your teeth were almost clashing together. The way he held your neck so possessively. The way his body towered over you while he did all of this just felt so great.

Sure, the sweet Jinyoung you knew was nice, but this side of him just suited him so much better, and you didn’t know how to describe it.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even feel his grip releasing your neck and travel down your body. What brought you back, was the feeling of his hand sliding under your shorts, and running a finger up your clothed slit, chuckling against your lips at the wet spot that was there, and pulled his hand away as fast as it came.

“Are you that easy, Y/n?” He cocked a brow as he pulled his lips away. “Or am I just that good?” He smiled, rolling his hips into yours, licking his lips as your eyes closed.

“How much longer are you going to tease?” You whimpered, getting another hip roll in response.

“Hmm?” He fake pondered. “Your little attitude earlier was pretty annoying, baby. Why should I give you what you want?”

“Jinyoung~” You whined, bucking your hips against his bulge and getting a groan in response. “I’m not the only one who’s needy.”

“This isn’t about me being needy, baby.” He said, sliding your shorts and panties down and tossing them on the floor. “It’s about proving a point.” He smirked, his hand cupping you. “Plus” He licked his lips as he rubbed his fingers against you, collecting your wetness and teasingly slipping a finger inside you, moving it slowly. “You seem like you’re enjoying yourself.”

You couldn’t help but whine at the action, your hand shooting down to grab his wrist in a silent plea to get him to give in.

“How about this.” He said, removing your hand from his wrist. “If you cum without my permission, I won’t fuck you.” He adding a second finger. “But if you can be a good girl and hold out for me, I’ll make sure to take real good care of you. Deal?”

“Yes.” You moaned, throwing your head back at the feeling of finally having something.

However, when Jinyoung had finally set a fast pace, you weren’t so sure you could hold up your end of the deal. Jinyoung knew this by the way you clenched around his fingers, and chuckled darkly before pressing his thumb onto your clit, biting his lip as he watched you struggle to focus on something else.

“Look at me, baby.” His voice was lower, and he slowed his pace momentarily. “I want you to look at me when you cum.”

“Who said I was gonna cum?” You panted, your gaze shifting towards him.

“I can tell by how your pussy’s squeezing my fingers.” He started. “And how you’re moans are getting higher. You’re not that far, babe.”

“So can I?” You licked your lips, your eyes still on him.

“No.” He smiled, before picking his pace back up, watching you throw your head back. “I said to look at me, Y/n.” You could hear the amusement in his voice and you felt like you were about to snap.

“Jinyoung, I-I can’t hold it, Please can I cum?” You looked at him with pleading eyes.

“Why should I let you?” He tilted his head to the side. “You were so frustrating.”

“I’m sorry just -fuck- please. Please, I can’t.”

“You sound so cute when you beg.” He cooed, pulling his hand away, and putting all his focus on your clit, rubbing harsh circles, watching as your mouth fell open in a silent scream. “Cum for me.” He whispered, watching as your thighs shook.

“You did so well for me, baby.” He smiled sweetly down at you, before removing his hand to undo his jeans and take himself out. “Think you can handle another one?” He asked, rubbing himself against your slit.

You nodded your head, the need for him overtaking any rational thoughts about the sensitive state that you were in. It only occurred to you once he slid his tip in, you hips trying to squirm away from him, but his hands quickly grabbing onto them to hold you still.

“Fuck, how are you always so tight.” He groaned, slowly sliding in.

“Jinyoung, fuck-.” You moaned out, your hands grabbing onto his wrists.

“I know, baby.” He said, pressing his lips onto yours until he bottomed out.

For probably the first time ever, he didn’t wait for you to adjust to him before he set a pace, not too slow, but not too brutal.

“Fuck-” You threw your head back, fingernails digging into his wrists as you felt the burn of sensitivity slowly fade into pleasure. “Faster, please” You begged, Jinyoung happily complying to your request. His grip on your hips becoming tighter as his hips started slamming into you.

“You take me so well.” He praised, one of his hands releasing their hold on your hip to trail a finger to your clit, circling lightly.

Had you not been enjoying the way Jinyoung was fucking you, you’d be embarrassed at how it didn’t take long for your second orgasm to build up, your thighs quivering around his hips.

“Already?” He cocked a brow, the finger on your clit circling not so lightly anymore, as he watched you come undone underneath him.

“Please~” You whined.

“Please, what?”

“Please, can I cum?” You nearly cried as you felt the coil inside you about to snap, especially when he started snapping his hips into yours at an even faster pace.

“Cum for me, baby.” He smirked, his head leaning down to suck another hickey onto the juncture of your neck, while his hand left your clit to go back to grabbing your hip.

His words were what made you snap, your orgasm hitting you with such an intensity that had you shaking while Jinyoung kept thrusting inside you, chasing his own orgasm. But by the way his hips started stuttering and how his breaths were quickening, you knew it wouldn’t be long before he came.

He was never really vocal when he came, the most you would get was a groan while he stilled inside you, and that’s exactly what you got when he did cum.

“Are you okay?” He panted, looking over you, his hands finally letting go of you.

“Yeah. Just a little tired.” You panted, winching slightly as he slid out of you.

“Nap or shower?”

“How about nap then shower?” You smiled.

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stattic-writes · 5 years

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Countdown

https://statticscribbles.tumblr.com/post/639099629845233664/masterlist

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#sweet pea x reader #sweet pea x y/n #sweet pea x you #sweet pea #sweet pea imagine #jordan connor #jordan connor imagine #riverdale #riverdale cw #riverdale imagine #riverdale fandom #riverdale fanfiction #written #female reader #female reader insert

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amiloudenough · 5 years

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Nameless - Trigger Warning. This story contains sexual assault

Dear -----,

Even your name feels like a privilege you don’t deserve. Should you stay nameless, or should I out you to the world? Scream from the tallest building what you did to me? What you’ve done to so many just like me?

Apart of me wants your memory to stay tucked in the dark pocket of my brain where you live now, only seeing the light when I am triggered by a hotel room or when men buttoned tightly in business suits that resemble you linger when they look at me.

Another part of me thinks my story matters, that saying the truth out loud will make it real, tangible, throwable, crushable, flammable and maybe...healable.

I was newly 20 when we met. I thought I was an adult. My freedom was still new, my hips still narrow, my childhood trauma still unrecognizable - hidden in the basement of my chest. I wouldn’t go looking for it for years.

I would spend weekends at my friends 1920’s built studio in the beating heart of Seattle. The hallways smelt like a dusty thrift store. The dark green carpet and scuffed walls held memories of tenants for 90 years.

My friend has long red colored hair to the small of her back, she taught me to buy furniture from thrift stores and how to steal accessories from Nordstrom. We share clothes and dance at underage clubs in the city. It seems I am her only friend.

We would laugh little girl giggles listening to her neighbors fight through the wall. We would share red wine from the bottle before going out in small skirts and knee high socks. We got into bars by over lining our eyes and flirting with bartenders outside while they smoked cigarettes. Most nights, we stumble back in passed two and fall into each other on her bed.

This friend told me about you one night in the winter. I remember the holiday lights lining the streets, I remember the white sweater I wore - my mother bought it for me the previous Christmas.

We sit in the back of an old Chinese restaurant. Sharing the entire place with only two other customers. The bartenders never ask us for our IDs. They know we’re underage...they also know we’ll spend money. We drink long island ice teas, the only drink we knew how to order.

She tells me about her new gig being a stripper. I’m entertained. I’m envious. She seems sexy and mysterious in this moment. She tells me about making $700 in one night. She tells me her stripper friends told her about this new thing called “sugaring.” “He pays me just to go to a movie! he paid me $200 just for a date!” She says. My friend explains that there is a website filled with rich men who pay young girls to do various things like have sex and go on vacations with them.

Getting attention from men had been second nature to me, I was good at it whether I wanted to be or not. I thought of my mothers friend from work being in our apartment when I walked through the door after school. I was eleven, my mother hadn't arrived home from work yet. She had asked him to look at the desktop computer. “You must have a lot of boyfriends at school…don't you?” He nods up at me from under the computer desk. I realized then that I wasn’t a child but a girl. I was something to be looked at and consumed.

“No way!” I say, shifting in the bar stool. My friends red hair matches her red lipstick. Suddenly, I felt too far from home. “I’ll show you!” She says and pulls out her phone. She texts you. She tells you she has a friend she wants you to meet. You walk into the Chinese restaurant some time later. I’m slurring my words by the time you arrive, there are four empty long island glasses melting onto the bar counter. We’re the only two in there now. You walk confidently, relaxed…Like you’ve come to meet two girls twenty five years younger than you before.

Your hair is too straight, peekaboos of grey mixed in with jet black. You have small lips and tiny teeth. Your neck has started to sag with age but your face lacks wrinkles of a man your age. You look at me as if you are looking through me, as if you are testing my boundaries, seeing if it was safe to trust your dirty little secret with me. Unfortunately, it was.

“wow he’s so normal! He’s not a creep!” I whisper to my friend while you order us a round of drinks. You hid it so well. I flip my hair at you, apply lipgloss in the bathroom, regret not wearing something sexier. Suddenly, the white sweater doesn’t seem to fit.

I want you to like me. I’m begging for your approval. Lucky me, I get it.

We meet up just the two of us after texting for a few weeks at a Cheesecake Factory. I am embarrassed being out in public with you. Do people know what we’re doing? I see an old friend from high school serving tables near us and I almost run out. “Calm down. We’ll say I’m your uncle.” You laugh, the way a dad laughs at his toddler falling trying to walk - like it’s cute how worried I am.

I applied too much makeup, I’m trying to look older. I’m wearing a fake fur vest and heels I can’t walk in. You ask me about my parents, my friends, where I live, you ask if I’m in college. I tell you the intimate details of my life, spilling out all over the booth like you slipped truth serum in my drink. I tell you about my poetry, about my mothers alcoholism, my fathers absence, about my dreams of getting a college degree. You listen with eye contact, the way a therapist does. You nod and sit still in silence, waiting to hear more. You reach across the table and touch my arm. You tell me you want to mentor me and pay for some of my college. You say that it would bring you joy to help me reach my goals. I don't touch my food. The waiter clears our plates. You slide your American Express into the leather pocket next to the bill and tell me how much money you’d give me to have sex with you.

I ride in your car after we finish eating and leave my car parked in the cheesecake factory parking lot. I watch it out the window wondering if its too late to open the door and jump out.

“You know what?!” You say pulling out of the lot. We’re driving to the nearest hotel. You already have the cash in an envelope in your glove box. I would see you reach over me and grab it when we arrive to the hotel. “What?” I ask. “I think you are my muse! I write poetry too and you have inspired me to write, you’re my muse!” I’m flattered by the compliment, how did you know I always wanted to be someone’s Edie to their Andy? I shed myself at the door of the hotel. I don’t find myself until a couple hours later when I am dressed again and have $500 cash in my purse. Once I do find myself I’m surprised at how great I feel. “It was soooo easy!” I tell my friend on the phone. “I know!” She says. We giggle on the phone my entire drive home. I ignore the smell of your sweat coming through my clothes. I have just sold my body for the first time.

You text me good morning and good night. You check up on my day every other day. I send you pictures of myself and receive compliments back of how beautiful I am. We meet late night in candle lit lounges or hotel bars for drinks and every time I shed myself at the door once the hotel key clicks. I am hundreds of dollars richer the next day and all I had to do was shed my body and watch my soul crawl away.

You set up your laptop in each hotel room and I wonder if you are video taping but I never ask. You bring a backpack full of sex toys that you use on me without asking. You put your fingers and tongue and body places I don’t want you to. You pull me into to lay on your cold clammy chest, and I rest my hands on your rubber belly. You put on Japanese porn and ask me to relieve you while you watch it. You take pictures of us together and put them into a folder titled “Tori” in your phone - incase you need proof I consented. I smile in the pictures, often my bare shoulders showing, hotel sheets behind us, while I fight a war within myself. My eyes are always blood shot because I am always drunk. I ignore the countless other files titled with other names like “Heather” and “Shelby.”

You give me psychological tests, tell me my Meyers Briggs results, ask me about my classes, tell me what you think I should major in. You like to read me your awful poetry and I cringe at the warmth on my neck as you whisper your ballads too close.

You tell me you love me for the first time while you cry on the phone. You’re sad your other girlfriend broke your heart. I talk you through it. I comfort and coo to you like you are a small child. You tell me through hysterics that I am the only person that makes you feel better. This makes me feel important. You call me honey, send me poetry books in the mail, send me pictures of yourself while on vacation. I ask you for money to go to Mexico, LA, to pay my rent, my tuition and my car payment. You do. So I keep coming back. I send you sweet texts and pictures of myself. I share my poetry with you and give you insider details to my daily life. You help me make up lies to tell my friends when they wonder where I am. “Real friends don’t judge you baby.” You tell me in a hotel room chair by the window.

I’m special, because you tell me I am. I’m special because you give me money. I am special because you need me.

You ask me to go to Vegas with you twice and I say yes and then no. Both times. I can’t imagine anything worse than being stuck so far away from home with you. When I am with you I feel like I am walking slowly on pins and needles. Your gaze feels violating. You don’t care that waiters stare, that women your age in the bar ask “how do you two know each other?!” through giggles.

I hate holding your hand in public. I drink swigs from a vodka bottle in my glove box before I go to meet you, to ease the nerves, to forget what I’m there for.

You take me to Victoria Secret and make me try on lingerie sets. You tell me to come out into the hallway so you can see. I’m mortified as I spin in front of you. I see the sale associate make circles on the floor with her foot. You buy me the lingerie set and I walk away while you pay at the counter. I am looking over my shoulder for any familiar faces. I am thinking of lies I can tell if I run into a family member, an old teacher, anyone who knows my other personality.

Each time I pull open my drawer and see the jeweled pink panties and matching bra, my chest tightens. I eventually throw it away because it feels as if you are touching me all over again with every time they are on my body.

When I ask you if we can use a condom after I start seeing someone regularly, you ask me why I don’t trust you. You do a puppy dog face that makes my gut drop, you say “you know I love you bareback. You know I get tested, I just wish you just trusted me...” I decide I’m wrong for not trusting you. I don't bring it up again.

You ask if you can take me on a ferry to Bainbridge island. I agree, I needed the money.

I have told you that I don’t do drugs. I have told you I don’t like being out of control, that it scares me. You nod understanding, tell me “I know, I know.” You repeat stories of you getting high on MDMA on business trips and how the sex high is “so good!” I still refuse to do them with you.

At dinner on Bainbridge island you pull out two small red colored pills with cartoon characters stamped into them. You take one while I look. “Guess I’ll be alone getting high then!” You say, swallowing the pill and grinning at me.

I think I am a consenting adult on a vacation with my much older, married, kind-of boyfriend who pays me each time I sleep with him. I think that I am in charge on all of our encounters. I’m convinced that society has this whole sex worker thing wrong - that this is a two way street, that I want you to offer me drugs ten more times after I say no the first ten times.

I think that you taking the drugs in front of me was about what you wanted, not about what you wanted me to do.

My heart races after you swallow the pill, I text my friend - ask her what the red pills do. She tells me it’s just ecstasy and it’ll be ok. I copy you, take mine with a swig of wine.

The car ride home from dinner I’m already buzzing. I turn the radio up loud and play a song by the spinners that I no longer listen to. I stick my head out of the window and sing “I’ll be arouuuuund.” When we get back to the house you rented for us you parade your bag of pills around me. I feel so good, I beg you for another. You give me one. I catch myself in a mirror and don't recognize the reflection. I can only see a fully black eye, the brown of my eye has disappeared behind my pupil.

I lose myself soon after that in a cyclone of hallucinations and electronic music you play on the stereo. I see cartoon colored objects floating around the room while you sweat on top of me. I don’t remember how we got to the bed upstairs or how my clothes came off.

I am too high to make a sound. I am too high to keep my eyes from rolling back into my head. I am too high to focus on what is happening to my body. I slip in and out of reality for hours, I’m not sure when the sex stops and when the light begins to peak through the blinds. I’m not sure I slept.

We gather our things around the house silently. I feel dirty. My limbs are still vibrating. The drugs are still pulsing through my veins, and I wish I never took any. My hair is curled in various places and my swim suit is in a wet heap near the bathroom. I vaguely remember being in the hot tub.

Finally I say, “That was crazy.” I’m hoping to get some clues about the night before. “Well, you barley talked…you were silent most of the night.” you say.

I was voiceless.

You offer me a breakfast sandwich on the ferry home and I refuse. A breakfast sandwich and the hundreds of dollars you will wire me later that day doesn't seem like payment enough for what I gave away in that twenty four hours.

It takes me longer to find myself this time. I search for days and it seems I lost apart of myself on Bainbridge island. Maybe you accidentally packed the part of me I’m missing in your suitcase, maybe you took it when you were on top of me all night, maybe I gave it to you. Maybe I won’t ever see it again.

I hide the memory of our night together to the darkest part of me that I can find. I zip it up tightly hoping it never finds it way out. It will find its way to the surface of course, as all of our time together will.

I color that night in humor, laughing with my friends about how high I was. I color it in guilt, saying I consented, I asked for it. After all, I went with you willingly. After all, we had a “relationship.” I color it in silence, I don’t talk about it, don’t think about it - hold it down in the dark space for as long as it will stay.

Do you justify what you did? Have you found a way to sleep at night? Have you found someone with a small voice and a shaky foundation who will easily let you in and stay a while? Do you ignore the way she can’t keep eye contact? The way she shakes slightly at dinner?

Have you practiced and perfected your act? You’ve got that caring way you look at someone when they share their trauma down. You’ve found a way to pull out women’s stories from their body the way Ursula pulls out Ariels voice box. Once you have them, you use them to your advantage - pushing every boundary and seeing what you could safely cross.

It’s easier to cross young girls with alcoholic mothers and absent fathers, turns out you get away with it.

Your daughter is only three years younger than I was when you met me. Does she wonder why you come home in the quietest part of the night smelling of hotel liquor and perfume? Do you wipe your hands clean of the shame on your way home? I wonder if you look at her and see the 17 year old baby sitter you raped. The one you bragged about to me. You told me you were in love with her, that society was wrong for keeping you two apart.

You must take showers and scrub off your night telling yourself it was consensual, that the twenty year old girl you left in the hotel sheets wanted it. You must tell yourself that she was closing her eyes the whole time because she liked it.

I have decided that you will stay nameless.

Your name will eventually die out and my memories will fade but my story will not. My shame will see light so that it can breathe, so that I can breathe.

I’ll bathe my story in so much sunlight that it’ll grow into something beautiful, the way ‘Lily of the Valley’ flowers grow despite losing their color for some time in the Winter. They come back even more vibrant and beautiful come Spring. They return happier and stronger.

Although, they look delicate, this tough but beautiful flower fights off predators with a poisonous sweet smell and her strong base can make it through even the harshest climates.

#spilled ink #spiled words #spilled thoughts #spilled words #writers society #new poets on tumblr #new poets society #poetry #poets on tumblr #metoo #me too movement

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imeanitrytowrite · 5 years

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Coffeeshop au / college au?

Authors note: okay so... I had glanced ever a bunch of stony coffeeshop au's that made me so happy. Then I listened to a Male version of lady gaga's paparazzi and this came to mind. Couples are Cherik, Stony, and Spideypool. Its unfinished and up for adoption.

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Tony Charles and Peter start a coffee shop because they all can't live without coffee ofcourse. But according to Natasha and raven the brawny blondes better known as Steve Erik and wade are going to visit the café boys soon. The café boys are known as the brainy brunettes because Natasha and raven are assholes. Anyways the brainy brunettes and brawny blondes have a crush on eachother and are totally looking forward to this!

The bell jingles above the door as the door to the café opens. "hi!" smiles a boy with striking blue eyes and brown hair. "welcome to the nerdy boy cafe!" says another brown haired boy with acdc shirt. "that's not the name the cafe!" the third brown haired boy pouts in his spidered shirt. "yeah I guess your right.. Anyways!" the acdc wearing boy starts. "I'm tony!" he says loudly as the first brown haired boy says shyly "I'm charles" "and I'm peter!" says the brown haired boy wearing a shirt with a spider on it. Tony smirks instead of smiles. While Charles smiles lovingly and widely. Peter's smile is shy but loud enough. "so!"starts up tony, "what would you like to order?" Natasha and raven laugh loudly as tony and Charles pout. "I thought we were pretty good that time." Charles says pouting more. "actually I agree with Charlie here." tony says with a smirk. Peter sighs then all the brown haired boys sigh. "your sure you heard the brawned blondes were going to come here?" Peter asks skeptically. Natasha and raven smirk then nod. "I heard wade, erik, and Steve were planning to hang out here sometime this week." they both say their smirks getting wider. "but why would they come here?" Charles asks leaning on the counter. "yeah!" Peter says making natasha's coffee. Tony leans on the counter with his elbows looking at the girls as he says "were the brained brunettes why would they even think of comming here?" Natasha and raven both turn to eachother and resist the urge to face palm. "doesn't matter!! What matters is their comming soon and you 3 love sick cats need to be ready!" "I am not a cat!" tony hisses. Charles absent mindidly answers "I guess I kind of am a cat" "I always thought I was more of a dog." Peter says as he hands Natasha her black coffee.

Natasha and raven smirked at eachother to the point where even Charles could hear their evil thoughts. "COME ON!! NO!! WE WILL LOOK LIKE IDIOTS!" He practically screeched as he read their minds. They chuckled evily as both tony and Peter became startled at charles' outburst. "what?!? What are they planning!" tony said as he looked at a pale Charles. "you remember how you used to be super obsessed with captain america?"Charles says slowly turning to tony. Tony's face becomes as red as a tomato, his hackles raising as he hisses "I TOLD YOU TO NEVER MENTION IT AGAIN!" Charles proceeds to hiss back "DO YOU OR DO YOU NOT STILL HAVE THAT CAPTAIN AMERICA BARISTA APERON!?!?" Tony blinks but nods slowly "y-yeah?what about-" then tony becomes white as a sheet and screeches at natasha. "OH NO! NO NO NO NO NO! THERE IS NO WAY IN HELL! I JUST BOUGHT THAT ON A BINGE OF WATCHING THE OLD CAPTAIN AMERICA CARTOONS! THAT'S NOT MEANT TO-" a shiver runs down tony's spine as he feels Natasha slowly turn to him. It's like he's already being stabbed in the back with a knife. Peter looks at his white faced friends then smirks "and whos going to make me and charles' one?" Charles snaps out of it and nods standing with Peter thinking they have got this. Then raven walks towards them menacingly as she reaches into Peters pocket and pulls out his phone. She scrolls thorough the contacts until she comes up to the name she's looking for. She taps it and as it rings the boys still look smug. Until a familiar voice rings across the room. "hello?" Mary Jane says through the speaker. "yo mj it's ya girl raven!" raven says looking Peter straight in the eye. "oh! Raven!! It's so good to hear from you!" mj answers happily. "yeah I know it's been forever, can you do me a favor beautiful?" raven says as the color drains off charles' and Peters face. "of course anything for you, you big blue whore." mj says as Peters eyes widen having never heard his best friend say such words. " these boys are starting a café and they need their" boyfriends" symbols to show who their hearts go out to think you can sow them a few up?" raven smirks wider looking at her. Nails nonechelontly. "of course blue girl I got you!". Mj replies with amusement in her voice. "thanks red spider I'll see you later.". Raven says as she hangs up the phone. Natasha smirks and sips her black coffee walking out the door. "then it's all set see you boys tommarow with your new aperons." Natasha and raven wave as all three boys just stand there regretting befriending these evil wemon. "why did we have to be gay?" tony groans into his arms as he shields himself from the world on the counter.

"Alright, does everyone have the confidence to go today?" Steve asked with his hands on his hips looking around the room. Erik was using his magnetic powers to create something out of metal while wade was pacing the floor. Wade looked up and smiled. " nope! I never have any confidence im a fucking wreck but let's do this anyways!" he said running his fingers through his blonde hair. Steve was confused wether or not they should go. Honestly, no matter how long he had been friends with wade he would never understand him. Wade looked around and smiled wider as he said "guys it's just dark humor!" both Erik and Steve sighed in relief. Even though wade was a little crazy they loved him to death. He was one of them for sure. "shouldn't we be going?" Erik said Gruffley as he stood up. Wade and Steve looked at eachother nodding as Erik walked out. Steve pouted whispering to wade as they followed him "I thought I was the leader" wade just shrugged honestly not caring. The closer and closer to the café the boys got the more they felt their hearts race. "wait!" wade said making them stop a few feet infront of the cafe. "Didn't raven and Natasha set this up?" wade asked as realization flooded Steve and erik's beings. Steve's look transformed into a look of battle. "we have to be ready!! We don't know how they look behind that door." Steve said in his captain America voice. "what if they look hella cute!?!" wade gasped as he cupped his face eyes wide. "WHAT IF WE CAN'T HANDLE IT?!?" Erik practically howled in fear. Steve gulped as he thought of how cute his Tony could look behind that door. "that's a risk we will have to take!" Steve said as he began walking again. Wade and Erik looked at eachother the went after steve. Steve slowly reached for the handle of the door and pushed it open. They all stepped into the cafe. Silence, well silence except for the bell above the door ringing and the sound of six hearts beating rappidly.

Tony, Charles and Peter were all hidden in the back room. "what do we do?!?" tony hissed as quiet as possible to Charles. "I-i don't know!" Charles stuttered as he could feel Erik's mind close to him. "Is anybody here?" Steve asked nicely to the empty room. "fuck fuck fuck!" tony almost screeched while he put a hand on his beating heart. "BE STILL!" He hissed to his heart. he was sure the other could hear it. Charles looked worriedly out the back doors window. "we can't just be rude and not come out!"Charles said looking at Peter and tony scornfully. Tony smirked evily as an idea popped in his head. Charles heard the idea and quickly waited for it to happen. Tony pushed Charles as Charles grabbed onto him. Tony and Charles stumbled out of the room groaning. The brawny blondes looked over the table to see who it was. Tony and Charles stood up dusting some dirt off of their barista aperons. "bloody hell that was a horrible idea!" Charles said with a hiss. " I realize that now, Charlie!" tony hissed back. Wade looked at the two as they kept hissing at eachother and trying to be taller than the other. "their like a bunch of cats." wade said as he looked over to the love sick puppy's Whose butts we're Of course wiggling at the sight of their beloved's. Charles and tony growled at eachother until Peter finally gave up and just came out. "STOP IT!" He growled back in the middle of the two boys. Charles hissed at tony then walked up to the counter as he fixed his hair. "what would you like to drink today?" Charles said with a sweet smile. "I'd like to know what your all wearing today!"wade said with a childish smile. All three of the boys blushed and looked down. "and where can I buy me some!excpecially caps abs! Tony where did you even get that?" wade asked jumping up and down. Tony ducked his head and blushed even deeper as he mumbled "it's limited edition you can't buy it." "yeah!" Peter said his face still flushed. "mj made these" Charles said pulling on his magneto barista aperon.

Erik slapped Steve's arm without looking away from Charles who was taking wades order. "Steeb! Steeb! Steeb! Remember what I said earlier?" Erik said lightly smacking Steve's arm. Steve's butt was wiggling as he took in his flushed tony wearing his barista aperon. Tony glared, smacking his hands on the counter. "AYE! You gotta order something! Comprende?!?"tony said with a glare. Steve looked at Erik for an idea of what to get. "just black coffee for us." Erik said with a somewhat smile. "y-yeah!"stuttered steve. "black as my soul!" he cried dramatically. Tony looked at him unimpressed "so" he started with a smirk. "lots of sugar in it and vanilla creamer?" "yes please" Steve said as he hung his head in shame. Tony chuckled cutely then quickly went over to make it. Charles, tony and Peter were like Balerinas behind the counter. Graceful, fluid, and never touching eachother but crossing paths. They were defiantly in their zone, and considering how much coffee the 3 brunettes drank it was honestly. No surprise. "I can't deal!". Both Steve and Erik whispered as tony and Charles dodged eachother gracefully. Tony leaned over the counter to give Steve his cofee. "here you go red white and blue" tony said with a wink. "enjoy!"Charles said as he handed Erik his with a sweet smile. Erik quickly sipped it to hide his blush and made his way to one of the café's tables. He ended up getting back up to drag Steve away because he would not stop staring at tony.

Peter gave wade his coffee with a soft smile then went back to conversing with freinds. "I wonder why their wearing our symbols"asked wade looking to his blushing freinds. "I mean it looks cute on Peter so much I'd like to squeeze myself into that tight ass or he can squeeze me to death with those thighs of his"wade drooled and practically moaned. "you know tony said that his aperon was one of a kind I wonder why that is?" Erik said looking at Steve who was still staring at tony, his butt still wiggling in the seat. "dunno, don't care, it looks fuckin' beautiful on him though"Steve said with Brooklyn twang and a dreamy sigh.

#stony #coffieshopau #collegeau #cherik #spideypool #thebrainybrunnettes #the brawnyblondes #fanfic

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sariasprincy-writes · 6 years

Text

Where it Happened - 020

Part i Part ii Part iii Part iv Part v Part vi Part vii Part viii Part ix Part x Part xi Part xii Part xiii Part xiv Part xv Part xvi Part xvii Part xviii Part xix Part xx (here) Part xxi

Where it Happened part xx

It was still an hour before Sakura’s alarm was set to go off when she slipped out of bed. Careful of the sleeping body next to her, she made as little noise as possible. Itachi barely stirred. Only pulling the arm that had been wrapped around her waist back under the blankets.

He looked so content and peaceful, wrapped up in her sheets with his hair splayed over her pillow. Sakura couldn’t resist watching him as she slipped on her robe. A faint smile caressed her lips. She was half tempted to kiss him but refrained, not wanting to disturb him. He had worked late. Stumbling through the door sometime after one.

Eventually Sakura padded out of her bedroom, leaving the door partially cracked behind her. In the kitchen, the coffee maker hissed as it sputtered to life. She poured herself a mug and added enough cream and sugar to sweeten it the way she liked before she wandered towards the living room.

The sun was just beginning its long climb over the horizon. Morning sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting long strips of light across the floor and illuminating the room with a warm glow. Sakura stopped just at the edge of the closest beam, where the kitchen tile gave way to smooth wood.

Her eyes wandered over the familiar space. To the television that hung on the far wall and the couch that sat across from it. Her favorite blanket was strewn haphazardly across the back where she had left it before going to bed the night before. On the far side of the room was the desk where she kept her bills. It was in need of attention, as was the bookshelf with all her textbooks. Half of which had been shoved back onto the shelves in a hurry.

Everything was as it always was. And yet something had changed. Nothing was out of place but the comfort home had once brought her was gone. It was cold. Alien. Like she was living in a space that was not her own.

Sakura didn't know when it had started. Maybe the day Gaara had left. Maybe the day he had returned. This place held memories of him. Not many for he never liked to spend time on this side of town. But the person she had once been had lived here, not the person she was now.

That's how Itachi found her some time later. She stood at the window, gazing out upon the view as she sipped her lukewarm coffee. His arms slid around her middle as he planted a kiss to the side of her head. “Morning.”

Sakura hummed her reply, her gaze distant in thought. She offered him her mug without looking at him.

Itachi accepted it but didn't immediately drink from it as he studied her profile. “Are you alright?” he asked before taking a sip.

Blinking, Sakura pulled herself out of her thoughts. “Yeah,” she said.

He didn't speak, simply handed her coffee back as he waited for her to voice her thoughts.

She sipped from her mug before saying, “I'm going to sell this place.”

Whether consciously done or not, Itachi's arm tightened minutely around her waist. “And go where?”

“I don't know yet. Maybe somewhere with a view of the water. Somewhere near the hospital,” she told him, resting her free hand over his arm. “I just need to get out of here. I hate this place.”

He made a noncommittal noise as he pulled her closer again, his chin resting atop her head. Several minutes passed that way before he spoke again. His voice so soft and yet so clear. “You could move in with me.”

Sakura stilled. Then she turned in the circle of his arms to face him. “What?”

“You practically live there already. This is the first time we've slept here in a week. Half your clothes are already in my closet and it does not make sense to spend money on a place you are rarely at,” he shrugged. Then he added more quietly, like he needed more reasons to convince her, “And I want to share a place with you. A place we can call our own.”

A little thrown, she just stared. Itachi had been saying little things like this ever since he had told her he loved her a few weeks ago. So smooth and seamless, she nearly missed them every time. It made her heart beat a little faster each time, and now was no different. Only she didn’t quite know what to say.

When Sakura tried and failed to say something for the third time, Itachi merely smiled at her and tucked her hair behind her ear. “It is okay to say no, Sakura. I won’t be upset. As long as you are happy.”

Automatically she leaned into his touch. If only he knew how much she wanted to say yes. How nice it would be to spend every morning like this. But her past was always there, always tugging on her. “I’m not saying no,” she said eventually. “I just...can I have more time to think about it?”

“Of course. Take all the time you want. And even if you do say no, the offer will always be open,” he told her with a warm smile. “Just think about it and let me know what you decide.”

He pressed a short kiss to her lips before he pulled away to get ready for work. Sakura knew she should do the same, but she made no immediate move to follow him. How one man could be so patient and understanding, she didn’t know. Itachi was…well he wasn’t perfect but he was certainly good for her. That much she knew. So why was it so hard for her to just say yes to him?

She needed to talk to Ino, she realized.

And that's exactly what Sakura did.

As soon as rounds were done, she found the blonde general surgeon. Ino had just finished signing off a chart and placed it on the rack beside the rest when Sakura grabbed her elbow and steered her into a nearby conference room.

Bewildered, Ino stared wide eyed. “Uh, you alright?”

“I need your opinion,” Sakura told her after she closed the door behind them. “And for you to understand, I need to tell you a few things.”

Just like that, Sakura launched into it. She told Ino everything. From hooking up with Itachi in that hotel room to the incident with Gaara. How she stayed with Itachi for nearly a week only to learn about his fiance. Then nearly drinking herself stupid and crashing on Kakashi’s couch before Itachi showed up at her apartment to tell her he loved her. And lastly how he had asked her to move in just that morning.

Ino listened with rapt attention, her eyes growing wider and wider with every new development. When Sakura finally finished, she was nearly breathless and Ino was looking like someone had just dropped the biggest bombshell on her she had ever heard. Which was likely close to the truth.

For the first time, the blonde was speechless. It took her a couple of attempts to find her words. “You’re telling me all this happened in the last three months?”

“More like the last month and a half,” she admitted quietly.

Ino shot her an incredulous look before she shook her head, slowly taking everything in. “Now I wish Gaara hadn’t left town so quickly. I would have strapped him to an OR table and dissected him piece by piece. You should file a police report against him, Sakura. If he ever comes back-”

“He won’t. And even if he does, I already submitted a notarized affidavit with my attorney,” she murmured. She tried not to think about Gaara. She wanted him to stay in her past where he belonged but she couldn’t resist running her tongue over the healed cut on the inside of her lip.

Ino frowned unhappily but for once let it go. “So what do you want my opinion on?”

“I wanna know what I should do,” Sakura said like it was obvious. She ran her fingers through her hair, her mind racing. “I mean Itachi, he’s…he’s great. He’s so smart - smarter than me - but not arrogant. He’s kind and he has this quiet sense of humor. And he can cook! Like it’s kinda ridiculous actually. He can make these pan-seared lamb chops that are to die for.”

“Is the sex good?” Ino asked.

“Earth-shattering,” Sakura said without exaggeration, causing both women to laugh. Then Sakura released a long breath, sombering some. “It just...it’s like he’s seen all the good and bad, and yet he still cares about me.”

“Well,” Ino said, failing to bite back her smile, “it sounds like you already know what you want to do. You’re just trying to figure out how to say it.”

“So then how do I say it?” Sakura asked.

The blonde just shook her head, smile still in place. “I can’t help you with that, Forehead. You’re going to have to figure that one out yourself.” When the uncertain look on Sakura’s face remained, Ino relented just a little. “Just tell him what you told me.”

“I don’t know how…” Sakura shook her head.

“Just talk to him. It’ll come to you. There’s no reason for you to be afraid with Itachi.”

With her smile still in place, Ino drew her into a hug. For as bright and bubbly as she was, Ino was not a physically affectionate person. The simple action took Sakura by surprise but she found that it helped soothe her fraying nerves. She managed a weak smile before the blonde left for surgery.

Feeling better, Sakura slipped out of the conference room. There were a million things waiting for her on her desk that morning but she couldn’t bring herself to rush. Emotionally, she felt better than she had in months. And it showed in the way she strolled through the hospital unhurriedly.

The lobby was already filling with people for the day. There was a line at the coffee cart. The coffee machine hissed softly as it brewed shots of caffeine. A small group dressed in street clothes stood at the hospital map while doctors and visitors alike weaved their way through the growing crowd.

Sakura stopped on the landing overlooking the large room, her hands in her pockets. Her eyes scanned the crowd without purpose, but she took a second look when she recognized a familiar head of black hair. Shizune. She had come back. And judging by the elevator she was waiting for she was heading towards Tsunade’s office.

A smile caressed Sakura’s lips. She hoped that was a good sign.

“Good morning, Haruno.”

Pulling her gaze from Shizune, Sakura turned her head as Neji passed behind her. “Hey, Hyuuga, do you have a sec?”

The Neurosurgeon was texting but he stopped walking and half turned towards her. He finished sending off his message before he looked up. “I have to prep for surgery soon, but I have a few minutes to spare.”

“I won’t be long,” Sakura smiled, facing him fully. “I still haven’t apologized for overstepping on that patient with the bullet. I just want you to know that I respect you and your position as Head of the Department. I’m sorry for dismissing your orders.”

“I admit I was angry, but you did what was best for the patient,” he shrugged. “Dr. Sunano is a very capable surgeon and there are not many that could have done what he did.”

Sakura didn’t immediately reply. She wasn’t dumb and neither was Neji. He had seen her face the same week Gaara had disappeared without a word to anyone. Even her best makeup hadn’t been enough to cover the bruises. Anyone watching would have easily connected the dots.

“I know you know what happened, Neji,” Sakura said, lowering her voice as a couple of interns hurried past. “You don’t have to forgive me because of what he did.”

To her surprise, Neji smiled faintly. “I’m not forgiving you because I pity you, Sakura. I am letting it go because I am over it. We’re fine.”

The honesty in his voice finally eased Sakura’s worries. She matched his smile with one of her own before Neji excused himself.

Today was turning out to be a better day than Sakura anticipated. The only thing that would improve it further was a good, bloody surgery - one pressing enough that she could ignore the mountain of paperwork on her desk. Which unfortunately did not happen.

For the entire day, Sakura sat behind her desk, sorting through documents and replying to emails until the sky outside turned dark. Her pager sat on the desktop beside her monitor, unusually quiet as if the universe knew she needed a day alone to catch up on her work. A downfall of being on the board.

Sakura was still working when Itachi entered the office a few hours later. She didn’t see or hear him, but she sure smelt him as the most mouthwatering scent reached her nose. She turned away from her half-finished email just as Itachi sat on the couch behind her and unwrapped a large burger. It was bursting with cheese and bacon and all sorts of unhealthy things.

Sakura eyed it jealously. “You know that’ll kill you, right?”

“I have been in surgery all day. This is the first thing I have eaten in ten hours. I don’t care.”

She couldn’t help her smile as he bit off a large, pointed mouthful. She watched him for a moment before eventually caving. She hadn’t eaten much either. “Alright, give me a bite.”

Without getting up from her chair, Sakura leaned over and accepted the burger from him. It was huge. Big enough that she had to hold it in both hands. It was even more amazing than it looked.

She let out an appreciative hum as the rich flavors coated her tongue. “Okay, that’s delicious. There’s no way that came from our cafeteria. Where did you get that?” she asked, reluctantly handing it back.

Itachi wiped the corner of his mouth before answering, “The bar across the street. I had an intern run and get me one.”

“You know that’s not what interns are for.”

“My apologies, Ms. Board Member,” he retorted good-naturedly. Then he shrugged. “They didn’t seem to mind. I gave them enough money to buy themselves one too.”

Sakura shook her head with a soft laugh before she turned back to her computer. She returned to her email, tucking one leg under her as she finished writing it and sent it off.

For the next few minutes, the office was quiet with the exception of her fingers over her keyboard. She responded to a handful more emails as Itachi finished his dinner. His wrapper crinkled before he spoke, “What are you working on?”

“Boring hospital stuff,” Sakura replied without looking at him.

She shuffled through the stack of documents on her desk, looking for the spreadsheet that listed the residents’ hours from the week previous. Apparently the Board Director was becoming concerned with liability issues in the OR. He wanted to implement a new policy dictating anyone over eighty hours was not allowed in the operating room. Which was going to be hard since most of them averaged at about a hundred.

“Just be glad you’re not on the board. Too many politics and way too much paperwork.”

“Well if you want a break I have a triple bypass surgery in an hour,” Itachi said as he stood.

Humming faintly, Sakura considered the offer. It would be nice to get up and stretch her legs. She had been sitting for a good portion of the day. But her inbox was still full of emails and as much as she wished, they wouldn’t answer themselves.

“Sounds like fun but I can’t,” she sighed. “But if you get a good surgery tomorrow, I will definitely steal it.”

Itachi stopped beside her desk and smirked down at her. “You will, will you?”

“I’m Ms. Board Member, remember?” Sakura retorted with a smile.

He chuckled before he bent his head to place a short kiss to her lips.

She was still smiling when he straightened. “You taste like cheeseburger,” she complained.

“Well you did say it was delicious.”

“Get outta here,” Sakura laughed, pushing him away.

Itachi smirked again as he made his way towards the door. “My surgery will take a couple of hours. I probably won’t be out of here until late. Come scrub in if you decide you get bored.”

Sakura nodded before he left. She continued to stare at the doorway a few minutes after he was gone, her earlier conversation with Ino running through her head. It seemed both she and Itachi wouldn’t be leaving until late. Maybe tonight when they got home she would talk to him and give him her answer. To everything.

The thought both thrilled her and made her tremble with nerves. When was the last time she felt like this? Never, she realized. Because just as Itachi had said, she had never felt this way with anyone before either. It was equal parts exciting and terrifying. To be so emotionally invested in someone, knowing that he could hurt her with just a few, simple words. Not that Sakura thought he would. Ino said there was no reason to be afraid of Itachi and Sakura wasn’t. The level of trust she held in him rivaled anyone she had before.

Pulling herself out of her thought, Sakura forced herself to focus. She could sit here and think about what she was going to say to Itachi all night, but she couldn’t. Not if she wanted to get out of here. With that end goal in mind, she went back to her work.

Sakura answered emails and sorted paperwork for while longer until her calves began to cramp and her eyes ached. She had gotten through a majority today. The rest could wait.

After shutting down her computer, Sakura headed down to the surgical floor. She stretched her legs as she scanned the OR board, a small smile crossing her lips when she found Itachi’s name. Down in OR 3’s washroom, she pulled her hair up into a secure bun before she scrubbed in.

Itachi glanced up upon her entrance. “Couldn’t stay away, could you?”

Sakura smiled beneath her mask as she accepted her gloves and gown from the surgical nurses. “I just thought a rookie like you might need my expertise,” she teased.

He just chuckled faintly and gestured to the empty space on the other side of the table before his gaze returned to his work.

Still smiling, she stepped up and accepted her tools from the scrub nurse. It was then that she heard music playing faintly in the background. “You listen to 90’s?” she asked in surprise.

Itachi cocked a quizzical brow. “What did you think I listened to?”

Shrugging, Sakura suctioned blood out of his workspace. “I took you for someone who enjoys older hits. 60’s. Maybe 50’s.”

“Are you calling me old?” he asked flatly but there was amusement in his dark eyes.

“Maybe.”

He shot her a look, one that promised things to come that night. She answered with another playful smile before they returned to the task at hand.

For as serious as triple bypass was, the surgery itself was rather uneventful. There were no surprises. Everything ran smooth. Sakura’s only complaint was the soreness in her calf hadn’t gone away. She should have known better than to sit with it crossed under her for so long.

It was a relief when they finally finished up. Sakura was tired and sore and really just wanted to go home and sleep. She smiled faintly when she thought of having Itachi wrapped all around her in his sheets. Wondered when it had become easier for her to sleep with him there.

“Are you done for the day?” Itachi asked.

On the bench just outside the scrub room, Sakura finished re-tying her shoe before she looked up at him. “Yeah, I’m tired,” she told him with a yawn. “I just want to go home.”

“Do you want me to meet you at your place?”

Smiling softly, she was going to tell him no. That she wanted to go to his condo where his bed was warmer, more comfortable - more like home. But she never found her voice as a sudden, piercing pain ripped through her chest. Her smile slipped off her face as the stabbing pressure stole the breath from her lungs.

“Sakura, what’s wrong?” Itachi asked. He was kneeling before her in an instant.

Pressing her palm to her sternum, she opened her mouth. Nothing came out. She couldn't talk. Even the simple act of breathing was torturous.

Itachi took her face in his hands, his fingers pressing into her pulse point. He said something, but the words fell on deaf ears. Her only focus on the frightening reality that something was very seriously wrong. Was she...was she having a heart attack?

Sakura held on as long as she could, forcing her mind to slow down and fight against her rising panic, but she couldn't breathe. Not when every inhale felt like her lungs were shredding. Her vision tunnelled and darkened, and she pitched forward.

In and out, Sakura faded. Itachi barked out orders, but she more felt the words rumble in his chest than heard them. At some point, she woke again. This time on her back atop of gurney, an oxygen mask over her mouth and nose as the bright overhead lights flickered by rapidly. The pressure in her chest was still there, a heavy weight like someone had wrapped their mighty hands around her ribcage and was squeezing with the intent of making it explode.

With an agonizing groan, Sakura reached for the mask but a hand pulled her fingers away. Someone said her name but she couldn't make out anything else, like words whispered through water.

Too weak to fight, Sakura’s arm fell limp and she succumbed to the darkness again.

to be continued...

#itasaku #itachi #sakura #where it happened #part 20 #Saria Writes #grey's anatomy au #Medical AU #well this is a grey's anatomy au...

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alchemistc · 6 years

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no paper will conceal it

an: if you thought i would fall into the hole of writing holiday fic for kastle, you were right. title comes from sara bareilles song “love is christmas”.

slightly au in that frank doesn’t kill people, but almost everything else is the same

It’s a terrible idea to chase this story, she knows it even as she leaves her office and heads towards the previously empty lot five blocks from her apartment, the one that had suddenly sprouted a hundred Christmas trees sometime between the hours of 1 AM and 4 AM the morning after Thanksgiving.

Karen doesn’t sleep, much.

It’s been a week, and in that time she’s seen a trail of young looking men hustle nervously towards the lot, disappear into the trees for a bit, and then appear later with heavy, dark duffels under their arms, looking shifty as they disappear into the night. She’s also seen the frankly ridiculously suspicious black van that tends to park there sometime between 4 and 6, and only ever leaves after Karen has gone to bed, long after the one sad string of fairy lights has been turned off and families shopping for trees have tucked in for the evening.

And then there’s the guy.

Still. He’s there, and there’s something going on, and Karen is determined to figure out what it is. The lot has been empty for years, never been used by anyone but a few addicts too strung out to realize it was visible from every direction. A year ago she’d tried to talk to someone about putting a park in there, or maybe start a garden, but she’d been shot down before she’d even made it through her speech, and she hadn’t tried again.

And now, after all this time, suddenly there’s Balsams and Firs and Blue Spruces and more than likely a crime ring, too.

She’d told Ellison she was taking a long lunch to get a tree for her apartment, and the asshole had blinked at her, narrowed his eyes, and then sighed and shrugged. Like he believed her. Like it was believable that Karen Page, who practically lived at the paper and who only spared time for drinks with her friends once every few months and who hadn’t spoken to her parents in half a year was suddenly feeling the Christmas spirit.

What she hadn’t told Ellison was “I think a dude with a creepy van is hustling drugs out of the Christmas tree lot by my apartment” because even to Karen that sounded like a crazy reach.

She stops for coffee at the bodega on the corner just to give herself something to do with her hands, and watches the lot while she rips open packets of sugar.

It’s strange, the way she’s able to watch the swath of humanity pass her by without ever feeling...close to it. She’s been called a bleeding heart more times in her life than she can count, but it’s not that. She’s... perceptive. She sees things. She sees the family rounding the corner, two kids playfully shoving at each other while their parents watch in stony silence, standing just far enough apart that Karen is almost certain dad has been sleeping on the couch for a while. She sees the happy couple wandering by, laughing, hands clasped, and knows that the woman is far more in love than the man. She sees a man in a business suit walk past the homeless guy on the corner, his eyes on his phone and a grimace on his face.

She sees a kid get off his bike and round the fence into the lot, disappearing between the trees, and slides in after him, waiting, wondering if it was really going to be this easy.

She wanders, for a bit, glancing through branches in hopes of catching sight of her would be drug lord or one of his minions, but no such luck. If it were easy, there would be far more people gunning for her job.

The crime beat at the Bulletin isn’t so much sought after as it is a place to stick all the idiots who can’t keep their nose out of anything. Karen, for all that she loves this job, hadn’t actually gone looking for it. She’d stumbled upon it, like most of the idiots who’d come before her, and she lived it and she breathed it but it wasn’t... healthy. She’d chase a lead on two hours of sleep and a vat of caffeine, if she had to, and she’d met more than one source late at night: in empty warehouses, in derelict buildings, in dark parking garages, once on a build site, two floors up and a steel beam between her and a twenty foot drop. And she’d done it all in heels.

Foggy is constantly terrified for her life, but then, so is Karen, and it hasn’t stopped her yet, so she doesn’t expect to be making any concessions for the one friend she still trusts in this city any time soon.

There’s a sort of calm that comes over her, wandering through the trees, her eyes carefully cataloging every face she sees, but it’s not the magic of the season. This is a different sort of peace - the kind that washes over her when she makes a connection no one has made before, when she sends off a final draft to copy, when her byline sends the feds to a piece of shit they hadn’t bothered to check on before. There’s comfort in knowing that her words mean something, in knowing that she can make things happen in a world that mostly just tries to ignore the bad shit that goes on around them every day.

As she’s nearing the back of the lot, she catches the break she’s been looking for. Just beyond the last row of trees, behind the fence they’re leaned against, she hears a door slide open, and a gruff voice mutter something she can’t quite catch.

Karen shuffles closer, to the edge of the lot, ignoring the needles digging into her jacket sleeve, straining to hear what’s being said.

“...better hear you made it to Curt’s tonight, James. I’m not fucking around here, giving handouts.”

“Dude, I got it. Lay off the drill sergeant crap, Castle.”

Karen waits with bated breath. That’s two names, and if she can just lay low long enough to get a plate number off the van...

“You’re gettin a second chance kid. Don’t screw it up.”

“Jesus Christ, man, I said I got it.”

There’s a shuffle, and a small puff of breath, like it’s been knocked out of someone. The first voice, Castle, says something too low for her to hear, but if she had to make a guess, she’s betting a threat is involved. Another shuffle of clothing, the sound of boots on concrete, and then Castle speaks again, loud and clear and barely a yard from where she stands.

“Get out of here before you really piss me off.”

The kid books it, and through the branches she can see the duffel tucked under his arm, but the gate behind her is creaking open and Karen busies herself with looking like a normal, perusing customer.

“Don’t strike me as the Douglas Fir type, ma’am.” Karen swivels in place, nearly sending her coffee flying as her hand drops towards her bag. Castle takes a step back, hands raised. “Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, but there’s a tic in his jaw like he’s thinking about smiling, and Karen takes her first good look at him.

The twelve-times-broken nose she’d caught in profile is more striking up close, an interesting quirk to what might otherwise be a fairly unremarkable face. He’s holding her gaze, big brown eyes blown wide as he slowly lowers his hands back to his sides. He’s got a vaguely military haircut - buzzed sides and an inch or so of growth on the top of his head, and a wide, full mouth that is still threatening to break into a smile.

He doesn’t look like he smiles much, in general, but there’s amusement in his gaze as he takes her in, eyes tracking the fall of her hair over one shoulder and the way her hand is dipped into her pocketbook. He quirks a brow at that.

“You gonna shoot me?”

Karen blinks. “What?”

Castle blinks back, running his tongue over his teeth as he eyes the hand in her bag very deliberately. “Christ, lady, please tell me you have a permit for that.”

“Why would I need a permit for a handbag?”

He sighs, blows a deep breath out through his nose, and rolls his eyes at her, turning his head away with a shake. “Right. Nothing to see here, folks,” he says with an ironic lilt, gesturing around like they aren’t the only two people in the back half of the lot. “You here for a tree or what?”

The amusement is gone from his voice, and Karen narrows her eyes at him, tucks her tongue into her cheek as he purses his lips right back at her. “I can see why you don’t sell the trees yourself.”

“You make it a habit to stake out a place before you buy something?”

Karen pulls in a deep breath, tries not to look caught out, but he’s eyeing her more closely, now, something like recognition registering as he stares at her. He takes a step closer, shooting a daring look at the hand still tucked in her bag.

In a situation like this, most people would bolt in the opposite direction and never return. In the back of her mind, Foggy’s voice is screaming at her to do just that. Karen ignores it and rolls her shoulders back, staying even with his height as he gets closer.

“Page, right? You’re the Bulletin’s golden girl.”

There’s derision in his voice when he says it, his voice rumbling over golden like a swear word, and Karen goes on the defensive.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Whatever you want it to mean.”

“Whatever I want it to - you know, you have a lot of nerve, for a guy who recruits kids to sell for him out of the back of a sketchy van and sells Christmas trees as a cover.”

Castle blinks again, and Karen takes a moment to reassess. This is hardly the first time she’s accused someone of something before she has all the evidence she needs. Some of them have even been bigger and scarier than this guy, but there’s something about the way he shifts from foot to foot, something about the way his eyes drag deep into her skin and dig at her spine, something about the way he’d known about the gun in her bag the moment she’d turned towards him that makes her think that maybe this is one of her more stupid decisions.

The deep chuckle that rumbles from his chest is both unexpected and... comforting. Despite every instinct she has, despite having spent the last week suspecting this man of running drugs out of the back of his sketchy van, Karen feels her guard drop. “You’re fucking crazy, ma’am,” is what he says when he’s done shaking his head and running a hand through his hair. “Jesus, you came out here trying to catch a lead on me, didn’t you? You do that a lot? Chase after a story, no backup, not having a damn clue how dangerous someone could be?” Another quick glance at her, and he snorts. “Yeah you do.”

Again, another sad fact of her life is that this is a conversation she’s had in various forms before, but this one is different, somehow. There’s not a hint of threat in his voice, just a vague disbelief, and maybe a hint of regard.

“I work with vets,” he admits, softly, like it’s a secret. “Boys come back without a clue what the hell they’re gonna do now. Lot of ‘em end up barely scraping by, or living on the streets. I uh... buddy of mine runs a couple groups, rents out rooms sometimes.” He ducks his head, bashful now, and runs his hand through his hair again, a nervous tic that five minutes ago she would have assumed was due to him testing out his supply. “I do laundry, when I can. Put together food, and shit. Give ‘em work, try to get them back in the world.”

Karen pulls at her lips with her teeth, raises the hand from her pocketbook to presses it over her lips, and nods her head even as a disbelieving laugh bubbles over. “And that kid, earlier? You were...?”

“Some of ‘em need a little tough love. I assume that’s what you mean. ‘Cause you were listening to us, right?”

Karen tilts her head, suddenly, achingly curious about this man for an entirely new reason. “Yeah. Yeah, I was listening.”

He chuckles, his head shaking back and forth, mutters something under his breath that sounds a whole lot like ‘unbelievable’ and Karen tracks the way his cheeks lift, the way he shifts, again, like maybe he’s thinking of just turning around and walking away. When he lifts his head again to meet her gaze, the smile is still there, and it’s reaching his eyes, too.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Karen stills where she stands, watching his head tilt, something shy and somber behind the smile he wears, something charming about the way he looks at her from beneath his brows. “I just falsely accused you of drug running, and you want to buy me a drink?”

“You got a few screws loose, sure, but you’ve got balls of steel, ma’am.”

Karen is fairly certain she’s never been called ma’am by anyone in her entire life, and she’s never particularly cared for the address, but something about the way his voice rolls over it, gravel and soot rumbling from him - something about it sets her at ease. “It’s the middle of the day.”

“Is that a no?”

“No.”

He chucks his chin up, tilts his head again. “Okay.”

Karen holds his gaze, gives him a crisp nod. “Okay.”

------

“You’re good at this. I can see why the Bulletin keeps you around.” He’s pointing at her with a fry dipped in ketchup, his beer tipped towards his lips with his free hand, and Karen brushes back the curtain of hair that keeps falling into her eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“Page, we’ve been here an hour and I think you know more about me than my old lady ever did. Hell, if we’d had you in intelligence, interrogation might have fucking worked.”

Karen ducks back beneath the curtain of hair and checks the time on her phone. She’s got a missed phone call from Ellison, and a text that is just two question marks - she shoots back a quick ‘Following a lead’ and doesn’t even feel that bad about the lie. It could be a piece, if she wanted it to be - a profile on a war veteran, a think piece on the lives soldiers lead once they return, it could be any number of things, if she wanted it to be.

She doesn’t want it to be.

Frank Castle, former marine, honorably discharged after a bullet tore through his skull. Friendly fire, he’d said, though the tone of his voice said there was more to that story. His wife had died of cancer a year after he got home, and Frank had gone off the deep end, just a bit, drinking heavily, starting bar fights (”Isn’t that a felony?” “Sure is,” he’d responded on a self deprecating grin.), generally kicking up a fuss, and he’d lost custody of two kids, a boy and a girl who lived upstate with their grandparents and saw him on weekends and every other holiday.

He’d started going to his friend Curtis’ group meetings after his court appointed therapist told him if he couldn’t get his shit together he’d never see them again.

“I have a trustworthy face.”

He snorts, his nose wrinkling as he takes a sip of his beer, and Karen bites her lip to keep from smiling too hard.

Outside, the sun is already low in the sky, and the buildings cast the streets in deep shadow. In an hour or so, lights across the city will twinkle to life, bathing the streets in that warm glow that only happens around the holidays. Once upon a time, Karen had loved Christmas - the lights, the families, the overwhelming sense of community they’d had in their tiny little town in Vermont.

“You uh... you doin’ okay there?”

Darting her glance back towards him with a start, Karen starts to nod, and pauses, looking at him in the dull light of the bar. She bites her lip and shakes her head, just once, picking at the label on her bottle. “My brother ran his car off the road two days before Christmas, a few years ago. I uh... it’s hard to get into the spirit anymore, you know? I used to love it. Decorating the tree, driving around the neighborhood to see the lights, going to church on Christmas Eve. I’d wake up early every Christmas morning, even when I got older, and I’d make hot chocolate and sit on the couch with my mug, waiting for everyone else to wake up, just watching the tree.” Blinking through watery eyes, she shoots him a quick smile. "I was a Blue Spruce girl.”

“Maria always took the kids up to cut their own tree. Every time I was home for Christmas, I’d beg her to just get a damn plastic tree. Damn things always got sap and needles everywhere - huge fire hazard too, and I know Frankie and Lisa never watered ‘em. Said she liked the smell, so one year I bought a fake tree and about twenty of those Christmas tree candles.”

“It’s not the same,” she tells him, almost admonishing, and he laughs. His laugh a short, quick laugh, a little rough around the edges like he’s not used to it, like it has to fight his way up and out of his chest.

“That’s what she said. Never even took the thing out of the box. We were up there, very next day, sawing down a tree while Lisa threw snowballs at us.”

“So the trees...”

His head tilts in consideration before he gives her a sharp nod. “They tell me it’s a healthier way to mourn than breaking my knuckles on strangers faces.”

“If I promise to water it, can I get you to tough love one of your guys into lugging a tree five blocks and up three flights of stairs?”

His stare is a little wistful as he takes her in, but there’s an edge to it, too. Something careful, and considering, and not for the first time since he’d startled her that afternoon Karen wonders what he sees, when he looks at her. Not the broken girl who’d left her family behind because she couldn’t face her loss, not the hardass reporter who always got her story regardless of the cost. A few times she’s held his gaze long enough to feel like he’s staring into her soul.

Karen shrugs around his questioning look. “Maybe I need to learn to mourn a little better, too.”

------

Frank ends up loading a tree onto the van a week later, grumbling the entire way up the stairs, muttering about sap all the way down the hallway, and Karen can’t help the laugh that tumbles out of her when he insists on getting the thing set up for her once it’s there. She’d gone down to Macy’s, dropped far too much of her paycheck on string lights and baubles, and she unloads them while he grunts and curses in the corner by her window.

When she invites him to stay for dinner he only hesitates for a few seconds, and then insists on paying the kid who delivers a bag of Thai food twenty minutes later.

It’s easy, toeing off her shoes and settling on her couch next to him, flipping through channels until one of them makes a noise of approval around the food in their mouths. He drinks her shitty rose out of a mug with a llama on it, and makes sarcastic comments under his breath that sometimes make her wheeze with laughter, and when they’ve demolished the food he helps her string the lights around the tree.

“Maria’s parent’s have the kids for Christmas this year,” he admits on his third mug of wine, and Karen reaches across the length of the tree to curl her hand in his. He squeezes back, and for a while the string of lights illuminate their faces as they stare at each other. He’s got a scar, just above his ear, one she hadn’t noticed until the lights hit it just right, and without a thought her hand reaches up to trace it, fingers curling up and then around his ear, and his eyes dip low, almost closing, lashes fluttering and casting sharp shadows along his cheeks.

“You could come here. I usually get shitfaced the moment I get off the phone with my mom and pass out to It’s A Wonderful Life.”

“Sounds pretty fuckin maudlin,” he tells her, eyes fluttering back open, back she doesn’t move her hand, and he tilts his face into her palm.

She’s three glasses in herself, and her laughter sounds loud in her apartment, the heady mixture of food and wine and lights and Frank making her feel bubbly and loose and... happy. “Maudlin?”

“I know words.”

She chuckles, again, and leans across the space between them, ducks her forehead against his own and just breathes for a moment.

“Is that a no?”

From this position, she can see the tilt of his lip as it turns up. “No.”

Karen blows a breath out through her nose, slides her hand down to curl around his neck, where she can feel his pulse rushing beneath his skin. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

------

She pitches Ellison a profile on Curtis Hoyle, two hours after she meets him on Christmas Eve, and over the phone she can hear him raise his eyebrows. “Not your usual thing.”

“I’m branching out, Ellison. Aren’t you always telling me to dig deep?”

“Draft on my desk by the end of the week, then.”

“Can’t,” she tells him, while Frank traces a whimsical pattern up her arm and presses his lips into her neck. “I’m busy this week.”

“What have you done to Karen Page?”

“It’s a...family thing,” she tells him, and sucks in a deep breath when Frank nips at her collarbone.

“Heading to Vermont for the week?”

“Nope.”

“Well this is all very confusing and I’ve had too much scotch to make sense of it, but I’ll figure this out eventually. I’ll see you after New Years.”

“Merry Christmas, Mitch.” For the first time in years, the words are slightly more than a platitude meant to appease the masses.

“Merry Christmas, Page.”

Frank drops her phone off the side of the couch the moment she hangs up, and Karen can’t find it in her to mind.

#kastle #kastle ff #kastle fic #holiday fic #kastle au

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