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garbinge · 8 months

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Rescued

Jax Teller x F!Reader From these August Prompts: "Have a drink, relax." & For @the-slumberparty's Bingo Challenge! Bingo square: Rescued Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: This was honestly so fun to write, young and fun Jax is my favorite lol. Warnings: All my fics are 18+, regardless of content. Angst, flirting, cursing, Unsers nickname lol, drinking. SOA Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics

The popping of your tire was the cherry on top of a shitty trip but when it caused you to lose control of the wheel and smash into the speed limit sign, that was the boiling point for you. Luckily, you weren’t too injured, the airbag managed to leave a cut on your face somehow and now on top of a fucked up car, you had a bruised face and ego. You had been traveling for hours, just trying to make it back home and everything was going left. Calling the operator was infuriating, all of the numbers you had to press just to get to speak to someone only for them to transfer you to someone else in the Charming operating department.

“I’m looking for someone to tow my fuckin’ car.” The tone you took was one of little patience.

“Well it’s a good thing you called the fuckin’ auto shop.” A voice with humor spoke on the other line.

“This a mechanic?” You said taken back. “Sorry, I’ve been playing tag with like 3 different operators.”

“Don’t worry about it, doesn’t make the top 5 of mean ass customers I’ve talked with.” The man on the line spoke. “So, you need a tow? You got a location?”

“Uh,” You looked around for a street sign, any landmarks to give an idea where you were when your eyes landed on the green reflective light. “Just off the West Side Freeway, Rt 5.”

“Alright, I’ll send the tow, gonna be $80.”

“Ofcourse it is.” You sighed and closed your eyes as the day continued to shit on you.

“We can workout a payment pl–” The voice was slightly concerned on the other line.

“No.” You cut him off. “I’m good for it, it’s just the idea that I’m about to drain it all from my wallet.”

The man on the other line let out a laugh. “We’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

You thought you were lucky enough that the cops didn’t show up but they were right in front of the tow truck. The older officer was stepping out of the car before the tow truck even parked.

“Everyone alright?” The man spoke up, as he got closer you saw the name engraved on below his badge. Unser.

“It was just me, I’m alright. Popped my tired on the highway and the wheel decided to shake out on me.” You pointed to the ending of the story where your car sat plowed over the metal pole and sign.

“Your uh– you got a little banged up.” He pointed to his face where the cut on yours was. “You sure you don’t want me to call an ambulance or an EMT to check it out?”

“I’m okay, officer. I really just want to get my car out of here and fixed.” As you spoke you pointed to the tow truck and the long blond haired man who was approaching from the truck.

Unser turned around and nodded to the man. “Jax.”

“Uncle Touchy.” Jax’s smile was from ear to ear as he walked past him and directly to you and your car.

“Hey I’m Jax.” The man nodded at you, keeping his smile the same until it fell a little as he took in your face.

At first, you thought maybe he was concerned with the cut on your face but his next sentence disproved that theory.

“I know you? You look familiar.” He said the frown deepening now.

“I’m not really from around here, so I don’t think so.” You weren’t really trying to go back and forth right now, your main objective was to just get the fuck out of here. That was until it hit you who he was. “Oh shit, you’re–”

“From the truck stop.” His smile grew back on his face.

“You’re all out of coffee.” Your annoyed voice was yelling out over the front counter of the convenient store down to the cashier who had already checked out.

“Then we’re all out!” The worker didn’t even bother to look at you while he dismissed you.

“This place is literally called Coffee and Go. That’s what I want to do. Get my coffee and go.” You spoke like it was obvious, which to your point, it kind of was.

Just as the cashier was about to yell back at you, now looking at you fully the person at the register stepped towards you. “Here, take mine, I should cut back on the caffeine anyways.”

Your eyes moved down from his young, handsome face to his hand that was extending out the coffee. That’s when your eyes saw the vest resting over his flannel, Sons of Anarchy, Vice President.

“I didn’t drink from it yet, it’s just got a little sugar in it but besides that it’s just regular black coffee.”

“You don’t need to do that.” You shook your head trying to dismiss the man’s generosity.

“I know but if I don’t, I think you’re going to kill that guy.” He leaned in to whisper to you. “And I don’t really want to be pulled in as a witness.”

“What can I say, I’m a bit of an unruly character without my caffeine.” You reached out to take the coffee. “I’ve been on the road for a while, thank you.” You genuinely said.

“Don’t mention it, darling.”

“I didn’t recognize you without the–” You shrugged your shoulders and brought your hands up to mimic holding the vest.

Jax let out a laugh. “Traded it in for the work shirt for the next 5 hours. Didn’t recognize you with the–” He pointed to his face similarly to the officer before but in more of a mimicking way since you had mocked his kutte.

“Guess we both went through a few changes since the morning.” You rolled your eyes.

Small town charm. That’s what this was, everyone knew everyone, people were chatty. As you pulled into the automotive shop you turned to see the line of bikes along the wall and the large reaper over the building diagonal from the garages. Maybe this was a different small town charm than you had thought.

You had lost track of your conversation with Jax as you stared at the bikers walking around.

“Never seen an M.C. before?” His voice cut through your thoughts.

“More like I know them too well.” You mumbled not expecting any reply from him but the confused look on his face was begging for more information as he placed the tow in park.

“My mom, years ago, was a member of Hell Babes before they patched over into Rebel Supply. It was a Women’s Motorcycle Collective so, probably a little different than this.” You pointed out the truck window and looked back at Jax who was a little surprised to hear the story from you.

“Or a lot of the same.” Jax’s eyebrows raised.

“We’ll never know that will we?” You raised your eyebrows back at him. The confused look filled Jax’s face again as he frowned at your statement before taking the keys out of the ignition. “You’re never gonna tell me the reapers' ways of working and I’m not going to tell you anything about the Rebels.”

“Yea, it’s a lot of the same.” Jax smiled at you. “Let me give the guys the keys so they can start working on an estimate for you.”

You stood in the middle of the lot, waiting for Jax to come back, taking in the details on each of the bikes, it was bringing back a lot of memories for you, good and bad. Luckily you didn’t get too far down memory lane before Jax was back next to you, now with his kutte over his work shirt.

“Come on, it’s gonna be a minute.” He guided you towards the tall black building that had the MC logo plastered everywhere on it.

As you stepped into what you assumed to be the clubhouse the smell of cigars and alcohol filled your nose. It was definitely extremely different from what the Women’s Collective had as their stomping grounds, but what did you expect when it was a bunch of middle aged men in the middle of bumfuck California.

“Have a drink, relax.” Jax was calling out from the bar as he poured you a beer.

“The cop gonna come back and DUI test me?” You made yourself comfortable at the bar.

“Nah, Unser’s cool.” Jax smirked like he expected you to know what that meant in terms of the club.

“Uncle Touchy, you mean?” You asked in hopes for some explanation to the nickname that wouldn’t make you sick to your stomach.

“It’s just a joke, pisses him off, there’s no rhyme or reason behind it, don’t worry.” Jax laughed, taking a sip of his own beer.

“This is the second drink you’ve bought me today.” The glass raised to cheers him before you took a sip yourself. The cold beer was like medicine to your aching body, the cold chill relaxed you from not only the accident but the week you were having.

“Call it fate.” He chuckled.

“Call it Teller-Morrow Towing.” You rebutted.

“Speaking of, I thought the coffee was supposed to dial down the unruliness.”

“Only managed to have half the cup before my tire popped, not enough to keep the unruliness at bay.”

The two of you continued talking, chatting about your parents and clubs, but still managing to keep pretty much every detail a secret as you talked. Topics changed and there was never an awkward lull or search for another thing to bring up, things just came up naturally, where you grew up, your favorite places to travel, the fact that you stopped riding years ago and how Jax could never give it up, what you were doing coming through Charming.

It was crazy that an hour had already passed when one of the mechanics had stepped into the clubhouse.

“Jax! That tow you brought in, estimate is $670 for everything, we can have it done by tomorrow morning, just let us know when to get started!”

You closed your eyes as you heard the time and price. “That how you let all your customers know the breakdown?”

“Don’t let most of my customers come in here to wait out their estimate, truthfully.” He grabbed your glass and tossed it in the sink.

“Let ‘em know to get started.” You stood up ready to retreat out of the clubhouse and figure out your overnight arrangements.

“Will do, if you want, maybe uh, I can give you that full cup of coffee in the mornin’.”

He was so smug about asking you that it was obvious what he was saying between the lines.

“You askin’ me to stay the night, biker boy?” The two of you were now walking down the hallway to the door when Jax grabbed the door above your head and held it open for you.

“All about the hospitality, baby, and figured it’d be good to caffeinate you in the mornin’ so you’re not unruly to my guys.” He had a toothpick in his mouth now that was moving around as his tongue played with it.

“What the gentlemen, Jax.” You crossed your arms before agreeing, what the hell, you were just passing through, right? “Sure, I’ll bite. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it, darling.”

#Jax Teller #jax teller x reader #Jax Teller x you #Jackson Teller #Soa #Sons of Anarchy #SOA fanfic #soa fanfiction #jax teller fanfic #jax teller fanfiction

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mercy-burning · 3 years

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Petite Etoile

Pairing: Spencer Reid x femReader Summary: BAU!Reader used to be a stripper, and when people where she used to work are being murdered, the team is called in to investigate. Category: Fluff, Smut 18+ (oral sex- male and female receiving, penetrative sex, Reader also does a stripping performance) Warnings: Sex, language, mentions of murder/violence and all the things you’d normally find in an episode of Criminal Minds. (As always, if there’s anything I missed, let me know what I should include in warnings! I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 7.8k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: This is going up way later than I said it would, so I’m sorry if you were looking forward to this, I just haven’t been motivated lately. But I really have to get out of my writing slump, and I’m hoping I can do that soon. Anyway, I hope you like it! Thanks for reading 🥰 Also, I know that Don’t Blame Me by Taylor Swift doesn’t exist at the time of early season 2, which is when I imagine this taking place, but for the sake of the story let’s pretend it does, because that’s the song I had in mind when I wrote the performance scene 😉😂

***

When Y/N walked into work Thursday morning, everything was as normal as it could be. She chatted with Elle on her way up the elevator, handed JJ her coffee as she made her way to Hotch's office, and ruffled Reid's hair when she passed him, smiling at the way he blushed at her affectionate gesture.

But when the team was called into the round-table room, and she watched as JJ presented their next case, Y/N felt a little sick to her stomach.

Over the past week, three strippers from the town she'd lived in for years before moving to Virginia had been found stabbed in various parts of the block surrounding Starsight. She knew the place well. Not only did she used to work there as a stripper after she graduated, but her best friend, Irene, owned the establishment, and she'd practically become the sister Y/N never had. She helped her through college and pushed her to go into the Bureau. If people, Irene's people, were dying, why hadn't she called or said anything?

Thankfully Y/N didn't recognize any of the dancers who'd been killed, because if she had, she'd feel a lot worse. But even still, she wanted to find who was behind it, and she would. The BAU always did. And with her background knowledge of the scene and the town, Y/N figured she might be able to lend an extra helping hand.

But first she had to tell the team about her past.

It wasn't a secret that she used to be a stripper. In fact, it wasn't really something she was able to hide. With someone as curious as Penelope Garcia in her life, Y/N wouldn't have been able to hide it even if she wanted to. Thankfully though, besides the occasional teasing comment from Morgan, and sometimes Elle, the team didn't treat her any differently. She wasn't Y/N The Former Stripper, she was just Y/N. She was good at her job, and everyone respected and liked her just the way she was.

While debriefing on the jet, she was about to bring it up when Morgan did it first, seemingly sly like he'd discovered some big secret. "Hey, Y/N, didn't you used to live near this place?"

She nodded, clearing her throat. "Uh, yeah, that's actually what I was going to bring up. Starsight is where I used to work before I moved here. I know the owner of the place, she's one of my best friends."

She could tell Morgan wanted to tease her some more about her previous work, but before he could get a word in Gideon spoke from behind her. "Irene Whitcomb?"

"Yeah."

"Good, when we land I want you, Morgan, and Reid to go talk to her. See if you can find anything out."

Y/N nodded, and in front of her, she noticed Reid was a little flushed. It didn't surprise her considering when everyone found out her previous job, he almost choked on his coffee, and Morgan laughed hysterically while he had a coughing fit. It was obvious to Y/N from the beginning that Spencer had had a little crush on her, and it didn't bother her at all. Every once in a while she'd pat his knee before she got up from her seat next to him or wink at him as they saw each other briefly in passing, just to see how he'd react, and by now it was a staple of their relationship. It never did go any further than that though, Y/N afraid she might make him too uncomfortable.

But even still, she couldn't help but give him a flirty smile as he blinked rapidly in front of her, still seeming to process what was going to happen when they landed. When he excused himself to go to the bathroom, she gave him one more wink and a small bite of her lip as he passed.

Morgan laughed softly beside her. "You're gonna ruin the poor kid if you keep that up, girlie."

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," she responded, even though the smile on her face suggested otherwise.

***

A strip club being almost at full capacity in the middle of the day was more common than one might think. It had surprised Y/N when she first started working at Starsight, and even now she still didn't really understand why. Regardless it was almost 3pm, and if things had stayed the same over the years, which by the looks of things seemed to be the case, Irene should have been behind the bar.

It must have been a sight to behold, Y/N mused as she and her colleagues navigated through the club in search of its owner, and it sounded like the beginning to a bad joke— a former stripper turned FBI agent, a guy who looks like he just walked straight out of a procedural cop show, and an adorably and obviously nervous skinny kid with glasses and trembling hands walk into a strip club at 3pm... The thought made Y/N laugh to herself, right before Irene spotted her.

"Y/N!"

It was obvious that she wanted to jump over the bar and give her old friend a hug, but given the circumstances, Irene settled for dropping a shot glass, spilling the drink on the counter, and clapping her hands quickly a few times in succession. A wide smile and kind eyes greeted the three agents as they approached.

"Irene, hi," Y/N greeted with a large smile of her own. "I wish I could have came to visit under better circumstances."

"Right, me too..." The blonde woman's smile faded for a second, just long enough that the recognizable signs of grief came and go quickly before replacing themselves with bittersweet niceties. "Anyway, you wanna introduce me to your friends?"

"Yeah, Irene, these are my colleagues, Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid."

Irene reached out to shake their hands, eyeing up Morgan with only the slightest bit of shame, and laughing softly at Reid's polite avoidance of the gesture as he settled on a wave and a shy smile.

"We were hoping to ask you a few questions about the past week," Morgan said.

"Yeah, anything. Just give me a minute to clean this up and we can sit down."

***

"So, you used to work here?"

Y/N laughed, kicking Derek under the table. "Yep. Looks exactly the same as when I left, too. Only difference is that I'm not here to bring everyone in on Friday nights."

As Derek laughed, Spencer tensed up beside Y/N, and he started to play with his hands under the table they all sat at.

"She's not joking," Irene said as she approached the table with a smile. She took the seat next to Morgan and gave him a wink. "Petite Etoile over here was the main attraction."

Y/N groaned a little. "Oh, c'mon Irene, don't use my nickname here, that's not who I am anymore."

"Don't tell me you've lost your shine, Little Star." From the tone in her voice to the look on her face, it was clear to Y/N that Irene was just as devious as she'd been since the day they first met. "You know it would just break this town's heart."

"I highly doubt that... Besides, this little star shines just as brightly as it used to, thank you very much."

At that statement, Y/N felt Reid's knee hit the table with a loud thud. As Morgan questioned whether he was okay, she wondered what was running through his head. It didn't last long though, because shortly afterwards Morgan started asking questions about the case.

"Was it particularly crowded on the nights the dancers were killed?"

Irene hugged her arms to her stomach, her eyes drooping a little at the mention. "It gets pretty crowded every night to tell you the truth. But Friday nights are busiest. The nights Carrie, Lola, and Evelyn disappeared were just like any other night here."

"I know how hard it is to keep track of everyone, but is there anyone you might have noticed that seemed a little too lurk-y?" Even as she asked the question, Y/N felt like she already knew the answer.

And Irene really did seem to try to recall something, anything that could help, but she was visibly frustrated, tears welling in her eyes. "No, Y/N, I'm so sorry. After Carrie... the first time... we heightened security and everything, but it just wasn't enough, I... I don't know what to do."

Y/N reached across the table to grab her friend's hand. "It's okay, 'Rene. We're gonna figure this out, alright? I promise you."

Through tears, the blonde smiled and squeezed Y/N's hand. "I know you will, Little Star."

"Would it be possible for us to look at your surveillance tapes?" Reid asked quietly.

Irene looked up at him and nodded, still squeezing Y/N's hand. "Anything you need."

***

"So... Little Star, huh?"

Y/N rolled her eyes with a smile as she, Morgan, and Reid got into the car. When she got in the passenger seat, she waited for Morgan to be in the car before responding. "Oh, don't start. I swear to God, Derek, if you start calling me that I might just have to kick your ass."

"Well, you gotta at least tell me how you got the name?" he laughed, putting on his seatbelt while Reid climbed in the back.

"Well, how do you think? The place is called Starsight after all... So, Petite Etoile just made sense."

It was obvious that she was lying to get him to drop it, so Morgan kept pushing. "Okay, sure, but that's not the whole truth. Carrie, Lola, and Evelyn didn't have star names."

"Ugh, okay, fine, if I tell you will you shut up about it?"

"Promise."

Y/N caught a glimpse of Reid in the back through the rearview mirror. As expected, he was fidgety and just a little red.

She sighed and waited until Morgan pulled out of the parking lot to talk. "Okay. Once every month Starsight does a 'Midnight Sky' theme night. They light the place up in deep blue lights and everyone wears... space-themed outfits. Every dancer does their own special routine with songs and outfits that they pick on their own. My first time working a theme night, everyone seemed to really like what I did; I ended up doing an encore later in the night before we closed. Another dancer who worked with us at the time, Jenny, was learning French, so after my performance she called me Petite Etoile, and it just stuck."

"Okay, but why did you get the nickname and no one else?" Morgan asked with a smug smile. He knew she was still holding something back.

"Do you really want to know?"

"Yes, Y/N, I really want to know."

She sighed. "Let's... just say my outfit was... well, it barely covered me, and what it did manage to cover was covered by fabric in the shape of stars."

While Morgan laughed, Y/N looked in the mirror to see Reid with his head low, even more red than he was before. He was biting his bottom lip and fiddling the the seatbelt strap, and when his eyes briefly met hers in the mirror he was quick to avoid eye contact once again. If Y/N didn't find it completely adorable she would have felt more badly about it. But just to make sure, she called out to him.

"Reid, you okay back there?"

He looked up to meet her eyes again through the mirror, but only briefly before trying to ook anywhere else. "O-oh, yeah, I'm... I'm good."

Morgan laughed. "Yeah, I bet you are."

Y/N punched him in the arm and met Reid's eyes once more. "Sorry."

"Oh, you don't have anything to be sorry about, it's... it's okay, really, I-I'm not... it's..."

"Hey, don't worry about it," Y/N said calmly, giving him a reassuring smile. "We're all good here, right?"

"Right," Morgan and Reid said one after the other.

"Good. Now let's catch this creep."

***

Unfortunately no one had gotten much of anywhere in the next few hours. The security footage showed a man following each of the girls out of Starsight but there wasn't anything distinctive about him. Somehow he'd avoided all the cameras face to face, so he knew where they all were. And as for how he chose which dancers to target they weren't sure.

Until Irene walked into the station, that is.

"Y/N, I completely forgot something! I can't believe I missed it."

She stood before the team in the office that the station had given them for the time being, everyone else sitting down. Y/N stood up and nodded. "What is it?"

"Carrie, Lola, and Evelyn were all Spotlight Performers."

"What does that mean?" Elle asked from behind them.

Y/N turned to the group, her arms crossed. "Every other night Starsight spotlights a different dancer for a large performance at the end of the night, sort of like a grand finale before the club closes."

"So you're saying each of the girls was the Spotlight Performer on the nights they went missing?" Hotch asked, more like a clarification than a question.

"Yeah, Carrie on Saturday, Lola on Monday, and Evelyn on Wednesday," Irene said frantically.

Y/N reached out to grab her hand. "Well, it's Thursday. So, if he sticks to pattern, he's going after tomorrow's Spotlight Performer. Who do you have lined up?"

"Well, no one yet. After the murders the girls have been hesitant to schedule, and I don't blame them... So what should I do?"

Before Y/N could answer, Hotch did. "Y/L/N, you haven't gone undercover before, but I think it would be a good idea. You used to work at Starsight, you could lure him out."

She turned around sharply. "Oh, I... I don't know, Hotch, I haven't danced in so long, I'm not sure I—"

"He's right," Gideon interrupted. "It's the best chance we have at catching him."

Between Hotch and Gideon's opinions on the matter, Y/N knew she didn't have a say anymore.

"You still know your routine, Petite Etoile?" Irene asked, only slightly amused.

"Petite Etoile?" Elle wondered aloud.

Y/N heard Morgan laugh and she sighed.

***

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you were nervous," Irene said as she straightened another piece of Y/N's hair.

She played with the hem of the sheer robe she was wearing. "Well, I'm about to go undercover for the first time, stripping for the first time in years in front of all my colleagues so I can lure out a serial killer, so I guess you could say I'm a little nervous."

"Well... When you put it like that..."

Y/N looked up at her friend. "I'm sorry, Irene. Really, I'm okay, and we will get him, I promise."

"No, I know you will. I'm not worried. So... Who do they have watching you tonight?"

"Gideon and Hotch are outside, but Elle, Morgan, and Reid are in here with me. There are some extra officers all around the block, too, just in case."

"Hmm," Irene mused, and Y/N could tell she wanted to say something.

"What?"

"I don't know, it just surprises me they'd send Reid in here of all people. He seems almost more nervous than you."

Y/N laughed. "Well, when it comes to girls he gets a little nervous, but... he's good at his job."

"I'll take your word for it. But I also wouldn't be surprised if he short circuits when he sees you up there."

The thought made her smile a little, though she wondered how badly Morgan would tease him about the whole situation. Things between them all would no doubt be a little awkward for a while, but in no time they'd go back to normal like it never happened. At least that's what she told herself, because she wasn't sure what she'd do if her friendship with Reid was permanently damaged and awkward because of her past. The thought worried her just a little, but before she could get too psyched out, a knock at the door brought her back to reality.

"Y/N, it's Elle."

"Come on in!"

Y/N got up from the chair and turned around to meet Elle in the doorway. Her eyes wandered for a moment before nodding with a smirk. "Damn. Petite Etoile indeed."

Despite the nerves, Y/N smiled. "You here to give me an earpiece?"

Elle nodded and closed the door behind her. As she turned on the device and handed it to Y/N, she spoke. "You nervous?"

"A little, but it's just because I haven't done this in a while. Not to mention I'm doing it in front of everyone, and I'm luring out the unsub."

"No pressure, right?"

Y/N laughed, adjusting the earpiece and taking a deep breath. "It'll be fine. How long until I go on?"

"Five minutes. I'll be near the front with Reid. Morgan is in the back with a few officers, and everyone else is outside. We all have communication with you, so if we see him we'll let you know what to look out for."

"Got it."

"Y/L/N, can you hear me?" It was Hotch's voice through the earpiece.

"Yeah, loud and clear."

"Good. We're all in position. Whenever you're ready."

***

Elle met him near the front of the stage. To say he was nervous would be an understatement. Spencer didn't have a problem with strip clubs in the least, but it was bad enough that he'd thought about Y/N on multiple occasions in his dreams, now he was going to have to see her stripping just like he'd imagined many times over. The whole situation spelled out disaster, and if she didn't already know he had a crush on her, she most certainly would when the night was over.

As Elle approached him, he took a deep breath and stretched out his hands to calm his nerves. "She okay?"

Elle nodded. "Ready to go. I'm gonna stand on the other side of the stage, keep a look out for anyone who seems like he could be our guy."

"Right."

Before she left, Elle patted him on the shoulder and smiled knowingly. "Oh, and Reid... Try not to get distracted."

Yeah. He was fucked.

When the music that was playing stopped and the lights started to shift, Spencer took another deep breath. Irene's familiar voice came through the speakers.

"Thank you for coming to Starsight. Tonight's Spotlight Performer is a special one. Returning to the stage for the first time in years, shining brighter and better than ever before, give it up for our very own little star, Petite Etoile!"

A deep, seductive song that Spencer didn't recognize replaced Irene's voice as the lights shifted again, and the crowd around him applauded. It was just as crowded as it had been when he, Morgan, and Y/N met Irene the day before, but with a serial killer no doubt present and Y/N about to come on stage, everything felt heavier.

A dark silhouette broke through fog on the stage, and even though Spencer knew it was Y/N, it didn't feel real. He'd only ever seen her at work, in work clothes, and sometimes in casual clothes when they all went out for drinks on occasion.

So when she finally came into view, her hair tumbling down her back and shoulders rather than in a ponytail, and wearing almost nothing at all, he wasn't even sure it was her for a split second. But the way she looked, her magnetic presence and the way she carried herself across the stage was so remarkably her it was hard to miss. Everything about her confidence was elevated in that moment, and his own confidence—in his job and ability to function as a human being—was completely shattered when she caught his eye. It was just a split second, but that was all it took.

She must have noticed, because she gave him a small smile and a wink before turning her attention to the rest of the crowd as the music built. Spencer cleared his throat softly before glancing around, trying his best to scan everyone for anything suspicious. When he was sure there was nothing around him to be concerned about, he reluctantly let his eyes wander back to the stage.

By now Y/N had rid herself of the sheer robe that was on her, leaving her in a deep blue one-piece... contraption was the only word he could come up with. It was all connected by thin straps of fabric that weaved around every curve of her body, crisscrossing and leaving little to the imagination. Just like she'd described back in the car yesterday, small patches of fabric shaped like stars covered the front of her breasts and...

The second he looked down, she squatted, spreading her legs open and rolling her hips, exposing almost the entire front three rows of people to her barely-clothed pussy.

Spencer felt his cheeks grow warm as he quickly averted his gaze and pretended to survey the crowd again. To his credit, he did really search for anyone who could be the unsub, but the whole time he heard the song and the cheering crowd, and in turn Y/N occupied almost every corner of his brain.

When he finally had the courage to look at the stage again, she was making her way to a chair in the middle. Every step was on beat to the music and purposeful. She danced around the chair for a bit before another big beat drop in the song happened, and she squatted in front of it quickly, rolling her hips as she slowly got up.

Her eyes found his once more as she mouthed along to the words of the song, almost like she was singing directly to him. He wouldn't have thought anything of it, but she held his gaze for much longer than he'd been able to handle, and she knew exactly what she was doing. Which was made evident when she bit her bottom lip and ran her hands down her body, stopping at her knees before she sat in the chair and spread her legs, her hands finally dragging along the insides of her thigh.

Her eyes remained on him the entire time.

Butterflies immediately erupted in his stomach at her intensity, stronger than they'd ever been before. He'd always felt it when she affectionately ruffled his hair or patted his knee in passing, but now? She wasn't even touching him and he was about to crumble to the ground.

Thankfully something in his ear saved him from that. "I've got a visual." It was Morgan. "He's in the back, black long sleeve and jeans. Buzzcut. Y/N, look up at me and blink three times when you see him."

Reid looked up and and noticed her doing it. To anyone else it wouldn't have seemed out of pace, but he could tell she was a little rattled. In any case, she broke contact with Morgan and continued on with her performance as if nothing happened.

Though it meant there was most definitely a serial killer in the room and he would follow Y/N out of the club later, Spencer was glad for the past minute, because he wasn't sure how much more of the performance he could take. Suddenly there was a job to focus on again, and he was thankful for that.

***

"You're sure you're okay?"

Y/N laughed as she approached her motel room, phone in hand. "Yeah, Irene, I'm okay. Promise. He got a hold on me but my team was there to stop him before he did anything. No nicks or bruises or anything."

"Okay... You were great out there by the way. If you weren't such a kick-ass FBI agent now, I'd ask you to come back."

Laughing, she turned her head and noticed Reid at the end of the hall, walking to his room. He caught her eye and gave a shy smile before disappearing behind the door and closing himself off from her. She contemplated a moment before starting her journey to his room. "Well, I'm glad we could help. Maybe if I find myself in town again, I'll stop by."

"Yeah, you better. Though I'd prefer if a serial killer wasn't involved."

"You and me both. I'll come see you before we leave tomorrow morning, yeah?"

"Yeah. Goodnight, Petite Etoile."

With an affectionate roll of her eyes, Y/N nodded though her friend wouldn't be able to see. "Night."

She hung up and put the phone in her bag, taking a deep breath before knocking on Reid's door.

The answer was almost immediate. He stood before her, and it looked like he'd just gotten undressed, wearing grey pajama bottoms and a white tee shirt. "Oh, Y/N, h-hi," he stammered, pushing his glasses up his nose a little. "What's up?"

"Do you... mind if I come in? I know it might sound a little weird but I don't really want to be alone right now..." It was true. Though she was okay after catching the unsub, the idea of being alone after everything that happened was sure to leave a small ache that wouldn't let her sleep, and having company would make a good cure.

"Oh, no, that isn't weird at all. Uh, sure, come on in." He stepped aside and opened the door wider to let her through. She smiled gratefully as she passed him, careful to notice the faint color that adorned his cheeks.

When he closed the door behind them, she set her bag down on the floor and turned to meet him, playing with the sleeve of the FBI jacket she was wearing. Before leaving Starsight, she'd changed into underwear, leggings, and a thin tee shirt. She debated taking the jacket off, but knowing how much of her body her colleague and friend had no doubt seen that night, she figured for his sake she'd leave it on. At least for now.

"I know it's late and we should probably get to bed, but... Truthfully I don't know how well I'll be able to sleep."

Spencer seemed concerned. "You're... you're okay? He didn't hurt you badly, did he?"

"Oh! No, he didn't, I'm just... rattled, that's all. I'll be okay, really. It's just that I haven't... performed in a long time, and all of that added on to being serial killer bait was just... eventful. That's all."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, you were great."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing at her lips. "Oh?"

"Oh, I mean at handling the unsub. Not that you weren't great at the other thing, of course! I just... I just meant that... I didn't mean... Um..."

"Hey, it's okay, I'm... I'm not mad or anything, I'm... flattered."

The redness on Spencer's face became more vivid under the dim glow of the room. "I- Really?"

Y/N smiled and took a step closer. "Mhmm. Y'know... Truthfully it was really hard for me not to look at you the whole time. Out of everyone in that whole room, I wanted to see only you."

His gaze wandered up and down her body briefly before meeting her eyes. "You did?"

"Mhmm," she said again. Her hand reached out to graze his bare arm, and he shivered under her light touch. "You can stop me if this is too weird, but... I really like you, Spence... Like, a lot. And, I think it's pretty obvious that you like me, too. Am I wrong?"

He swallowed. "Um... No. You're not wrong."

She was only inches away from him now, her hands gently caressing his shoulders and chest. She looked up at him through her eyelashes and smiled. "Do you want to kiss me as badly as I want to kiss you right now?"

"Um... T-truthfully I think I might want... to kiss you more..."

Y/N laughed and balled his shirt in one hand, the other snaking up to the back of his head and running through his hair. "Okay, then... You gonna prove it, or what?"

He bit his lip softly before leaning down and capturing her lips in a kiss that made her dizzy. Her hands tightened their grip on him, and the second her lips parted, he wasted no time gently swiping his tongue across her bottom lip, his confidence growing with every second. She groaned into him, pulling her body flush against his and forcing him to wrap his arms around her waist to keep steady.

They pulled away for air eventually, and by the gleam in his eyes when she looked at him, she knew exactly what she had to do.

"No one is rooming with you, right?"

"N-no. It's just me."

"Good." She whispered it seductively as she removed her hands from him and slowly unzipped her jacket, keeping eye contact with Spencer the whole time. Except, of course, when his eyes glanced down to see the progress the zipper was making. Once she slid it off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor, he took her in, his tongue dancing behind his lips.

She let him have a few more seconds before taking a step forward and kissing him again, both of her hands cradling his face and bringing her thumbs to gently rub his cheeks. He melted into her completely, wrapping his arms around her again in no time. While their kisses were slow and passionate for a minute, eventually they grew hungrier, and Y/N hadn't even realized they'd been moving until they were toppling onto the bed, Spencer falling back and her landing on top of him.

They broke apart only for a moment to adjust themselves, but went right back to each other once Y/N straddled his legs and he leaned back on his hands to keep himself upright.

Her hands played in his hair as she kissed him, each brush of her tongue against his sending him into a downward spiral. He'd only ever dreamed of this, and even then, this was better than any dream. Y/N herself was better than any dream.

She ground her hips against him, causing him to groan into her mouth, and he pushed himself forward to be closer, needing to be completely wrapped up in her for as long as he could. When she pulled her mouth from his and settled her hands on his shoulders to keep him from moving, he whined a little, the sound completely taking the both of them aback.

She smiled and cocked her head to the side. "I've thought about this for so long... You have no idea how many times I've wanted to kiss you since we met."

"Really?"

With a nod, Y/N toyed with the collar of his shirt, tugging it and slowly grinding her hips against him again. "Have you ever thought about it?"

It was a question they both obviously knew the answer to, but she wanted to have some fun. She loved seeing how shy he got, it made her want him even more.

"Yes... I... I think about you a lot," he breathed, blinking at her as she slid her hands down his chest and found the bottom of his shirt. She smiled and raised it up, her touch sending shivers all over his body.

"What have you thought about? Any specifics?" she asked once his shirt was all the way off. Her fingers found their way to his neck again as she pulled herself closer.

"Oh, I... Um... I-I've thought about... kissing you on the jet in front of everyone."

Y/N smiled and pushed his glasses up his nose, then traced her finger down over his lips and hooked it under his chin to tilt his head up, exposing his neck. "I've thought about that, too... You know what else?"

Spencer blinked at her, urging her to continue.

She leaned forward and kissed the underside of his jaw, then his neck, leaving small kisses in between every soft word. "I've thought about how good your hands would feel on me." Her hand grabbed one of his and brought it to rest on her side, slipping under her shirt. "Have you ever thought about touching me?"

"Yes," he breathed as she moved her mouth back up his jaw and to the corner of his mouth.

She brought her lips just inches from his, and he could feel them just barely as she spoke. "Do it. Please."

And then she let go of him, bringing both her hands to his face as she kissed him again. Her legs wrapped around him tighter as he used both of his hands to grip her sides. As soon as they knew they were stable enough not to fall backwards, Spencer slid his hands slowly up her torso and barely ghosted over her breasts. She could tell he was a little hesitant, so she pushed further into him, practically trapping his hands in between their chests. Her kisses grew deeper and more desperate as he palmed her breasts, letting a moan or two slip out to encourage him further.

Thankfully it worked, because with every passing second he got more confident with his touches. When Y/N moved her hips against his again, he sighed into her mouth and brought one of his hands out from under her shirt and to her head, running his fingers through her hair.

At this point he was noticeably hard beneath her, and she was desperate to feel more of him. So Y/N peeled herself away from Spencer and snuck her hand down to play with the waistband of his pants. "You wouldn't happen to have a condom on you, would you?"

"Oh, uh, a-actually Morgan gave me one as a joke last week. It's, uh, in my wallet. In my bag."

Y/N laughed. "Sounds like him. Why don't you go grab it."

He nodded as she got up off of him. While he walked over to his bag, Y/N quickly removed her shirt and leggings, leaving her only in a pair of thin black panties that were almost too small. Before he turned around, she sat back on the edge of the bed and spread her legs wide, leaning back on her elbows as she waited.

If she didn't know any better she would have thought that when he turned around, his eyes were going to fall out of his head. He took small steps towards the bed, and she made the 'come here' motion with her finger. "Take your pants off for me?"

He all but scrambled to get them off, and Y/N smiled affectionately at him as she watched, hoping to calm his nerves by letting him know that he had nothing to be nervous about.

But just to be sure, she told him as much anyway. "You've got nothing to worry about, Spence. Trust me, I... I want this."

Once his pants were off, he met her at the edge of the bed, standing in between her legs. "I do too, I just... It's just that I've only ever... done this before once, and... I'm not very experienced, and I don't want to disappoint you."

Y/N sat up and grabbed his hips, leaning forward to press small, soft kisses to his stomach as she looked up at him. "You could never disappoint me. Promise."

Once she was sure he was a little more relaxed, she moved her kisses lower, until they reached the waistband of his underwear. She hooked her fingers under it and slid them down slowly, keeping eye contact with him until they dropped to the floor. Only then did she look down at his dick, and it was even better than she imagined.

Giving a satisfied hum, she pressed a soft kiss to the tip and fluttered her eyes up to meet his, the look on his face completely awe-struck. She took the tip of his dick in between her lips and sucked gently, swirling her tongue around it as she watched his mouth fall open, a sigh escaping. She could tell he was holding back a little, so she traced her finger along the length of him and kept sucking lightly at the tip, hoping to get some noise out of him.

Y/N took him in her mouth completely, bobbing her head up and down just a few times to get him wet before removing her lips with a pop. When she gripped him firmly with one hand and steadily began to stroke him, he finally gave her what she hoped for.

"Y/N," he groaned, just above a whisper. His eyes were closed, but he opened them when she stopped.

"You wanna put it on or should I?" she asked.

"Spencer turned the small packet over in his hand before nodding. "I can do it."

Y/N scooted farther onto the bed and slid off her panties as he got to work, and thankfully he wasn't as nervous anymore. He moved to take off his glasses, but she stopped him. "Keep them on?"

The devious grin on her face made him blush, and he nodded, crawling over the top of her and pressing tentative kisses to her stomach, only he travelled downward instead of up to her mouth.

"You don't have t—"

"I want to," he reassured, kissing her inner thighs. "Truth be told, Y/N, I've thought about doing this, too. Is that okay?"

"Yes," she responded clearly, extremely turned on by the needy tone in his voice.

Almost immediately after she answered, his tongue darted out to taste her, swiping gently over her clit and sending her into a state of speechlessness. She leaned up on her elbows to watch as Spencer took his time, exploring and savoring every inch of her. She knew now why he'd wanted to take his glasses off, but if anything the sight of them riding up his face as he ate her out made the whole thing even hotter.

"Fuck, Spence, that... that feels so fucking good," she breathed, trying to keep her eyes open to look at him but ultimately failing.

Her words emboldened him, and he slipped a finger slowly inside her, his tongue paying special attention to her clit. He worked them together in a slow, sensual rhythm that eventually drove her to the edge. And she told him so.

"You're gonna make me cum," she breathed, willing herself to open her eyes. She found him staring up at her as best as he could in his position, the hungry sparkle in his eye pushing her further. What finally pushed her over the edge was when he sucked gently on her clit and groaned against her as she called out his name. Everything blinded her for a moment as she rocked her hips against his face, needing to hang on to every last second of her orgasm.

When she finally came down, Spencer pulled away and adjusted his glasses, to which Y/N bit her lip and moaned once more. "You're sure you've only ever done this once?"

He laughed a little, sucking his fingers clean with a shrug before answering. "Yeah, but I'm a quick-study."

Y/N smiled and reached one of her arms out to him. "Come here, quick-study."

The two of them smiled as their lips found one another, her hands flying to his hair once again. His hands gripped her waist, and his dick pressed up against her lower stomach, making her groan against him.

Without another word, Y/N hooked her legs around his waist and shifted their weight, rolling them over so she was straddling him now. Spencer reached up to move her hair to one side of her face, and then soon after she sat up, placing her hands on his chest.

"I'll tell you something else I've thought about," she said lowly, scratching down his chest just lightly enough to give him goosebumps. She then used one of her hands to grip his dick and lifted her hips up, running the head of him through her wetness as she looked down at him. "I've thought about how good you would look while I ride you. More than once, actually."

She sank down onto him, just a little, and his face sure enough twitched in pleasure, making Y/N smile to herself. "What about you? You ever imagine me riding this pretty cock?"

"Fuck, Y/N, yes, I— Oh my god..."

She sat down completely, rocking her hips forward a little and pressing her hands harder into his chest. "Fuck, you feel so good..."

She set a slow pace, making sure to pay extra attention to Spencer's face as she worked him. Just like she'd done before, he seemed to have a hard time keeping his eyes open, but his hands gripped her hips so tightly she was sure they'd leave bruises. The thought of that spurred her on, and she picked up the pace, bouncing steadily on his cock.

"Ohhh, fuck," she groaned, her hands leaving his torso to grab her breasts. He opened his eyes and watched her, letting out a soft moan of his own. His hands slid up her sides and under hers, replacing them with his own firm grip. She leaned forward a little so he wouldn't have to reach up that far, placing both of her hands on either side of his waist.

"Tell me," she managed to say as she continued riding him. "You ever think about fucking me at work? In the round-table room or over my desk? I know I have..."

He continued to pinch and pull at her nipples while barely being able to keep his eyes open. "Y-yes... Fuck, Y/N, I think about you all the time..."

"Feeling's mutual. Sit up for me?"

Spencer opened his eyes and she helped him sit up. They adjusted for a second before she wrapped her arms around his neck and started moving again, rocking her hips into his and giving him a better angle to hit inside her deeper.

"Fuck, baby, you feel so good," she breathed against his lips before she kissed him, missing the feel of his lips on hers. Their bodies clung together perfectly, every movement feeling better than the last, until they were both obviously close to coming undone.

Sure enough, the moment she squeezed her legs together and clenched herself around him, he groaned into her mouth and bucked his hips forward. "Y/N... I..."

She pressed her forehead to his and tugged at his hair, quickening her pace just a little and feeling herself geting close as well. Any moment now and she would feel it.

"Me, too," she breathed, brushing her nose against his. Within a matter of seconds, they were both unraveling, sighing out each others' names and holding on to each other for dear life as they rode out their highs.

Eventually Y/N slowed her hips to a stop, and she slumped against him, pressing one final kiss to his lips before she got off his lap and pulled him down to lay beside her, immediately snuggling into his side and burying her face in the crook of his neck.

"So, was that better than you imagined?" she murmured against his neck, pressing kisses along collarbone.

Spencer laughed and pulled her even closer. "Even better. No dream could ever do you justice."

She smiled, feeling herself growing sleepy. "You sap... But, for the record, I could say the same thing about you."

"Really?" He seemed genuinely curious.

Y/N looked up at him and smiled, tracing patterns on his chest with her fingertips. "Really. I wasn't kidding, Spence, I think about you... probably more often than I should. You're distracting."

"I'm distracting?" he mused. "You're... you. Seriously, it's a surprise I haven't completely made a fool of myself around you since we met. Especially after we all found out about your other job."

"Right... That doesn't... weird you out, does it?"

"That you used to be a stripper?"

She nodded, truthfully a little worried. She wasn't sure why, but it had always been a problem in her previous relationships, and she'd gotten used to that.

"No, of course that doesn't weird me out. I mean, I was definitely more intimidated around you, and I figured you were completely out of my league... Truthfully, I think you still might be."

"Oh, don't sell yourself short, Doctor. You're perfect, and really, if anyone was out of anyone's league here, it would be me. I'd be lucky to have you in any capacity, you know that, right?"

He blushed, bringing his forehead to rest against hers again. "Well... In any case, I really do like you, and... If it's not too weird, maybe you'd want to go out sometime?"

Warmth bloomed in her chest as she reached out and grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together. "Of course. I would love to."

***

"Make it stop," Y/N whined, covering her ears with the pillow.

Spencer stirred beside her, barely awake himself. The knocking at the door wasn't stopping, and in a huff of annoyance, Y/N decided she'd had enough.

"We're getting up!"

She only realized what she did after the door opened and Elle walked in, a shit-eating grin on her face. "Oh my God, you were in here last night! I came by your room and tried calling..."

Y/N and Spencer both froze, completely awake and now well aware of the fact that someone else knew about their... sleeping arrangement.

"Uh, yeah... Yeah, I was here. Sorry if I worried you," Y/N stammered, trying to keep her cool. "I-I promised Irene I'd stop by this morning for breakfast before we left, so I should probably do that. Do, um... Do you mind?"

Elle laughed, giving the two of her friends a once-over before nodding. "Sure thing, Little Star. Oh, and uh... Good for you, Reid, proud of you."

"Elle," Y/N groaned, clutching the covers tighter around her bare torso.

"Right. Don't be too late."

After she left, Y/N leaned over to Spencer and rubbed his arm. "I'm sorry. I probably should have—"

He stopped her by pressing his lips to hers in a soft kiss. When he pulled away, his hand brushed the hair from her face and he smiled. "It's fine. I don't care who knows. I mean, as long as you don't, Petite Etoile..."

He said it with a grin reminiscent of the one Elle had just adorned, and it made Y/N laugh. She kissed him again and ruffled his hair. "I'm gonna get you for that."

"What? It suits you."

"You are not calling me by my stripper name. It's bad enough Elle and Morgan are probably gonna call me that for the rest of my life, I don't need it from you, too." She smiled as she said it, hoping that he knew she was only joking.

Either way, Spencer looked at her adoringly and took her hand in his. "Well, then... how about I just call you mine?"

"I like the sound of that."

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut

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witchlyboo · 3 years

Text

Definitely, maybe.

Part five: The one who belongs to someone else.

Introduction. Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four.

Paring: Latina!reader x Logan Lerman x Tom Holland x Ben Hardy x Timothee Chalamet x Pedro Pascal x Michael B. Jordan

Warnings: Swearing, angst, misspellings, some Spanish, me learning how to write properly, and NY stuff that I've learned from movies that we all agree to pretend are real.

Word count: 6.4 k

a/n: You been asking for smut, I know, I know, I just wanted to introduce you to all the boys first, and we're getting there, just one more ahead. Also, I'm working on a masterlist because we are getting too many parts already.

All body types and skin tones friendly. You can also enjoy it as a no Hispanic reader. Constructive feedback and misspellings correction is always welcome.

Red and blue lights flash the driving mirror.

—No, no, no, por favor que no sea a mi—You beg to the sky looking at the patrol that is asking you to park, or someone else, there's a lot of cars in this part of the city, there's a big chance is the panic who's controlling your senses.—Dios, mi abuela fue a la iglesia cada domingo de su vida y nunca te pidió nada, please let me have some of her divina recompensa.—But that's not how it works, you end up parking with just a few seconds to think what to say. There's a perfect explication of why you are driving a car that is not yours in the middle of the night and smelling like a minibar.

Then this ridiculous thought comes to your mind, you look expensive, you've never seen the daughter of a senator but you must be close to it, it would make you less of a feminist if you just use your attributes? Ugh, you feel sick just to think about it but don't have enough money to pay a fine, and the constant paranoia of being chased all the time as an immigrant will only get stronger.

You pull down your dress a little so your neckline can do its job but you regret it immediately, and you're pretty sure you look more like an expensive prostitute who stole the car of his lover than some influential men's daughter.

—License and registration.—You hear him say when he approaches your window. You don't like this but you have to play the dumb tourist, the pretty foreign girl that is too stupid to be dangerous, with the look you have tonight it shouldn't be hard. But damn you hate cops, any uniformed man that works for the government is your eternal enemy, and you don't know how long you could keep the nice dumb Latina game before spit on his face.

—There's something wrong, officer? ...You?!—Your sexy and fake high voice is ruined when you see the face of the man who stopped you. This night couldn't get worse.

—Wait, what happened with the party?—Evan interrupts you while you finish some notes for work, little remainders for later when you don't have an eleven years old kid running around you, he's not usually this energic and you have to blame yourself for that, you're describing a life of excess and eccentric fun, something you let behind so many years ago that your own son doesn't know even a bit of it.

—Ugh, a nightmare doesn't worth telling.—You remember vaguely most of it but what keeps fresh in your mind is bad enough to don't want to bring it back.

—But if Timothée is my dad I have to know the important things, including the bad stuff.—Sounds perfectly reasonable and that's what makes you groan at him. Sometimes you feel blessed that your kid is better than you in any possible way, and sometimes you want to kill his brain with video games and reality shows like the rest of the parents.

—Ok, cool, but I'll keep all the +18 content for myself, so this part of the story might be blurry for you.—It kinda is for you anyway.

You should’ve known this night was cursed, you had a feeling because a) your earring fell off at the same time Timothée texted you to give you the party address and say he can't pick you up. And b) he won’t pick you up. Your mother would say that’s reason enough to not go, a real gentleman wouldn’t make you go to an unknown place in the middle of the night on your own in a city like this. But you decide to ignore it because you are a modern woman and because it’s worth it. It better be.

The outfit must be something special. You always take your time to choose what to wear, even if just another regular day, and since this isn't the case you thought about it for hours, that made your mind busy enough to not thinking about Tom and the whole love confession. He texted you saying he'll come for you to go to class together on Monday, which is completely impractical because he's way closer than you but is progress and you're going to take it.

You wanted to ask for Sheep's opinion but you thought she might not care, has been a few days since she started acting strange like she's bothered just to see you breathe. You want to blame his boyfriend to take all her time and attention from you but is probably just her new job, she got a small role in a Netflix show, and even when you're so happy for her, that's the event that has changed her into someone completely different. But you give her time, stress can do bad things to people.

The winner is the exact copy you made of the black and white striped dress Cameron Diaz wore in "The Mask" beautiful, classy, and sexy enough without being too scandalous, not that you have any problem with that, but this isn't the occasion, you don't want to feel like you're being too much or too little, just enough, it's supposed to be easy, right? you were born for this. Just adding some big shiny earrings you got on a thrift shop that look like real diamonds and you're ready, not that you own any to compare. Red lipstick, dark eyes, and a messy bun to get that disinterested pitch every look needs.

Getting there wasn't a problem, you were in the rich part of the city, everyone know who, where and what just to brag about it. The excitement is growing with every second, you check your makeup like thirty times in the elevator and send texts to your mom just to let her know where you are, and because you have to share that moment with someone and you are limited of friends these days.

Timothée opens the door with red eyes, drunk, high, or somewhere in between, you know then you were right about the bad feeling. He jumps on you to kiss you and no matter how much you try to explain the delicacy of your lipstick, he does it anyway, leaving a taste of alcohol and shrimps in your mouth. Taking you by the waist he walks you to a group of people you don't know while you're trying harder to fix the red color of your mouth without a mirror.

—Here is the companion I bought, look at her, that's how five grand per hour look like.—They laughed but you were too disoriented to process all the things he said, it was supposed to be a joke? if it is, why isn't he correcting? Instead, his hand goes straight to your ass and presses it to get you closer to him.

—I'm actually an intern in the costume designer department of the new version of "Sense and Sensibility".—You wanted to mention your recent promotion to hairstylist and makeup artist but that might be too pretentious. Anyway, they don't seem to care what you are or not, in fact, they don't even see you, all eyes are on Timothée

—Oh, well, is easy to forget when you're paying them—All laughs again. Who is this person? Who are all these people, actually? You recognize some influencers, a few cast members but there's no sign of the director, other main actors, not even his co-star. You feel like an extra in a movie where someone will be killed in a luxury party, hopefully not you. You take his hand from your body and clear your throat.—I'm just joking my love, she looks stunning, isn't she? I’ll get you a drink.

He leaves and the group of people surrounding you suddenly dissipated like boiling water, you were on your own again and despite some judgmental gazes is like you’re not there, you’re sure you could just take your dress off and throw it to someone’s face and unless Tim says something about it, no one would care. You’re there as his companion, an ornament, and that’s not enough to earn their attention because it’s too obvious you’re the one in turn.

You walk to the only window no one is smoking and check your phone, you know, the thing you do when you pretend you have important issues to attend, but no, you end reading some old messages, pictures, texting your mom of how much fun you’re having at the party, and somehow you check your filed Facebook messages to find Logan’s name. You cover the screen so fast you hurt your nail, his name is enough to make you tremble like a Chihuahua, you haven’t talked to him since that night, you know from his sister he lives in the house he bought for you two and he’s having the happiest life without you. You want to believe that because that means you took the right decision but deep inside… no, you can’t be that person, you want him to be happier than ever.

You find the guts to open the message, and you read as slowly as is humanly possible. “My angel, I hope this finds you in perfect health…” Dios, just Logan could start a message like that, your smile is almost too big to fit in your face so you bit your nail to cover it a little. “I recently found one of the human body drawings you made for me to study, you’ll be happy to know…”

—That’s a fucking long-ass message.—Tim appears behind you and takes your phone from your hand, spilling some of his drink on your dress in the process. Apparently, he's been there long enough to read part of the message.

—Give it back.—You command in the most severe voice you have, your magical moment got ruined and you remember the hole of hell you are.

—"My angel, I hope this finds you in perfect health. I recently found one of the human body drawings you made for me to study, you must know I still use them now and then"—Timothée starts reading the message, and even when no one is close enough to hear it and you don’t really care about this people’s opinion, that’s not for anyone to read, that’s one of the few parts of your life you treasure the most and you’re not ready to get over it.—You little slut, are you cheating on me with a med student?

—Give it to me.—You repeat trying to take the phone from his hand but he’s faster and walks away putting it out of your reach.

—"I meticulously preserve them, I certainly know any piece of art made by you will be priceless in the near future"—You don’t want to hear it coming from his drunk mocking voice, so you try to ignore what he’s saying and put more effort on chasing the phone.—Should I had kept the jeans where you left the wet spot on? I didn’t know you were an artist, my love.

—Timothée, por el amor de Dios.—Now you're trying to climb him, it wouldn't be that hard to take him down, he's skinny and you're fierce. That's what you thought but he's not moving even with you are on top of his shoulder and his opposite long arm keeps the phone away from you.

—Who is this guy and why is he talking to my girl like this?—You see the olive eyes getting darker and the tone of his voice went deeper than you thought he could do. You desist from taking the phone, you know the bullies love the attention, maybe that's exactly what he wants and give it to him just makes it worse.

—I'm not your girl.—You claim fixing up your dress having enough of games, and you have no reason to keep worrying about losing your job, the filming is done, and apparently your relationship with him too. You don't care about any of that anymore, just want to read Logan's text.

Even behind all the alcohol and the eyes injected in blood thanks for who knows what kind of drug, you can see the disappointment and anger, but it's not a broken heart, Is the hissy fit of a child that loses his balloon and now everyone will pay for it, especially you.

—Are you sure about that?—You can see him swallow hard, almost looking vulnerable, but his voice is defiant and threatening to prove you wrong. He just has to stretch out his arm to reach the open window with your phone in hand, his intentions are clear and the only thing you can do is raise your hands as a reflex.—You were mine the moment you put a foot on my trailer, and I don't fucking share my stuff.—Before you can say a word he drops the phone from the fourth floor.

You know is senseless but you find yourself running out of the party and going to search the device, using it also as an excuse to get away from that place. This is the first time someone makes you feel meaningless, you know the famous' world is cold and lacking in empathy but this is ridiculous, they're a bunch of parasites fed by attention and power. By Timothée.

The screen is crashed and the rest of it is probably beyond repair, not that you're surprised, its life is longer than you've been in the country and you admit you should have replaced it much earlier but you're not the kind to throw away things that still work. However, is not the phone you are worried about, not as much as what it contains.

—That was obsolete anyway, I'll get you a better one.—You didn't know he was following you, his voice interrupts your self-wailing. He sounds calmer and a little embarrassed, but not enough to say sorry, you don't think he's capable of saying it.

You shake your head and start to walk away without a word, you don't want anything from him, not materially, at least.

—Don't make a scandal out of it, it's just a phone!—He yells erasing any trace of regret in his voice. He doesn't see the reaction he expected and that's when he runs after you and with a hand on your upper arm pulls you back, you gasped for the sudden bluntness.—That annoying habit you have of leaving when I'm talking to you.

You push him away with all the strength you have, which resulted in him almost falling on the ground.

—I don't care about the stupid phone!—You finally break, but sadly is not as satisfactory as you thought it would be.—You are mean, vain, arrogant and the worst part is that you enjoy being this despicable human because you have absolutely no consequences to it. Everyone around you just accepts it and I feel so sorry for you because the only possible way for you to fill the void inside is to be surrounded by that crowd of mules licking your steps—To your surprise, he has nothing to say, he's just standing there with no facial expression, whatever he feels is easily covered by his years of experience acting, even drunk.—I can't give you that and it's obvious they don't want me either. What am I even doing here?—You ask yourself thinking where would be the best way of getting a cab, is a rich zone, must be easy.

—Everything is better when you're around—His voice is thin and fragile, you have to process what he said three times in your head to understand his words. You're not willing to look at him yet.—You're not like the others.

—Pure bullshit. You love to repeat that misogynist discourse of girls being in a certain way because is easier than be responsible for the people you choose to be—You were hugging yourself the whole time, is a cold night, but not enough to be bothersome, you enjoy Fall weather—You got me for a moment, I give you that, you fooled me but I'm too tired of guessing what version of you is real—When you return your gaze at him, he doesn't try to hide the guilt anymore, but there's still haughtiness in there.—Now, if you don't mind Mr. Chalamet, I need to get a cab.

—No, you came with me, you leave with me.—There's no trace of alcohol in his voice anymore, a good scolding is enough to put you sober, you know that thanks to your mom. Oh god, you're becoming her.

—You didn't bring me here, gigantic head—You look at him and put your hand in front of him with the palm up. He stares at it for several seconds before put his own on it—Not that!—You shake it and start looking inside his jeans pockets until you feel the metal of his key car.—You can't drive and I have to get home. You'll find it in the studio tomorrow.

That's how you ended with a car way more luxurious than you expected, driving so slowly and carefully that the police stopped you. What a night, but at this point, you couldn't care less about anything that is not that message, is been months and you can't get over it, over him. Not even Ben moans, Tom's comforting arms, or fight with a movie star at 3:00 am. is enough to get him out of your mind.

—So is true, you don't wear anything that hasn't appeared in a movie, huh?—Michael B. Jordan is leaning on the car window with a mocking smile and a sparkle of satisfaction that you would love to punch but his uniform keeps you in line, where you come from police is not equal to justice, most of the times is oppression.

—You know where it's from?—That was kind of comforting, no one at the party noticed. Not that you care.

—Is The Mask, not some Adam Hitchcock's blurb.—He smiles and even when you really don't like him, it's nice to be with a familiar face, you are really tired of running away, scaping for problems that are a result of your null capacity to deal with emotions. Ugh, what a word.

—Is Alfred Hitchcock, actually.—You didn't want to sound priggish, but you correct him with no time to stop yourself, an old habit.

—You got me, smarty, you know more than movies than me. Where did you get this car?—You feel really nervous even when you got this legally, you have your documents and license on time and he's being nice enough to not want to run away in a car that you technically borrowed for yourself.

—It's not mine.—No shit, Sherlock.

—No shit, Sherlock, I was asking where did you steal it.—You wanted to laugh but there's something with the uniform that just doesn't allow you to be yourself.—Are you drunk?

—No, no, fuck, no, it's just, I don't feel comfortable with cops—He raises his eyebrows but that is his only reaction.—Listen, is my boss' car, I'm doing the favor to take it to the studio, and I'm really nervous because is fucking expensive, he's an asshole, I haven't drive un almost a year because you people only use cars if you're rich or your work and lives depend on it. I'm starving.—The last part came out of nowhere, you haven't eaten anything in almost 13 hours, maybe that's the actual reason why you are that moody.

He doesn't answer right away, takes his time to look at you, what makes you blush, he's really close, closer than he's ever been. Does he smell like green apples? Not the actual apples, the artificial smell they had given to them.

—Get out of the car.—Oh no, is he arresting you? Is he finally taking revenge for every time you make fun of his Hawaiian-type shirts? You know you have too much karma accumulated and a cop making you pay for it when you don’t believe in their sense of justice is kinda poetic, and evil.

You don’t want to discuss with someone with a taser, gun, pepper spray, or who knows what else. So you take your bag, the key car, and get off defeated.

—My turn is almost over, I’ll take you to eat something, c’mon.—He walks back to his patrol and you stay still for a few seconds still processing his words, you must look totally devastated for him to offer that. How you see it you have two options, go with him and spend an awkward hour with a person you don’t like or risk getting a fine, Tim can pay it, it’s not a big deal but you don’t want to owe him even the minimal thing.

You get in the car holding on to your bag to feel calmer, this is the first time you’re fully alone with him since you found him half-naked in your kitchen. Those defined abs may never leave your brain.

—Are you cold?—He interrupts your thoughts with his question, you didn’t notice you were shaking. He looks for something under his seat and gives you an NYPD hoodie, you hold it doubting your next move, is not like you don’t appreciate the gesture but it’d be easier to take if it doesn’t get that words printed—Is clean.—He says chuckling when he sees the way you’re looking at it.

—Is not that, just, you know, fuck the police, defund the NYPD, demilitarize the pigs and that stuff.—You say putting on the hoodie anyway, is a cold night and you won't help the institution wearing their propaganda.

—Yeah, I get it, but you can't change the system just from within.—You decide is not the right moment to have a political conversation so you shrug your shoulders and discreetly smell the hoodie, a mix of cologne, green apples, and cheap soap, you know is cheap because you buy the exact same, do its job.

—I'm in the mood for pizza.—You say casually, making a deal to yourself to try to be his friend, he is a small part of your life anyway.—Domino's is open at this time of the night?

—Tell me you're not consuming that shit, dear Lord, you been here for how long, two years? I can't believe your idea of a good pizza is Domino's. Stella hasn't taught you anything?—You're surprised by the level of condescension with a pizza and you mirror his smile, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Your school program includes people from all around the world so you don't have that much experience with actual new yorkers. Logan is rich, so he doesn't really count.

—What's wrong with Domino's? I don't buy much street food, is cheaper to buy things on the food market. Besides, all pizza is good.—The mention of Sheep makes you a little tense, so you don't say anything about it, is not a conversation to have with him.

—Don't blaspheme in the patrol, I just washed it—You laugh, finally, after a terrible weekend. You can see why she likes him, there is something about his voice, smile, and his eyes that feel... calm, like watching Friends after a marathon of Lord of the Rings.—There are rules to survive this city, and I'm surprised you have made it this far without a proper guide.

—Chill out Mr. Miyagi, I'm not from the jungle, and I've learned a lot by myself.—He gives you a lopsided grin as a request, and you put your fingers up ready to enlist your acquired knowledge.—Walk fast, like you're about to be stabbed, something that actually happened to me, with an umbrella—He nods and laughs being related to it.—Number two, no small talk, no one cares, even if they ask. Number three, if you look a stranger in the eye, especially a homeless person, you have essentially invited them to approach you.

—Number four, we never eat from Domino's, Papa John's, Pizza hut, or any other chain restaurant, only trucks and local places are allowed.—You roll your eyes but you get the point, is just, again, you're not much into street food, it doesn't taste like home and the only way to eat food like that is preparing it yourself.

—Fine, fuck capitalism, let's support local places—You make an obvious fake enthusiastic tone but he nods proudly.—Number five, you don't need a car to live here, not even know how to drive. I would have successfully avoided this police brutality if I had followed that rule.

—For someone who is about to eat for free, you whine too much.—He parks the car and gives you a sign to go with him. You see him go to a pizza truck and order, you realize at the moment how ridiculous you look, so before chasing him you let your hair down, take your huge earrings off, and roll up the skirt of your dress until your mid-thighs letting the hoodie cover the rest, and clean the red lipstick with a Kleenex from your bag. Now you look more like a college person and not a rich girl who just got seized.

—Here you go.—He says giving you a slice as big as your head, looks oily and spreading cheese everywhere. Perfect.

—Is it vegan?—You ask receiving the food with an obnoxious face. His kind grind turned into a dread expression and you give him your second laugh of the day.—I'm kidding.

You are about to give it a bite when you see passing next to you a huge rat with the exact same slice as yours in its mouth, running into the dark of the night happy to have obtained the food for its family. They use to scare you when you just moved out but now they're like any other pigeon in the sky.

—Rule... whatever, a rat with a slice of pizza is a symbol for good luck, congratulations.—He pets your head awkwardly, not sure if you're ok with the physical contact, which, surprisingly, you are.

—I see rats with bagels all the time.—Pizza and bagels, that's the main culinary wonders of the city, you like it, not much to object but is hard not to compare it with your home's food.

—Is easy to confuse a rough diamond with a simple rock.—You both eat in silence, enjoying the mixed sounds of the city and all the different smells, the whole situation feels like one of those lofi music videos. You remember thinking about moments like this before getting the scholarship, what would it be like to feel normal in the city of your dreams.

—How do you know that much about movies?—He asks after a few minutes when you take a break to drink something, that pizza is not easy to take.

—When I was a kid a spent much time on my own, so my dad bought me a used DVD reproducer, and at the corner of my neighborhood was this movie store where you could buy 5 pirate movies for one dollar. They were blurred, with a terrible sound, and most of the time with the wrong movie inside but they helped me to not feel lonely. Eventually, the store closed but I've watched everything in it by then—He gives you a warm smile, you never told that story to anyone, not because is too intimate to share, but because no one asked, it doesn't sound like a question with a complex answer.—Anyway, I watched Marie Antoinette when I was like eight, and I decided at that moment that however is done I wanted to be part of that magic.

—You hear all kind of people chasing dreams in this city but is hard to find someone who actually deserves it.—You blush and you cover it with your hair but the smile on your voice is impossible to hide.

—Is that a compliment? You must really want me to like you to date Sheep.—You laugh but you can see his face tense, so you can guess your friend has been busy breaking everyone’s hearts.

—She hasn’t returned my calls in three days so I don’t think there’s much you can do—You nod, all this time you thought he was the reason she is ignoring you but apparently you are both in the same boat.—But yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking, what I should have said is, Marie Antoinette at eight? I can see where all the damage started.

You gasp and throw your napkin at his head, he easily catches it without even looking at it and laughs; that was unexpectedly attractive.

—Why a cop?—You ask, not sure where that question came from, maybe you authentically want to know more about him, he just bought you food, and honestly, that's the easiest way to win your trust.

—I wanted to be an actor when I was a child. This is the city of opportunities so you may think that if you want to chase the big wonder, this is the perfect place to do it. But I grow up surrounded by these people giving their entire lives to get something just given to one in a million so I decided is not worth it. For many years I wondered what I wanted to do with my life and the answer was really clear, my dad was a cop, a good one, or that’s what people say. I don’t remember much because he died when I was seven—Conversations about death are not your strength, everything can turn out uncomfortable if you choose the wrong words.—It might not be that glamorous but if my father died for it, it surely worth it.

—For the good ones.—You raise your almost empty can of Coke and he does the same with a grin that warms the cold weather of the night.

—For the good ones.

The next two hours passed like minutes talking about anything and everything. It just felt right to talk freely with him, you didn’t feel judged for your awkward family moments or your random thoughts, not even once because he told you his too. At some point of the night he borrowed you his gym sweatpants, any of you could just suggest going home but that was off the table, end that peace just for weather reasons would have been a tragedy.

—I read Timothée Chalamet is a dick. Is that true?—The mention of his name remains you of your life and everything that comes with it, including the middle semester project that you must dedicate your entire day, one that is about to start.—What, you can’t talk about it?

—He is a complete dick with no sense of privacy or human decency—And when he interrupts a deep kiss to look at your eyes, smile, and caress your chin, you feel like a character of his Victorian movies. But he didn’t ask that.—But the next week he’ll be no longer my problem.

—That’s why we have rule twenty-three, don’t ask for a picture of a celebrity unless they are local—You have heard about it before but you haven’t got the opportunity to decide if you like that rule because the only celebrities you have seen are from work and that club’s party opening.—That means you’ll be free to go to the Stephen Kings’ movie projection there will be for Halloween.

You don’t know if that was a proposition, a suggestion, or just a simple recommendation, and whatever it is, you noticed he was nervous to ask. Is it wrong? It feels wrong like you were betraying your friend accepting to hang out with his boyfriend without her consent. But he didn’t ask you to go with him so is safe to answer.

—Yeah, I guess—You get a moment, four seconds top, where you shared innocent, curious, and tenting gazes like three graders in the playground. And that’s the further you will allow yourself to go.—We better leave, if the sunlight touch me I’ll turn into dust.

You get off the car hood and go to the side door, but this time he opens it for you. You give him a “seriously?” Look, receiving a little push in your arm as a response.

↬☀︎︎

A distant voice asks you to wake up, softly whispers that turn into caresses on your cheek, your eyes feel so heavy, even when you are well aware of your environment your eyelids keep closed.

—Good morning, Princess—This is the first time Tom calls you that way, the change from silly nicknames to Princess is enough to get you out of hibernation. He is squatting beside your bed, his smile is the promise of a better day, and chasing that idea you give him one small back.—Your mom has been texting me desperately all day, she said you're not answering her calls and is worried.

—Fuck, my phone broke last night, can I call her from yours?—That’s an oversimplification but in the search for a better story, that's what you decide to believe and tell. Tom nods and gives it to you, he looks happy, beyond that, this is the first time you see that subtle blush on his cheeks and the eyes sparkling. You sit on the bed next to his body looking for your mom's number, slowly he moves between your legs, you have shorts and an oversized Back To The Future t-shirt, you got took the time to prepare yourself to bed last night and keep Michael’s clothes inside your closet to wash them, like The Tell-Tale Heart, a little innocent secret who feels dirty somehow

The conversations with your mom are always long, nostalgic and the tears are hard to hold for both parts; after a long life sharing almost every day with her, her absence never feels smaller. But this time is different, Tom is exploring the bare skin under your knee with his warm hands, asking for permission with curious eyes, and when you don’t object to the touch the British boy keeps his exploring mission cautiously, giving special attention to see your eyes in case something change. Is time to hang up when he gives a long and loving kiss to your knee, the less erotic kiss you could think of but so intimate to bristle your skin.

—Not nice to touch someone's daughter when is talking to her mom.—The protest of your voice loses strength at every word, he heard that and just straight his back to reach your face, the gap is almost extinct.

—We're okay, she likes me.—He assures holding your hips and pulling you a bit to him. Tom looks very comfortable with the new closeness authorization, you like it but are not very sure about it yet, most of you still think of him as your best friend.

—Did she tell you that? Are you talking with my mom behind my back?—You laugh when he does, almost like nothing changed.

—She adores me, I swear, I'm invited to Christmas, you know?—You're not surprised, she invites everyone, Logan was too but the first time he got family plans and didn't make it to the second.

—You should go, maybe we can do...—His lips touch yours in a peak at the middle phrase and makes you forget what you were about to say.—Man, the audacity to interrupt...—Then he kisses you again, deeply, using his tongue to taste your inner lip and his hands holding your shirt in fists. That's a twist of events.

—Is that ok?—You hear a weak whisper coming out of his voice but you got so mesmerized on his lips that decided to ignore it and kiss him back instead. He responds to your touch and starts to lean over you to make you lay on the bed.

Jesucristo bendito, is this happening? like, actually happening? you must look like trash, you barely took all the makeup from the night before and didn't take a shower, you start to get so worried about smells, feelings, and what that'll mean to your already too much-spoiled friendship.

However, the time of doubts is done when Sheep starts yelling in the living room, you both reacted running to the sound and looking for your blonde friend. Michael is there but doesn't look like the same as a few hours ago, is annoyed and tired for the lack of sleep, a look that doesn't match him at all.—What did you do?—You ask him fast assuming she's mad for something he did.

—Just in time, the star of the movie, I was wondering how much it will take you to be the protagonist of this.—That is Sheep's voice talking about you and what must be your heart breaking from her words.

—Excuse me?—You wish your tone would be less savage but you can't help respond the same way she did.

—Logan wasn't enough, then you got the drummer, fucking Timothée Chalamet, Tom and now my boyfriend. I'm so glad I didn't leave you alone with my dad or I'd be calling you mom now.—You have no words to that, Michael doesn't even dare to look at you, he must have told her something she misunderstood, but Sheep, or well, Stella is saying things she actually thinks and keep to herself. Tom walks in front of you whispering things to her to calm her down but she is not looking at him, you didn't tell her anything about Tom either so he's taking responsibility this time.—Go ahead and fuck the whole city, Michael if that please you but you're crossing the line with Tom and you know that, you're going to ruin him as you ruin every man that enters in your life.—She has a very you moment having the last word of the dispute and getting out of the apartment with Michael going after her but not putting much effort in it.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Taglist:

@eridanuswave @cjand10 @deluxeplanteater @rorodendra @navs-bhat @coxxxxxpi @leviosatothestars

Thanks for all the love and support, if you have opinions, suggestions, or want to be part of the tag list (Or don’t want to be part anymore) let me know, I appreciate every message.

#ben hardy imagine #michael b jordan fc #tom holland x reader #timothee chalamet fanfiction #pedro pascal #logan lerman fc #definitely maybe #fluff #angst #timothee chalamet #Tom Holland #Ben Hardy

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sunlight-moonrise · 3 years

Text

The Law of Attraction (Reid Imagine)

Summary: Reader cannot understand how Spencer is in a relationship with someone who is his complete opposite.

A/N: Hello Everyone!!! Here’s another story from the secret-fic-swap in the Discord server. I tried my hand at a new genre and I like how it came out. A big thank you to @imagining-in-the-margins for helping me make this real nice for y’all (this story was also written to her). Enjoy!

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Content Warnings: If you’re a fan of Max or Maxcer, this may not be the story for you. Sacrifices needed to be made for this story to be told.

Word Count: 4.2K

Masterlist

The thought that the concept of ‘opposites attract’ was only true when it comes to physics. After all, the comparison of people to magnets doesn’t make any sense. If two people are together, there should be some similarities to build an established relationship, right? Without that foundation, the structure will surely crumble back into the fragmented pieces that created it, leaving them cracked and weaker for it.

Compatibility is necessary, yet there is none whenever I look at them. This is the fourth function that he has brought her to, and with each event, I find it harder to look their way. But when I do find them among the crowd, I can’t look away. Like a car crash or thunderstorm ripping tree roots from the ground.

It doesn’t make sense to me, why on earth would Spencer Reid be with a girl like her.

“If you keep staring at her, she might drop dead,” said a sarcastic voice, breaking me out of my reverie. I turned to see Tara with an amused smile occupying her face.

“I just don’t get it,” I mumbled, focusing my attention on the drink in my hand.

“What’s not to get?” she asked, glancing over at the couple in question. “They seem cute together.”

“They have nothing in common. He might as well be talking to some random person in this bar.”

I chugged the remainder of my beverage with desperate hope that the alcohol will somehow make things better in this situation. It didn’t.

“You sound bitter.”

“I am not bitter,” I bit back.

“I didn’t say you were, I said you sound.”

I didn’t respond to her because deep down I knew she was right. I just fiddled with the straw in my now empty glass as Tara continued, “Look, they both like coffee and going to the park, that’s something.”

I couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped my throat at the thought.

“So do half the people on the administration floor, he might as well have a harem if those are the main qualifications.”

“So what type of person should Spencer Reid have?” she asked, an eyebrow arching up as she focused her attention on me.

“I don’t know. Someone who is family-oriented and loves kids. Someone who doesn’t judge him for his idiosyncrasies. Someone who listens to his rambles and actually responds to them. Someone who he can escape to when things get too tough. Someone who understands when to give him space but will continue to support him unconditionally. Someone who can challenge him and make each day exciting and interesting. Someone who can ke—”

“Whoa there, I didn’t think you were going to give me a whole novel.” If she thought that was a novel, then the rest of what I wanted to say would be considered an encyclopedia. The only one that Spencer would never read.

“I just want him to be happy,” I relented.

It was the simple truth. Everyone deserves some sort of contentment in their life, but with everything that Spencer has gone through in the past, his happiness should be at the forefront. He always put others before himself. It was time that someone prioritizes his wants and needs for a change.

“And she doesn’t make him happy?”

Not in the slightest.

But I didn’t want to say that. I was sure half of the team already thought, or knew, that I was infatuated with him. But I didn’t need to give them the satisfaction of a confirmation by talking about this any further. The looks that Tara had been giving me the past few minutes validated my belief that I didn’t need to dig myself into a deeper hole.

“Maybe,” I said, hoping to put an end to the topic.

But just then, I heard a laugh despite how noisy the place was. I knew without a doubt that was Spencer’s laugh – it was the only sound that would demand my attention that quickly. It was the one he used when he felt uncomfortable.

“Excuse me, Tara.”

I didn’t give her a chance to reply before I hopped off the barstool and made my way to where Spencer and his girl were as casually as possible. Jennifer and Penelope were also with them, and it seems as if the three ladies were doing most of the talking.

“….like kids someday?” I heard Pen say. I didn’t need to hear the beginning of the sentence to know what it was about.

“Ehh, certainly not. My nephew is a handful as is, I don’t think I need any more than that one in my life,” she laughed. She, of course, being the ever loving, ever annoying, Max. A quick glance at Spencer's face confirmed that he was bothered by the subject being discussed. If the rest of the ladies were a bit more sober, they’d probably have seen it too.

“Hey guys,” I interrupted, taking my previous seat next to JJ, “I ordered some water for us and some appetizers. Tara is going to bring it over when it is ready.”

Cheers and thank you were shouted across the small table, but there was only one face I cared to pay attention to. Spencer’s mouth was quirked in a sad smile that was meant to hide the discomfort that had already taken root in his heart like an invasive vine.

“Did you place my fries order?” Max asked, garnering my attention. As much as I wanted to ignore her, I couldn’t. I wouldn’t openly be a bitch to her, no matter how much she irked me. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Other than stealing the affections of a man I’d never actually pursued, that is. But I couldn’t really blame her for that one, right? I should’ve jumped on the opportunity before. It was my fault.

“Yup,” I answered quickly with a small fake smile before focusing on the wooden décor of the bar.

“So any plans for Halloween? Assuming we don’t get called in for a case of course,” JJ asked the table.

“There is this pop-up haunted house coming that weekend.” Spencer said, his voice laced with that childlike excitement that made my heart race, “It is near the annual fair, so I’m going to try and do both.”

“Awww, that’s a cute date idea.”

The table was silent for a moment before Max announced, “I probably won’t go. I am not a big fan of anything spooky or… horror. I’ll leave all of that to this guy.”

The table shared an awkward laugh in a poor attempt to lighten the mood.

“Anyway,” I coughed out, attempting to save this poor conversation, “you guys need to hear this terrible joke the bartender told me. So basically, this screwdriver walks into a bar….” and just like that, the topic had been changed.

Tara joined us shortly after and the conversation remained lighthearted for the remainder of the evening. We later said our farewells and readied ourselves to go back home. While I should’ve been sad to leave him, I couldn’t help but feel a bitter joy from the fact that Spencer and Max didn’t talk directly to each other for the rest of the night.

●●●

It’s been a couple of weeks since the last team outing. Rossi must’ve missed us, because he decided to host a dinner at his place to celebrate the ending of a long and tough case. No one was going to pass up the opportunity of free food and wine, especially after dealing with a bunch of cops and detectives with entire tree trunks up their asses.

I was the last to arrive, which was not surprising since I live the furthest away from Rossi. Krystall welcomed and settled me in while informing me where everyone was. What I assumed was a team gathering turned out to be a whole party. There were definitely more than two dozen people occupying the space.

Good god.

“What’s all this?” I asked as I greeted Rossi in the, thankfully, empty kitchen. Because, of course, Rossi wouldn’t be Rossi if he didn’t take care of all the hors d'oeuvres himself.

“Krystall wanted to celebrate our anniversary,” he sighed, as if this ordeal was somehow troublesome. I had to roll my eyes; he wasn’t fooling anyone. We all knew that Rossi would move mountains for his wife.

Their love was pure and genuine, a perfect example of two people meeting again at the right time and sharing something wonderful with one another. As I reminisced on their beautiful wedding day, a thought came to my head.

“Isn’t your first anniversary coming up in a few months?”

“That’s for our second marriage, this is for the first.” Rossi simply stated with a proud smirk, as if it was standard to celebrate any and all anniversaries in life. I supposed that for him, it was.

“Why do I get the feeling that this was more your idea than Krystall’s?”

“Guilty.”

Classic. Well, I wasn’t going to tell a man what he should celebrate nor how to do so. I wasn’t going to ruin any opportunities to eat some fresh crostini.

Once I made my way back out into the main room, I was able to find my team within seconds. My eyes instantly landed on Spencer’s tall and lanky form. And I would’ve been excited for that, if it weren’t for the familiar woman standing beside him.

Max was there. Hooray.

Usually, I was able to properly prepare myself for seeing her. It actually, unfortunately, took a lot of effort to not be openly hostile to someone I dislike. It wasn’t something I was proud of, but it was true. Typically in a situation like this, I’d avoid the person all night. However, I wasn’t going to allow her presence to influence the night, much less stop me from spending time with one of my closest friends.

“Hey guys.”

“Ahh, you’re finally here,” squealed Penelope, “I already grabbed your favorite drink!” She stepped aside to make room for me in the small gathered circle before handing me the glass.

“So what did I miss?”

They all caught me up on the harmless gossip circulating around the office and the new happenings emerging in everyone’s lives. Everything was going well until I heard the next words from Max, words that felt like a bucket of ice water and lead being poured over my head.

“Well, Spencer and I are moving in together.”

Time slowed down, I was sure it had. Because I was able to gauge everything in a matter of seconds. Tara’s concerning glance my way, her hand reaching out and retreating as if to hold me. Penelope’s joyful appearance over the news, her arms rising quickly causing her wine to slightly spill on Rossi’s floor. Matt expressing congratulations as he roughly patted Spencer on the back.

And Spencer….

Spencer looked like he rather be anywhere but here. His lips were drawn in a too tight smile that I knew was far from authentic. He was tapping his heel against the floor and wringing his hands together.

If this was merry news from the two of them, why did he look like he swallowed a spiked fruit?

The loud clanging of metal against glass brought everyone’s attention to the noisy source. Time returned back to its normal pace at Rossi’s call, thanking everyone for joining in on the celebration and announcing that the food was ready in the dining room.

While everyone cheered and made their way towards the ornate display, I headed to the balcony. It was too hot, too stuffy, too loud inside the house. There was one too many people there.

As soon as I passed through the double doors, I took a deep breath of cool, refreshing air. Everything around me felt muffled. Like I had stumbled into a small pocket universe that only differed from ours by a few notches on the volume knob.

I was thinking too many things, and none of them adding up or making sense in my head. How do you move in with someone you’ve only known for such a short amount of time? What was he going to do with his apartment? With his personal belongings that were scattered and settled on crowded shelves? Why did he look so uncomfortable when she announced it? Did he not want us to know? Did he want to say it himself?

“What are you doing out here?”

As if being brought back to reality by the very same hypnotist who enchanted me in the first place, I became aware that I was not the only one on the balcony. I turned to look at Spencer, taking in his disheveled and tired appearance.

“I just needed some space. I was feeling a bit crowded.” It wasn’t a lie, but my companion and I both knew there was a lot more than just that. Trying to keep the attention off me, I asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Checking on you. I saw you come out here dressed like that and wondered what would drag you out into the freezing cold.”

Now that he mentioned it, the breeze was hitting hard. I didn’t notice my body trembling until now. It is funny how you can’t feel much when lost in your own thoughts. The pain was a welcome distraction, I supposed.

Spencer stood next to me and shrugged off the suit jacket he was wearing. I opened my mouth to refuse, but he gave me a pointed look before I could. Instead, I accepted the warm jacket over my body. The scent of cinnamon and spice immediately enveloped my form and I tried to hide the way my inhales grew deeper. Trying to keep him as close as I could for however long he would allow. He kept his hands on my arms, rubbing them up and down the sleeves of the jacket to instill some heat in me.

“So whatever happened to taking it slow?” I asked bluntly, keeping my eyes on the interesting speck of dirt that had ended up on my shoe. I didn’t feel bad about getting to the point -- There was no way I could subtly ask him what the deal was, and I’d rather not beat around the bush.

“Well, after the whole situation that happened, sh— we decided to pick up the pace of things,” he spoke lowly, as if he was unsure of the words coming out of his mouth.

“Has she even met Diana? Or know about her?” I instantly regretted asking, the angry look he shot my way had me feeling remorseful. But it also answered my question.

Max only knew the surface level of Spencer. She wasn’t aware of all the good, bad, beautiful, and ugly layers that comes with a man like him. She wasn’t the only one to blame, but I wondered how a profiler couldn’t tell that he was hiding those parts from her because he didn’t want to share them with her. He didn’t want her to know, because the knowing made it real.

“I just want the best for you.”

His irritated expression dissolved into a defeated one as he released the breath he was holding.

“I know, I know. It’s just…”

He stopped talking, appearing scared to share his opinions and feelings with me before he remembered that, unlike Max, he never had to hide things from me. He didn’t want to.

“It’s just…” I prodded, hoping he would continue with what he was going to say.

But he just stayed stuck there, opening and closing his mouth multiple times. I could practically see the cogs in his brain whirling as he properly tried to explain. “Well, the thing is that Ma—”

“Spencer?”

We sharply turned our heads to see Max and Tara staring at us. It wasn’t until that moment that I remembered our position. With Spencer’s hands rubbing tenderness heat onto my arms, his jacket over my shoulders and our bodies pressed together to keep warm.

It would be one thing if everything was settled, but this situation was anything but. Max had every reason to be angry. This wasn’t a new thing to her. So when she turned around, she stomped away fueled by the belief that she’d nearly caught her boyfriend committing adultery. Again.

“Fuck,” I heard the man in front of me whisper as he released me back into the cold night.

Still, as he left, he looked back at me. His eyes burned into mine up until he tore them away, making his final decision and hastily running from the balcony. Away from me. Towards her.

Tara and I shared the silence, but she looked at me with those inquisitive eyes, as if I was a client seeking out therapy from her.

“What?” I hissed, “We were just talking.” I refused to feel guilty over something that I didn’t do. If anyone had done anything, it was Spencer. But at the same time, I didn’t think he was entirely wrong, either.

“I didn’t say anything,” she muttered, holding her hands up high as a sign of surrender.

“You didn’t have to, I can feel the judgment from here.”

“Look, I’m not judging you. But I do want you to put yourself in Max’s shoes. You guys were gone for a while and she finds you two all over each other.”

“What are you talking about, Tara? Christ, it’s not like I was fucking him on the balcony!”

Although I didn’t intend for my words to be humorous, Tara laughed. I was conflicted on whether it was at me or with me, but it ended up amounting to nothing, anyway.

“Look, the night is young and you need to relax. Come back inside, enjoy the party, and don’t let them bring you down. At least for the next few hours.”

She was right, as she usually was. It was why I usually sought her out as the voice of reason; I knew that despite everything, she would always have my best interest at heart.

“Okay,” I agreed before following her back into the chaotic fray.

I heeded her advice and avoided the couple for the remainder of the night. Shockingly, it was pretty easy, but I was sure it was because they were avoiding me too. There were times, lots of times, where Spencer and I made eye contact, but we’d just as quickly look away, as if we were ashamed of what we have done.

All we did was talk. So why did it feel like something more?

There were also times when I made eye contact with Max, but instead of shame, there was anger and contempt. If looks could kill, like Tara had suggested, I was sure my heart would have given out.

It wasn’t until later in the evening that I saw Max take a cab home while Spencer was still inside the house. No one else but me noticed that they didn’t leave the party together.

●●●

I hadn’t seen Spencer since the incident at Rossi’s a few weeks ago. He had to take his mandatory sabbatical leave and I had to take an abrupt trip back home. What used to be almost daily texts between us became nonexistent in a matter of hours. It was a terrible predicament that I was hoping to fix soon.

As I arrived, I spotted him at his desk. For a long time, I stood there staring at him. If he wasn’t nose deep in a bunch of files, I was sure he would’ve seen me, too. I contemplated on how I should go up to him, but nothing I could think of was good enough to say.

Hey, I have your jacket, I took it to the dry cleaner’s, so it is all clean. Rid of me like you wanted to be.

Hi, how were the lectures this time around? Still have a bunch of teens crushing on you?

What’s up, it’s been a while, do you want to get lunch during the break?

I hated that things were awkward, even though I was pretty sure that I was the only one that was making it so. I should have just gone up to him, greeted him, and acted like everything was normal, because everything was normal. Right?

Just when I was about to do so, Emily called us in for a meeting. Impeccable timing.

We had a serial killer case in Louisville, Kentucky. My situation with Spencer was going to the backburner.

During our stay in Louisville, Spencer and I barely interacted. We exchanged notes and passed long messages, but that’s pretty much it. I wasn’t surprised. Our specialties don’t really correlate when we are working on a case. Anytime I did catch some free time, I’d look his way, longing for the opportunity to speak to him. He didn’t look back.

Then, just as the case ended, another chance presented itself. After five days of hardly any proper rest, we finally found the unsub. Everyone was in their respective room catching up on some much needed sleep. Except for Spencer, whose gangly body was tucked away at the bar by himself, a glass of what appeared to be soda in front of him.

Silently, I took the seat next to him, and for a few minutes, everything was quiet. But unlike the usual, comfortable quiet, it was torturous.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

I stared at him, letting the silent communication denote the fact that I knew he was lying to me. Spencer released a sigh and looked at me with eyes more intoxicating than any whiskey that shared their color.

“Actually, no, I’m not okay.”

I was going to ask him what was wrong or if there was anything I could do to help, but before I had the chance to do so, he hastily answered the question I hadn’t asked.

“Max and I broke up.”

I stared at him, my face and mind blank as I tried to comprehend what he’d said. That Max and Spencer broke up. They were no longer together. Spencer was single.

I thought that if this ever happened, I would be happy, elated, jumping at the chance to take her place by his side. But I felt none of those things.

“What happened?” I didn’t want to appear nosy or meddlesome, but I needed to know.

“We were fighting a lot, and I couldn’t take it.”

“Oh.”

“We were… actually fighting about you.”

I sharply turned my head at him, both intrigued and disturbed by the implication that I had anything to do with the failure of their relationship.

“What? What about me?”

“She thought I liked you,” he said while staring straight back at me, daring me to scan through each fleck of gold and green to ensure that he was telling the truth. But his hazel eyes expressed nothing but honesty as he continued, “and she was right. I do.”

“Y-you do?”

All he could do was nod his head, lifting his hand and catching a loose strand of hair before tucking it behind my ear.

“Can I try something?” Spencer shyly requested.

Once again, the universe felt different. I held my breath, trying to wake from the dream. Although he didn’t say it, I had an idea of what he wanted. If the hand on the side of my face and the staring at my lips were anything to go by, I knew what was going to happen next.

I nodded back and closed my eyes. A few seconds passed, the sweetest kind of anticipation. But then I felt the gentle pressure of his lips against my own, sweet and tender. He moved his head to get a better angle while I brought my hands up to cup his face. The roughness of his stubble against the tip of my fingers was a perfect contrast to the softness of him. I could taste the soda he was drinking on his tongue and breathed in the cinnamon scent that seemed sunken into his skin.

When we pulled away, it was full of hesitation. All it took was one look for us to know we couldn’t do this. Not now, not yet. He was still healing from the recent break up and I didn’t want to be a rebound. I didn’t want us to resent one another for jumping into a relationship so soon. We weren’t ready.

We sat there in relative silence, taking in everything that has happened.

“Maybe one day,” he paused “one day we can give it a chance.”

“Yes. I’d like that.” I beamed at him, “And I look forward to that day. Until then, we remain as friends.”

He returned my smile and I realized that it had been a while since I’ve seen his real smile. I missed it so much.

“Friends,” he confirmed.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt relief and comfort. Because I knew everything was going to be okay. I had hope that someday Spencer will get the happily ever after he deserves and he’ll get it with me by his side. One day.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid imagine #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid reader insert #reader insert #hurt/comfort #secret fic swap

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m-y-fandoms · 3 years

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1 Thing I Love & 1 Thing I Hate About EVERY Danganronpa Character Part 1

Part 2

SPOILERS FOR ALL THREE MAIN GAMES

I’d love to hear our opinions as well in the comments or my inbox or DM’s! If you try this trend with DR characters, tag me!

Sayaka Maizono

♡ Her passion for her career and friends.

✘ The way she tries to screw over Makoto when the game had just begun. Like wait and see what happens before screwing over such a great guy? Leon didn’t deserve it either.

Leon Kuwata

♡ His voice actor (English), and how real and human his execution was in that we all would be so scared and irrational. It was just so iconic and sad as it’s our first introduction to the death in this series and we all think: “shit, this is real... they are really killing these kids.” I didn’t think it would be that brutal, just seeing his body limp at the end with the haunting music.

✘ His design is disgusting. I hate how he looks.

Chihiro Fujisaki

♡ So innocent, so kind, so intelligent

✘ Shouldn’t have been killed for such a stupid reason, also they did Mondo dirty with that motive for killing as well. Just a mess. As for the actual character, Chihiro cries right off the bat when you do your introductions and that was kind of annoying to me personally.

Mondo Oowada

♡ He has a lot of respect, understanding and emotions for someone I thought would be a hard-ass douche biker.

✘ The worst motive to kill ever in a game where you know you’re getting executed if you’re found out. Like you’d be extra careful and that’s his reason to kill? Lazy writing.

Celestia Ludenberg

♡ Bad bitch energy and her goth lolita design.

✘ Manipulation and double murder. Bad bitch energy only goes so far. Confidence is different then selfishness. Also, of all the chapter 3 triple murders... the worst motive to kill.

Kiyotaka Ishimaru

♡ Emotions: secure in his masculinity, able to cry, show emotions, and apologize when he’s wrong. He’s funny and likable.

✘ The Ishimondo white hair thing was stupid. Taka was fine on his own.

Hifumi Yamada

♡ Writing takes talent, fan fiction as much as any other style or genre. Also the talent of his voice actor (who also voices Kiibo/K1-B0).

✘ Literally everything else about him.

Sakura Oogami

♡ I love everything about her. I love her wisdom, loyalty, design, voice etc. Just step on me, mother.

✘ Why the hell would she ever agree to be a spy even if it meant the end of her dojo? I just don’t think she would do that rationally because she isn’t selfish. The others would suffer for her spying. She remedies this with redemption in her letter in chapter 4 but still she should’ve said no off the bat. Everyone had something to lose. The dojo wasn’t worth spying for monokuma. Also I just don’t think she would commit suicide. She can’t help the remaining students survive and redeem herself truly if she’s dead.

Kyoko Kirigiri

♡ Bad bitch energy, calm and collected when I could never be.

✘ Especially in future arc of the anime, damn can you show some emotion please? Through your words and expressions not just your actions. Sure she was willing to “die” for Makoto but like I just want more emotion from her sometimes, even in THH.

Makoto Naegi

♡ So pure. I Love Bryce Papenbrook. Makoto reminds me of Sora and I love his design.

✘ In THH I didn’t mind his innocence but in the Danganronpa 3 future arc anime, when people started straight up abusing him and accusing him, he needed to grow a little backbone.

Byakuya Togami

♡ Love my dad, king shit, also love how over the progression of the games and animes he becomes a little more kind to his friends.

✘ Why the fuck did he mess with Chihiro’s body? Just so cruel and disrespectful.

Yasuhiro Hagakure

♡ Funny magic man. Sexy voice.

✘ Please. Please Hiro use your brain just once. Why do we have to prove Kyoko isn’t a ghost?!

Toko Fukawa

♡ Character development in UDG and I love Genocider.

✘ Putting down herself and others constantly gets old in THH.

Aoi Asahina

♡ Love her voice actress and her personality

✘ We really just gonna get everyone killed in chapter 4 huh? Surely you know they don’t all deserve that.

Junko Enoshima

♡ A very memorable villain with great hair and design.

✘ I just can’t stand her. I hate her so much.

Mukuro Ikusaba

♡ Her mercenary background is super cool as a concept.

✘ Too bad it wasn’t explored nearly enough.

Hajime Hinata

♡ Seeing the protagonist be a little less naive, innocent and positive than Makoto was a refreshing change, although I loved Makoto. I liked Hajime’s cynicism and expressions that sometimes just screamed “this shit again, huh?”

✘ I enjoy the way Izuru looks but I hate him as a character. He is sexy to look at but Hajime is just a better character overall

Teruteru Hanamura

♡ His love for his family and mother especially is so cute and heart breaking if you know the full story.

✘ He needs to know when to dial it back and quit with the perversions. And no it’s not just how he looks, Miu needs to chill at times, too.

Twogami

♡ I feel like he genuinely cares about his friends, just hides it well

✘ His death felt like a cop out and poorly written. It just didn’t sit right with me. Also his design is disgusting to me, his outfit and such.

Mahiru Koizumi

♡ Loyal to her close friends.

✘ I just have no interest in her as a character and I find her boring.

Peko Pekoyama

♡ Loyalty. Loyalty is something I value very highly in every form of relationship. Peko is also very hot.

✘ Come on girl... I know how you were raised but you should’ve known Fuyuhiko didn’t think of you as just a tool and you two should’ve expressed your true feelings long ago. Like even in secret. How do you live like this? Also I feel like killing Mahiru could’ve been avoided with a calm talk.

Ibuki Mioda

♡ Cute design, positive vibes.

✘ Cringe sometimes in the way she talks.

Hiyoko Saionji

♡ Beautiful character design and some very good insults and snarky remarks at times.

✘ Just irredeemably mean and annoying. Even when you do her free time events she is just so annoying.

Mikan Tsumiki

♡ I like her design as well as her hair, expressions, sprites and clothing.

✘ I hate her. I just hate her whether she’s in her true psycho form or timid stuttering form. She’s just annoying in my opinion.

Nekomaru Nidai

♡ So supportive, can hold my drink at a party. Respects everyone and wants the best for them.

✘ Bro Mechamaru was a stupid plot point. I just couldn’t stand looking at him and couldn’t take it seriously. Still sad when he died though.

Chiaki Nanami

♡ From chapter 5 of sdr2 on she is impossible not to love if you didn’t already. Just the selflessness, the sadness of the reveal and execution, how she returns to help Hajime at the end???? I love her. I love her hair design, color palette, her personality, everything.

✘ I’m bitter and miserable about her being the only class member to actually die (the despair arc anime) also her falling asleep at random times is kind of odd and she doesn’t seem to be like that later on in the game??? Like it seemed like a cheap joke but not actually who she is? Hard for me to explain.

Gundham Tanaka

♡ King shit, couldn’t praise him enough. He’s sexy, loves animals, and is funny as hell sometimes. His voice actor is a saint and a cool dude and I named my guinea pigs after the Dark Devas (yes I know they are hamsters in the games.)

✘ Come on dude. I get that being from Hell and magic and having evil powers is your shtick, but we all know that you and Nekomaru sacrificed yourselves so the others wouldn’t starve. We know you care about your classmates. There comes a time when it’s time to let personas and facades fade and be true to your heart. I just feel like him denying he cared at the end hurt. We all know he cared. I didn’t like how he was haughty until the end. He deserved better. I love him.

Nagito Komaeda

♡ I love him so much. So cunning and intelligent, always a step ahead. And he’s big sexy.

✘ Him killing himself in chapter 5 hurt me so bad I was like in denial for days. Also hate how Bryce Papenbrook gives him a raspy stoner psycho voice in the game then a light airy higher-pitched voice in the despair arc anime. It just bothers me. I love his voice still but the inconsistency just hurts my OCD

Sonia Nevermind

♡ I love that she’s so interested in her passions and love her feelings for Gundham

✘ Her outfit and bow are atrocious. Also why didn’t she start liking and talking to Gundham sooner on? Their romance bloomed late and it would’ve made for a better chapter 4 ending if they were a bit closer.

Kazuichi Souda

♡ Cool design and outfit, love his voice (also voices Kaito in V3) and his backstory is relatable at times. He’s also very human in that he’s scared a lot of the time or insecure or blames others in panicked situations. It’s not always a good thing but it’s human and realistic.

✘ Gosh he can be so annoying. Sometimes flirting or whining too much is well... too much.

Akane Owari

♡ Strong-willed and definitely someone I would be friends with

✘ What the hell is her outfit? Gymnasts and athletes don’t wear that shit. Stop objectifying her when it doesn’t even make the product or plot better. Like there’s absolutely no point to making her dress that way. I was a gymnast for 15 years. Even those who do parkour (which Akane seems to do more often than actual gymnastics in the anime and game) don’t wear what she wears. Also she’s underrated.

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu

♡ I love him. He’s the DR character I’m most like out of all the games and anime. Tenko is a close second. I think he’s adorable, love his character arc, development, redemption, and love his voice.

✘ In the anime/despair arc, Fuyuhiko is not done justice. He doesn’t get enough lines, has a different voice actor, just doesn’t give off the same vibes.

Izuru Kamakura

♡ Sexy man long hair good.

✘ Boring character. I wish he were just Hajime.

Kaede Akamatsu

♡ Loyalty and leadership are such attractive qualities in her. Also she faced her death with such class and dignity and I respect her because I could never.

✘ Some of the voice lines Erika does for her are just weird and cringe. Just random moans or grunts... I don’t know it’s like when Ann Takamaki from Persona 5 (also voiced by Erika) makes suggestive noises as well. Just grinds my gears. Also hate her outfit down to the hair pins.

Shuichi Saihara

♡ I love his nasally voice. I love his design and he’s so adorable. I love how emotional and compassionate he can be. He ties with Makoto for favorite protag of mine.

✘ That sprite where he sniffs his hand. And his ugly ass hat.

Rantarou Amami

♡ Sexy man, sexy voice, sexy piercings

✘ Ugly outfit, and wasted potential

Ryoma Hoshi

♡ I respect him and feel bad for his outlook on life and for how poorly he views himself. I love his little hat as well and he’s the first “different styled” character (Hifumi, Bandai, Teruteru) that I liked the design of.

✘ I hate when he says “got a long ways to go,” it’s overused and annoying, and wish he gave himself more credit. Also hate that when you first meet him he warns you that he’s killed people and is dangerous to be around. Come on buddy, you know you wouldn’t hurt your friends. Stop pushing them away.

Kirumi Tojo

♡ Competence, well rounded, skillful

✘ Boring as hell. I wouldn’t waste one free time event on her.

Angie Yonaga

♡ Dark skin, super cute, love her talent as an artist myself.

✘ Gives religious people a bad name and is super manipulative which I hate.

Tenko Chabashira

♡ I relate to her and feel bad when she’s misunderstood. She’s a good person deep down. Also love her sprites.

✘ There’s more cunning, funny and clever ways to write her digs at men.

Korekiyo Shunguuji

♡ I’m in love with this man. Long hair, voice, mystery, mask, intelligence, passion, talent.

✘ He definitely was a victim of abuse and a lot of people refuse to see that and just hate him. Team Danganronpa should’ve given him a redemption arc where he realized his sister abused him and changed.

Gonta Gokuhara

♡ I love his design except for his suit. Also he’s so cute and naive. I cried for his trail.

✘ No need talk like caveman. Better way to do this.

Kokichi Ouma

♡ Like Nagito, I value his intelligence and crazy cunning.

✘ Shouldn't have died. Also shouldn’t have manipulated Gonta. That was just cruel.

Miu Iruma

♡ She has her hilarious moments and her death surprised me and was sad.

✘ Sometimes she lacks basic empathy, i.e. calling Tenko “Tencrotch” when she just fucking died.

Maki Harukawa

♡ Amazing character development. Didn’t see her surviving until the end at the start. Also her love and passion for Kaito.

✘ “Do you wanna die?” gets old.

Kaito Momota

♡ Just the overall best bro you could ever have.

✘ Has some toxic masculinity issues and anger issues.

K1-B0

♡ Pretty much everything about him. His design, his attitude and personality, especially how amazing and cool he is chapter 5 onward, his execution made me so sad. He’s so innocent and funny without trying.

✘ When you do his free time events he’s very arrogant and just talks about himself a lot... it seems odd and not similar to the Kiibo we see throughout the game.

Himiko Yumeno

♡ Super cute design, love her voice and “Nyeh...” and her sprites. Her character development is great as well.

✘ Why did they take so long to make her important and likable?

Tsumugi Shirogane

♡ An excellent and well hidden reveal

✘ I hate her. So annoying, from the voice to the references and her personality.

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pixieungerstories · 3 years

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Quarantine - 2

There was no sign the house had any other occupants for days. I hadn’t been able to drag the mattress out of the room where he had put it. It was heavy and I couldn’t compress it enough to get it through the door.

I went back to working from home. The conference calls helped me feel sane. After a while it was easy to pretend the whole thing was some fever dream. I was pretending, though. I still hadn’t tried to open the closet. Grocery delivery was set on a rotation so that once a week they arrived at the gate. My neighbours had theirs brought right up to the house. Mine were always left at the gate of the picket fence that surrounded the front yard.

I used the hedge trimmers to shape the lilac bushes that the neighbours on each side had planted to obscure their view of my house. I weeded and mowed the lawn wishing for grass seed before just giving up and calling it a meadow. Some of the flowers were even pretty. I chuckled with my friends about how much drywall I was going to need when this was over. We laughed about how it was lucky I was alone instead of having a roommate watching me through the holes in the walls.

Well, they laughed. I sort of more chuckled nervously.

I kept an eye on my laptop battery and there weren’t any unexplained power outages. Everything seemed normal.

Until I was cleaning out the basement and found the wine room. I don’t know wine, but there was a lot of it and the newest bottle that I could find was pre world war two.

I wasn’t expecting it to still be good. It was. It felt ridiculous drinking a hundred year old bottle of red wine with a frozen dinner. I did it anyway.

“Are you still here?” I demanded as I was getting ready for bed.

There was no answer.

I found the box that had my vibrator in it and fell asleep in a sweaty puddle.

I woke up a little hung over and found my vibe squeaky clean on the bathroom sink when I went to brush my teeth. My stomach dropped.

“Were you watching me?” I hissed. I don’t know what sort of reply I was expecting, but I didn’t get one.

Once again, I tried to move the mattress to another room. Once again, I failed. I spent the night wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the floor in the other bedroom, with my laptop plugged in and netflix running to keep me company.

I screamed and stood up when he said from the doorway, “I get lonely too.”

“Jesus Christ!”

He chuckled, “Not even close.” There was a moment of silence as I strained my eyes to see something, anything, in the dark. “I can’t leave either,” he whispered. I stood there shaking in the light from my laptop screen. “Sleep in the bed. I will not bother you.”

I didn’t move. He had just sounded sad when he said it.

“Why can’t I ever see you?” I asked.

“I live in the shadows, you can only see me in darkness.”

I blinked at that. “But you are always here.”

“Yes.”

“And I can’t see in the dark,” I pointed out.

“I know.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I changed the subject. “What do you want from me?”

“When you first arrived, you slept in the garden. If you had started by sleeping in the house, I would have run you off. But you were fixing things, so I let you stay. I got used to you being around. Then you got sick and it would have been so easy to just let you die. I would have gone back to being on my own. I no longer want to be on my own but I hadn’t considered the weight of you being unable to leave. I do not like the idea of you being scared of me and trapped here.”

“But I am,” I mumbled.

“Yes. So take care of yourself. Sleep in the bed. Care for the house. I will stay out of your way.”

I licked my lips. I didn’t want to ask but I had to know. “What were you doing with my vibrator?”

There was no answer. I waited for what felt like an eternity before I continued. “Look, it isn’t a good idea to share sex toys, so depending on where it’s been, I might need to throw it out. I can’t exactly get a new one just now. Please just tell me.”

It was the barest whisper, “I wanted to taste you.”

I froze feeling like a deer in the headlights, completely unsure how to respond to that.

“I have not touched you since you asked me not to,” he argued.

Except for when I almost fell, I thought. You caught me then. And my laptop. I wouldn’t have been able to get a new one of those either. I wondered if soap and water would do it or if I was going to end up with some shadow monster disease. How do you even ask that?

“Ok,” I mumbled. I stood there in the dark and silence. The house was silent. I realized I hadn’t heard rattles or banging or hissing since I learned he was here. “Nyctophobia,” I blurted out.

“I don’t understand,” he replied.

I shifted awkwardly. “Can I call you Nick?”

The silence continued. Then, “Why?”

“Nameless things are more scary. It isn’t as bad having a roommate named Nick.”

He never did answer. Eventually, I sat back down on the floor and wrapped the blanket more tightly around myself. I wasn’t brave enough to walk through a pitch dark house, past a staircase, to get to the room where there was a monster in the closet.

----

There was coffee waiting for me when I got up, and the smell of cinnamon buns baking in the oven. The oven timer said there was 10 minutes left. I peeked inside to find the tiniest pan of monkey bread baking. I recognized the recipe and pulled out the cookbook it came from. Sure enough, in Nick’s careful handwriting was notations about scaling the recipe down to one sixth of how it had been published.

He had used pencil.

“Is this a peace offering?” I asked.

I didn’t get a response, but he did the dishes while I had my bath that morning.

When my groceries were delivered, popcorn had been added to my order.

I didn’t see him. Well, I mean, I never see him, but the only signs of him were things being done and left obviously done while I was bathing or getting dressed. Aside from how nice it was to not do the dishes I appreciated the signs that he was not watching me.

It came as a surprise when I went to put the popcorn in the microwave and the power went out.

“Nick? What are you doing?”

“This isn’t me,” he hissed.

I was lifted and carried squirming through the dark before being pushed into a space and having the door locked behind me. I panicked as I thought I might be in his closet before I realized I was in the wine cellar. Flashes of Edgar Allen Poe stories ran through my mind.

I have no idea how long I was in there, in the dark with my heart pounding as I tried to get the door to open. Eventually, it did.

“All better now,” he assured me, breathing down the back of my neck.

There were a lot of cop cars outside on the street.

“What happened?” I asked. There wasn’t any answer.

A uniformed officer rang my bell, then politely stepped back from my door the requisite six feet.

“Did you hear or see anything unusual last night, Ma’am?” he asked after identifying himself.

Yeah, all the time, I thought. There was still no way to say that and sound sane. I went with a modified version of the truth. “The power went out around 10pm and I ended up stuck in the basement since I couldn’t see the stairs.”

He frowned at me. “Have you noticed anything missing? Any signs of a break in?”

“No? Should I have?”

He appeared to consider this, then stepped further back to look at the state of my house. “There were break-ins all down this street last night. This place might not have been a target.”

“Is everyone OK?” I asked.

“It’s an ongoing investigation,” replied walking towards me again. “I can not disclose anything further, ma’am.”

I swallowed, “That sounds like a no.”

“Do you mind if I come in and have a look around?”

I considered this, “Do you generally advise that women living alone let strange men into their houses? If you are coming to search, I want my lawyer here as a witness.”

He was already peering in around me. The house isn’t that big and the walls were all gone. He could see the whole main floor whether he came in or not.

“Doing some renovations I see.”

No shit Sherlock. “My building permit is posted in my window. I haven’t been able to get trades people out in months but-”

“I'm sure everything is in order with that. Good day.” Then he left. Standing on the porch I could hear him telling the other officers what a shit hole my house was. He thought it should be condemned.

I mean, he was right, still you never like to hear that. And it didn’t need to be condemned. I had the structural engineer’s report to prove it.

I went to work while keeping an eye on the news sites.

It wasn’t break ins. It was looters. The house next to me and the four next to it, all the way to the corner, had been hit. The owners had been found tied up at best and dead at worst with a variety of options in between.

It has escalated all the way down the street.

Then stopped before my house.

“Nick? What did you do?”

He wasn’t talking to me yet.

----

I sat on my bed and waited for the sun to go down. My laptop was in the kitchen. My phone was next to me but set to do not disturb. I waited, straining my ears for any noise.

“Are you there?”

Nothing was said but I was sure I could feel him watching me.

“Please tell me what happened.”

“No one comes into my house,” he snarled.

I swallowed and fought down my fear. “I did.”

“You are different. You are helping.”

I considered that. He had walls before I got here, now he didn’t.

“Am I safe from you?”

“Yes.” It would have been more comforting if he hadn’t growled it.

That was the point where I started to cry. I had made it through everything life had thrown at me without turning into a weepy woman, but that did it. I’m going to blame it on a night of panicking in the wine cellar combined with news reports detailing what had happened to my neighbours.

“Please don’t,” he whispered.

I sniffled. “Fuck. Why don’t I have kleenex?”

A roll of toilet paper was pressed into my hands. I ripped off a length and blew my nose in a way that women in the movies never do, then I jumped as he stroked my cheek with a cool finger, catching my tears. His hand was gone an instant later.

“What if they come back tonight?”

“They won’t,” he said firmly. I don’t think he was talking about the ongoing police presence on the street.

“What did you do?” I sniffled.

“I defended my home. That includes you now.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that. I wasn’t sure that I couldn’t catch glimpses of him as the lights on the street kept flashing. Red, blue, huge black shadow.

“I don’t want to be alone right now,” I whispered.

The bed dipped but when I reached my arm out in that direction all I could find was a long fingered hand to hold mine. “You won’t be.”

I felt him tug at the blankets underneath me and I slid over so he could turn them back. Even in the dark I could find my sleep shirt under my pillow. I stood up next to the bed, stripped and pulled it over my head. Under the covers looking at the ceiling. Red, blue, shadow, red, blue shadow.

“Are you .. human shaped?”

“I can be.”

I snorted, “What kind of answer is that?”

“An honest one.”

I rolled on to my side so that my back was to him, or at least to where I thought he was.

“I can go.”

“Can you stay?”

The weight on the bed changed. “Don’t try to look at me, you will only give yourself nightmares.”

“You said you’ve read Blue Beard?”

“Yes.”

“Have you read Cupid and Psyche?”

He just snickered.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Does any of that apply here?”

“Are you going to try to burn me with an oil lamp?” he teased.

“Are you going to get me pregnant then cast me out into the wilds?” I countered.

He hissed at that, “Never.”

“Never get me pregnant or -”

“I’m not human. We can’t procreate. I can’t make you sick. You can’t make me sick. We can drive each other insane and you will be able to escape someday. I can not leave.”

“Why not?”

“You need to rest. Don’t ask questions with scary answers.”

“How am I supposed to know they are scary?”

“Because you are asking a monster. Now, go to sleep.”

That was the most ridiculous thing but I wasn’t up to arguing about it. Not while there was still an active crime scene next door.

I fell asleep to the feeling of him stroking my back.

----

The only furniture in the bed room was the bed and a few boxes of random stuff I had moved in. I woke to find one of them had been used as a table and was holding breakfast for me. Or at least a travel mug of coffee and a plate of toast. I sat in bed, drank my coffee, ate my toast and read the thirty seven emails from everyone I knew asking what the fuck happened next door.

I ended up posting a blanket statement on facebook that I was fine. I was still in my house. I had no idea what had happened other than what I had seen on the news. Then I posted a picture of the three squad cars I could still see out my bedroom window.

My boss emailed me to ask when he could expect the report I had been assigned, so that took up the rest of my day. It was getting dark when I realized I hadn’t eaten all day. Another freezer meal, some salad and I was raiding the wine cellar again, god damn it!

As I was pouring wine into a coffee mug, he asked me, “Are you drinking alone?”

I got up, took another mug out of the cupboard, poured a second drink and turned off the kitchen light. “Nope. I’m not alone. You’re here.”

He didn’t answer, as I ate my dinner by the light of the street lights outside. The porch light was outside the kitchen window, so I turned it on to wash the dishes then turned it off to go upstairs. It would have been better if I hadn’t stubbed my toe on the bottom step. I swore. Nick picked me up and carried me up the stairs.

“I didn’t have that much to drink!” I protested.

“No, but you can’t see in the dark.” He tucked me safely into bed.

“Did you change the sheets?” I asked. He didn’t answer. “You did, didn’t you?”

My laptop opened and his body blocked the screen for a few moments. Then Brooklyn 99 came on and it was set next to me.

“Why are you doing this?”

“We need a distraction. Call Penny.”

“We need a distraction? We?”

“Yes.”

I hesitated. “Do you need me to move out and camp in the backyard for a few days?”

His reply was a nonverbal roar that rattled the windows and set off a car alarm outside.

There was a commotion then the cops were knocking on my door. I sighed and turned on the lights. I decided to be proactive this time. I flung open the door and demanded “What the hell are you doing out here?”

The cops on my porch blinked.

“I’m trying to sleep! Can you keep the noise down? Please? I know whatever you are doing is important but can you just do it a little quieter?”

“That wasn’t us!” the youngest protested.

“Then can you find out who it was and make them stop?”

To my delight, they left.

I closed the door, smiled to myself and bounced off a wall of darkness that caught me before I rebounded against the door.

“I do not want you sleeping outside!” he growled in my ear.

There were one set of arms around my shoulders and another holding my hips and back. I tried to think of a ‘what big arms you have Mr Wolf’ quip but it died on my lips and the touch was gone in an instant.

“Nick? Can you help me not trip on things on my way to the stairs?”

Hands on my hips, pushing me gently forward and steering me around boxes. Another hand guiding mine to the banister. Then nothing. I carefully inched my way upstairs. I did that awkward thing at the top where you think there is still one more step but there isn’t so your leg falls through nothing and you stumble. To my right was the bedroom, still lit by the flickering screen of my computer.

I climbed into bed and closed it.

Then I opened it, stared at the browser for a moment, then closed it again.

“What’s wrong?”

I considered this. I really had no secrets from him anymore. “I’m anxious and keyed up. I need … some ‘alone time’ but it’s weird if you are watching.”

“Would it be better if I was helping?” he teased.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t know what you are working with. But I feel lonely.”

Gentle fingers took my hand and raised it. The lips that kissed and the tongue that laved were not human. I turned my hand to stroke his face but he leaned away.

That stung. I let my hand fall to the bed. “It isn’t fair that you get to touch me but I can’t touch you.”

He didn’t say anything to that. A car drove past and the headlights lit the room for an instant. Long enough for me to see four glittering eyes watching me, two forward facing and two further to the sides. Not human, I reminded myself. In the darkness, a hand cupped my face, thick lips caught mine and as I kissed him a tentacle like tongue licked at my lips before darting briefly down my throat.

“I can do better than that toy,” he promised, “but you can not see me.”

I nodded. Four hands stroking me over my clothes. A mouth kissing and licking at my neck. I was expecting him to peel me out of my clothes, instead his touch was so feathery gentle. Hands cupped my face as he nuzzled my hair. I strained my eyes trying to see him, but I could catch only the faintest outline. Any time I reached out for him he pulled away. Finally, he got frustrated with that and pinned my hands over my head.

I panicked and pulled my hands away and just like that he was gone.

“Nick?”

I don’t know why I was expecting an answer. I groaned and pressed both palms to my face covering my eyes. I jumped when he caressed my calf, but I didn’t move my hands.

“What are you doing, little girl?”

“Damned if I know,” I admitted. “It’s been … I don’t even know anymore… how long have I been stuck in this house? Weeks? Months? None of this seems real anymore. Sometimes I don’t know if I’m real anymore either. I just need … something.”

“Someone,” he whispered.

“Yeah. Someone to make me feel like I’m real. Just to make me feel.”

“Humans need other humans to be human,” he muttered. “You should have just called your friend.”

My eyes prickled again and tears splashed against my hands. “How long have you been here?”

“There was an accident shortly after the house was built. I came because of that.”

That raised a lot of questions, but my immediate one was, “How long have you been here alone?”

“On and off since then. Most people don’t last much more than a month or two. Normally, construction crews are the advance party before they move in. It’s easy enough to get rid of the new owners. You were just too stupid to leave.”

I snorted, “Were you really trying to make me go? Because living here was creepy but not anywhere close to the scariest place I’ve ever lived.”

“My heart wasn’t in it. I need you to finish fixing the place first. Sooner or later someone would have built one of those ridiculous houses on the lot.” He started to massage my calf as he spoke.

“The house is more than a hundred years old. That’s a long time to be alone,” I pointed out.

“Enough time to get good at it,” he countered.

I moved my hands then and sat up to look at him. I thought I could see a pool of shifting darkness. “What are you? Are you a ghost? Did someone die here and -”

“Many people have died here. I am not one of them.”

I thought about that for a moment. “Am I?”

“What?”

“Am I some dead woman who is all alone here making excuses for why I can’t leave?”

He laughed at me then, not a jolly laugh, an odd howling laugh. “How did you come up with that ridiculous idea?”

It stung a little, “It’s a popular plot point in a number of movies. And I can’t help but notice you didn’t answer the question.”

He stopped laughing when he realized I was serious and said flatly, “You aren’t dead.”

#quarantine #oh my god they were quarantined #monster boyfriend #shadow monster

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127-mile · 3 years

Text

Lonely hearts club.

Pairing: Sicheng x gender neutral reader.

Genre: College!au, strangers to lovers | Fluff, humor.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption.

Plot: Johnny decided to throw a Valentine's day party for him and his single friends. Guests must draw a name from a bowl to be paired with for the duration of the party. Sicheng picked your name.

Prompt: “We should do this again.”

Word count: +2.3k.

A/N: Happy Valentine’s day, guys. This is part of the “Candy hearts collab”. The collab’s masterlist is in my main masterlist, go read the other writers’ works.

"Welcome to the Lonely hearts club," Johnny begins to say, hands on his hips. "if we are here today, it is because we all are single on this special day. So instead of getting drunk on our own, I decided to make a little game out of this party." from the makeshift bar, he takes a bowl filled with little pieces of paper. "You will all draw a name from this bowl, and will be paired with this person for the duration of the party."

"Is that why you asked me to write everyone's names instead of studying earlier?" you ask, and Johnny nods, lips curling into a smile. You watch as a few guests get up to leave, but Johnny shakes something in front of them. The key of the house. "I am not giving you a choice. The only way for you to leave is through the windows, but it will probably startle the alarms, so except if you want to spend the night in jail, you should come and pick a name."

Johnny thought of everything, and you are not surprised.

"Are you going to draw a name, or are you going to watch and laugh at us?" you ask the host of the party, and he nibbles on his lower lip. "I'm not watching you all fall in love while crying over my sad and pathetic romantic life." he is always so dramatic.

You take a step back when the guests come to pick up a piece of paper, and you grab a cup to fill it with vodka. Maybe if you are drunk enough, the person with whom you'll have to be paired will leave and let you enjoy the rest of the night.

"Are you here to force me into the living room, or to hide from Johnny and his crazy idea?" you hear when you head to the kitchen where you know you will be safe, but you are not alone. Your eyes meet the ones of a young man, blond hair, and soft brown eyes. "I am hiding, do not worry."

"Then you are allowed to stay."

You roll your eyes, and you sit on the kitchen counter. You listen to the names being called, the laughs that follow, and even the sound of the bowl falling and breaking when Johnny's name is being shouted by someone. "We are going to be here for awhile, so might as well make the most of it. I'm Sicheng."

You were not expecting the stranger to talk, but you are not mad about it. He has a nice voice, even muffled by the hubbub coming from the living room. "I'm Y/n, nice to meet you Sicheng. Are you friends with Johnny, or Jaehyun?" you ask, and he takes a sip from his bottle of beer.

"I am unfortunately friends with both of them." oh, that must hurts, you think. "I'm truly sorry that you have to put up with both of them." you say in a comforting voice, and it makes Sicheng laugh. Oh, this is a really pretty sound. "I hope you'll find better friends after this party. I'm not offering my help, as I am friends with Johnny."

"Y/n! It's your turn!" oh fuck.

You get down from the counter, and you crouch behind the kitchen island which was a great idea, because Johnny enters the room immediately. "Win, have you seen Y/n?" you turn your head towards the young man, and you put you index finger against your lips, and he just shrugs. "I have no idea who Y/n even is."

Johnny heaves a sigh, but he does not leave the room. "Alright, then it's your turn Sicheng." Sicheng's eyes widen, he really thought he would be safe in this room, but turns out, nowhere is safe when Johnny has an idea. "Do I have to?" Johnny scoffs. "Yes. Don't make me pick a name for you."

Sicheng glares at you, and he leaves the kitchen. The guests are scattered around the living room and the garden, so Johnny and Jaehyun's eyes are the only one he feels on his back as he picks a piece of paper from the floor. The bowl is effectively broken, and no one bothered to clean.

He laughs when he reads the name on the paper, and he turns it towards the two boys. "Y/n! Come out, your party buddy is waiting for you."

A party buddy? What the fuck is a party buddy? You stay hidden, but then another voice is heard, and you have no choice but to straighten up. "Y/n, we can hide in the kitchen some more if you want."

You rest your shoulder against the doorframe, arms crossed against your chest. "Did you cheat?" you ask when you see your name written on the piece of paper in between his fingers, and he shakes his head. "I would never! Fate is just funny like that."

"You two already know each other? That's cool! Go now, have fun, get drunk, don't throw up on the couch, and don't fuck in my parents' bed." Johnny says before disappearing in the garden with Jaehyun by his side. "We needs new friends." you mutter, and Sicheng agrees.

Without a word, you go back to the kitchen and you sit back down on the counter. "Do you think we did something terrible in our past lives to have them as friends?" you wonder out loud, and Sicheng just sighs. "Or we did something so great that they decided to slap us with some humility by giving us these friends."

He sure is right.

The first hour goes by quickly, and smoothly.

Sicheng talks about his studies, and his dream of opening a dance studio in town, and you talk about your own projects. The advantage of being in the kitchen is that no one is bothering you. Sometimes Johnny comes in to grab beers from the fridge, but he leaves right away.

"Should we go and visit Johnny's room?" Sicheng suddenly asks, and you smile. "I thought you would never ask."

You were not planning on spending an entire night with the same person, so you take what you can get to be a little bit more entertain. Not that Sicheng is boring, far from that, but the atmosphere is not the one of a Valentine's Day party. It is quite the opposite. The guests are awkward with each other, so they drink cup after cup of alcohol, and even inhebriated, it does not help them get the stick out of their asses.

Tomorrow morning is going to be a mess, you know it. You also know that Johnny is going to regret his decision of having this kind of party.

"Do you know which bedroom it is?" Sicheng asks as you walk through the corridor of the first floor. "I'm pretty sure this is this one." you say, poiting at a door with Johnny's name painted on it. "Oh, he is that kind of loser then."

"It's his childhood's bedroom, don't be so mean." you whisper, but in a way, he is right. Johnny is kind of a loser.

Unlike the other doors, this one is not unlocked. "He is making it too easy." you step inside the bedroom, and as expected, it looks really childish. The wallpaper is blue with cars on it, the bed is way too small for Johnny's long legs and plushies are all around the room, which is not too different from his actual bedroom.

"Look!" you join Sicheng in front of a whill covered with photos of Johnny's growth into adulthood. You take your phone out, and you snap a few pictures of the photos, and when Sicheng looks at you, you just shrug. "I need blackmail material for the next time he tries to pull a stunt like this."

You sit on the edge of the bed, and you look up. "Oh no, that's disgusting." you mutter as you see yourself on the mirror glue to the ceiling. "Does a kid really need a mirror on the ceiling? Ew!"

"I'm pretty sure he got it installed when his parents started traveling. For his conquests, I guess." Sicheng explains, and that makes sense, but that's still disgusting. Fucking someone in his childhood's bedroom, in a child's bed. The thing is, you are not even surprised.

"Do you think Johnny was serious when he talked about the alarms going off if we try to open a window?" you shrug, and you watch as Sicheng gets up to walk to the window. "We should try."

You open your eyes wide. "Do you really want to finish the night in jail? Johnny is stupid enough to tell the cops that we actually tried to break in the house while he was having a party." especially if he is drunk.

"We won't if we run fast enough."

Sicheng has something in his voice, something that prompts you on your feet and behind him. "Except if we die from the gall." you say in a low voice close to his ear and you see the skin of his arm break into goosebumps. "You are right. We should try from downstairs' bathroom."

"I have to get my things back anyway." together, you leave Johnny's bedroom and when you both have your jackets and bags, Sicheng locks the door behind you. "Isn't it a bit too mean to lock the door?" Sicheng looks back and he decides to unlock the door. He wants to piss off Johnny, but he does not want the guests to trash his house with vomit.

"Are you ready?" he asks, and you nod.

When he opens the window, nothing happens at first. And after a couple of seconds, an alarm echoes in the house. "Why can't they just have those silent alarm with a notification on their phone, it'd be way more discreet."

"Sicheng, get out of the bathroom, we don't have time!" he shakes his head with vigor and he slings a leg on the other side of the window and he gets out of the bathroom, face immediately whipped by the cold wind. You do the same, and he helps you to avoid you from tripping.

You hear screams inside the house, and you try not to imagine Johnny's face when he understands that someone actually opened a window to leave. "We are so dead." you say before running.

Sicheng runs and laughs at the same time, and hearing him laugh is enough to make you laugh too. His laugh is addicting, just like his presence, and you are glad Johnny did this. If you had not had to hide in the kitchen, you would not have met Sicheng, and that would have been a shame.

After a few minutes of intense run, Sicheng grabds your wrist and pushes you into a dark alley. "I think we're far enough." he says in a sigh, and you nod. You are breathless, hands on your knees, you break into a fit of giggles despite the burn in your lungs. "We are the worst friends ever." you breath out.

"They are the worst, we did what we had to do." he answers, and he is right. You freeze when you hear your phone rings in the pocket of your jacket. You take it out, and you bite the inside of your cheek when you see Johnny's picture on the screen.

"Johnny, why are you calling me, we are in the same house!" you exclaim in faux surprise, and Sicheng puts a hand on his mouth to muffle a laugh. "My hearing is pretty good, so yes, I definitely heard the alarm. But that does not answer my question, why are you calling me?" you nod, even though Johnny can't see it.

"Sicheng and I are in the house, we are watching you right now, you can't see us?" he is going to hate you both, and you are ready, really. "How many drinks did you have tonight? Because we are waving at you right now! Just turn around!" Johnny starts to mumble about the alcohol he has in his cup, so you take the opportunity to hang up.

"Did he believe you?" Sicheng asks, and you shrug. "I don't know, but what I know is that he thinks he is more drunk than he actually is, which is a good thing." Sicheng threads his fingers through his hair, and he inhales deeply.

"I'm starving, do you want to go eat something?"

And that's how you find yourself sitting in the booth of a fast food, in the middle of the night. "I thought this place would be empty tonight." you say, looking around.

A few couples are here, sharing fries and sodas, some people are alone, either enjoying a night light every other nights, a boy is even crying in the corner. "Poor boy probably got dumped."

"I would dump him with this haircut too." Sicheng grumbles, mouth full of fries, and you roll your eyes. Johnny has been texting you for the past twenty minutes, wondering why he can't find you, and every time the screen lights up, you chuckle. Poor boy.

"Well, all in all, that was a pretty nice party." you state, and the young man nods. "I think so too."

"We should do this again." he adds right away, and you tilt your head to the side. "Bothering Johnny?" Sicheng laughs softly, but he shakes his head. "No. This. Together. You know, like a date?" his cheeks take on a soft pink hue, and you can't help but smile. "I'd love that."

Tonight was your last night as part of the Lonely Hearts Club, and that's thanks to Johnny and his crazy ideas.

#cznnet #nct #wayv #nct imagines #wayv imagines #nct scenarios #wayv scenarios #winwin imagines #winwin scenarios

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letsperaltiago · 4 years

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ok time to break my silence caused by the fact that i spent all day making this lol too many feels

so.. palm springs thoughts !! and there are manyyyy so buckle up and feeel free to hit me up with either matching or contradicting thoughts or whateveer!! i would LOVE to nerd out about this movie with someone:’)

here comes thoughts and pictures!!

we basically start off with a mr. samberg sex-scene okAYYYYY the mood is set. we love the view

nyles aka. mr. samberg is the most gorgeous man alive and it was a true pleasure to admire him for 90 minutes straight

CURLS!!????! THEY ARE UNREAL. i shall dedicate an entire post to them

Cristin Milioti is perfect for her role. her acting? *chef’s kiss* I love that she’s not the stereotypical female rom-com lead.

Her chemistry with Andy? Gosh.. Can’t believe Nyles x Sarah is my new main movie-ship!! They play off of each other SO. WELL. Their characters are equally stone cold and bitter, but then again not really, and they both portray it so well!!

“You don’t ned a leg up.” *moans* “Hold my leg up!” i SCREAMED

“Don’t you kiss me.” “Don’t you tell me what to do.” hoW DARE THEY!

Ok ur basically on love already stop it

The fact that they were just gonna fuck on a blanket on top OF ROCKS?!

but then again in this movie’s already insane universe it’s prob pretty normal:)

The overall dark, existential humor?? This is what I live and breathe for on a daily basis. Basiaclly both main characters are a BIG MOOD

Nyles not giving a shit vs. Sarah severely freaking out in the beginning is an iconic dynamic

“I am the antichrist” and then the rock falling? For a hot sec I literally thought the movie was gonna take a turn with Nyles being some magical/scientific creature that’d created the timeloop or something idkkk ahhha

Nyles in the suit... ridiculous(ly hot)

The torture methods Roy uses on Nyles and the fact that he’s not mentally scarred?? How??

On that note I love that Nyles and Sarah keep their memories even if the day starts over. Would’ve been a completely different concept if they had to “meet each other for the first time” every day and it wouldn’t’ve allowed their relationship arc to evolve as it did

Darla is the fucking shit

Nyles in the baseball cap, amirite?

THE BARTENDER TALKING ABOUT HITTING A GUY WITH THE CAR SHE’S CURRENTLY GIVING NYLES A HANDJOB IN IS COMEDIC GOLD

“You fucked Jerry Schlieffen?” “Well he fucked me.” Yes SIR. Andy Samberg’s characters are all bottoms and we’re here for it

Sarah’s tongue click and “nice try” when Nyles asks her about her sex life??

IDK WHY BUT SO GOD

Randy is hella annoying. That’s it. That’s the tweet.

THIS ENTIRE SCENE:

the fact that they both start waking up smiling because now at least they have each other 🥺😭🤯

uhm i love a good ship that’s like... best friends to lovers and the montage of them basically becoming besties killed me

this outfit Y E S:

sarah falling off the car and nyles laughing it off is relationship goals

the crashing plane I LOL’ED

okay so... big moment... the DANCING AND MATCHING OUTFITS? THEY ARE MY DREAM TEAM. Also how excited they are running away from the bar 🥺

IM POSITIVE THIS IS THE MOMENT NYLES KNOWS! LIKE HE DOESN’T ADMIT IT TO HIMSELF COMPLETELY BUT HE KNOWS

the bomb in the cake and french pirate-skit? so fucking random but i lovee it because it’s so them

*DRUM ROLL* PERHAPS MY FAVORITE MOMENT IN THE ENTIRE MOVIE:

STORYLINE WISE AND VISUALLY A++++

the deep talks by the fire were SO well written. they were actually deep and genuine, allowing the characters to grow and opening up to us as viewers but also remained fun and witty

sarah trying to get nyles to admit he cares for her and him joking it off??? the flirtinggg

really wish we’d gotten to know more about what nyles meant with “it drifts away: just like they all do.” because it really seemed to trigger something within him. Like WHO “They”???

the dinosaurs lmao no comment but at least they got a cute cuddly moment

from the very first millisecond inside the tent you can CLEARLY tell Sarah is just dying to do something about them!!!

the disbelief on nyles’ face when sarah says “lets just get it over with” because she’d clearly stated he didn’t want to and even though he obviously did he’s respected it and not done anything further about it oh babey

we love some good making out:’)))

NYLES HALTING TO TAKE IN THE MOMENT EXCUSE ME WHILE I GO SCREAM INTO THE VOID

i will die for a post-sexy timez cuddle and how sarah is trying to staying awake to be besides him is just *explosion*

this has to be *the moment* she realises

and they’re both sooooo fucking happy when they wake up after damn love me like that pls

THE GROOM BOOO FUCK OFF CAN’T EVEN BE BOTHERED TO REMEMBER HIS NAME CHEATING SCUM

THIS FACE:

Baby is trying so hard and is so cute and nervous about it. SARAH LISTEN TO HIM HE LOVES YOU.

HE FELT GOOD WAKING UP BECAUSE OF YOUUUU, GIRL. DO NOT CALL IT “FUN”, SARAH

“Going to bed maybe just got a little better” 😭😭😭😭

The entire cop scene is just pure insanity, very Lonely Island and I’m here for it even though I just want Sarah to rEALLY LISTEN TO WHAT NYLES IS TRYING TO SAY

“Pain is real” oh babey that means SO MANY THINGS 🥺💔

“I followed you into that cave because I liked you!” like jake would say: don’t love how we got here but we’re going where i want

“pretentious sad boy” me

not shocked that they’ve hooked up before because c h e m i s t r y but don’t like how it got out :)))

why is nyles’ one sleeve shirt rolled up? im triggered

drinking pure vodka? oh babey its gonna be okay

WE LOVE A SMART BOI WHO RECOGNIZES HIS GIRL’S PERFUME

Sarah’s parents singing:)) i would cry too, nyles

"I love her.” “I see... That’s interesting” lmao savage

I actually really love Roy’s character. It turns out to be very humble actually and he has some insightful and lowkey poetic that lines i love. Besides that he’s hilarious.

SO the whole time i was wondering how they’d get out of the whole “same day forever”-thing, if they were to. and I LOVE LOVE LOVE that they had such a logical way out of it: science. Not anything cheesy like “a true love’s kiss” or “you learned your lesson”. Pure logic and Sarah’s hard work to get there. Huge fan of this.

I will never get over how good Nyles looks waking up and Sarah is xtra pretty in that scene:’)

Nyles just wants to stay in a loop forever because it means for sure that he gets to stay with Sarah forever and I’m lowkey into it but also like lowkey LISTEN TO HER AND GO WITH HER PLAN, NYLES

“I wanna stay with you” *sniffles*

“I love you. How about that?” PRETTY FUCKING GOOD

I love Nyles’ character development. He started off so nonchalant and cold, closed off and by this point he’s the softest, smiliest in love fool I’ve ever seen and Andy does it so good. SAMBERG HEART EYES!!

“Nothing is real in here” YES SARAH UR LOVE IS

I’m taking Sarah’s asking Nyles to believe in her and leave with her as her first “I love you” because it’s very clear that she wants to leave with him rather than without.

just- this entire scene i ugh <3 <3 <3 <3

BREAKING. UP. WITH. MISTY ! 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

glass of wine filled to the brim? sarah’s my type of gal

the speech was really beautiful and sweet without being too cheesy and kudos to cristin for really delivering it like a pro! especially her “abe, don’t fuck this up” like yes girl kill him, chop him to pieces with your eyes!!! also camila is such really pretty bride

nyles looks like a cockatoo here :

nyles taking the shot and smashing the glass into the ground got me 🤭😵😏🥵

“I’m your son” I SCREAM

GIVE THE MAN A WHITE HORSE DAMNIT

Gotta admit Sarah looks like a bomb (lol nu pun intended) ass super hero in her bridesmaid dress and C4-gettup

The sentence ending up being total grammatical gibberish but Nyles trying so. damn. hard is the sweetest thing ever and should and will go down in rom-com history. It’s super romantic but also well-balanced by humor and I just.. so good. This is the kind of characters and relationships I love and wanna write myself

“you’re my favorite person that i’ve ever met” 🥺🥺🥺

“i’d rather die with you than live in this world without you” WHY AM I SO SINGLE SOMEONE LOVEE ME LIKE THIS

okay so idk but “what if we get sick of each other?” “we’re already sick of each other. it’s the best.” is so so so soft, the way nyles says it like it doesn’t matter and is honestly another key moment for me: they’ve experienced basically everything imaginable during their time in the box/loop. they’ve liked, disliked, loved, hated each other and still: he loves her. the fact that nyles knows no matter what happens it won’t stop that because it’s them?? ouch my heart.

this chaotic mess of a pairing?MESSY BOMB BRIDESMAID AND CURLY-HAIR HAWAII SHIRT-BOI!! MY OTp

Them dissing Nyles’ mom on their way into potential death? that’s love, baby

the fUCKING KISSSSSSS MANNNNNNNNNN!!!! SO ICONIC AND THE EXPLOSION IN THE BACKGROUND AND JUST WE DESERVE THIS THEY DESERVE THIS EVERYONE DESERVES THISSSS!!!

NEVER OVEER THIS EVER FOREVER NEVER

Ok so I was SURE that when it faded to black that it was done and I grew super ficking frustrated because it would leave us with this “the ending is up to whatever you chose”-kinda thing kinda a la Celeste and Jesse where it just feels unresolved and I WASN’T OKAY WITH THAT. So I’m so happy we got to know that it worked and the bebes will live happuilly ever after with Nyles’ shaggy dog:’)

Their hands on each other’s knee >>>>>

all in all 100000/10

#palm springs #palm springs spoilers #andy samberg #cristin milioti #camila mendes #sarah x nyles #emilie says things #sarah #nyles #the lonely island #nyrah

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shibarirobot · 3 years

Text

Aizawa fic - CH3 - Entrapment

18+ Only! SFW (for now)

Shouta Aizawa x Villain!OC/Reader (?)

CH1

CH2

!!TW!! mentions of abuse, trauma, blood

Above are the links to the first two chapters, but for those that just want to get to it, I will briefly summarize. The main character here(who I choose to keep very nondescript so anyone can enjoy this, that may change as things get more physical between them and our hero. I will continue using they/them pronouns for this, but I have lady parts and will probably end up using those words.) is a villain that has just stolen information, fought Aizawa and made an escape to a roof where they fought with a member of their crew and Maybe(?) probably killed them.

Thank you for reading!

Enjoy! x

Sirens blare behind me as cops start to arrive at the scene. I pull the hood on my jacket up over my head and dip around the corner. I hadn’t tried to stick around long enough for them to show up, but left without a quick way off the roof after tossing that damn bat off the side, I had to take the stairs. It was a long way down, but the stairwell was entirely connected all the way to the ground floor, I would have been seriously pissed off if I had to find multiple sets of stairs. My face is mostly obscured by my hood, but I look down everytime a random citizen passes by. I can never be too careful about being seen.

I reach into my pocket and feel for my marble, my anxiety is rising quickly as a group of four teen girls walks towards me on the sidewalk. I almost freak out when my pocket turns up empty, but then I remember that I threw it, that it’s the only reason I’m still walking free. This brings me slight peace before I hear giggling and sneer to myself. High schoolers. I look at their uniforms, even better, hero students. I pull the drawstrings on my hood and it scrunches around my face, hiding me further. Anonymity isn’t the only reason I prefer not to be seen, but it’s the most self preserving reason, the one that makes the most sense. The other is because I’m afraid. Afraid of what they could say, of what they could think. I’ve heard it all, but it never fails to sting a little when the unfiltered truth of others thoughts wash over me.

Weirdo. What. A. Freak.

OMG what are they wearing?

Damn, why do I always have to walk on the outside? Don’t you all care at all if I get grabbed?

Please don’t rob us, please don’t rob us.

Look away. Just look away.

I pull the drawstrings tighter and walk slightly faster, trying to push their thoughts from my brain, but failing grandly as all I can focus on is how much I don’t fit in, how little the rest of the world cares for people that don’t fit in the cookie cutter mold of societal expectations. The girls are having a light hearted conversation amongst themselves as I pass by, a complete confliction to the sour, curdled thoughts that had just slipped out. My eyes are glued to my feet as I take one step after the other, my legs feel like lead as I fight the urge to scream at them and silence their brain functions. I’m so focused on getting myself away from those girls that I barely register the man walking in front of me, talking loudly on the phone. I thump into his back, my eyes still strained down at the tips of my boots. He looks down at me, surprised. I can feel his eyes on me, feel the shock as his words falter into the phone mic.

Woah. All black, huh?

Trying to avoid a conflict, I duck to the side and mutter a curt ‘sorry’ below my breath, already shuffling off. He reaches out to me though, reaching for my shoulder. “Hey, wait. Sorry to bump into y-”

I jerk away without looking. “Don’t touch me… please.” I cough the pleasantry out, it’s hard to hold myself back when all I want to do is swear at him and rip his eyes from his skull, knowing full well this is only a minor inconvenience, not a stopping block for me. I slightly turn my head, looking up at him out of one eye, he looks down at me, stunned.

Wait… Is this the one?

Who is this man? He looks slightly familiar, but I can’t quite place him. He’s got long blonde hair, pulled into a simple ponytail and a goatee that makes him look like he still thinks the year is 2008. My eyes fall back to my feet as I take quick paces away from him. I don’t know him, but it seems like he might know me, which is definitely a bad sign. My anxiety swells again as I feel the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. This really can’t be good. I can still feel him watching me as I retreat, but his focus shifts back to his phone as someone yells on the other end of the receiver. “Yah, yah! I’m right around the corner. Get off my back, Shouta… I said I’m right around the corner! … No! I’m not in ‘uniform’, it’s my day off!” I let my anxiety roll off my shoulders as I get farther away from him and can no longer hear his shouting. I’m not sure why he threw me off so much, but I’m happy to be crossing the street and leaving his line of vision, turning an extra corner, just to be safe. I can’t afford anyone following me right now.

I’m still a bit rattled as I step down the stairs to the underground train tunnels. The tunnels are old, abandoned years ago after a train derailed and collapsed several tunnels. There were so many casualties, they shut down the entire train system after that, but by then technology had become so advanced compared to the subway that they didn’t even bother rebuilding. The city just closed off the tunnel entrances to the public. Citizens and tourists still come down to the platforms to take pictures and read plaques about the deceased. It’s ridiculous really. They didn’t know any of the people that died, had no connection to them, they would have no clue about the lives lost here if it hadn’t been all over the news. What the news wouldn’t tell the unsuspecting audience of sheep, is that it was actually a hero that crashed the train. The media told the world that a minor earthquake had derailed the train, which was only partially true. A minor earthquake had caused the crash, but a hero had caused the earthquake. A hero was the direct cause of so many shortened lives, innocent and corrupt alike, all dead within seconds. The media just swept that under the rug, not a single news coverage even mentioned his name as they described the tragedy. He continued his hero work as if nothing had even happened, as if he hadn’t murdered the very people he vowed to protect, as if he wasn’t the sole reason those people died. My sister was among those lost. She wasn’t my only family, but the only one I liked, the only one that made life even bearable. A tear rolls down my cheek and I wipe it away in frustration, no time for emotions. No time for tears. No time to let myself wallow, because I know once I start on that path, I’ll never stop. I’ll cry until I can’t breathe, until my eyes are swollen shut, until my lungs give out. So I cut myself short. No tears.

The platform is empty when I reach the tracks, the silence echoing. This is the only place I’m free of everyone else’s trilling thoughts buzzing in my brain, the thick concrete walls jamming their signal from getting to me. I release a long awaited sigh, the anxiety finally subsiding and leaving a slight hunger in my stomach. I had been so worked up I forgot to get food. I pull the hood off my head and hop down onto the tracks, walking them like a balance beam, a habit I picked up in my free time. At this point, I don't even put my hands out at my sides. I’ve done this so much, I’m sure I could walk it with my eyes closed. I do close my eyes, basking in the complete silence that surrounds me. Silence that reminds me of the moments I was fighting Eraser Head, the moments where he took my quirk and my head was actually empty. Even now it’s not quite like that, there’s still a ringing in my ears and a hum in the back of my head like static over a radio channel. It’s never been completely quiet inside my head, it only ever fades to background noise, not like when I was with him, when he was staring at me so intensely. I know it’s because he couldn’t look away, because of his quirk, but part of it made me feel… wanted. No one has ever looked at me like that, with such incredible intensity in their eyes. I shake my head, feeling crazier than usual. There’s no way he could want me, no way that I’m not just pushing my own desires onto his actions, no way that I’m not just famished for someone to hold me in their arms like he had held me in his scarf.

Now I know I’m acting foolish. His scarf? Really? He was attacking me, he was fighting me, he’s a hero goddammit. I should be hating him and working up ways to bring his demise, but instead I’m thinking about what it would be like to see him without his hostility, to watch his face as he slept, to see tears trail down his face, to see him begging on his knees. I want to see his vulnerability, surprisingly, without any intention of exploiting it. I just want to see him. I have to see him. I look down and realize I’m pacing. I shake myself again and head for a service tunnel that I’ve commandeered to become my little hideout. It’s really not much, but it’s all mine and 100% off the grid. Maintenance personnel don't even come down here. I’m completely alone and I love it. No prying eyes, no unwanted thoughts, just me and the cold concrete. It’s heavenly.

I moved down here full time a few months after my sister died and it became clear that no one was fixing up the tunnels. My biological carrier, the woman I refuse to call my mother, had begun drinking immediately. Not that she was a stranger to alcohol before, but it had only gotten worse. Her drunk thoughts quickly became her sober thoughts and all of them had to do with me. Why my sister had died instead of me, why she was the one that had to be stuck with me, why she had to have been cursed with such a freakish child. One that cried all the time, one that split her head in two when they had a tantrum, one that couldn't even be put into daycare to protect the other children, one that put her husband in a vegetative state. I became nothing more than a burden to her, if there was any part of her that still loved me, loved me like a mother is supposed to, it was buried deeper in her mind than even I could find.

The mental abuse wasn’t what broke me though, the neglect hadn’t done it either. It was the night she made me beg. She had drunk so much that I felt drunk, felt drunk off the vertigo thoughts she was pulsing out into the room. She stumbled into my room, slurring speech and telling me how ungrateful I was to have someone like her that would take such good care of me. I should have known better, should have been quiet like usual, but I scoffed at that. The wench barely even knew how to take care of herself, the notion honestly tickled me. That did her in. She lunged at me and threw me to the floor, smacking me in the face once on both cheeks. She rolled off of me and left the room as drunkenly as she had come in. I just layed there and cried, hoping she was done, but knowing she wasn’t. I heard the door creak and felt her grab me by the hair, shoving me into a dining chair. The confusion must have been evident on my face, because she hit me again and made quick work of tying me to the wooden chair. She left me there, tied up, for days. She made me beg for food. Beg for water. Beg to be cleaned after I had pissed myself. She made me apologize for everything I had ever done. She made me admit I was a monster, one that hurt people for fun, because I wanted to, not because I couldn’t control my quirk. I can see now how that narrative would be easier for her to stomach, having a person to blame instead of accepting the shitty facts of reality, but I was her child. I had been pure. She was supposed to love me, protect me.

I stop walking, letting my renewed hatred for that woman settle on my shoulders like a warm, heavy blanket. Resolve hardening my heart and warping the soft emotions I had just been there. I heave a sigh and reach into my jacket pocket again, feeling the flashdrive from before. This is what I need. File upon file of precious documents and information right here in the palm of my hand, information that now exists nowhere else.

I start walking again, exhausted from today's events. There had been so many close calls. I’m still reeling from a couple of them, my head still not on fully straight. I make it to my little pad and flop down on the mattress I have tucked away in the corner. I unzip my boots and massage my feet a little, pulling them into my lap to sit lotus style. My laptop had been haphazardly tossed into my bed, so I reach over and plug it into the charging cable snaking from the wall, also pushing the little flashdrive into the side port and letting all the documents download. I curl into a ball on my mattress and flop to the side, I’m so tired and so hungry, I’m not sure what to do. I have no food here so I'm going to have to go back up to the surface level, but it’s still too light out, I’ll wait until the sun has fully set then go stop by a street vendor. In the meantime however, I treat myself to a nap. I hadn’t realized how heavy my eyes were until my head hit the soft material of my bed.

I’m not sure how much time has passed since I fell asleep, but I wake up to my computer beeping. The download is complete. I smile to myself and close the laptop, removing the flashdrive from the side, again not bothering to eject it. I push myself up into a sitting position and rub my hands over my entire face and into my hair, fully waking myself up some more. I look down at myself, still in my full clothes and sigh, I guess I had been far more tired than I thought. My mind drifts to the dream I was having before my eyes had peeled back open. I only really dream when I sleep hard, which isn’t often since I’ve basically ruined my REM cycles. In my dream, I was with Eraser Head again, but this time we weren’t fighting, not really. He still had me caught in that damn capture weapon, but I was completely naked, my body exposed at all the right points for him to reach out and grab me, hit me, bite me. The memory of how his scarf felt against my skin heats up my face, my body clenching tightly. How does he still do this to me? He’s not even near me.

I run a hand down my neck, trying to calm myself. I can’t get all riled up because of some hero. Can I? Another flash from my dream breaks through to the forefront of my mind. Eraser Head has me by the jaw, his mouth so close to mine I would be able to feel his breath on my lip if it had been real. That’s when he sensually licks my plush bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth and biting down softly, just enough to drive me crazy. Just enough for me to want more, to feel it in real life. I yell and pound my fist into the mattress. GET!! IT!! TOGETHER!! I launch myself onto my feet, tugging on my boots, determined to get his imagined ministrations out of my mind. I still need to eat anyway. The hunger tugging on my stomach and making it growl loudly, protesting the nap that had zapped away the rest of my evening. I look at my watch and groan, it's already past 9pm.

I head back down the service tunnel that leads to my little crash pad, there’s a small, unpopular ramen stand I like to go to when it’s late. It's not the best bowl of ramen in the world, but it gets the job done and I’m not too picky when it comes to noodles in warm broth. The stand is right outside one of the stairwells into the underground platforms. The lights from the neon sign flicker dimly, it reads ‘OPEN to Business’. I slink down onto one of the stools and drop my money onto the counter, ordering a beef bowl. The man on the other side of the counter pours the broth and cuts vegetables before serving me the bowl with a small bow of his head. I return his formality before delving into the bowl. The soup smells better than usual, or maybe I’m just insanely hungry, either way the first bite leaves me melting into the bowl, hunched over, consuming the food at such a rate it would appear as if I hadn’t eaten in days. I hit the bottom of the white bowl in record time and slam down a few coins demanding more. The chef raises his eyebrow, but complies, almost over filling another bowl for me.

Hungry, ha? Good! Eat more!

I smile at him, actually warmed by his slight kindness, but it is soon forgotten as I begin slurping down noodles, beef, and cooked vegetables. I finish the second bowl almost as quickly as the first and slouch back, patting my very full belly. I was definitely hungrier than I realized. I sigh, content and sluggish as I slide off the side of the stool. I can’t help the light feeling in my chest as I shove my hands into my pockets. The moon is high in the sky and the night air is cool on my cheeks, it’s almost serene. I decide to take a little stroll, there’s another entrance to the platform a few blocks down, connecting to the other side of the service tunnel. I start my walk with casual steps, I’m not in a rush and I just want to breathe in the fresh air a little bit longer. There’s an empty orange soda can on the ground and I kick it with the inside of my foot, sending it skittering forward a few paces, stopping in a perfect place for me to kick it again. I continue kicking the can along with me as I walk, until I kick it a little too hard and it goes tumbling down into a storm drain. I shrug and round a corner, the can just a distraction anyways, something to fiddle with. I reach into my pocket and forget again that my marble isn't there. A prickle of nerves climbs up my arm and to the back of my neck, making my hair follicles stand on end.

Suddenly alert, I tense my shoulders and scan the area, looking above me as well this time, I won’t be taken out from the rooftops again, but still I see nothing. The air around me has shifted. It’s no longer peaceful and delicate, it’s eerie and cold, sending a shiver through me again, the anxiety making me even more jumpy as I hear little sounds around me. Nothing out of the ordinary, city sounds, but it all gets to me, sending my heart rate in an upward spike. I start to run, unsure of where to go. I can feel someone, but where? It’s driving me crazy. I know there’s someone. I know it, but the absolute lack of a presence is what’s really fucking me up. An ubiquitous white flash darts out at me from the dark. I dodge quickly, leaning back so far my head barely misses slamming into the concrete below me. There’s another flash and I throw my legs out from underneath me, catching myself in a near handstand before flinging myself backwards again, still unsure of where the flashes are coming from.

Before I can land back on my feet, I see it, a dark figure blur by me from the corner of my eye. I don’t know what or who it is, but my first instinct is to whip around and try to use my quirk, still only barely sure of the figure’s location. When I spin around, I’m immediately bombarded by two sensations. First, is the clarity in my brain that only comes when Eraser Head is muting my quirk. The second, is the heat that grows in my stomach when I realize exactly who I’m up against. My chest flushes, and my thoughts flash back to my dream, the way he had halfway kissed me. That’s all the distraction he needs to scoop me up in his capture weapon and have me dangling upside down from the nearest street pole.

Seeing him from this angle is different as the blood starts to rush to my head, making me feel dizzy. I thrash around a little, to no avail, before allowing myself to give up, feeling too sluggish from my meal anyways. Even if I manage to get out of this coil I could barely expect to actually get away. Eraser Head slowly saunters up to my upside down body, rocking from side to side, he looks menacing and my body clenches tight again. Gezzus fuck, this man is hot. “You wanted to see me again. That’s what you said, isn’t it?” He pulls the goggles covering his eyes up unto his forehead and I can see his whole face. There’s a scar underneath his eye that I hadn’t seen before, it marks his skin beautifully and I can’t help but imagine what he looked like with the fresh wound, blood running down his face. I bet it was gorgeous. He’s a striking figure on his own, but covered in blood? I gulp heavily, the downward gravity making it hard. Eraser bends his knees, squatting down so we’re on an even eye level, his are still glowing red and I’m reeling from the proximity. He’s so close. He’s right there. I could reach out and grab him if my arms weren’t strung up to my sides.

I can’t touch him, but he’s still close enough for me to throw my head back, letting the momentum force me back down to collide my skull with his. I hear a crunch and feel warm blood trickle up my face from my nose, it's in my mouth too. Eraser stumbles back, not prepared for a headbutt. It’s true what they say, no one wins in a headbutt, but it feels like a win as I see a small trail of blood coming from his forehead, it’s so much hotter that it’s my blood. He looks even better than I had imagined, of course he does. My skull is pulsing already and my quirk is returned to me as he tries to steady himself. He does, quicker than I had hoped. My head is still splitting and I don't have enough time to regain myself before he’s taking my quirk again. Damn, he’s good. I chuckle to myself, licking the blood from my lips. This is actually kind of fun. Eraser Head looks down at me again, gripping my hair tightly now to keep me from moving again. His eyes are wild, his jaw tight. It’s taking all of him not to beat the living shit out of me. I can tell.

Then his expression changes and he looks mischievous, teasing even. The slight confusion I have is short lived before he yanks my head forward, my neck craned at an awkward angle to look directly up at him. “My turn.” He says, dropping my head so I’m swinging back and forth again, only able to see him every couple seconds. He takes a step back and I see him poise himself for a second, spinning into a roundhouse kick that connects with my temple and knocks me out cold.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!

THINGS ARE DEF GONNA START HEATING UP FROM HERE!!!! stay tuned hehe XD

#bro this is getting dangerous #I cant keep defending myself #things are getting hot in the kitchen #mr aizawa #aizawa x reader #bnha shouta aizawa #aizawa shouta #bnha x reader #fan fic author #fan fic #my hero fanfic #eraser head #pro hero eraserhead #villian #x reader #bnha oc #my ocs

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chasingthepoguelife · 4 years

Text

Lonely Boys Do Stupid Things Part 1

Lonely boys do stupid things Part 1

(gif credits to @rafecameron)

Summary: Rafe is tired of an already boring summer, constantly being judged by everyone on the island, and is looking for a challenge. When the group is introduced to the new girl hanging out with Kiara, Topper suggests a challenge and Rafe accepts only to be conflicted along the way.

Author’s: So in this world Rafe is still a bad guy, just not a “I killed a cop and have all these daddy issues” bad, Topper hasn’t developed yet, and also John B hasn’t dragged anyone into his stupid shit and there is a civil ground between kooks and pogues and Ward isn’t a “I love two out my three children and murdered my friend” dad. For reference, I do not support Rafe’s canon character. I’m just blinded by the attraction I feel for him and I love Drew, but will never condone or excuse Rafe’s actions. Also, I’m not writing y/n with many descriptions. I know all types of people might read this and I want to make everyone feel included but I also don’t want to do it the wrong way so I’m leaving a lot of physical features up to the reader’s imagination. I would also accept tips and constructive criticism to be more of an inclusive writer.

Warning: For part 1 I don’t think there is anything.

Another summer week has come and passed for the kooks of Figure Eight. The Cameron kids made quite the headlines last year, Sarah dating a boy from the Cut, and the eldest Rafe Cameron, having to save one of his father’s many businesses after almost running it to the ground. The chatter and nosiness of other Figure Eight residents died down in the winter, but they always stick their noses in the Cameron’s business around summer time. Rafe awaited the month of September where he could escape to the mainland again, but after only two weeks down, and what felt like two years, he had no idea how he would survive the next six weeks.

“Come on get up!” Rafe heard with a pillow meeting his face. He looked over at his clock, 1:30pm, and was greeted with Sarah hovering over his night stand.

“Sarah, I have no desire to go anywhere except for the kitchen, “Rafe groaned.

“I’m not going to let you wither away like a pathetic sap. Get your bathing suit on and head outside. We’re meeting John B and Kiara, even your friends bothered to tag along.”

“Why do you have to make things even more fucked than they already are?” Rafe questioned.

“If John B and I can move around the island and shut down the lonely gossiping housewives, then you can get on a boat!”

After Rafe groaned and didn’t move for ten minutes, Sarah had to come back in to make sure he was alive and moving.

“Five minutes Rafe!” Sarah yelled, pulling off his comforter.

After fifteen minutes, Rafe managed to get himself dressed and meet his sister and John B on their father’s boat. Ward had suggested they take the boat for a joy ride, all day, wherever they wanted. A year ago, Rafe’s blood would’ve boiled at the thought of a pogue being so close, but things have changed. He actually admires how John B lives his life, not caring what other people think, although he’d rather choke before admitting he looks up to a younger pogue.

“Ok so Rafe’s a sad sack that barley moves and John B as your girlfriend I automatically make the rules so we’re heading south to meet Kie for the day. I’m going to sail so you two make nice and enjoy the ride,” Sarah demanded.

As Sarah started the boat’s engine, the group heard screaming, looking up towards the Cameron house, seeing a tall blonde boy in a pink polo, running like his life depended on it.

“You- said- 215pm- Sarah!” the boy gasped out of breath.

“No Topper, I’m pretty sure I said 2,” Sarah said sarcastically.

After almost a year, Sarah is still playing jokes on her ex- boyfriend and brother for the way they treated John B and his friends.

“Rafe boy, you tired of me already?” Topper laughed.

“Obviously, look at my new best friend here,” Rafe pointed to John B.

“I’m going to get us beers if this is how the whole ride is going to be,” John B said.

“You tired of us already Rafey?” Topper joked.

“I’m always tired of you and Kelce,” Rafe laughed.

“You know he’s on some better path spiritual shit this summer, giving up booze?” Topper said in disbelief (A/N: in season 2 I want better for Kelce as in he deserves better friends)

“It has to be better than this. I don’t want to deal with everyone’s judgmental shit so I keep a low profile, and all that’s got me is a boat ride with my sister and John B, and to see more pogues!”

Rafe and Topper have become more tolerant of the residents of the Cut, but no doubt they wake up every morning still thinking they’re a gift to this planet.

“I don’t know if I can handle another 6 weeks of this shit, I’m going insane!” Rafe yelled.

“I’m sure we will find something to fill those weeks. If we go looking long enough, something fun will fall in our lap,” Topper smirked.

John B had come back with drinks for the group, actually engaging in civil conversation with his girlfriend’s ex and her loopy brother. The boys have adjusted to this civil relationship, something Figure Eight residents loved to gossip about. Not too long after, the kook boys started to see that they would be arriving shortly after passing Heywards, marking their entrance into pogue world. Rafe will never admit it, but the pogue he hates the most is Pope Heyward. He hates how hardworking and smart he is, how his father would do anything for him, but more so how he has an entire group of friends ready to drop everything to help him. Topper is his good friend, but there’s no way he’d do half the things John B and JJ do for Pope.

“There’s Kie on her dad’s boat,” Sarah pointed out. “I’m going to anchor down close to hers and we can figure it out from there.”

As Sarah found a good place to drop the anchor, everyone on the boat could here Kie and another voice mixing of loud laughter. Kie was running around on the boat deck as another girl the group had never seen before followed behind her. Surprised by the presence of unknown person, the group couldn’t help but stare.

“Kie!” Sarah waved enthusiastically. The one good thing out of last year’s madness was that Sarah got her childhood best friend back. Kie and the unknown girl started making their way onto the Druthers as it is bigger than Kie’s boat. Everyone watched the girls make their way on, especially Rafe. He wasn’t sure what to make of this girl, but he definitely noticed her long legs climbing onto the boat and that’s when he thought, what else she was capable of doing with legs that long. His thoughts were interrupted as he heard a new voice.

“I’m y/n”, she said as everyone stared.

“Nice to meet you, y/n, I’m John B, this is Sarah, that’s Topper, and that last one is Rafe.”

As y/n took in the new people in front of her, Topper noticed how her eyes kept lingering on Rafe.

“Kie, are you going to tell us about your new gorgeous friend?” Topper smirked.

“No, she won’t, but I will!” y/n chimed in.

“Well obviously I’m y/n. I’m 18 years old. I’m new to the Outer Banks. My dad had to move us out here for a business deal that he’s got going with Kiara’s dad, I have a 14-year-old brother, and at any time you can either find me in the water or looking for snacks.”

“Where do you live y/n”? John B asked.

“Not too far. My parents managed to find a cute little house in the Marigold neighborhood. (A/N: I made this location up) Everyone except Kie stopped in their tracks. The group although already divided, had nothing to do with the residents of Marigold. Anyone in that area of the island was neither a pogue nor a kook. They really had no identity as they were not rich enough to be kooks but not poor enough to be a pogue from the Cut. Most people living there are Marigold born and raised, considered to be more of an outcast than pogues. The rest of the island didn’t know how to label Marigolds. There wasn’t enough money to buy a yacht, but you could still eat enough everyday and rest your head on a comfortable big bed every night.

An awkward silence lingered in the group that no one knew how to break. Kie pulled y/n by the arm and explained.

“Y/n I told you, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with where you live, but on this island, everyone is classist and territorial. You’re better off saying you’re from my neighborhood to make it easier for you.”

“This group is already messed up, what’s one more thing to stir the pot? Welcome to the group y/n!” John B cheered.

As the tension cleared in the group, the sun came out in full force. Sarah steered the Druthers further out into the ocean for a nice swim. The music began bumping, drinks were passed around, and y/n felt like she knew the group for years. After a few hours, the only ones who needed a break were Topper and Rafe. The two climbed back onto the boat to rest.

“So, for a Marigold this new girl seems decent?” Topper questioned.

“She’s alright, just not for me. The last thing I need on top of all this other shit is for me to be seen around the island with a girl like that. The Figure Eight would have a field day.”

“Maybe that’s it,” Topper smirked. “This is something you’ve never experienced before. It would be a challenge. She’s not the worst thing to look at, you could have some fun with her.”

“Top if I really wanted to, I could have my pick of any pogue or kook chick in my bed like yesterday,” Rafe boasted.

“No man, hear me out. You have 6 weeks left. I challenge you to make her head over heels for you in that time. It will give you something to do, you’ll get some and then poof you leave for the mainland. By the time you see her again she’ll be over it. Plus, she seemed to focus on you a bit longer back at the docks so she probably already has a thing for youI get why we had to change with the pogues but at least they know where they stand. This girl thought she’d move here and live like she’s the main character of a tv show but it’s only going to cause more problems, “Topper shared his concerns.

Rafe had to pause for a moment. Last year he would’ve said yes right away, but lately he’s been finding himself questioning his morals and values, thinking if he behaved more the gossip would stop. It would be wrong to mess with someone like this, but he is bored after all, and he doesn’t want to look like a pussy in front of Topper. He looked out into the ocean watching her swim so happily amongst the waves.

“This is going to be the easiest thing I’ve ever done,” Rafe declared.

#rafe cameron #drew starkey #pope heyward #kiara carrera #john b #sarah cameron #Outer Banks #obx #topper thornton

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oh-for-fic-sake · 4 years

Text

Meeting The Bat

You finally find out about Bruce’s alter-ego

Masterlist

warnings: swearing ,a tiny bit of angst?

a/n so no smut today unfortunately however there is a sub Bruce smut on the way and maybe another Quarantine one with Superman role-play? or just another Superman one I don’t know not to sure one that yet any way this is my latest Bruce Wayne hope you enjoy it xx

Taglist @125bluemachine125

Meeting The Bat

Being with Bruce was a dream, honestly he was the best boyfriend you could ask for however there was something that was beginning to bother you. He was protective. Well not just him even his sons were protective of you, in a sense it was sweet? he wanted to know where you'd be at all times what time you'd be back and never felt truly comfortable unless you was staying at the manor. He wasn't to pleased when you and jack made the move back to your apartment after the press had all settled down used to you both being a couple, luckily superman had popped up in Gotham taking the spotlight away from you both which you was grateful for and would probably kiss the man for it if you ever met him. Bruce insisted that you should stay with him a few more days which you knew would become weeks and then months.

You'd declined stating you were going home it was too early to move in permanently plus you were still paying rent and was still under lease. You all but ripped his head off when he offered to pay your rent for you, you will not become financially Dependent on Bruce no matter how much he'd enjoy it, which was your latest discovery he loved taking care of you in every sense, he had stolen the phone from you when you was having a problem with your energy company who had been over charging you and was refusing to pay back anything... needless to say your cheque had arrived three days ago and he had taken all of your bills off of you and made sure you was on the best deal, you suspected he actually gave them to Alfred to sort out but there was no arguing with him, his excuse was that it was his job to look after you in the end it was easier to just let him get on with it. Tho this latest overprotective bullshit was a curfew Bruce had decided that if he let you go home it was on the condition that you had a curfew... A FUCKING CURFEW!! he said it was for your own good. You didn't live in the best part of Gotham but there was many worse places, it had really got to you in all honesty more so because it had caused your first real argument. He was adamant that you shouldn't leave your home after dark that anything could happen and he couldn't loose you, for you it was the principle that just because you were together didn't mean you had to obey him....

That wasn't even in wedding vows any more for christ sake. You felt a little bad afterwards when Bruce through his hands up stalking off into the manor claiming he needed a drink, Alfred had saved the day managing to explain where all the anger came from he had lost everything once before and didn't want it to happen again Bruce was frightened of loosing you, not only that but you could be a target now that people knew who you was. You forget what he has been through, he had first hand knowledge of how quickly life could change his greatest fear is loosing what he loves. Safe to say you felt like a bitch for screaming back at him but you crept up to his study finding him distraught head in his hands you'd pulled him close kissing his head promising that you wasnt going any wear and you'd agreed to his request not to leave the house after dark and if you did you would tell him exactly where you would be and check in with him aswell as let him know when youd be home.

That was the first night you could honestly say you'd made love and not just had sex, it was slow and full of feeling he had admitted that he half expected you to leave him which you'd laughed off quickly afterwards you both felt stronger you know had a true understanding of just how much you meant to each other.

Tonight was one of those nights, you was invited out to dinner a celebration for Tom and his girlfriend now fiance's engagement. Bruce had been invited but was busy... tho your not sure what with considering it was booked for 8.30pm but you just let it go, it was a small casual dinner for people at the cafe, well it had been intended to be a small and casual dinner but Bruce insisted that they should celebrate properly and had offered up one of his swanky places for the event free of charge,he was adamant that it was also an apology for not being able to make it.

Tom and Lilly never thought they'd get a chance to eat there so had agreed. so here you was in a fancy restaurant toasting the couple with some imported champagne that Bruce had ordered in for the event that tasted like some strange weak grape piss. You grimaced and bared with it for the toasts then placed it down before quickly swigging your Lambrusco red swishing it a little to get rid of the taste. The dinner was going well everyone was happily enjoying the open bar awing over Lilly's new ring that was stunning and excitedly chatting about wedding ideas.

As the night winded down everyone was ready to leave. As you gathered your things you got a bad feeling, the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. Something just wasn't right, then before anyone could make a move Five men stormed into the main seating area covered in military grade black armor faces covered with plastic looking masks and goggles waving guns around threatening you all to get to the floor which you all did people screamed as the man kept screaming orders kicking and shoving, two of them began walking the tables taking jewelry and snatching wallets that people held out trying to apease them. You looked across at Lilly who was twisting her ring panicked.

"Lilly now!" you held out a hand she hesitated until you snapped your fingers at her, she handed it to you and you quickly stuffed it down your dress hiding it in your spanxs bodysuit she looked at you thankfully as you did realizing that you was going to try and conceal it for her.

"Psst Lilly give me that!" she looked at you wide eyed shaking her head you groaned as her whispering again

"Well well who have we got here? looks like we have a bit of luck tonight boys" you cringed as you was dragged to stand in front of him. Your heart was erratic trying to jump out of your chest you took shakey breathes trying to calm down you felt like you were going to have a heart attack with how fast it was.

"Well fuck me it is! oi! leave the rest we got all we need here" the man who had ahold of you said you assumed was the leader as he was the one who had been barking orders since he came in, one of the men who was collecting replied confused

"What do you mean? Who is this bitch?"

"You mean who's is this bitch? Its Wayne's bunny boiler. How much you think she charges for a round" he said cupping your ass pulling you towards him you dug your heel into his foot and spat in his face then head butted him for good measure, he jumped back holding his nose sniffling you used the chance to try and run being grabbed from behind by the other male the leader growled straightening and backhanded you snapping your face to the side.

"You said she was wayne's!!! nothing to do with HIM!!"

"I wonder just how much he'd pay to have you back?" you cried out hissing as he cupped your jaw as it throbbed squeezing feeling the sting of your now split lip you moved making to strike him again, he grunted dodging then pulled back hitting you with the butt of his gun you screamed nearly collapsing vision going fuzzy at how hard you'd been hit, your captor let go only for you to be held up with a fist in your hair by the leader in front of you, you grabbed his hand clawing at it trying to get him off, they used your daze to escape dragging you from the restaurant, keeping everyone else at bay with guns aiming at them as they made it through the doors.you tired digging your heals in trying to stop them from taking you so easily but your feet dragged as more hands grabbed and tugged you trying to bundle you into the back of an all black suv.

You kicked screaming lashing out and twisting the one by your head got fed up grunting he spun around holding you in a choke hold and heaved you backwards into the car you screamed again louder then you ever had before you looked up crying out. You was silenced with one swift punch in the side of your head again knocking you out. You came to as you felt yourself being jerked around you groaned as the car you was in swerved violently to the right making you thump your head on the inside of the door,you hissed and groaned trying to blink away your confusion your head throbbed, everything was too much you couldnt make sense of where you was or what was going on, you bent to the side hanging your head off of the seat to the foot well heaving you felt like you was going to be sick. The men were shouting at one another panicked screaming filled the car as they was pointing the blame to one another.

"SHE IS WAYNE’S! FUCK SAKE JUST KEEP DRIVING, HE'S RIGHT BEHIND US GOGOGO!!" you cringed as the shouting continued hurting your head, so was the passing lights out side of the car, you closed your eyes trying to block out the noise snapping them open as you went sliding across the seat again as the car skidded around another corner, you covered your mouth trying to stop the bile from escaping as your stomach lurched again.

"Well he isn't shooting so maybe we can use her as a hostage" you hissed as your head moved to fast, trying to block out the shouting men who had forgotten you was there

"NO! if he sees her he will find a way to grab her.... this is the bat were talking about not some fucking cop!"

'bat? what are they talking about?' you thought still not thinking straight holding your head trying to stop it moving you noticed it was wet you pulled your hand back seeing blood had matted in your hair you panicked looking around seeing everyone hysterical. Then you moved slow looking out of the back window. you frowned

'what the fuck?' you winced as the car took another turn quickly gripping the back of the seat to stay still watching as the batmobile followed effortlessly. Then you heard it a loud crack in from above, everyone held their breath for a second.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS HE DOING HERE? WHO IS THIS BITCH? GO FASTER! GO! GO! GO!" one screamed rocking forward willing the car to go faster as the driver floored it pushing the car faster.

"How does she know these guys?" another cried crawling across the seats in the car looking desperately threw the windows trying to locate who you assumed was superman considering there was only one man in the sky

"WE CANT OUT RUN HIM NO FUCKING WAY! DUMP HER!!"

"NO SHES OUR PAY DAY!""BOSS? WHAT DO WE DO?"

"...we have no choice.. DUMP HER SHE WILL GO UNDER THE BAT, SUPERMAN WILL INTERVENE WE COULD MAKE A RUN FOR IT!, OI TAKE THAT ALLEY THERE CHUCK HER OUT AIM FOR THE BATMOBILE!!" you panicked as the car turned again a small alley that the batmobile would just squeeze through.

"NO BOSS SHES OUR ONLY GUARANTEE WERE NOT GONNA BE SHOT AT!" you screamed loud as one of the men grabbed you pushing you against the door fiddling for the handle.

"NO NO PLEASE DON'T!" you screamed trying to fight against him.

"fuck this shes not worth it , drop the dead weight" the panicking man quickly lent over you opening the door

"NONONO SHES THE ONLY REASON HE'S NOT SHOOTING!!" it was to late you felt the door give behind you and he pushed you out quickly you screamed as you fell from the car as it raced down the alley you grunted striking the tarmac winded as your back took the impact hard tearing the skin then bounced ragdolling over the concrete the last thing you remember was seeing glimpses of the stars and the screech of tires as the batmobile came hurtling towards you crying out and closing your eyes a loud crash was herd before nothing...

When you came to you groaned you was being held firm against a chest hushed voices spoke the first was behind you, you coud tell as they spoke it vibrated through you.

"Did you get them?"

"Yes they are at Gotham station... they wasn't targeting her specifically it was a last minute decision" you frowned a little recgonizing the voices

"Thank you, for coming if you hadn't then I'd have" the voice trailed off you felt the person behind you shake.

"Don't... don't do that to yourself, shes here and she'll live I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner"

"Is she ok?"

"Yes hearts a little fast but it always is....Get it checked out apart from that cuts and bruises mostly nothing broken but her ribs are cracked on the back, she's lucky she tucked her arms in and rolled, at that type of speed she could have done some real damage....Any way I'm needed elsewhere let me know how she gets on, call me if you need me I mean it Bruce"

'Bruce wha Where was Bruce?' your thoughts were interrupted as they continued talking

"I will thank you again I mean it.... I owe you" there was a small gust then you winced feeling something dabb against your head you hissed trying to move away from the stinging

"No no stay still I’m not finished yet" you felt a small stinging tug on your head wound

"They will hold now and I will check them each day" your eyes tried to flutter open when you heard a hum of acknowledgment from the person you was sitting on, opening your eyes slowly you looked straight at someone you thought you'd never see again.

"Al-Alfred?" you tried looking round then hissed as you moved your head bringing your hands up to it.

"I’m gonna be sick-" quickly a small metal Bin was pulled up from behind you and held under your head as you heaved into it you cried out moaning as the action pulled on your back, you felt the person you were sitting on slowly ruffle your hair at the base of your skull, you moaned resting your head on the bin closing your eyes.

"Miss Cooke? Y/n are you okay? is it just your head and back thats sore? nowhere else?" you looked down noticing you was in a mans tshirt and sweat pants then looked up slowly

"I- yeah what happened where are we? Who changed me?" you said looking around squinting at the bright lights that seemed to reflect of off what seemed like miles of glass. Alfred sighed packing up

"You don't remember? what was the last thing you remember?" you man behind you held his breath

"Concrete... and headlights a car? but-no it- bat-they were screaming about Batman" you closed your eye trying to remeber what had happened

"I don't- they argued and decided to throw me under the Batmobile.... that must have been the headlights,how? wh-whats going on?! I should be dead!" you panicked a little unsure of what had happened, Alfred took the Bin from your lap setting it on the floor and crouch in front of you holding your hands

"Shh its okay now your safe, everything's going to be fine I promise" he rubbed your hand a little then nodded over you before standing up taking the bin with him.

"I will give you two a minute" he said before making his way through a glass door and up some stairs. you frowned turning slowly trying not to hurt your aching head.

"Bruce? oh god!" you quickly latched onto him, he hugged you back tight tucking your head in his chest breathing you in kissing your head as you let go sobbing into him shaking as each sob wracked your body the anxiety and stress catching up to you, he moved you to straddle his thighs rocking with you slowly trying to calm you down.

"Shh its okay sweets, I've got you ,Ive got you babe your okay shh...Your okay love, I love you" he held you tight almost crushing you to his chest you hissed as he put a little to much pressure on your wounds pressing your head into the hard plastic shirt? you pulled back looking at him then focused your eyes on his chest. your eyes widened. No it couldn't, He couldn't be.

"what? what is-Bruce?" you questioned sniffling wiping the tears away to see clearer running your fingers across your lovers chest staring at the bat spread across it, your eyes searched his for answers. He looked guilty you hand kept running over the suits chest tracing and retracing the symbol, trying to let it sink in

"Y-you? Your batman?Bruce?" he nodded slightly casting a glance to his mask that was placed on the table beside you both your hand stopped moving as you saw the mask.

"Thats-this is why you disappear from bed at night? why you were so worried about me being out at night? and the reason you couldn't come to the dinner tonight? Because your out-" you waved a hand around

"Patrolling..yes" you took a deep breath cupping his face running your thumb across his jaw, he moved nuzzling into your hand just happy that you was alive here with him, part of him was worried that you would walk away being a billionaire was one thing but this might be your limit.

"Okay then" he gaped at you

"What?"

"It's okay Your batman that's okay we can work with this, what did you expect me to do?"

"Your not going to scream at me for lying,or tell me to stop...leave me?!" you looked at hims confused unable to tell if he was angry or worried. you shook your head at him.

"No, I can understand why you wouldn't have told me and I wont ask you to stop you save people I could never ask you to stop doing that, I wont leave you. I love you Bruce and this is a part of you, will I be worried when you leave at night? sure but its nothing I cant handle. I'm not going anywhere" he smiled bright going to hug you again

"ah! Babe-no that's hard and I ache" he stopped as you motioned to the suit standing up placing you on your feet you watched him curious then slowly reached out touching his cape letting your fingers glide across it a little then quickly pulled back blushing when he chuckled at you.

"What sweets?" you shrugged mouth going dry when you really looked at him and realized that he seemed much bigger and intimidating in his suit you flushed a little he cocked an eyebrow at you tilting his head.

"Nothing" you said slowly picking up his mask from the table running your fingers across it.

"No come on I haven't seen you go like this since you saw me in a tux"

"...I think I just started my list is all" you said letting your fingers skim his abdomen again he through his head back laughing then took his mask from you he took a step forward his voice deepening

"oh you like my suit do you? well i will definatly remember that" he said leaning down kissing you deep holding the back of your neck tilting your head a little to gain better access he quickly spun pressing you against the table beside you both you wince pulling away holding onto him with one hand the other going to your head.

"Shit I forgot are you okay?" you sighed

"Yes just a little fuzzy...dizzy and it hurts" he sighed calling for Alfred who seemed to pop up out of thin air

"Yes sir"

"Can you take her upstairs and help her head she needs some painkillers I will be up shortly" the butler nodded escorting you out of the bat cave once in the house he sat you on the sofa in front of a large TV showing the news he left for the kitchen.

"where are we Alfred?" he quickly got a glass of water and painkillers coming back toward you watching you look around the room glass on three sides with a room slap bang in the middle everything centered around it.

"This is one of Bruce's houses the glass lake house, not that you can see in now its to late. He thought we should bring you here instead of the main manor in case you didn't react well to his nightly ventures shall we say? I assume by the fact that you almost found your self ravaged in the cave that there isn't any problems between the two of you?" you blushed a little taking the pills he offered you.

"No Alfred there isn't I understand why he wouldn't have told me... and I suppose the boys are well you know?"Alfred's eyes widened not prepared for that before clearing his throat he nodded, there was no point in lying to you now he couldn't insult you like that.

"I'm proud of him even more now if that's possible.... besides a little secret between us I always though batman was hot" you giggled a little he chuckled sitting beside you

"Yes well lets not let him here that, we wouldn't want his head to get any bigger than it already is"

"Yes he wouldn't get his mask to fit" you leaned back into the seat a little you frowned as grainy footage was being played

"I-is that- Alfred is that what happened? is that me?" he looked at the screen seeing the nights events.

"Yes I’m afraid so, you was lucky Bruce called Superman to help he would have never forgiven himself if he had hit you" you watched as the footage was slowed down seeing you rolling from the car as the Batmobile skidded and swerved a little as it tried to stop then faster then you could blink superman was just there in front of you stopping the Batmobile in its tracks looking at you he nodding saying something to the Batmobile then shot off again as Bruce climbed out cradling you to him placing you in the back before taking off again. You heaved a sigh looking at Bruce who had just entered catching the last few seconds on the TV as the reporter then started explaining that the criminal's had been delivered to the police station by superman and no one knew who the victim was or where she had been taken.

"So that he was the other person." both males looked at you

"Downstairs I heard two voices, I suppose it was Superman?" Bruce nodded

"He saved your life, he also said your ribs are cracked and your heart was fast other then that no serious injuries" you nodded hoping the others were okay.

"Shit! Ring! who changed me? where is it? a ring there was a ring in my spanx?!" Alfred smile pulling it out of his breast pocket

"Would this be it?" you relaxed

"Yes, Its Lilly's engagement ring they were stealing jewelry so I hid it for her" Bruce sat down beside you one arm across the back of the sofa leaning close against you.

"You stuffed it in your spanx?" he asked with a laugh you blushed

"Well I didn't have pockets?! most dresses don't have any! I mean where else was I meant to put up my ass?!" you said defending yourself shaking your head.

"Men!"

"You can text tom on my phone here" he said giving it you, you quickly typed in a message reading it out to Bruce so he knew your cover story, that batman had recognized you and took you to Wayne manor on your request and that you was okay minor scraps and bruises but would take a few days off and also that you still had the ring. Bruce nodded pulling you to lean on him just needing to touch you after being so close to loosening you it got him thinking again

"Sweets?"

"Yeah?"

"Move in with me" you leaned back from him a little placing a hand on his leg

"What?" he faced you

"I'm serious, I want you and Jack to move in with me theres nowhere safer, you know now and you haven't walked away. Your the only one for me and I don't see the point of us living apart anymore, eventually your going to move in so why wait? I love you one day I'm gonna marry you but for now move in." you gaped at him shocked at the sincerity in his voice your face softened you rubbed along his leg, It did make sense now that you knew who he was, that must have counted for something you felt your heart swell as he mentioned marriage but you wont let yourself get to excited yet but you would give this a go, you practically live there anyway.

"Fine I see your point, but I will help around the place and i want to help towards the bills" he leaned down kissing you softly

"Great you can move in this weekend Alfred do you still have the movers number?

""Yes sir i will call them tomorrow morning - well later today for you" Bruce smile thanking him

"Bruce didn't you hear me I want to help with the bills" he ignored you

"I'm sorry what? No I just heard you say you'll move in nothing after that." he winked you sighed

"I said I’m helping!"

"Alfred did you hear that? I swore I heard something but I'm not quite sure?"

"Could have been the wind sir"

"ALFRED?! not you to?" he smirked at Bruce who laughed loud

"Hey you can have one of the studies, making into your own private little reading room or art studio"

"The one on the west wing would do sir it has good light and beautiful view over the grounds and a large fireplace

""Thank you Alfred, as soon as your moved in you can decorate it however you like" you deadpanned at him

"your not going to let me help out at all are you?" he shook his head at you making you sigh Alfred on the other hand was ecstatic to have a lady in the house it had been to long since there was a feminine touch to the manor. "Finally someone sensible in the house!" you giggled at Alfred's giddy expression before he cleared his throat

"Well- excuse me now you should relax you cant sleep after hitting your head so many times so I suggest watching some tv, I'm going to go get some sleep, If you do decide to entertain one another please bare in mind that the walls are all glass... for Y/n sake more than yours sir." you blushed as Bruce waved him off as he left. once alone you both became quiet it was Bruce who broke the silence

"I'm sorry"

"What? What are you sorry for?"

"I wasn't fast enough, I couldn't get there in time. I heard your screams, didn't know it was you but when I got to the restaurant your friends they were screaming at the police that it was you. My heart stopped thats why I called in Superman I couldn't risk you, not for a second and in the end it was me who nearly killed you."

"You didn't throw me from that car Bruce love come on it was you who saved me love, like you said you didn't want any risk so called in back up, and it was the back up you called in who stopped the car-" he gave an indignant look

"Batmobile what ever point is he wouldn't have been there if you hadn't called him its over anyway and as of the weekend I will be safe and sound in the manor waiting for you and the boys to come home every night."he gasped at you going to argue over the boys you placed a finger to his lips

"I already worked it out Alfred had the decency not to lie to me when I asked and I hope you do to, I love you don't dwell on all the could have's okay?" he smiled nodding you snuggled into him more wincing a bit then began surfing through the channels hunkering down for the remainder of the night.

#bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayned fic #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne x reader #dc x reader #dc x you #dc x y/n #batman x reader #batmom imagines #batman x y/n

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praphit · 3 years

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Mortal Kombat: Earthrealm’s Crappiest Fighters

I think we can all agree that the old school Mortal Kombat theme song ("Techno Syndrome") is one of the best songs of all time. Well... by "best" I mean annoyingly spellbinding. It kinda gets in you; especially if you've been following Mortal Kombat from the beginning of their run since the early 90's. "Dun Dun Dun Dun - DUNDUN (gong)... FIGHT!"

Then, it be like "Kano" and you be dancing "Liu Kang" and you start shakin it. Then, it gets to "Sub Zero" and you're like "Ahhhh Shit! Here it comes!" And then "Sonya" And everybody and their mama shouts "MORTAL KOMBAT" I'm telling you, back in the day, every time that song played - here comes the dancing AND fighting. Then, the cops would show up wherever the song is being played, and they'd dance a bit too, before they started looking for black people to shoot - it was a great time had by all.

This song demanded a rebooted movie from the classic (that's right, I said CLASSIC) 1995 film.

In the first movie, it was Liu Kang and a bunch of losers. I'm mean, just look at them.

You don't fear anyone there except for Liu; not even white Raiden (at the top).

With this 2021 reboot, we've got the same ol tournament plot - something about a martial arts tourney to decide who rules all of the worlds.

There's something about the MK logo appearing on people; it could appear out of know where - on your arm, face, butt, who knows??

Of course the bad guys have been cheating, and once again the ones chosen to fight for earth are Liu Kang and a bunch of losers.

Look how badass he is - you think making fire come out your body is easy?! This Liu mutha *uckin KANG!

Granted, You've got Raiden

- with the correct race and ethnicity this time, but he's kinda slow. This whole movie, you'll have fight scenes, people are dying. The ones not dying are screaming for help, and Raiden never shows up until those people who were crying out are also dead.

You've got Kung Lao,

but he's kind of an asshole.

So, yeah, really just Liu again.

His team of losers:

Kano

- Imagine if fate chose Jeffrey Dahmer to defend earth. Yep, that's pretty much what we have here.

Jax

(on the left)

- some Arsenio Hall lookin guy who's about to have his arms destroyed (we learn this from the trailer) Yeah, so fate chose a guy with no arms to protect Earth! Well done.

Sonya

- while everyone else has powers of fire, ice, lightning, she's got pretty pink rings that shoot out of her hands.

That's her tough face. Like she's saying "Leggo my Eggo."

And Cole

- who specializes in getting his ass beat. Even his super power revolves around getting his ass beat.

Ladies and gentlemen, Earthrealm’s mightiest fighters! - here to save us!

There is plenty of action throughout this movie. I loved it!

Some of my favorite scenes:

Scorpion vs Sub Zero

From the very beginning, there's gore, blood, and guts! Sub has been after Scorpion, and in the process, comes after Scorp's family.

Can I just say that I've seen this whole enemy of your past comes after a reformed assassin before - the reformed badass assassin's family is always so meek. Life Tip, kids: If you're going to be a professional ass-kicker, then you need to be with a life partner who can defend themselves. I'm not saying they need to be a family of killers, but get them to take ONE Karate class, at least!

Goro is also very cool-looking (2021 version on the left)!

Way more menacing than the first time around (95 version on right) when he let some dude punch him in the balls to end the bout. I understand that it happens, but... you don't see Thanos or Darkseid getting punched in the man zone and looking all goofy afterwards.

The fight scenes involving Liu Kang and Kung Lao were awesome!

Sub Zero in general was the main menace. He is haunting.

The violence. The gore. The campy parts as well, made this movie very enjoyable.

However, the third act kinda slows down. At some point, Raiden realizes "Wait, our team is just Liu Kang and a bunch a losers." And he has everyone camp-out and reflect... and drink. This is when the movie loses steam for me.

It's as if the action, the already next to terrible, campy dialogue, and "plot" run out of gas.

I mean, you have the typical "Hey, guys, let's work together!" type of thing that happens:

Arsenio Hall grew arms, Sonya tries to convince us that her pink rings are cool, Cole... well, is still getting his ass beat. But, everything gets a lil lazy. The ending fights go by too quickly. And the very last scene feels like everyone is tired, and so they just wanna go home.

We all know that evil is not going to win here, but I feel like it could have had it not been so lazy. Shang Tsung (the main villain/ evil sorcerer), supposedly having all this power just rolls out. It's like he looked at his watch and was like "Well, it's been fun, but I gotta get back to the wife. Peace!"

Plus, it was supposed to be a tournament... there was no tournament in this film. In fact, you had characters kill people and shout out things like "fatality" and "flawless victory" themselves, which is kinda weird.

Other than this laziness, I loved it! The action and fan-service leading up to the lazy third is still entertaining enough to outshine any lack one may feel towards the end. Again, I really enjoyed it! - And if you're a die-hard MK fan, you will too! - it's really made for you.

Grade: generous, entertaining B

One thing about all of these characters that kinda bothered me was the fact that they're all so comfortable with killing.

There's a scene where someone gets chopped in half, blood splatters all over them, and they're just like "Meh, on to the next." It's a tournament full of psychopaths!

I wonder if when the sequel comes out (and there will be one) if they'll address a lil of this, shamefully pull back, and introduce some "Friendships"

#Mortal Kombat #john praphit #praphitproductions.com #fighting #violence #martial arts #Movie Reviews #praphit #action movies #liu kang #techno syndrome #scorpion #subzero

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 4 years

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But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 12: The Mirror]

A/N: Hi y’all!! Please enjoy, this is a long one. We’re getting into the exciting stuff now, so I’ll be putting all my creative energy into BYCNL and will hopefully finish up the series within the next month. Thank you so much for your love and support! Each and every reblog/message/comment makes me smile and means the absolute world to me! 💜

Chapter summary: John gets a rap sheet, Roger gets defensive, Y/N gets suspicious, News Of The World gets a headline.

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language, drugs, babies, drama, angst.

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @loveandbeloved29 @killer-queen-xo @maggieroseevans @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @joemazzmatazz @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @namelesslosers @inthegardensofourminds @deacyblues @youngpastafanmug @sleepretreat @hardyshoe @bramblesforbreakfast @sevenseasofcats @tensecondvacation @queen-crue @jennyggggrrr @madeinheavxn @whatgoeson-itslate @brianssixpence @simonedk @herewegoagainniall @stardust-killer-queen @anotheronewritesthedust1

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

You’re not late. You’re never late.

And at first that’s okay, it’s more than okay, it’s a relief; because it was too soon to have a baby anyway, less than a year into a supposedly meaningless marriage, a marriage you and Roger never even speak of, a marriage that might have never happened at all—might only exist as a particularly vivid and pleasant dream—if it wasn’t for your freshly-minted British citizenship. At first you greeted each dark, fruitless stain of blood with a casual ruefulness—oh well, one more month of freedom, you would think, smiling a little, worrying not very much at all—content to let that milestone trophy of womanhood, of life, lay undusted and unclaimed in the cluttered pit of your mental oak trunk with a tarnished gold latch shaped like a lion’s jaw.

After four months, you start to notice things. You notice the way Chrissie’s twins have small willow-green eyes that turn down in the corners, just like Brian does; you notice how John’s children have his downy hair and that innate sort of reticence that some people mistake for banality; you notice all those pretty, anonymous young women pushing strollers through the blossoming summer foliage of Hyde Park. You notice the way Roger grins and waves at babies when you see them in airports or hotel lobbies, dazzles them like he dazzles very nearly everybody, like he still dazzles you. You notice a longing buried in your bones that you hadn’t known existed.

After six months, you are no longer casually rueful. You start ignoring the calendar, as if not noticing you’re due could stop the bleeding from coming at all, like how you’re not supposed to stare at the clock if you want time to pass faster. You start watching what you’re eating, trying to get more sleep, opening all the windows when Roger smokes as he flips through fashion and music magazines with crafty little snickers, flashing those pointy canine teeth you once assumed your children would have.

And now, after nine months—as the world hurtles towards the conclusion of the brisk October of 1977—you have begun to worry; because maybe this thing, this thing that everyone accepts as a guaranteed feature of the all-inclusive package of the human experience, isn’t something you get to have at all. Roger doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask you about it. He is as he always is: sunlight and joy and heat and raw kinetic energy. But sometimes Roger’s huge blue eyes—those eyes you fell in love with, those eyes that convinced you to follow Queen to London, to stardom, to thunderous stadiums all over the world—go vacant as he gazes out into the horizon, as the sun sets over the garden of the Surrey house, as his face is lit up in gold and amber and celestial fury like the wildfire his soul is made of.

And you’ve begun to worry about him, too.

~~~~~~~~~~

The phone rings from the nightstand. The shrill clanging, like hail on glass, makes you wince beneath the tangle of blankets. Your hand fumbles out into cool night air, which pours in from the open bedroom window.

Where’s Roger?

Then you remember his hushed voice, his bleached hair tickling your cheek, his lips pressed to your temple: Hey baby. I gotta go jam with some people. Grab a drink or two. You sleep, I’ll be back by morning.

Sure, okay, fine. Nothing out of the ordinary. One of those infinite casualties of fame.

You haul the phone to your ear. “Hello...?”

“Hello darling, are you busy?”

“Well, it’s 2:39 a.m., Fred. So not very.”

“Perfect. I need you to go post bail for John.”

You wrench yourself upright, rubbing your eyes with your free hand. “What?!”

“He was drunk driving and backed into a cop car, pure genius. I’m rather indisposed myself at the moment, and of course Veronica can’t know. And you’re so good with him, dear.”

Your feet have already swung off the bed and onto the plush white carpet. You wonder what Freddie is ‘indisposed’ with; there are so many possibilities these days. “And you know about this...because...?”

“He used his phone call on me, darling. I don’t think he wanted to bother you. I suspect he’s a bit mortified.”

“Yeah, well, he should be.” You sigh and start pawing through the safe in the bedroom closet, the spiraled phone cord pulled taunt. Hundred-pound notes shuffle weightlessly between your fingers. You remember when Queen had no money at all, when you and Roger shared a pitiful—dodgy, you amend—one-bedroom flat, when you had to assemble each bouquet and tie each ribbon for John’s wedding by hand; and you’re shocked by the nostalgia that hits you in the gut like brass knuckles. “Sure, I’ll go get him. Just tell me where he is and how much he’ll owe me.”

John is slumped on the floor of the jail cell, alone and sweated and miserable. His hair is in complete disarray. He peers up at you through the iron bars with red, swollen, unfocused eyes.

“Hey,” you say quietly, smiling although you know you shouldn’t be.

He covers his face with both hands and moans. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“Too late. Freddie asked me to come get you, he was drunk or high or in the middle of an orgy or something. You are the worst drunk driver in the world, just so you’re aware. You are obviously not cut out for a life of crime.”

“So I’ve gathered.” He swipes at the strands of hair stuck to his forehead with the back of his hand, bites his lower lip, shakes his head with that thousand-yard stare that says: How the fuck did I get here?

You drop down to your knees to meet him at his level. The concrete floor is filthy, spotted with grime and dust and crushed insects and smears of what might be blood. “What’s going on, John?” you ask gently.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he murmurs. “It’s okay when we’re on tour. When we’re on tour I’m preoccupied and exhausted and too high on the rush to think about it too much. I’m numb. Mostly. But then I come home and it’s...” He glowers, balls his hands into fists, beats them clumsily against his thighs. “It’s this relentless fucking cycle of feeling dissatisfied and guilty and inadequate. A disappointment of a husband. A failure of a father. And it’s inescapable.”

“Well, the constant pregnancy situation probably doesn’t help.” Veronica is expecting their third child in February.

He waves a hand dismissively, rolls his eyes. “It’s part of the thing. The ‘being a good husband’ thing. I can’t fix that. Birth control is a sin or whatever. Jesus is too busy pissing himself over that to care about starving kids in the Soviet Union, I guess.”

“That’s a cheerful prospect.”

“Sorry.”

“No, please, by all means. Throw off all your baggage, I can take it.”

Now he smirks, just faintly. “That’s what we’ve always done for each other, right?”

“We’ll be back on tour in a few weeks, John.” And that was true; the News Of The World Tour was scheduled to begin on November 11th in Portland, Maine. The band would spend the 12th in Boston and join your parents for dinner at the Queen Anne-style house at the intersection of Apple and Arcadia that you grew up in.

He whispers forlornly: “I can’t run from this forever.”

“You might have to. I’d love to know what Slavic Jesus has to say about divorce.”

John coughs out a surprised laugh. “Thank you. I needed that.”

“Come on. I posted your bail. I won’t tell Roger if you won’t. You can put the extra five thousand pounds in your ‘fake my own death and go live on a tropical island’ fund instead of paying us back.” You’re not serious, and John knows that; he would never abandon his children, even if they weren’t old enough to really remember him yet. But it has the desired effect, which of course is lifting the mood, making John divulge that rare and beautiful smile.

“I’m a wreck. I can’t go home like this. It’d be worse than not coming home at all.”

“I’m happy to offer you one of our five superfluous bedrooms.”

“Okay,” John sighs, clutching the bars of his jail cell and dragging himself to his feet. “I’m so sorry. I owe you for this, I really do.”

“No,” you reply, grinning. “Just find a way to send me the coordinates so I can visit you on your secret tropical island once in a while.”

You drive John home to the Surrey house, get him set up in the spare bedroom with the blue-grey wallpaper and blankets patterned with seahorses, give him a stack of Roger’s clean clothes, lay out fresh towels and a tray of water and cookies—biscuits, you reprimand yourself—for him. He’s mostly sober now, which makes you feel somewhat better; still, you are aware that you hate the thought of leaving him alone, even if he’s only a few walls away.

“Thank you,” he says as you stand in the doorway, his face meditative, his hands in the pockets of his leather coat.

“Of course.”

“You’re a good friend. The best, actually.”

“You’re a good man. You don’t always know it, but you are.”

John just stares at you with an expression you can’t read. Like the ocean: always mysterious, always profound. “Goodnight,” he says after a while.

“Goodnight, John.”

As you pull the bedroom door shut, you hear erratic thumps coming up the staircase. Roger stumbles into the upstairs hallway, singing under his breath and drumming the air with invisible drumsticks, and holds out his arms when he sees you. He’s wearing his dark green suit, an unraveling tie, one sparkling pink Converse, his prescription sunglasses tangled in his hair and forgotten. His eyes are effervescent, flighty, almost manic.

“Hey, love of my life!” he cries, comically loud. “What are you doing up?!”

“Shhhhh! Your bassist partied a little too hard and needed a place to crash that wasn’t overrun with kids. He’s in the blue room.”

“Deaks? Deaks is sleeping over?!” Roger exclaims, beaming. “All my favorite people are here!”

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t bother him. He’s pretty messed up, he needs the rest. I’ll make everyone pancakes in the morning or something. Come over here, let’s get you—” But the words die in your throat as you try to tug off Roger’s suit jacket. Fine white powder sheds off the emerald velvet fabric and onto your palm. You blink at it, at the residue like crushed aspirin, like the salt they scatter on Boston roads the night before a snowfall. “What is this?”

He rips his sleeve away, conjures up a smile to throw you off the trail. To dazzle his way out of this. “Nothing.” But he knows. And he knows you know too.

“You were...snorting coke...?”

“Come on, baby, don’t be like that...” He tries to embrace you; you shove him back.

“Roger, no, this is...this is...” You shake your head, shrugging off the shock, searching for the words. You’re confused, you’re exhausted, your mind is whirling. “We’re home, Roger,” you plead, like it means something.

Has he done this before? When? How often? With who?

You should know the answers. It’s not a good sign that you don’t.

“So?” Now he’s indignant.

“So it’s not like being on tour, you’re supposed to take it easy at home, you’re supposed to be, I don’t know, relaxed and recovering and, and, and content...”

You’re not supposed to have an excuse to do all those things that destroy people.

He laughs bitterly. “What, ‘happy at home’?! When has that ever been me?”

“Rog, please, I’m not saying you can’t work all the time or drink or smoke, I’m not even saying you can’t get wasted, I’m just drawing the line at cocaine and I don’t think that’s a terribly despotic place to draw a line.”

“Oh I’m sorry, I must have missed it, when did you become too moralistic for drugs?”

“Acid is different than coke and you know it. Acid doesn’t kill people.”

He glares at you, savage, almost hateful. “You don’t get to put me in a cage.”

“I’m not being controlling or self-righteous, I’m being concerned—”

“You’re being a fucking cop, that’s what you’re being,” Roger snaps.

“What do you want me to say?! I’m a registered nurse, Roger, I’m a medical professional, it’s literally my job to keep you alive—”

“No, it’s your job to make sure we can record and tour and I need it, I can’t play without it, don’t you get that?! I fucking need it!”

Instantly, John is between you, still fully dressed and sweating Manhattans out of his pores and seething. He’s taller than Roger; surely you must have noticed that before. But if you had, you’ve since forgotten. “Roger,” he threatens in a low, unyielding voice. “Go to bed.”

Roger recoils, disoriented, then opens his mouth to protest.

“Go!” John roars, pointing towards the main bedroom. He wants to say more, you can tell, he has rage burning in him like dragonfire; and if it had been Brian or even Freddie, John would have said it. But this is Roger. And you can’t remember a time John has ever raised his voice to Roger before now.

Roger can’t wrap his brain around it either, particularly in his present condition. His eyelids flutter a few times, then he scoffs—a dismissive, derisive sound, a sound that says I don’t know what to do with this information—and staggers away. He slams the bedroom door behind him as he disappears inside.

You collapse against the nearest wall and hiss in ragged breaths through your teeth, your eyes wet and stinging, your hands trembling as you press your knuckles to your lips.

“I-I-I’m so sorry about that,” you whisper, avoiding John’s eyes.

He’s going to say something, something harsh and terrible but true. He’s finally going to tell me how stupid I was for ever thinking this could work, just like Chrissie and Freddie and Brian. He’s going to tell me I deserve it.

Instead, John offers only this, his words flat and hollow: “Yeah. I’m sorry everyone is disappointing you tonight.”

And then he’s gone.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the morning—early afternoon, really—Roger doesn’t remember; or at least he feigns convincingly that he doesn’t. He props his feet up on the kitchen table and shovels down six pancakes and theatrically relays to you all the scandalous celebrity gossip in the News Of The World magazine with his prescription sunglasses perched bookishly on his nose. He asks you three times if you’re alright, trying to read the hesitance in your eyes, to unearth all those questions that are taking up a permanent residence there. You smile and nod, sip your tea, watch the sharp autumn sunshine as it streams in through the windows and bathes Roger in luminescence that seems so benignly interminable in the light of day. And when you peer into the bedroom with seahorse-patterned blankets and walls the color of cold rain, John has vanished; but the air is heavy with the scent of a litany of cigarettes and there’s a handwritten note left on one pillow.

Thanks for everything. Hang tough, as the Yanks say. An island getaway awaits you.

~ World’s Worst Drunk Driver

At 3 p.m., John calls and asks if the Taylors would be interested in an outing to the park while he gives Veronica a few hours alone to catch up on housework without the kids. His tone is light, casual, harmless; but you suspect he’s checking in on you.

“Of course we’re interested!” Roger says, snatching his ostentatious fur coat off the back of his chair. “Baby, love of my life, go get some cash from the safe so we can buy the kids ice cream.”

Incidentally, there’s not much cash left in the safe; but you find a ten-pound note in your wallet for the ice cream man and make a mental note to run to the bank on Monday.

Hyde Park in October isn’t so different than Boston. The leaves above are a kaleidoscope of sunstone and rubies and jasper and jade, crisping and curling around their serrated edges, drifting listlessly onto pavement paths to be crushed beneath rushing feet; the roots of the trees are centuries deep. Chrissie is walking laps around the pond as she pushes the twins’ stroller; Evelyn is a fairly good sleeper, but Theodore—Teddy to his closest confidants, of which you are one—is an anxious baby and prone to whining. He’s definitely Brian’s son, you often find yourself thinking with an affectionate smirk. John’s ten-month-old daughter Anna is nestled in your arms in a semi-conscious state, having thoroughly exhausted herself by painting her face with chocolate ice cream and thereafter enduring an impromptu bath and wardrobe change in a public restroom.

Laszlo, two years old and with a mop of auburn curls, trots by the edge of the pond as Roger grips his tiny hand, periodically crouches down beside him, grins hugely and points out swans and fish darting through the dark rippling water. Laszlo shrieks with laughter and tries to steal Roger’s sunglasses, which glint in the sunlight like black mirrors.

“So your kid’s a convict too,” you say to John.

“Gotta train them when they’re still small and good for shimmying through dog doors and such.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Extremely hungover, but I’m trying not to show it.”

“You’re doing a good job, I wouldn’t have known.”

“Excellent. I don’t think Veronica noticed. She was very curious about how I ended up in a pair of Roger’s skintight leopard-print pants, though.”

You chuckle, glimpsing down at Anna, rocking her a little as her eyes flitter open and then close again. You and John are on opposite ends of a wooden park bench, your ankles crossed and resting in his lap, your hair rustling in the breeze. John peers over at you periodically, studies you like an ancient statue of Aphrodite or Perseus under a spotlight in an echoing museum, then resumes his sketching. Your smile dies as you watch Roger giggle with Laszlo, lift him high into the cool autumn air, trumpet mock airplane noises in that high, raspy voice.

“Come on,” John prompts, nudging your boots. “I’ll take the baggage if you’ll let me.”

No, I think I’ll keep this one to myself. But you don’t. “It’s my fault,” you say softly. It’s my fault we can’t have children.

John lifts his pencil from the page, his greyish eyes gentle. “You don’t know that.”

“Statistically, it is most likely my fault.”

“It hasn’t been that long, has it? Definitely less than a year. Sometimes these things take time.”

“They didn’t for you and Veronica.”

“Yes, well...” John frowns uneasily. “That’s not always such a blessing.”

“How helpful. You should write newspaper columns for depressed housewives. ‘Don’t worry about that infertility dear, you could have it worse, you could have a life sentence with someone you can’t fucking stand.’”

That was unkind, you think, immediately regretting it. That might have been too far.

But John doesn’t seem offended. His pencil flies over the paper as he glances over at you again. “Is that all? Please continue. I’m riveted to learn more about my alternative career path.”

“No, I think I’m done.”

“Okay. What’s your favorite flower?”

You consider that. “Roger always gets me carnations or roses...and I like them, don’t get me wrong...but I don’t know if I’d call either of those my favorite.”

“It’s not that deep a question, Miss Nightingale.”

“I’ll defer to the artist’s expertise. Surprise me.”

“I’m no artist,” John warns, but he returns to his sketching nonetheless. “I’m really sorry about last night, by the way. I was being stupid and dramatic and immature and self-pitying. ‘Midway on our life's journey, I found myself in dark woods, the right road lost,’ etcetera etcetera.”

You’re no great connoisseur of Italian literature, but you recognize those famous opening lines of the Inferno. “Can I ask you something?”

“Please do.”

“What is this fascination you have with Dante?”

“Truly?”

“Yeah.”

He smiles pensively with his eyes cast out over the pond. “I like that his story has a happy ending. That someone can start in hell and sweat out all their sins in purgatory and end up among the stars.”

You raise your eyebrows, taken back, impressed. “That’s awfully poetic.”

“It’s strange, probably,” John says, scrutinizing his drawing.

“No, really. I love it.”

“Yeah?” He’s doubtful, but he’ll allow himself to believe you if you insist.

“Yeah. And no more drunk driving or other acts of self-destruction, okay? Queen would crumble without you, John. And so would I.”

In reply, he rips the page out of his notebook and hands it over. The image is of you: so infinitely more lovely and at peace than you feel, eyes wise and contented and reflecting halos of sunlight, John’s daughter dozing in your arms.

Tucked behind your ear, etched in graphite shadows, is a calla lily.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Darling, what do I look like?” Freddie bats his eyelashes flirtatiously.

“A raccoon.”

His face screws into a grimace. “I’m supposed to be a cat.”

“Yes, I’m cognizant of that. But you look like a raccoon. Which is why people keep assuming you’re a raccoon, which is why you’re asking me now if you look like one.”

“Bloody hell,” he groans, puffs on a cigarette, fluffs his hair irritably, slurps a drink that is fizzy and sapphire blue.

“The problem is that you went with black and white. You should have dressed as a calico or something. Or a grey cat, oh, I love the chubby grey ones!”

“I’m a musician, darling, not a fucking zoologist.” He exhales a ring of smoke and meanders away.

Queen, the band’s associates, and various music industry figures are all milling around the night-draped mansion. It’s half a Halloween celebration and half a launch party for News Of The World, an album named for the tabloid that Roger both loathes and yet refuses to stop having delivered to the Surrey house. He can’t stand the thought of not being clued into the latest gossip, trends, fashion, awards, of missing any piece of what stardom has to offer. In the spirit of Halloween, Roger is dressed as a tiger, his sleeveless sequined shirt striped with orange and black. You are a veterinarian (not so far a cry from a nurse that you can’t repurpose your old uniform), John a shark (he’s taped a cardboard triangle to his back like a fin), Veronica a sea turtle in a teal dress and with a shell painted over her sizable baby bump, Brian and Chrissie both bright green aliens with antennae bobbing from their headbands. Mary is here as well—outfitted (quite appropriately) like an Enlightenment-era queen—but so is Freddie’s new boyfriend, a shy man named Anthony who is young and handsome and compliant and dressed as a mouse. Mary beams dutifully whenever Freddie is speaking to her, but her expression clouds over when he turns away. She no longer has a gold ring gleaming on her wedding finger, although she did gain an athletic blond date whom she seems largely indifferent to.

As Roger wanders through the crowd shaking hands and howling at jokes, you sip champagne by the snack table and devour an obscene amount of crab puffs. John and Veronica are chatting—unenthusiastically, from what you can tell—nearby with lamb kabobs in their grasps. John passes you a smirk every once in a while, an I’m so over this party and I know you are too smirk of commiseration, and nurses a Manhattan. Chrissie nibbles on disks of cucumber and baby carrots and not much else, which is very unlike her.

“You alright?” you ask worriedly. “You aren’t sick, are you? These crab puff things are incredible, I can’t stop eating them. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve had three dinners so far tonight, I’ve become a monster.”

Chrissie’s lips are a tight, humorless line. “I’m perfectly healthy, I’m just a cow.”

“Chris, honey, don’t!” You pat her shoulder reassuringly with one hand, pop another crab puff into your mouth with the other. “You’re gorgeous, and most women’s bodies change once they have babies, it’s natural!”

“Yeah, well most women aren’t married to men with infinite opportunities to upgrade.”

“Chrissie, no,” you murmur, pained; but you aren’t sure what else to say. She’s not wrong. I wish she was, but she isn’t. And she already knows that.

Dreams by Fleetwood Mac is playing from the reverberating stereo, Stevie Nicks’ sensuous, nasally voice climbing through air choked with strangers and cigarette smoke.

“Now here you go again

You say you want your freedom

Well, who am I to keep you down?”

Brian bids farewell to some record company executive he was talking to across the room and slips out onto the back porch of the house, and after a moment Chrissie follows him. You resist the temptation to eavesdrop until you can clearly hear their voices, raised and combative, through the sliding glass door. You glance to John, apprehensive.

You better go out there, he mouths, and so you do.

“Thunder only happens when it's rainin'

Players only love you when they're playin'

Say women, they will come and they will go

When the rain washes you clean, you'll know...”

Under cold October stars, Chrissie has trapped her horrified-looking husband, backed him into a fountain of a dolphin spewing an endless stream of water from its snout. “Did you think I wouldn’t listen to your own fucking album, Brian?!” She shrieks. “Who is she, huh? Who the fuck is she?!”

You grip her arm and try to lead her away. “Chrissie, babe, not here—”

“It’s Late, Brian? Yeah, it’s real fucking late in your life to still be chasing whores over in America while I’m building your family here, isn’t it?!”

“Love, please, it’s not true,” Brian attempts anemically, reaching for her.

“It is!” Chrissie rages. “It is and it always has been and I was too busy being some blind stupid idiot who loved you to see it!”

She breaks down in tears and you shove Brian away, shoo him back inside. You pitch him a fierce glare as he leaves, retreating like a kicked dog. There’s nothing you can do to fix this, you coward. Because everything she’s saying is true. Chrissie clings to you like a life raft, sobbing into your shoulder, asking what she did wrong.

“I’m sorry,” you tell her, over and over again; because that’s all there is to say.

Eventually Chrissie quiets, goes still and resigned and numb, and you help her fix her makeup and lead her back inside. You stand with her beside the snack table and swear not to leave her side until the party’s over, until the men are done celebrating yet another triumph that will take them further and further from home. Brian is nowhere to be found.

“That goddamn broodmare,” Chrissie hisses, gulping straight vodka, staring venomously at Veronica.

“Why do you hate her so much? I mean she can be dull, yeah. She’s sanctimonious and naïve and dresses like a freaking Mennonite. But she’s not horrible or anything.” And her life isn’t so perfect either.

“It’s not obvious?” Chrissie asks, her voice like a blade.

“No...?”

Chrissie’s eyes are scorching, although you’re not the person she’s furious with. You just happen to be standing in the path of the storm. “Because she’s the only one of us who’s never going to have to find out what this feels like.”

Oh, I don’t like that. I don’t like that at all.

You try to spot Roger in the teeming room. He’s over by a crackling fireplace, telling stories with dramatic sweeps of his hands, bleeding charisma like sweat, and none of that is unusual at all. One of the people he’s talking to is Dominique Beyrand, and that’s not so unusual either; Richard Branson ends up at a lot of industry events, and Dom trails him around like a shadow, nodding politely and contributing little chirps of conversation in that posh French accent.

But here’s the strange part; here’s the part you’ve never seen before.

When Roger flashes that dazzling smile of his, Dominique smiles back.

~~~~~~~~~~

Three days later, you’re steeping in a sweltering bubble bath as the phone rings downstairs. You ignore it at first, because the hot water is unraveling all the tension in your muscles and the lurking shadows in your mind, and also because the calendar is hanging right beside the phone in the kitchen and you’re quite committed to ignoring it this morning. But the phone rings again, and again, and you’re aware that it could be something serious; Roger is working on some non-Queen collaboration at a studio in downtown London, and something could have happened to him.

Especially considering his recreational preferences lately.

You scramble out of the tub, pull on a robe that sticks uncomfortably to your dripping skin, leave a path of bathwater footprints down the hallway and steps—slipping twice and clinging to the banister for dear life—before finally careening into the kitchen to snatch the phone off the wall.

“Hello?” you gasp, winded.

It’s not Roger, nor someone calling to inform you that Roger has overdosed or disappeared or vaulted down a staircase or been hit by a bus. It’s Chrissie.

“Have you seen the News Of The World yet?” she demands.

“Ummm, the album...?” Of course I’ve listened to the album. About a million times. You have a particular affinity for Spread Your Wings.

“No, not the album,” she snaps impatiently, although she kindly leaves out the you idiot addition that her tone implicates. “The magazine. Have you seen it today?”

“I was mid-bubble bath and almost broke my neck sprinting for the phone. So no.”

“Good. Don’t read a word. Don’t talk to anyone. I’m coming over. I’m gonna grab John and come right over.”

“Chris, what—?”

“Do not touch that fucking magazine!” she screams, and hangs up.

Naturally, you don’t listen.

You go to the main door of the Surrey mansion and open it. Sure enough, the new issue of News Of The World is waiting on the porch for you. You pluck it up with damp hands; the whirlpools of your fingerprints stick to the parchment.

On the front page is a photo of Roger, but he’s not alone. He’s scowling at the paparazzo snapping the picture, his face lit up by the flash, painfully and unmistakably stunning. He’s in some sort of alley or side entrance to a restaurant or club. He’s somewhere he’s trying not to be seen, which anyone could tell you is remarkable for Roger Taylor. Beside him is a woman you recognize; and although she’s looking down and trying to hide behind her shock of lustrous black hair, you can see her lips are smiling.

The headline reads: “Queen Drummer Spends Royally on London Love Nest for French Mistress.”

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pixieungerstories · 4 years

Text

Quarantine - 2

Well, they laughed. I sort of more chuckled nervously.

I kept an eye on my laptop battery and there weren’t any unexplained power outages. Everything seemed normal.

Until I was cleaning out the basement and found the wine room. I don’t know wine, but there was a lot of it and the newest bottle that I could find was pre world war two.

I wasn’t expecting it to still be good. It was. It felt ridiculous drinking a hundred year old bottle of red wine with a frozen dinner. I did it anyway.

“Are you still here?” I demanded as I was getting ready for bed.

There was no answer.

I found the box that had my vibrator in it and fell asleep in a sweaty puddle.

I woke up a little hung over and found my vibe squeaky clean on the bathroom sink when I went to brush my teeth. My stomach dropped.

“Were you watching me?” I hissed. I don’t know what sort of reply I was expecting, but I didn’t get one.

I screamed and stood up when he said from the doorway, “I get lonely too.”

“Jesus Christ!”

I didn’t move. He had just sounded sad when he said it.

“Why can’t I ever see you?” I asked.

“I live in the shadows, you can only see me in darkness.”

I blinked at that. “But you are always here.”

“Yes.”

“And I can’t see in the dark,” I pointed out.

“I know.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I changed the subject. “What do you want from me?”

“But I am,” I mumbled.

“Yes. So take care of yourself. Sleep in the bed. Care for the house. I will stay out of your way.”

I licked my lips. I didn’t want to ask but I had to know. “What were you doing with my vibrator?”

It was the barest whisper, “I wanted to taste you.”

I froze feeling like a deer in the headlights, completely unsure how to respond to that.

“I have not touched you since you asked me not to,” he argued.

“I don’t understand,” he replied.

I shifted awkwardly. “Can I call you Nick?”

The silence continued. Then, “Why?”

“Nameless things are more scary. It isn’t as bad having a roommate named Nick.”

----

He had used pencil.

“Is this a peace offering?” I asked.

I didn’t get a response, but he did the dishes while I had my bath that morning.

When my groceries were delivered, popcorn had been added to my order.

It came as a surprise when I went to put the popcorn in the microwave and the power went out.

“Nick? What are you doing?”

“This isn’t me,” he hissed.

I have no idea how long I was in there, in the dark with my heart pounding as I tried to get the door to open. Eventually, it did.

“All better now,” he assured me, breathing down the back of my neck.

There were a lot of cop cars outside on the street.

“What happened?” I asked. There wasn’t any answer.

A uniformed officer rang my bell, then politely stepped back from my door the requisite six feet.

“Did you hear or see anything unusual last night, Ma’am?” he asked after identifying himself.

He frowned at me. “Have you noticed anything missing? Any signs of a break in?”

“No? Should I have?”

He appeared to consider this, then stepped further back to look at the state of my house. “There were break ins all down this street last night. This place might not have been a target.”

“Is everyone OK?” I asked.

“It’s an ongoing investigation,” replied walking towards me again. “I can not disclose anything further, ma’am.”

I swallowed, “That sounds like a no.”

“Do you mind if I come in and have a look around?”

I considered this, “Do you generally advise that women living alone let strange men into their houses? If you are coming to search, I want my lawyer here as a witness.”

He was already peering in around me. The house isn’t that big and the walls were all gone. He could see the whole main floor whether he came in or not.

“Doing some renovations I see.”

No shit Sherlock. “My building permit is posted in my window. I haven’t been able to get trades people out in months but-”

I mean, he was right, still you never like to hear that. And it didn’t need to be condemned. I had the structural engineer’s report to prove it.

I went to work while keeping an eye on the news sites.

It has escalated all the way down the street.

Then stopped before my house.

“Nick? What did you do?”

He wasn’t talking to me yet.

----

I sat on my bed and waited for the sun to go down. My laptop was in the kitchen. My phone was next to me but set to do not disturb. I waited, straining my ears for any noise.

“Are you there?”

Nothing was said but I was sure I could feel him watching me.

“Please tell me what happened.”

“No one comes into my house,” he snarled.

I swallowed and fought down my fear. “I did.”

“You are different. You are helping.”

I considered that. He had walls before I got here, now he didn’t.

“Am I safe from you?”

“Yes.” It would have been more comforting if he hadn’t growled it.

“Please don’t,” he whispered.

I sniffled. “Fuck. Why don’t I have kleenex?”

“What if they come back tonight?”

“They won’t,” he said firmly. I don’t think he was talking about the ongoing police presence on the street.

“What did you do?” I sniffled.

“I defended my home. That includes you now.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that. I wasn’t sure that I couldn’t catch glimpses of him as the lights on the street kept flashing. Red, blue, huge black shadow.

“I don’t want to be alone right now,” I whispered.

The bed dipped but when I reached my arm out in that direction all I could find was a long fingered hand to hold mine. “You won’t be.”

“Are you .. human shaped?”

“I can be.”

I snorted, “What kind of answer is that?”

“An honest one.”

I rolled on to my side so that my back was to him, or at least to where I thought he was.

“I can go.”

“Can you stay?”

The weight on the bed changed. “Don’t try to look at me, you will only give yourself nightmares.”

“You said you’ve read Blue Beard?”

“Yes.”

“Have you read Cupid and Psyche?”

He just snickered.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Does any of that apply here?”

“Are you going to try to burn me with an oil lamp?” he teased.

“Are you going to get me pregnant then cast me out into the wilds?” I countered.

He hissed at that, “Never.”

“Never get me pregnant or -”

“I’m not human. We can’t procreate. I can’t make you sick. You can’t make me sick. We can drive each other insane and you will be able to escape someday. I can not leave.”

“Why not?”

“You need to rest. Don’t ask questions with scary answers.”

“How am I supposed to know they are scary?”

“Because you are asking a monster. Now, go to sleep.”

That was the most ridiculous thing but I wasn’t up to arguing about it. Not while there was still an active crime scene next door.

I fell asleep to the feeling of him stroking my back.

----

As I was pouring wine into a coffee mug, he asked me, “Are you drinking alone?”

I got up, took another mug out of the cupboard, poured a second drink and turned off the kitchen light. “Nope. I’m not alone. You’re here.”

“I didn’t have that much to drink!” I protested.

“No, but you can’t see in the dark.” He tucked me safely into bed.

“Did you change the sheets?” I asked. He didn’t answer. “You did, didn’t you?”

My laptop opened and his body blocked the screen for a few moments. Then Brooklyn 99 came on and it was set next to me.

“Why are you doing this?”

“We need a distraction. Call Penny.”

“We need a distraction? We?”

“Yes.”

I hesitated. “Do you need me to move out and camp in the backyard for a few days?”

His reply was a nonverbal roar that rattled the windows and set off a car alarm outside.

The cops on my porch blinked.

“I’m trying to sleep! Can you keep the noise down? Please? I know whatever you are doing is important but can you just do it a little quieter?”

“That wasn’t us!” the youngest protested.

“Then can you find out who it was and make them stop?”

To my delight, they left.

I closed the door, smiled to myself and bounced off a wall of darkness that caught me before I rebounded against the door.

“I do not want you sleeping outside!” he growled in my ear.

“Nick? Can you help me not trip on things on my way to the stairs?”

I climbed into bed and closed it.

Then I opened it, stared at the browser for a moment, then closed it again.

“What’s wrong?”

I considered this. I really had no secrets from him anymore. “I need … some ‘alone time’ but it’s weird if you are watching.”

“Would it be better if I was helping?” he teased.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t know what you are working with. But I feel lonely.”

Gentle fingers took my hand and raised it. The lips that kissed and the tongue that laved were not human. I turned my hand to stroke his face but he leaned away.

That stung. I let my hand fall to the bed. “It isn’t fair that you get to touch me but I can’t touch you.”

He didn’t say anything to that. A car drove past and the headlights lit the room for an instant. Long enough for me to see four glittering eyes watching me, two forward facing and two further to the sides. Not human, I reminded myself. In the darkness, hand cupped my face, thick lips caught mine and as I kissed him a tentacle like tongue licked at my lips before darting briefly down my throat.

“I can do better than that toy,” he promised, “but you can not see me.”

I panicked and pulled my hands away and just like that he was gone.

“Nick?”

I don’t know why I was expecting an answer. I groaned and pressed both palms to my face covering my eyes. I jumped when he caressed my calf, but I didn’t move my hands.

“What are you doing, little girl?”

“Someone,” he whispered.

“Yeah. Someone to make me feel like I’m real. Just to make me feel.”

“Humans need other humans to be human,” he muttered. “You should have just called your friend.”

My eyes prickled again and tears splashed against my hands. “How long have you been here?”

“There was an accident shortly after the house was built. I was created out of that.”

That raised a lot of questions, but my immediate one was, “How long have you been here alone?”

I snorted, “Were you really trying to make me go? Because living here was creepy but not anywhere close to the scariest place I’ve ever lived.”

“The house is more than a hundred years old. That’s a long time to be alone,” I pointed out.

“Enough time to get good at it,” he countered.

I moved my hands then and sat up to look at him. I thought I could see a pool of shifting darkness. “What are you? Are you a ghost? Did someone die here and -”

“Many people have died here. I am not one of them.”

I thought about that for a moment. “Am I?”

“What?”

“Am I some dead woman who is all alone here making excuses for why I can’t leave?”

He laughed at me then, not a jolly laugh, an odd howling laugh. “How did you come up with that ridiculous idea?”

It stung a little, “It’s a popular plot point in a number of movies. And I can’t help but notice you didn’t answer the question.”

He stopped laughing when he realized I was serious and said flatly, “You aren’t dead.”

#oh my god they were quarantined #exophilia #monster quarantine #nyctophobia #shadow monster

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let-it-raines · 4 years

Note

Shamelessly sending in a prompt 🤷‍♀️ Was listening to the new song “One Night Standards” and could totally see it as Emma talking to Killian (obviously the universe doesn’t want him to only be one night because she keeps running into the man EVERYWHERE) thanks so much for taking these prompts and being such an amazing inspiration for cs ff writers. hope all is well with you and yours! I’d imagine quarantine makes for some amazing baby cuddles ❤️🥰

@capthamm you are such a sweetheart! Thank you for this very, very sweet message. I don’t think I’m an inspiration to any CS writers, but it does mean a lot that you would say that! Thank you! And baby snuggles are pretty much the main thing getting me through each day, so I’m very grateful for them on top of so many other things 💕

I hope all is well with you as well. I hadn’t heard the song until you sent this in, and I think I may have ended up going in a slightly different direction than it. lol. I hope you enjoy!

found on ao3 | here |

-/-

No.

Just no.

No, no, no, no.

Nope.

Nada.

A big fat no.

Absolutely not.

No way.

“Why do you look like you just ate a lemon?”

Emma turns on her stool to look at Mary Margaret next to her. Her hair is still perfectly coiffed, her makeup not having melted away, and it looks like she just got ready. Emma, however, can feel the sweat dripping down the back of her neck from all of the bodies in here and the summer air of New York seeping in, and she is probably as hot of a mess physically as she is emotionally. They’ve been here for an hour, maybe a little less, and in that time, Mary Margaret has been slowly sipping on one glass of wine while Emma downed two whiskey sours. Then again, Emma has always been more of a drinker than her, and her tolerance is higher.

None of that really matters, but if Emma ignores Mary Margaret for long enough, maybe the question will go away.

“Emma?”

Or not.

“I have no idea what my face looks like, but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t look like I just ate a lemon.”

“Your lips are pursed and your nose is all scrunched up. That’s what you look like when you eat a lemon.”

“You spend too much time with me if you know what I look like then.”

Mary Margaret laughs next to her and takes another sip of the never-ending wine. “You have lived with me for six years. I pick up on things.”

Emma hums and taps her fingers against the bar top. Does she want another drink? Does she want to go dance? Does she want to go home?

Does she want to walk over to the guy who has been staring at her for the past ten minutes?

No, she reminds herself, no she does not.

That was a one-time thing, and she meant it when she said it as she was walking out his apartment door.

But then he walked into this bar fifteen minutes ago in the same pair of tight black jeans and a gray t-shirt, his hair very obviously carefully styled, and she got a small glance of his smile in the darkness of the bar.

Damn.

But no. She doesn’t do more than one-night. Not anymore, and he can look all she wants, she’s not going over there.

She’s not here for that anyways. It’s a Friday, she had a stressful week at work, and she just wanted to get a drink or two with her friends.

Ruby, however, has gone off, and they probably won’t be seeing her again until she sends them the information of the person she’s going home with.

“I will try not to look like I ate a lemon,” Emma promises with a smile. “Do you know where Ruby is?”

“She’s actually with Whale.”

“No,” Emma gasps, spinning around to scan the crowd. “Whale is here? And she’s with him? We’re letting her be with him? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I figured we’d let her have her fun for one night.”

Emma turns back around to gape at Mary Margaret. “Are you okay? Do you have a fever? Did David break up with you so you’ve lost your mind? What’s happening?”

She giggles and shrugs her shoulders. “I think David is going to propose. He – ”

“Another whiskey sour for you,” the bartender says, sliding a drink in front of her.“Oh, I didn’t order this.”

The guy nods his head toward the other end of the bar. “Jones sent it to you. I can tell him to fuck off if you want. There was something about it being a one-time thing, too, but I forgot.”

Jones.

Jones knows the bartender at her favorite bar. Great. That’s just great.

“Thanks,” Emma finally mumbles. “You don’t have to tell him to fuck off.”

“Damn. I was really hoping I got to do that.”

Emma laughs. Oh, she likes this new bartender. “Tell you what, you can tell him to fuck off. I’m not sending him a drink, though.”

He whistles. “You’re making my dreams come true tonight, lass.”

And then he’s walking away, and she’s left with an absolutely beaming Mary Margaret. “So,” Emma quickly says, “what makes you think he’s going to propose?”

She’s waved away. “Who sent you the drink?”

“No one.”

“It was obviously someone. Who was it?”

“You’ll be mad at me if I tell you.”

“Emma,” Mary Margaret sighs, “a one-night stand?”

“Ruby is going to go home with Victor and you’re judging me for having a one-night stand?”

“I’m not judging. I would never judge. I’m simply trying to say that there’s nothing wrong with finding a genuine connection. It’s a great thing.”

Emma takes a sip of her new drink. “So, David? Proposing? Let’s talk about that.”

-/-

She sleeps with the guy again.

She doesn’t know how it happened, not really. One minute she’s talking to Mary Margaret about the possibility of David proposing, and then the next, Jones is somehow sitting next to her talking to them both. He knows David, apparently, and Emma thinks that just her luck.

She doesn’t need to know anything about him.

The only things she needs to know is that she’s attracted to him and that he’s not a serial killer.

Both are true.

At least, she hopes.

Because she went home with him again, but really, it’s going to be the last time.

One night. That’s the limit.

Even if it was two in this case.

-/-

David proposes to Mary Margaret two weeks later.

Emma gets to witness it all from her spot behind a tree where she’s holding a camera and document everything. She completely and totally feels like she’s going to get arrested for being a creep, but she doesn’t.

Instead she gets to watch two of her best friends get engaged. It’s not something she’s interested in, but the two of them deserve something like that.

She’s happy. For them at least.

Good people should have good things.

-/-

There’s a party at their apartment immediately afterward.

And because the world is out to get her, Killian Jones is there.

She lives in a city with millions of people, and yet this guy keeps showing up.

How is that possible?

Emma knows too much about him now, too. She knows his full name and that he’s a cop. She knows his preferred drink and that he’s friends with the new bartender, Will, because they live together.

It’s too much already.

“Swan,” he greets, sliding into her space so she gets a whiff of familiar cologne.

Great. She knows the cologne he wears now, too.

“Jones.”

“Fancy seeing you here.”

“Well, it is my apartment.”

Killian clicks his tongue. “I know.”

Heat rushes to her face, but she wills it away. This is not a man who she will let herself be bothered by even if he is constantly doing his best to bother her.

“How is it that I’d never heard of you before, love? You and David are obviously close, and he’s always telling stories. Why is the great Emma Swan a mystery?”

Emma turns to look at him and those stupid blue eyes she was so mesmerized by the first night. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Perhaps I would.”

And, really, the decisions she makes that night shouldn’t surprise her, not with the decisions she’s been making lately. Work has been stressful. She’s been looking for this guy for close to three months now, and she can’t find him. it would cover rent and bills and this new pair of boots she’s been looking at with money left over. Plus, she saw Neal last week. He was sitting in Granny’s with whoever he’s dating now, and she really did not need that when all she wanted was some onion rings.

So maybe it’s easier for her to keep falling back into bed with this guy she doesn’t know but knows well enough to know that he knows exactly how to push her to the edge with deft movements and careful words that send shivers down her spine.

And maybe, just maybe, if she doesn’t think about it too much, it won’t be a problem.

-/-

It’s a problem.

Emma’s been casually sleeping with Killian Jones for a month now.

It’s great. It really is. It’s fun and takes her mind off things, and God, it’s so damn good that sometimes she doesn’t believe it’s real. But it’s also too much because when she’s out celebrating finally finding her bounty, he’s there at the bar. He buys her drinks and dances with her, and she finds herself flirting with him more than someone who doesn’t care should.

He’s funny. There’s something about the way that he times his jokes and how they range between ridiculous and incredibly sexy, and Emma lets herself get lost in them so that she barely notices him mentioning that he has a brother or that he spent the formative of his life in England, which explains the accent that slips in and out. Mostly in, though, and she stupidly asks him questions about those years and about England and if everyone really does eat fish and chips all the time.

Killian asks her questions, too, ones about her job and her friends, and those she can answer. When it veers into talking about her family, she evades that by pressing up on her toes and sliding her lips over his, feeling the softness of his mouth mix with the rough scratch of his beard. This is easier, better, and really, they all have their pasts and their secrets. Neither of them needs to know when they don’t care if the other one is still in the apartment when they wake up the next morning.

-/-

Killian is making breakfast.

Emma can’t say anything about it, not when they’re in his apartment and not when she was the one who fell asleep before she could go home. And she especially cannot complain when, well, he’s making French toast, eggs, and bacon, and it’s been forever since she’s had a breakfast that was more than a protein shake or a smoothie as she was walking out her front door.

He makes some damn good French toast.

And it’s raining outside, some kind of awful September storm, and really, Emma could go home. She could borrow an umbrella or a rain jacket and rush out into the rain to pay a ridiculous amount for an Uber since the subway seems incredibly unappealing right now, but as the food settles in her stomach, the coffee warmly makes its way down her throat, and Killian puts Netflix on the TV, suddenly getting soaked to get home doesn’t seem appealing.

Plus, the blanket on the couch is made of the softest material she’s ever felt, Killian’s fingers are playing with the hair at the nape of her neck, which is pretty much her weakness, and she’s far too invested in this show to leave.

She has to find out what happens, obviously.

And one rainy day where Will is at Belle’s place so they’re alone and where she gets Chinese takeout for lunch at 6 PM can’t be that bad.

It’s just one day.

An anomaly in their relationship.

(Or lack of relationship, really.)

A one-time thing.

She won’t spend the night again, and she certainly won’t spend the day.

-/-

Killian has an entire stack of t-shirts in a drawer in her apartment, and Emma has absolutely no idea how that happened.

Well, no, okay.

She does.

She wore one home one time, some old thing that he got at a concert, and then a few weeks ago her shirt ripped in what Killian swears was an accidental result of him being a little too enthusiastic so she wore home a t-shirt from the Police Academy. But the others, he left here. She has never worn them. She would remember.

These are definitely shirts that he left here.

Because he’s stayed here.

Multiple times.

On accident, of course. Because it was too late to go home or the weather was bad again or because her apartment is closer to the police station than his is.

And sometimes he’ll get caught up talking to Mary Margaret when he’s trying to leave, but more often than not, David is here and they end up talking or drinking together as they joke about coworkers and their Captain and plan out David’s bachelor party which is apparently going to be a joint thing with Mary Margaret’s bachelorette party.

That was information to her.

While Killian isn’t David’s best man or anything, he ends up planning most of it with Emma since David’s brother is currently in California. And Killian helping to plan means that he is working with Emma on it, and that means that they get lunch and go to different bars for research purposes and spend far too much time looking for AIRBNB’s in different cities even though they know that will never happen because no one’s schedule ever matches up quite right.

They both decide there will be absolutely no gummies in the form of genitals, but that’s only after spending an entire night laughing after researching it and seeing all of the ridiculous things that people do.

But this is just for the wedding and for their friends. It won’t always be this way. It’ll be over, and then, well, they probably will be too.

-/-

Emma doesn’t bring a date to the wedding.

Killian doesn’t either.

Somewhere deep down in a place she’s not eager to explore, her heart and her stomach calm when she discovers that he’s here alone and that the only person he dances with all night is her.

“You know, I’m not really one for slow dancing,” she sighs as he takes her hand in his. “I don’t know how to do anything other than sway.”

His fingers tighten around hers while his other hand settles on her hip, warm and familiar and just right. “It’s easy, Swan. All you have to do is pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

“And that’s you?”

“Aye, love,” he smiles, lines forming around his eyes, “that’s me.”

They go home together that night.

Emma’s apartment is empty with David and Mary Margaret staying in a hotel before flying to Italy the next day, and Emma doesn’t even question when she and Killian share a cab back to her place. She doesn’t question when she kicks off her heels and he takes of his bowtie, leaving his shirt unbuttoned enough to show off dark patches of chest hair, so that they can stand in the kitchen eating cake they brought home while sharing a bottle of wine. Neither of them really got a chance to get more than a glass of champagne at the wedding, so while she’s pleasantly buzzed, she could easily sober up in an hour or two.

But in an hour or two, she’s sitting on her couch, her feet in Killian’s lap, and they’re talking about their exes. She doesn’t know how they got here. She doesn’t know what started the conversation, how it led to her hearing about how his first love died in an accident or her telling him an abridged version of all of the nasty, horrible ways Neal broke her.

She never needed to know about his exes.

She never needed to know about his past and all his scars.

He never needed to know about any of hers.

But now he does.

And now, somehow, she wants to know all of these things about him.

Now, somehow, she realizes that she already does know so much about him.

Emma knows the big things like what his family is like and stories from his childhood. She knows his romantic history and what he does for a living and why he decided to do that. She knows his goal to become a detective, and she knows that he’s constantly terrified of never being good enough.

She gets that. She feels the same way all the time.

Almost every day, really.

Though, if she really thinks about it, she’s never felt like she was never enough for Killian. Something about him makes it all feel comfortable in a way that she’s never felt before.

Emma has never been a woman who knows what true comfort with another person feels like, but maybe, just maybe, this is somehow it.

And maybe that’s because she knows the little things, too.

She knows how he likes his coffee in the same way that he knows how she likes hers. She knows how he eats his steak and how he doesn’t like onion rings, which she thinks is ridiculous. She knows that Killian always has on matching socks because he purposely only buys one type, and she knows that he gets his hair cut every four weeks without fail.

He always wears the socks when walking around at home, and she knows how his footsteps sound in different parts of her apartment as well as his.

Killian’s an early riser, almost always, and he’s ridiculously addicted to keeping up with his workout routine, which she absolutely hates. She takes care of herself, but she’s also someone who knows how to be lazy when the opportunity presents itself.

Killian Jones is very rarely lazy.

Except for sometimes at night when he watches videos on his phone or grabs one of the many books on his nightstand to read. He’s into mysteries and biographies of historical figures, and while Emma doesn’t think she’d ever be interested in any of his books, she listens when he talks and grumbles and complains about how something is going while she does research for work or quietly watches TV to not disturb him.

Disturbing him is a hard thing to do, but Emma does manage to do it. He says that she thrashes in bed and that her electric toothbrush is the loudest thing he’s ever heard, but that doesn’t keep him from getting her an extra one to keep at his place along with her preferred shampoo and conditioner.

She had to use his one time, and as much as she likes how Killian smells, she doesn’t want to smell like him. She had texted complaining about that, and the next time she was at his place, all of her things were there.

Emma didn’t even have to tell him what brands she uses,

The sound of his laugh is so familiar to her that she knows the different ones. There’s the one that’s small and frail, like he’s only laughing to be polite, and then another one where it’s fueled by disbelief and anger.

(She’s been on the receiving end of that a few times when they’ve argued.)

There’s the big laugh, that one that stems from his belly and makes his whole body shake with joy. It’s loud and kind of obnoxious, but Emma kind of loves it.

The one she loves most of all, however, is this gentle one that he shares with her when they’re in bed and the lights are turned off, all of the curtains closed, and blankets pulled up around them. He always looks so young then, like he’s twenty instead of thirty-two, and his smile is soft and kind and filled with a genuine joy that she keeps seeing more and more.

That laugh, this one that she only hears when her nose is brushing against his and his hand is drawing patterns on her bare back, is her favorite.

It’s the one she knows most of all.

It’s just for her, she tells herself, and well, she doesn’t intend on sharing.

Because she loves him.

The realization knocks her off her feet and sucker punches the air out of her lungs. She’s angry and pissed off at herself for letting it happen and so damn terrified of the feeling that she doesn’t know what to do with herself or her limbs or anything else. She doesn’t know what to do. She wants to grab her things and run, to cut off whatever this thing between them is, but the thought of that happening is a pain far worse than the realization that she loves someone again.

So Emma stays. She stays, and she keeps her life just the same. The thing is, it has changed so remarkably in the past eight months that she barely recognizes it. That’s not a bad thing, she realizes. It’s actually really, really good.

That realization doesn’t happen without several bottles of alcohol and Mary Margaret and Ruby having to calm her down and talk her up several different times when she starts to freak out. She needs all of that, needs that reassurance, and there are so many moments where she wonders when this is all going to end.

But then there’s that laugh, that one that’s just for her, and everything around her calms so that it’s just Emma and Killian and nothing and no one else.

Just her.

Just him.

Just them.

And somewhere down the line, years after that first night and the promises of it only being a one-time thing, Emma knows that she has never told a bigger lie in her life.

Because a one-time thing turned into absolutely everything.

#capthamm #one night standards #cs prompts #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan

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