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meetmymouth · 3 years

Note

ooh I think #7 and #17 from the blurb list would fit very well together! if you want!

THANK YOU LINDS <3<3

prompt list here, send a number!!

#7 If we both want to fit, we’ll have to cuddle

#17 Sleeping in the same bed for the first time

THIS IS 3K IM SORRY I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF SO PLEASE REBLOG LMAOOOOOO!!!!!

"This is my room," comes a gruff voice behind you as you keep looking out the window, taking in the greenery and the beautiful ocean.

See, you knew he would be here.

You knew, because Harry and Mitch were attached at the hip, and you didn't mind. You didn't mind seeing your ex every time you were invited to hang out with MitchandSarah & co, except when said ex decided to be an evil arsehole.

Perhaps, calling him an "ex" was weird, seeing how your time alone only consisted of you both getting high, mostly naked as he whispered the filthiest things in your ear and promised to make you feel good, be the best you've ever had. Other than that, though, he was an insufferable bastard. Since you never hung out with the man without your friends around–getting rat-arsed and high... and the activities that followed aside–, you didn't know if he was always this annoying.

He seemed to be getting along just fine with the others, especially Sarah and the other girls, so you had no problems scratching off the "women hater" off your list. And you can't ever recall him being this insufferable while you both were fucking which was, in his case, miserable. So, it was definitely annoying. You weren't that interested in him to think that he was being mean because he was secretly in love with you. That was a myth, a pathetic myth, wasn't it? No, you wouldn't steep that low. He was just an arse, full stop.

You turn around with an eye-roll, and within seeing his face, you nearly clench your fists like a ten-year-old. "Do you live here?" You ask, hoping the boring expression on your face is also detectable in your tone.

It's certainly not a surprise when Harry scoffs.

"I don't, but I picked this room first. Since, you know," he looks around, and walks further into the room, finally stopping at the feet of the bed. "You were late. As per."

"Oh fuck off. This isn't summer camp. Besides, I don't see any of your shit around. The room was empty when I arrived."

"If you bothered to look inside the wardrobe..."

Seriously, you find yourself thinking, how the fuck did you ever end up with this man. Naked.

There's a commotion downstairs, so you both turn to the door, but much to your dismay, there's no one coming to check up on you and hopefully, save you from Harry Styles' pathetic gob.

You turn towards the window again, eyes squinting briefly at the last bits of sunshine that's glinting from between the branches.

"Well. You shouldn't have left then. You weren't here when I arrived."

Harry shakes his head, and you swear you can see his nostrils flaring if you look carefully. Though, you just watch him with a smug smile on your face as he walks to the wardrobe and pulls open the white doors. True to his word, his clothes are there, perfectly folded, and for a moment you feel a pang of guilt before you look back up at his face and see the furrowed eyebrows.

"See. My clothes. I'm sure Sarah will sort it out for you, find you another room or summat."

"There's only three bedrooms. Can't sleep with a pregnant woman and her boyfriend, can I?"

"What about Rachel and David? Aren't you best friend's with her?"

"Harry, you're ridiculous. Just–" you wipe the sweat off of your forehead, feeling yourself grow hotter and hotter each passing minute. "–just sleep on the sofa. This is my first vacation this year. You go on holidays every week or so. Let us commoners have this."

"Oh, please. Didn't you have a girls weekend getaway or whatever the fuck in Soho Farmhouse two weeks ago?"

You can't help the scoff that leaves your mouth, and a raised eyebrow follows. "How do you know about that?"

"Because," he rolls his eyes, and slams the wardrobe shut. "You post seven hundred stories every day."

"You're a stalker."

"You sleep on the sofa."

You smirk, noticing how he avoided your previous statement.

To be fair, you hated posting on your story. Though, knowing Harry followed you on Instagram made posting on there fun, and seeing his username on the list of who watched your stories pop up at the very top every single time whenever you posted a story almost made you let out a mingy little laugh and rub your hands together, and scream "gotcha!".

"I won't."

"You're getting on my nerves."

"What a coincidence," you ignore the stare he's sending your way and walk towards your carry on, and start taking the contents out one by one, laying everything on the bed.

He watches with a scowl on his face, arms crossed across his chest, and a satisfied smile paints your features as you take out the toiletries bag next.

"Are you seriously unpacking right now?" Harry cranes his neck so he can see better. He looks ridiculous, standing in the middle of the room with arms crossed, but you refrain from saying anything.

In fact, you don't even answer him. Perhaps, you find yourself thinking, it was silly to unpack your underwear first. It wasn't as if you brought super "sexy" shit or lace everything. You can definitely feel his gaze watching your every movement as you take everything out carefully and place them on top of each other. With most of your underwear in hand, you get on one knee in front of the bedside table and open the drawer, placing everything inside and it's surprising how he hasn't claimed the bedside table yet.

"Look," he sighs. "I'll talk to Sarah, maybe you can sleep with her and Mitch–"

"–don't be stupid we're not making them sleep with other people because you can't be a gentleman and sleep on the sofa."

"Oh for fuck's sake," he growls, and you finally look at him, eyebrows raised in hopes of making him feel as stupid as he sounds right now. Unfortunately, though, he continues, "Okay, damn it, I'll sleep on the floor."

Fool.

"Common sense, Harry. Always pick sofa. No matter what."

"Were you born to make my life a living hell?"

"Look," you sit on the bed, and look around. "This is boring me to death. I'm sleeping on the bed. If you shut your gob, you can sleep with me on the bed."

Harry lets out an obnoxious laugh. "Just admit I was here first and you didn't bother checking the–"

"Yes, I didn't and what about it? I'm here now, aren't I? I'm on the bed, babes. Anyway," you get on your feet, and with one last look at him, you start walking towards the door. "I'll see you in a bit. I guess."

You both manage to avoid each other as much as you can throughout the day, and really, it wasn't that hard considering the good company of your friends, good food and good alcohol. You mainly helped Sarah and Rachel in the kitchen as the men lounged on the sun loungers, Mitch handling the grill and David helping you guys with the drinks that came in and out of the house pretty quickly with the way you lot consumed them like water.

You spend the night eating, laughing and drinking, sometimes singing along to whatever song played on David's fancy Bluetooth speaker, and everyone begins ushering inside with full bellies and most of them–except the very pregnant Sarah–with a tipsy smile on their faces.

You leave before Harry though, leaving him smoking his last cigarette by the pool while you run up the stairs and into the room, closing the door behind you. You quickly get rid of the romper and get your favourite pyjamas on, eyes searching for the orange makeup bag so you can take off the remaining makeup before bed. You knew it was silly not to do your night routine, but you still zip the bag closed with a sad expression on your face, not wanting to see your toner and night cream any more than you needed to as you throw it on the floor next to your bags. It's pathetic really, how determined you are to get in the bed before Harry can that you forego your whole routine and stick to some cotton pads. Though, plugging your charger and getting between the cool sheets make you forget all about it as you let out a sigh, and unlock your phone to do your nightly scroll before falling asleep.

As you double tap on a selfie, the door opens, and you hear him scoff, again. You keep scrolling though, and try to sneak a few glances at him as he makes a beeline for the wardrobe, and to your surprise, begins to undress. You try to stay calm, and not to think about how domestic this whole thing seems; being in the same room as him as he gets ready for bed.

Right, getting ready for bed.

You keep your eyes on your phone as his clothes hit the floor one by one, and when you look up briefly, he's got a pair of joggers on, and he's throwing the clothes he had on in the wardrobe.

He turns around, and find your gaze, and he rolls his eyes.

"I knew you'd be in bed, here, as soon as I heard someone running. Forgot you were a literal five-year-old," he mutters under his breath, loud enough so you can still hear him. "I'm not sleeping on the sofa."

"I love how you're basically arguing with yourself."

"Like I said, I'm not sleeping on the sofa. I didn't come all the way to sleep on a bloody sofa."

"Suit yourself. I guess we're sharing. Unless," you lock your phone, and place it on the bedside table. "You want to share," you shrug, adjusting your pillow and sigh at the cool fabric against your hot cheeks.

You can feel him thinking, the wheels turning in his head, and you finally hear the floorboards creek underneath his feet as he walks closer to the bed, and pushes the sheets off of you. The whole thing.

You blink in surprise. "Stop it, dude! What the fuck."

"I'm getting in! Fuck's sake, be quiet."

"You did that just to annoy me."

You're both quiet for a minute, Harry taking his rings off and then comes his socks, and he finally copies you, laying on his back on the bed. He covers the both of you, though you know it's not intentional since he couldn't do it without covering his own body with the duvet, and then he lets out a strangled sigh.

"The bed's too small."

"Are you calling me fat?"

"What?" He turns his face to you, and perhaps it's the first time he's looking at you– really looking.

His brows are furrowed, and lips turned downwards in a pout.

"I'm taking the piss, Harry. I know you're not calling me fat."

"Good," he says, though his voice isn't exactly soft. "I wouldn't."

"Good."

Silence.

It's unbearable.

Despite the hot weather, you feel yourself shiver, and you wish you were the only one in bed so you could do the whole burrito technique with the duvet. Alas... you stay where you are. You both do.

A dog barks in the distance, the high-pitched bark coming through the open window, and you can feel Harry breathing too fast beside you. You want to shout at him, tell him to fuck off and... not breathe too fast, though it sounds a bit too rude even for you, so you stay silent and wait for the dog to pipe the fuck down.

You try to turn on your side, because you could never see yourself fall asleep laying on your back like a vampire, but you almost fall, not anticipating the tiny space you've got going on. It's bad, and you know you're not going to get a good sleep. So, you find yourself contemplating about getting up and sleeping on the sofa because honestly, fuck him.

Harry shuffles next to you, presumably trying to find a good position to sleep in himself, but he lets out a groan and it startles you.

"What's wrong with you!"

"The bed's too fucking small."

"We've established that."

He sniffs, hands clenching the sheets around his body. "I don't sleep on my back. My back hurts."

You don't say anything, hoping for him to just get up and leave, go sleep on the sofa. He doesn't, though. It's another fifteen minutes before you let out another sigh, trying to get comfortable on the bed, and Harry copies you. You both turn on your sides, facing each other and Harry groans when your knee makes contact with his thigh, making you cringe in embarrassment. A quiet sorry leaves your mouth and he shakes his head, then turns the other way, facing the door.

"Fuck," he spits after a minute. "If we both want to fit, we'll have to cuddle."

"Cuddle? Fuck no."

"Just," he turns to you again, but the bed is too small for you both so his knees touch yours. "Just come closer. Either that, or go sleep on the sofa."

"Why don't you–"

"You're so stubborn! Come closer, I won't eat you or fall in love with you. Fuck."

You groan, but oblige for some reason, feeling your heart beginning to beat faster for some ridiculous reason.

It's been a long time, you find yourself trying to convince your heart. It's been a long, long time since you've been this close to a human being. Too long since you've cuddled with someone, so obviously you were going to feel a little excited, and weird. Yes, definitely weird.

You get closer and he lifts up his arm, you both sharing a look before you roll your eyes and place your hand on his wrist, placing it on your hip. He's quiet, eyes searching yours, and the crease between his brows are gone, and you want to laugh, because who knew it only took your skin against his to wipe that stupid grimace off of his face.

"I still think you're annoying," Harry mumbles, clearly sleepy. His hold on your hip becomes tighter as his thumb strokes your skin over the fabric.

"I know. Just shut up and sleep."

#harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles concept #concepts #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #babyurthendofjune #ask

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mxchellesworld · 4 years

Text

Enemies

Spencer Reid x Reader

Synopsis; You and Spencer have always been at each others throats, what happens when you both finally snap?

Warnings; smut, unprotected sex, degradation, choking, hair pulling, impact play, slight exhibitionism

a/n; this is a product of my obsession with early season spencer having a dirty side no one knows about and you can’t change my mind

***

You loved your job. You really did. Growing up you knew you wanted to go into a job which would let you help others. That was just who you were, always selfless and ready to spring into action to be there to comfort anyone in need. This made you fit in perfectly with the rest of the team. They were all a family who welcomed you with open arms.

Well all of them except Spencer fucking Reid.

No one on the team knew why there was so much animosity between you two. Being the youngest ones there they figured you’d end up being two peas in a pod. Yeah that didn’t happen. Penelope describes the first time you met being like two cats fighting.

It was the way he always had to be right which just rubbed you the wrong way. Yeah you liked to prove points and make powerful statements but you didn’t make that your whole personality. It was like he lived to cut you off mid sentence just to see you practically blow steam out of your ears.

However being one to never back down, you had to match his energy and mess with him back. It started off simple with little office nuisances like hiding his pens or taking out all the staples in his stapler. But as he caught on, the snarky remarks on his side increased. And you couldn’t let that slide. So you had to up the antics, anything to wipe the stupid smirk off his face.

Everyday you woke up with a mental list on how to piss him off. Sometimes you’d help JJ pass out the files for the day and right when you’d get to Spencer you would lick you thumb to sort out the individual paper knowing about his germaphobic ways. You’d sit in your seat smirking to yourself as he scowled trying not to touch the contaminated edge.

Petty tactics soon turned into heated arguments about the smallest things. Like who was able to call shotgun to drive with Morgan, which usually ended with Hotch making you both sit in the backseat like grounded teenagers. You felt bad for the increasing lines on his forehead you knew the both of you caused. But it was never your fault, Spencer started it so you had to finish it.

Today was no different. You had flown out to a case in California. During the flight the younger members sat in the four seats facing each other with Spencer sitting on the couch in front of it, while Hotch and Rossi sat in the seats towards the back discussing Jack’s soccer team.

“Last time I was in L.A. was for spring break in college. I met a pretty girl, had some fun. I wonder what she’s up to,” Emily said casually.

Morgan extended his fist for her to bump then spoke out, “Pretty Ricky over here had some lovin the last time we were here too,” he said ruffling Spencer’s hair. He scrunched his nose trying to tame the brown locks which now reached his shoulders.

JJ spoke up from digging into her bag of cheetos, “Yeah, Lila right? Did anything ever happen after?”

Spencer cleared his throat before speaking up, “N-nothing happened after we kissed. I saw her again and that’s it.”

You picked up your head from resting on Emily’s shoulder, “What couldn’t get it up genius?” you snickered. The girls made noises of disgust while you and Morgan laughed.

“For someone so hot that was certainly cold mama,” he said shaking his head.

You looked over to see Spencer glaring at you, his brown eyes turned into little slits, to which you smiled and closed your eyes sleeping on Emily’s shoulder for the remainder of the flight.

It had been three days since the case had started. You were dealing with someone who was killing older women, obviously surrogates for a maternal figure or lack of. With Penelope’s expertise you were able to find who it was but now you needed the reason behind it. The rest of the team was out searching his house and job, which he hasn’t visited for the past month. Hotch had made you and Spencer stay back to look at victimology and dig deeper with Garcia to find something about his life.

Safe to say you guys were not seeing eye to eye about the unsubs motive. While you believed he was killing them because of his mother’s absence in his childhood, Spencer came to the conclusion that it was because she was too controlling over his life and manipulated him. You had both approached Hotch and he sided with Spencer on this. You couldn’t help but shoulder check him as you walked out of the conference room.

After that, the last part was to catch the unsub which you were all involved in the take down. Luckily it went by smooth as Derek was able to deescalate the situation. It was late at night and the team decided to wait and fly back in the morning. Having one last night in the hotel you decided to get a few snacks from the tiny pantry that was in a room around the corner from yours and watch a movie before bed.

While you were bent over picking out some chips you heard the door open and footsteps approaching. You quickly got up and started apologizing for being in the way until you saw who it was.

“Oh it’s just you,” you said rolling your eyes and looking back at the snacks.

He scoffed before responding, “Listen Y/n I know you’re mad Hotch sided with me instead of you but at least be a little mature.”

You stood up pointing your finger at chest, “Listen Spencer,” you said mocking his words, “I know you’re a submissive little bitch who lives for approval, so why don’t you go suck Hotch’s dick some more and leave me alone.”

You were about to turn around again when his hand grabbed you by the wrist you had pointing at him. He pulled you to his chest, leaning down so your faces were inches apart.

“I dare you to say that again.”

You gulped as he spoke. You had never been this close to him. You could feel his breath on your face as you inhaled the scent of his sweater. Peppermint. Your eyes trailed from his wet pink lips up to his caramel eyes which were boring into yours. You didn’t know how much time passed until he spoke again.

“Who’s the submissive little bitch now,” he said emphasizing by switching his grip. His hand let your arm go and instead found its place in the back of your head, cocking you back by your hair to strain your neck to look up at him. You let out a whimper at the pain cursing in your scalp.

You looked up at him with wide eyes. Your breathing was getting heavy and he wasn’t even doing anything. Of course he noticed much to your dismay.

“Oh don��t tell me this is turning you on,” he cooed lowly.

You sucked in a breath, trying to rub your thighs together in search of friction. He looked down and saw you shifting your weight on your feet, an evil smile on his face.

“I bet you’re just soaking through those little pajama shorts,” he said leaning to whisper in your ear. His unoccupied hand drifted down between your legs, rubbing on your clothed heat. You nodded as you huffed out a sigh.

“Tell me what you want.”

You could feel your face get hotter than it already was. Your throat was dry from the anticipation building up, “I want you Spencer.”

“I know you can do better than that sweetheart.”

You almost moaned at the name. It took everything in you to muster up the courage to ask him such a lewd request.

“I want you to fuck me Spencer,” you all but whined, “I want it so bad. Please! Make it hurt sir.”

With that he let go of your hair and stepped away as if nothing happened. He looked you up and down, taking in how disheveled you looked.

“Go to your room and wait for me at the edge of the bed with nothing on. Leave the door open so I can get in. You have 5 minutes.” With that he turned on his heel and left.

You were gaping like a fish for a while until his words sunk in you dropped the snacks in your hands and speed walked into your room. You chucked off your slippers in a corner and peeled off your sweater and shorts. You were about to remove your bra when he walked in and closed the door, making sure the ‘do not disturb’ sign was on the handle.

He strode over to where you were you kneeling. He grabbed your jaw in his hand while the other went to his belt.

“I thought I told you I didn’t want to see a single fucking piece of clothing on you.”

“I’m sorry sir,” you tried to whimper out.

“Sorry isn’t gonna cut it. You wanted me to make you hurt? I’ll make it hurt princess.” You knew he was a man of his word. And that was a promise he was going to make sure he followed through on.

“Bend over the bed.”

You got up quickly not trying to further anger him. You debated turning around to look back at him. The sound of clothes dropping to the floor had you shaking in anticipation.

He approached you placing one hand in the center of your back, making you instinctively arch it, your clearly soaked panties on display for him to see. He had his belt in his other hand which he trailed on your behind. You weren’t ready for the blow. The surprise impact made you let out a moan.

“Fuck Spencer,” you mewled.

You heard the belt whizz in the air before you felt the impact, “Who?”

“Sir! Please fuck me already,” you basically sobbed out.

He dropped the belt and hooked his fingers into your panties, tugging them down hastily, “Yeah say it louder. Let the whole floor know who makes you such a fucking mess. Who’s slut are you?”

His hands dipped into your folds gathering you dripping essence before spreading it around and teasing your entrance with his finger.

“You, sir! I’m your slutty mess,” you could feel the tears starting to slip past your eyes and he had barley spanked you.

You let out a whine of dissatisfaction when he removed his fingers. However just ask quickly you felt his throbbing cock line up with your soaking cunt. You could feel inch by inch as he slid in slowly. You hissed at the stretch and he let out a groan and silent curse. That was the only peace he have you before he started fucking you with a quick pace.

The moans were slipping out of your mouth but you tried to hide them by biting on the cotton sheets. Spencer was having none of it. He pulled your head up by your hair, using it as leverage as he rammed into you from behind.

“Such a greedy fucking cunt. Take my cock like the perfect fucking whore you are,” he gritted out. His harsh words lit you aflame. You swore you could cum from them alone.

“Harder sir fuck! I need it,” you were moaning in between sobs. He was hitting a spot you never knew you had inside you. You knew no matter how hard you tried to replicate it later, nothing could compare.

Without slowing his pace he lifted one of your legs onto the bed. Your knee was digging into the sheets as he kept his bruising pace. You wanted faster so he complied. You could feel the marks forming on your hip where he was holding onto you.

You knew there would be a noise complaint sent to your room. The sound of skin slapping and your desperate moans bounced off the walls. However Spencer wasn’t quiet himself, the groans he let out behind you were driving you mad.

He could feel your walls clenching on his cock. The hand on your hair shifted to your throat as he started to add pressure. Broken moans were having a hard time slipping out of your lips.

“That’s it princess. You wanna cum for me?”

You tried nodding the best you could letting out a broken “Please”. He let up the pressure on your throat, letting you take in air.

“Please,” he mocked how desperate you sounded and laughed, “be my good little slut and cum all over my cock.”

His hand slipped down to your aching clit rubbing quick circles. With a few more thrusts of his length perfectly hitting your cervix you came. The breath was taken out of your lungs. You trembled as he continued to search for his release, stars prickling behind your eyes. He never let up on your clit. The overstimulation quickly building up a second orgasm.

“Sir I ca-can’t take it,” your hand reaching back to try and stop his thrusts. You knew you could. You were drowning in the waves of pleasure crashing over you.

“You can and you will,” he said pinning your hand behind your back. You trembled as you came for a second time. You let out moans of his name and curses, which triggered his release.

He stilled his movements, spilling his warm seed inside your aching cunt. He stayed there for a minute as you both caught your breathes. You sighed at the loss as he pulled out. You could feel your mixed release dripping down your thighs.

He reached down to grab his boxers and pulled them up. You felt him walk away for a minute then return with a damp towel to clean you up.

“Can you stand?” he asked and you nodded pushing yourself up to avoid adding pressure on your surely red behind.

While he helped you pull on a tshirt you heard a knock on the door.

“We will talk about this tomorrow agents.”

Fuck. You shared a look of wide eyes before groaning. That was going to be an interesting conversation.

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds smut #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #mgg smut #mgg x reader #matthew gray gubler smut #matthew gray gubler x reader #chellewrites

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sup-hoes-its-me · 3 years

Text

Adore You (Yamato x Reader)

A/N: hi guys. Yamato is your secret admirer and you are desperate to find out who's been leaving all these gifts at your doorstep. Civilian reader. Will be two parts, and since i just found out i have the coronavirus and cant leave the house, i’ll be putting out the second part very soon.

Ps i headcanon that yamato would be very shy and awkward with his crush. i also think that when he is nervous he definitely has really sweaty hands. idk thats just the vibe i get from him lol. please enjoy.

Word count: 4500

Y/N walked down the street after a long day of working in the bakery, kneading dough and icing cakes and sweets. It was a great job, and she really enjoyed the company of the two elderly owners. In her arms was another small picnic basket filled with sourdoughs and garlic loaves and cinnamon raisin buns. Those leftovers served as her breakfast, lunch, and dinner most days and it saved a lot of money on groceries.

Sometimes, she gifted the bread to friends and family though, like tonight.

As she walked the bustling streets, people walking home from work for the night, she noticed a couple of familiar faces sitting in the windows of a nearby restaurant. Feeling a little social, she walked into the restaurant and turned the corner, walking through the tables and past other booths full of people talking and drinking. It was busy tonight in Konoha, everyone getting ready for the weekend.

She came to a stop beside their table, and shifted so her basket rested in the slight curve of her hip. With her free hand she waved to the men, a small smile gracing her lips.

“Kakashi, Yamato,” she chirped, “I saw you guys in the window on my way home from work and thought I’d stop in to say hello.”

“Y/N. What a pleasant surprise.” Kakashi hummed, peering over his glass of golden liquid at his friend, who he could tell was struggling to figure out what to say or do. Yamato wasn’t normally nervous; he was very cool headed. How else would he become such an important Anbu member? But around Y/N, this woman with flour dusted in her hair and the smell of cinnamon and chocolate on her clothes, he crumbled. Just that smell alone could make Yamato lose his composure. And Kakashi knew that very well. “As a matter of fact, we were just talking about you.”

Yamato coughed on his drink, covering his mouth with his arm to keep from spitting up on the table. Even if they were just talking about her, it was completely uncalled for for Kakashi to stab him in the back like that. He turned to face the young woman who looked down at him with curiosity in her eyes.

“Really? What about?” she questioned, raising a brow.

He averted his eyes to the table again where his hand rested clutching at the glass. “We were just discussing the bakery,” he explained sheepishly, a hand going to rub the back of his neck. He felt the stress coming on, and sweat was beginning to gather on his palms. He felt ill, and more importantly, upset with the friend sitting directly across from him, smirking under that damn mask.

What an evil bastard.

“Mind if I join you guys? I could definitely use a drink.” She motioned to the seat next to Yamato, and he scooted closer to the wall to make room for her. She made sure her basket was sealed and secure before reaching over the table to Kakashi. “Can you sit this next to you? I don’t wanna take up the whole table.”

“No problem.”

She slid into the seat beside Yamato, and he realized just how small their table really was. The chair was clearly made for one person, or maybe two small people. They were just inches away. He could literally feel the heat of her thigh beside his. He was losing his mind, he was sure of it. There was absolutely no reason to act or think this way just because of a woman, a little baker from the village. No reason. It was inappropriate.

He took a deep breath and sipped on his drink. Everything was cool. Y/N L/N was cool.

“What kind of goods are you bringing home tonight?” Yamato asked calmly.

“Uh, lets see. A sourdough loaf and a garlic rosemary loaf. Also, I have about eight cinnamon buns in there,” she listed off the top of her head, “Why? You wanna take some home with you, because that’s fine. I’m not gonna eat all of it.”

“No, not this time.”

“You, Kakashi?”

“Yeah, I’ll take whatever.” It was a free meal for the next day? How could he say no to that?

The waitress came around, and Y/N ordered a tall glass of some sweet drink, something she knew wouldn’t taste like shit but would get her all warm and cozy quick, fruit juice covering up the taste of poison. “So, what were you guys talking about before I came around? I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“It’s good you came around, actually. We could use a woman’s opinion here.” Yamato glared at Kakashi, pleading with everything he had for the copy nin to just leave it alone. Kakashi was set in his goals though, and pushed forward with what he was saying. “It’s about Tenzo.”

An even brighter smile grew on her lips, one full of mischief and curiosity. “Oohoho? I see. What’s got you men stuck?” She loved to gossip, it was just something so interesting in her mundane life. Surely, it wasn’t as interesting to shinobi who almost die all the time and always have something to do, but for a village girl who goes home every night to read and eat bread, and then go to work where she just makes and sells said bread, a bit of juicy personal information really intrigued her.

“It’s honestly not a big deal-”

“Our boy here, he’s got a crush.”

Her eyes widened and suddenly, she felt the urge to down even more of her drink. He was interested in someone? She never expected that. He was always so quiet and calm, and kept to himself. He didn’t seem like the type to ever care about someone in that way. She sighed, taking a long sip on her drink, which tasted like peaches and oranges. At least it was sweet enough to help her curb the impending sadness.

Maybe she was stupid for it, but she cared for Yamato. He was such a sweet and kind man, so earnest and gentle. He was everything good about her mornings, when he would walk in and ask for the same hot cross bun to start his day. He would smile and compliment the cake decorating she was working on, and tell her about his missions and what he had to do for the day.

Perhaps Y/N had the tiniest of crushes on Yamato. It was something she would never reveal to anyone else, but it was true. She couldn’t deny herself that fact.

Kakashi stared at the woman, gauging her reaction to the statement. From the way she immediately went to sip away half of the drink in her glass, and the way her shoulders curled in on themselves, he could guess how she was feeling. He wasn’t usually a fan of meddling in other people’s business, but he was beginning to feel tired of Yamato complaining day in and day out about how he could never get the girl or express his feelings. He was afraid of rejection, as sad as that might be.

He was just there to give them a push in the right direction.

“I see.”

“What do you think he should do? What do the civilian girls like?”

This crush was just another civilian. It would be one thing if he fell in love with a kunoichi, someone she would never be able to compete with, but the thought of him choosing another normal woman over her, the envy practically oozed from her pores. What did this other girl have that Y/N didn’t?

Y/N ordered another drink when the waitress walked by. And then another after she drank the second one. Might as well get more down and drown out these jealous thoughts.

Meanwhile, she listed off things that random women normally like when men do for them, things she didn't really care about like chocolates and asking them out to dinner and giving them stuffed animals. Boring things. Things they all already knew. Kakashi agreed that the advice was kinda bland, and he could have come up with that easily.

Yamato eyed her down nervously as she practically chugged the rest of her drink. The woman wasn’t a big drinker, just a couple innocent cocktails here or there, never with the intention of getting drunk.

“You okay, Y/N?”

“Yes, I’m perfectly fine,” she told him smoothly. “Anyway, I’m not done telling you all about us village girls.”

The third drink came by and she sighed, taking another long sip. At least it tasted good, that made it easy to drink and drink and drink.

“Maybe you should slow down.”

“Maybe you should worry about yourself. I’m grown. I can handle myself, Yamato.” He felt a pang in his chest at her sharp words, ones that he’d never really heard directed toward him. She scolded Kakashi on the daily for being a pervert, but only kind words met Yamato’s ears previously. “Anyway, about this girl. Have you tried getting her anything as a gift? The things I listed before? Love notes? That sorta thing?”

He shook his head. “Well, no. I haven’t tried anything yet.”

“That’s the thing about you, Tenzo. You’re so modest. If you want the girl, you need to go in and get her. You need to show her what she means to you, since you can’t bring yourself to just outright tell her.”

“The whole bold displays of affection aren’t my thing.”

She hummed, her head lolling from side to side as she twirled the straw of her drink in between her fingers. “Maybe you should try some roundabout approach since you’re so scared of rejection. Send her anonymous letters and gifts, give her little clues that it’s you and see how she reacts.”

“Like a secret admirer?"

“Exactly! That’s sooo romantic. I wish some guy would do that shit for me.”

Kakashi raised a brow. “Oh, really?”

“Of course. I’m almost 27 and I’ve never had a long lasting relationship. I just want some guy to really, I don’t know, just love me. Love who I am, not hook up with me for my body or-or only pretend to like me for coupons on bread,” she complained, quite loudly as well. “Fuck those guys and their bread discounts...”

“Y/N-”

“I’d suggest you do something like that for your crush. Make her feel like you really care about her mind and soul.” Y/N clutched her hand over her heart and squeezed the front of her dress. “So many men nowadays act like horny teenagers, and us ladies are sick of it.”

She really did not need to go into such detail, and Yamato could tell she was drinking too much. Y/N would never say these things aloud if she were completely in her right mind. He felt rude just sitting there letting her rant on and on, exposing her own feelings to the table. But at the same time, he was grateful to know what she wanted in a lover. She never really let on what her romantic life was like, other than single for the most part.

That is what he and Kakashi were discussing before she came around. He was desperate to sweep her off her feet and woo her, to make revealing his feelings easier. Kakashi told him to just go to the bakery and tell her right then and there, but that was just too bold. He wasn’t going to go in without a plan, it was irrational.

“Yamato, I’m telling you, if this woman rejects you, she’s fucking stupid. You’re a catch. You and Kashi over there, both of you could get any woman you want, and that’s a fact.” the woman waved her hand to emphasize her point, only to knock the rest of her fourth drink over into her lap, sticky syrup soaking into her apron and through to her skirt. “Oh man.”

“I think it’s time for you to head home, little miss Y/N,” Kakashi chimed in, “This is exactly why we don’t bring you to bars, you know.”

“Shush. I am fine.”

Yamato sighed, motioning with his hands for her to move to the edge of the seat. He rolled his eyes at her words, knowing she was talking out the ass. “Yeah, yeah. Just get up, Y/N. I’m taking you home.”

Both men were surprised when she lifted her hand and pushed him away from her. Her glare was intense, anger behind those eyes. “No! Not you. I want Kakashi to walk me home.” The man was taken aback by the harshness in her tone. She was normally calm tempered, but her head was spinning and she was obviously growing moody.

“That’s fine by me. Yamato, you’ll pick up the bill for us and uh, clean this mess, right?” Kakashi smirked as he slid out from the booth and picked up her bag of baked goods. She followed suit, climbing out of her seat and grabbing onto the shinobi’s arm tightly. He really couldn’t care any less about her nonsense. It had been so long since they became friends, he’d seen her in every mood imaginable, and much drunker than this. He’s walked her home more than a few times in their past years.

“Curse you, cheap-ass.”

“Gotta go.”

With that, the white haired man walked out the restaurant with a woman in tow. They lived in the same direction, so he started down the street as she stumbled after him, tripping occasionally on pebbles. He felt bad for his friend, really. But the answer was clear as day now. Y/N cared for Yamato a lot more than she let on. It was just up to one of them to make a move. He couldn't do everything for them.

She tripped along beside him, letting her head fall against his shoulder a few times. Her eyes slid up to the man’s masked face, and he felt her hands begin to quiver a bit around his arm, just a tiny bit, but it was still there. Those little, very-telling, tremors.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” he asked gently, knowing she would immediately spill whatever was stuck on her mind.

“Kashi, why does Tenzo want some other village girl?” she questioned, her cheeks puffing out and her eyes getting watery with tears. “Why doesn’t he want me? I want him so badly, it hurts right here.” she placed her free hand over her stomach and gagged. “I might throw up, it hurts so much.”

“Trust me, it’s gonna be okay,” he hushed, a tiny smile on his lips. He didn’t want to reveal too much to her, but it was just so amusing pulling the strings like this. Two of his friends, one a subordinate and the other a sneaky baker, falling for each other right in front of him. With all the work piling up, this was definitely a refreshing take.

“Also, you shouldn't throw up. It'll burn your throat, you know.”

She nodded, and just clutched onto her stomach as they made their way down the narrow alleyways toward her small apartment. He unlocked the door for her when she struggled to fit the key into the tiny hole that blurred together with everything else. He was a good friend, she thought, and made a mental note to thank him next time she saw him. Well, she tried to make a mental note, but when her body hit the mattress in the corner of her small studio, she found herself drifting away.

__________

God, her head hurt so badly she thought her skull was cracking open right then and there, as she lifted her head from her pillow. Light shined in through the window only to make things worse than before. She looked around the room and noticed that her coat was hung up properly on the hook and her shoes were sitting by the door. Her basket rested atop her counter.

Most importantly, on her nightstand sat a glass of water and a couple pills, ready for her to take the moment she woke up. Kakashi or Yamato must have walked her home and put her to bed. They were very nice men, she enjoyed having them as friends, she just worried she had made a drunken fool of herself last night in front of them. She rarely drank heavily, for that reason. She couldn’t even remember what happened, just that she met them at the restaurant and then the rest fell empty in her mind, little images blending together until she couldn’t decipher a thing that happened. She was more than ashamed.

How could she lose control of herself so casually, she wondered. She never even wanted to drink, much less enough to give her this searing headache. Something must have happened last night that influenced her decisions. Maybe she had a drinking contest with Kakashi like that one time before. If so, that was completely uncalled for on the man’s part. He knew her tolerance.

Nevertheless, she needed to get ready for work. A hangover wasn’t enough to heed the workings of the bakery.

She took the pills, and threw off her covers, walking over to her counter to take out one of the cinnamon rolls, taking a big bite to curb her hunger pains. After taking a moment to compose herself, she got ready for work. If she was late, she knew the owners would be forgiving, but she still felt bad regardless. She was going to walk in looking like a complete disaster.

As she headed out her door that morning, she stumbled on something sitting right at the foot of her doorstep on the welcome mat. Resting there, in a tiny little ceramic pot, stood a bonsai tree, trimmed and cared for perfectly. Her eyes scanned the area for who could have set it there, but met only empty space.

Hesitantly, she picked it up and brought it into her home. There was no note attached, nothing to signal who’d given it to her. Just a little tree that she would put on her window sill. It was strange, she had to admit that, to receive an anonymous gift at such an hour. She’d have to ask her friends about it later on to see if one of them had given it to her, for reasons she didn’t know.

But as the days went by, and those days turned into weeks, she continued to receive gifts every few days. More tiny trees in pots, sometimes flowers in little glass vases. None of them at first had anything attached until the most recent piece which when she picked it up to take into her home, a folded piece of paper sat beneath the vase. She made sure to pick it and put it in her apron to read on her break when she went to work. She didn’t have the time when she woke up only about 20 minutes before she was due at her job.

She was more than grateful for the little garden she was accumulating on her window sill, the beautiful flowers and trees somehow surviving despite her little knowledge of taking care of them. She stopped by a flower store in town to get some fertilizer just to keep them alive. It would be a shame if they died since someone was being so kind as to give them to her.

With her boring life, the flowers brought a smile to her face and a warmth in her heart that she hadn’t felt before. Regardless of who was leaving the items there, she felt like she was important to someone. Some person was taking time out of their day to show they cared about her.

Truthfully, she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t wished it was Yamato leaving her gifts. She’d been attracted to the man for quite some time, ever since they met really. He was just so strong and brave, and awkward in a cute kind of way. He was truly the only man of her affections, and she could only dream she was the object of his as well.

It was more than unlikely though. He was a strong ninja of the leaf. The chances of someone that amazing wanting to be with someone as simple as the town baker were lower than she wanted to admit. He most likely had his eyes set on some gorgeous kunoichi like Shizune or Kurenai. Someone he could relate to, really.

It was embarrassing to even admit she had a crush on him. It made her feel so tiny and weak, knowing that she wasn’t his ideal.

So she pushed that thought from her mind. Yamato would never be interested in her, and he most certainly not the one leaving her little notes and plants.

What she did know was that this person was a shinobi. Maybe not Yamato, but they were definitely a shinobi. She set up a trap, at least one she thought a normal person would fall for. Right before her door, she set up a tiny trip wire made of floss at the perfect level for someone to pull loose when they walked up to leave a gift on her welcome mat. Her room was at the very end of the hallway, so there was no way anyone else except her secret admirer was the one to set off the trap. Any normal person without the high perception of a shinobi would set off the trap and she would be able to narrow down the results to a civilian.

Only, the morning after she set up the trip wire, when she opened her door, there sat another bouquet of flowers, as well as an untripped strip of floss.

This person had to be a shinobi. She concluded. It was the only explanation in her mind, desperate to find out who the mystery person was all this time.

As she walked the streets that afternoon after the store had closed, her eyes honed in on Yamato, who stood next to a vegetable stand picking up some groceries. Immediately, she turned on her heel and cornered him between the squash and the sweet potatoes.

“Yamato, I need to talk to you. It’s urgent. Do you mind?” she practically demanded, and his eyes widened. He did not expect such an abrupt conversation between them. He shifted awkwardly to rest his grocery bag in the crook of his elbow and lean on his left side, arms crossed over his chest.

He knew what she wanted to talk about. It was about those gifts that he had been giving her. It was just a matter of whether she had figured out it was him or not, that was the question. He was kinda hoping she didn’t know yet. He was not ready to face what came after the reveal, rejection or otherwise. He really hadn’t thought it that far out yet. How could he. Just thinking up love notes and what plants to give her next was more than enough to worry about.

But damn, when he looked down at her, hair dusted with flour from a days work, a smudge of cake batter still on her forearm, apron a complete mess, he wanted to cave and tell her everything. She was just so beautiful, so clumsily perfect he couldn’t help but lose his train of thought. He swore he’d never seen a woman more perfect than her, not even Naruto’s sexy jutsu could come close to this girl.

He found his ears heating up and no doubt turning red at the thoughts running through his mind, and he was quick to smother them down. He was not irrationally emotional. Hell, he was ANBU, he should be able to control his emotions down to a tee.

“Yes, Y/N?”

“I have a secret admirer, and I know they are a shinobi.”

He felt himself growing nervous. How had she deduced that? “Ah, that’s definitely exciting for you. How do you know it’s a shinobi?”

“I know because I set up a tripwire last night and the person didn’t set it off, so I know they are coordinated enough to avoid it. This isn’t just some random village boy. This is someone skilled.”

“Y/N, he could have very well just avoided the trap with his natural gait, don’t you think?” he tried to reason with her, try to get her off his trail. Admittedly, he thought she was quite clever for setting up the trap. When he walked over it the night before, he swore it was just a spider web. He didn’t even consider the possibility of a trap in his way.

If only he could throw her off his scent. He needed more time. He couldn’t confess to her now. It was too abrupt, too sudden. He would probably die.

“No, I’m convinced it’s a shinobi.”

Shit. “Well, what are you going to do now?”

She thought for a short moment on what she was going to say, tapping her foot on the ground beside her. Her eyes widened and she smiled at the thought that ran through her mind. Of course, it was so obvious. “The gifts come sporadically, so I know that the shinobi can’t leave gifts when they are on missions. Next time there is a long break in gifts, I will just ask around to figure out who has been on a mission for a while. Bam, I’ve got my answer. It’s foolproof.”

She really had thought this through more than him. She was too good, and he felt himself panicking. He had a weeklong mission in 3 days, and if she asked anyone, they would tell her it was him. He felt moisture gather up at his brow, and he internally cursed his situation. He had to find some way out of this mess without her figuring out it was him.

“Yeah, that could definitely work. I hope it all works out for you, Y/N,” he lied through his teeth.

“I know. I’m just smart like that, aren’t I?”

“You sure are,” he muttered, but honestly, he just wanted to go off and find Kakashi. He needed to talk to him. His eyes slid away from Y/N and he sighed. “I’ve got to go, but I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“Yeah, of course. Don’t forget to stop by before your next mission to get some of our special food pills, okay? I just made a new batch and you can try them free of charge. Anything for a fella as handsome as yourself.” She laughed, shifting her weight to press a hand to her hip.

Jeez. There was no good reason for her looking so adorable. Calling him handsome as well? It was all too much for his heart to handle. Needless to say, he felt like he was going to explode if he didn’t walk away right then. With that, he simply nodded before patting her shoulder. “Like I said, gotta go.”

“Oh, okay. See you around.”

“See you.”

He walked away quickly, heading in the direction of Kakashi’s apartment, knowing he just had to do something about the mess he was currently in, and ways to avoid the inevitable. His heart was racing so fast he thought he might be having a heart attack. How could he be swayed so easily by a pretty face. He had no idea, but he really wanted it to stop. For the sake of his sanity, he needed to learn to be calm around her.

He would tell her soon, get all this off his chest and share his true feelings. He just needed a bit more time.

#yamato tenzo #yamato x reader #naruto x reader #naruto one shot #yamato one shot #naruto imagines #tenzo #naruto #naruto shippuden #sorry for getting this out so late i was so tired from my new accelerated geography class i almost died #but here we are #my sick ass will have the second one out probably tmr night maybe sunday morning #yamato imagine

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giowritess · 4 years

Text

— prompt & trope list —

p r o m p t & trope l i s t — m a s t e r l i s t

— under the cut you have a compilation of prompts and tropes I’ve created and found here on Tumblr and internet.

— don’t forget to check my fandoms post to see who and what I write for!

TROPES

1. Christmas

2. New Year

3. Valentine’s Day

4. Mother’s Day

5. Father’s Day

6. Wedding

7. Arranged marriage

8. Babysitter

9. Coffee shop

10. Book store

11. Fake dating/marriage

12. Forbidden love

13. Pet store

14. Parent

15. Teacher

16. Flower shop

17. Locked in a room

18. Bed sharing

19. Stranded due to weather

20. Next door neighbors

21. Bakery

FLUFF/GENERAL/ROMANCE

1. You seem like a bad boy/girl/person type. 2. Oh my god, did you just say that out loud? 3. You expecting someone? 4.Do you need a place to stay for tonight? 5. Look at us, we’re basically a couple already. 6. Compliments won’t pay my drinks. 7. Maybe, just maybe, if I get a free drink I might consider talking to you. 8. That won’t work. Try again. 9. You couldn’t handle me even if I came with instructions. 10. Do you trust me? 11. Can I kiss you? 12. It’s lonely here without you. 13. Is that my shirt? 14. You own my heart. 15. We’re more than friends and you know it! 16. I don’t wanna sleep alone tonight. 17. It was you the whole time. 18. I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending they’re you. 19. I’m not going anywhere. 20. You make me want things I can’t have. 21. Steal the blankets again and I’ll put my cold feet on you. 22. You’re in love with her. 23. I don’t know if I want to kiss you or shove you off a bridge. 24. Are you even listening to me?! 25. I didn’t think you could get any less romantic. 26. You make everyday worth living. 27. You’ve shown me what love feels like. 28. You’ve always felt like home. 29. I can’t imagine a world/life without you. 30. I am home. 31. I’m right where I belong. 32. Can’t you stay a little longer? 33. You’re the only one I wanna wake up next to. 34. You make me want to be better. 35. I think I’m in love with you, and that scares the crap out of me. 36. I think you’re just afraid to be happy. 37. Why haven’t you kissed me already? 38. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. 39. I can’t stay away from you. 40. I’m better when I’m with you. 41. I tried my best not to feel anything for you, but I failed. 42. I don’t want to be alone right now. 43. I don’t trust myself around you. 44. I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me before. 45. Can we just lie here for a moment? 46. I’ve never hated you. You just... make me feel things I don’t understand. 47. If you don’t tell me to stop, I’m going to kiss you. 48. I could get used to waking up next to you, actually. 49. Please, don’t cry. I can’t stand to see you cry. 50. You’re a terrible liar. 51. You’re the only person I want to be with tonight. 52. You’re not going anywhere. 53. You were always good for me. 54. You’re more than just a one night stand. 55. I’ve been falling in love with you since the first day we met.

ANGST & SAD

1. I can’t stand the thought of you. 2. Don’t fuck this up. 3. How stupid do you think I am? 4. You broke my heart and all you can say is sorry? 5. Don’t you dare to leave me. Not now. 6. I’m dying. There’s nothing you can do about it. 7. I’m not gonna lie. This isn’t how I planned for this to go down. 8. I can’t do the things you do. 9. I might never get another chance to say this. 10. Tell me I’m wrong. 11. How much of that did you hear? 12. I thought I could trust you. 13. Are you just going to leave me here? 14. Don’t. I don’t have to hear your pathetic excuses anymore. 15. You knew about this all along, didn’t you? 16. I still believe there’s a good person in you. 17. It was necessary. 18. I’m sorry this had to go down like this. 19. What the hell is wrong with you?! 20. Is that how little you think of me? 21. I’m too sober for this shit. 22. It’s not that easy. 23. You’re more than that. 24. She’s hot, but she’s evil. 25. Well, behaved women rarely make history, do they? 26. That’s not what I meant and you know it. 27. I have to tell you something. 28. Why am I not surprised? 29. She’s not yours. 30. There’s no us. There never was. 31. I made a mistake. 32. Please, don’t walk out that door. 33. When were you going to tell me? 34. The worst thing is, that even after all of that, I’m still in love with you. 35. Would you just shut up and listen to me for two goddamn seconds? 36. If i asked you to stay, would you? 37. I don’t know who you are anymore. 38. I trusted you. 39. Hang on. You’re gonna be okay. Keep breathing. 40. You crossed a line. 41. There’s no turning back from this. 42. I needed you, and you weren’t there.

SMUT — 18+

1. Don’t make me take you home and punish you. 2. I’ve never wanted anyone to fuck me this badly. 3. You’re more than just a one night stand. 4. Like what you see? 5. Try to stay quiet, understand? 6. We’re in public, you know. 7. I really don’t care. You still look hot and i’m trying not to kiss/fuck you senseless right now. 8. Are you sure? Once we start, i might not be able to stop. 9. Make me. 10. Stop teasing me so much. 11. You’re in trouble now. 12. First one to make a noise loses. 13. Mine. 14. Behave. 15. What did you just say? 16. Come here. 17. Watch me. 18. If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god. 19. If you insist. 20. Could he make you feel as good as i do? 21. You make a sound and its game over. 22. If i have to stop what i’m doing, you wont be able to walk for the next week. 23. I haven’t even touched you and you’re already this wet. 24. C’mere, you can sit on my lap until i’m done working. 25. What? Does that feel good? 26. If we get caught i’m blaming you. 27. We have to be quiet. 28. Tell me again. 29. Say it. 30. If you don’t like my teasing, then why are you moaning? 31. I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever even met that asshole. 32. You better shut that pretty little mouth before i put it to work, doll. 33. I really want to kiss you right now. 34. Then do it. 35. You’re not taking me to bed. Ever. 36. Who said it had to be on the bed? 37. She may seem like lollipops and rainbows but i bet behind closed doors she’s latex and whips. 38. Ah, he’s playing hard-to-get. Thats cute. 39. Don’t fucking touch what is not yours. 40. I’m not sure if its a sexual thing or not. 41. There’s people here. 42. I don’t care what you do, just fuck me. 43. Fuck you. 44. I’m not going to touch you unless you beg. 45. You can’t tease me like that and expect not to be punished. 46. I’m gonna strangle you. 47. Is that a promise? 48. You look a bit tied up, want me to come back later? 49. Stop distracting me. 50. I know for a fact that you can be a hell of a lot louder than that. 51. Saddle up doll. 52. What are you doing in my bed?! 53. If you're going to act like a little brat then I'm going to treat you like a little brat. 54. You'd better be quiet or everyone's going to know what a naughty little slut you are. 55. Look at you, I've only started using my fingers and you're already shaking. 56. I can't wait to be on my knees for you later. 57. Oh honey, you know, you really shouldn't tease me. 58. If you keep making those sounds I'm not going to be able to stop myself. 59. Such a needy little thing, aren't you? 60. You better watch your fucking mouth. 61. I love the way you look with my fingers inside you. 62. Wanna see what I'm wearing underneath all this? 63. I wonder what your girlfriend/boyfriend would do if they knew what you were doing right now. 64. Do you know how beautiful you are? It's truly distracting. 65. If you leave the house wearing that then the second you get back home I'm going to bend you over that bed. 66. I'm gonna fuck you in front of the mirror, I want you to see how pretty you look when you're spreading your legs for me. 67. Let me show you what happens to little brats who don't follow the rules. 68. You know, there wasn't a single thing to eat in the kitchen until you walked in.

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psychedellic-phase · 4 years

Text

Sanctuary

A/N: i loved this fic request! Requests are always open :)

Summary: Reader is having a bad case of imposter syndrome, but luckily her boyfriend knows just how to help.

tw: none, pure fluff word count: 2.1k

masterlist

You sat at the kitchen table, head in your hands, staring at your laptop screen. It’s like it was taunting you, lines and lines of words and symbols mocking your inability to fix them. All you had to do was find the error in the code, a task you’ve done a million times. But this time it seemed utterly impossible. The software was due in two days and it was your first solo project and you wanted to impress everyone, finally prove your worth to the company. The pressure was on and it had to be perfect. You needed it to be perfect. But it wasn’t even close to perfect. In fact, every time you launched it, it crashed; leaving you to stare at your reflection in the screen, making you want to give up and cry.

You knew how to fix it, you always know how to fix it. You’re who everyone comes to to fix it, but you were too nervous to even begin typing. If you failed, you’d be proving everyone who doubted you right. The thought made you nauseous. You’d be proving that every misogynistic a-hole teacher you had in college who said ‘software isn’t a woman’s job’ to you right. All the men at the startup would chuckle at your failure and say something rude like ‘see? that’s what we get for letting a woman do the work.’ You’d be ruining the chances of any other woman who interviewed. Most of all you were terrified of failing and letting yourself down, letting everything you worked for go to waste. Maybe everyone was right; software isn’t a woman’s job. Deep down you knew you were being irrational, but the thoughts just wouldn’t stop.

You kept staring into the abyss of numbers and symbols, going through every letter in every line. Was it in HTML? JAVASCRIPT? Neither? Suddenly you couldn’t tell the difference.

“Y/N?” Your boyfriend said opening the front door of your shared apartment, “What are you doing up? It’s 1 am.”

You didn’t look up at Spencer, too fixated in trying to decipher your work to acknowledge him. How was it already 1 am? You’d been sitting there for hours and had done nothing.

Spencer waved his hand in front of your face, “Y/N?”

No response, you just stared into the code getting more and more hypnotized by it, entering some sort of strange trance.

“Y/N!” He said more forcefully this time, causing you to blink and look up at him.

“What?”

“What are you so stressed about?”

You broke eye contact then and brought your lower lip in between your teeth, “Stressed? I’m not stressed!”

A lie. A very obvious lie. Which Spencer knew, because reading you like a book was high on his never-ending list of talents.

“Really? You’re not stressed?” He sounded half amused.

You shook your head, “Nope, never been more calm in my life.”

He chuckled, “Then maybe you should stop chewing on your lip and lower your shoulders, they’re practically at your ears.” He moved behind you and pressed his hands against your shoulders, lowering them for you. He took his thumbs and rubbed the knots that formed there, “Now, Angel, tell me, what are you so stressed about?”

Again, you didn’t answer. He thought he’d catch your attention by using your favorite term of endearment, but instead you just turned your attention back to the screen.

Spencer didn’t understand, he never would. If you google ‘genius’ a picture of Dr. Spencer Reid is what comes up. With an IQ of 187, the ability to read 20,000 words per minute, three doctorate degrees and three bachelors degrees all by the ripe old age of 30, there is quite literally nothing he can’t do. Except maybe ten push ups, he could probably get to 9. He was a child prodigy and CalTech graduate. You went to public school and a college with a 70% acceptance rate. He was recruited to the FBI at twenty-two. When you were the same age you were a college senior getting trashed at a different bar every Thirsty Thursday. He spends his work days catching killers and saving lives, and you spend yours typing away at a computer hoping something works out.

Being with him was simultaneously the best and worst thing for your self esteem. Sure he made you feel loved, appreciated, beautiful, important, but he also made you feel stupid. Not on purpose of course, it just seemed like he was better than you at everything, even the things you thought you were best at. Thank god he’s a technophobe, if he knew his way around a computer better than you that would be the last straw. Oftentimes you wondered why he even wanted to be with you when you so clearly were not on his level, and when there are so many people who are. He’s smart and handsome and could have his pick of the bunch, so why did he pick you?

“You know, 83% of workers in the US feel stressed out in their jobs, it’s totally normal. I’m stressed all the time at my job,” He said, trying to coax you out of the shell you crawled into. It didn’t work, instead you went through the lines of code again mumbling to yourself that it looked perfect, so what was wrong with it?

“Can I help? Let me see,” He asked. He didn’t wait for a response, and reached over to turn your laptop towards him.

“No!” You yelped, and snatched the laptop away from him. You couldn’t have him help you, you couldn’t let anyone help you. If anyone helped you then it wouldn’t be your achievement. This was one thing you had to do alone.

He sighed and put his hands up in defeat, “Alright alright, I know I’m not a computer whiz. I just want to help.”

“I don’t need your help,” You snapped, getting frustrated with him now. Why couldn’t he just let it go? Why did he always have to try and help? You knew the answer was because he loves you and wants to make you happy, but your judgement was too clouded to see that. You huffed out angrily, trying to suppress the hot, frustrated tears that were threatening to spill over.

Spencer slid into the chair next to you and gripped your shoulder, “Y/N...Ang—”

You turned to him and cut him off, “What? You think I can’t do this on my own? Don’t you?”

He just took the jab in his stride. “I know you can do it on your own,” he grabbed your hands from the keyboard and held them between his, forcing you to stop for a moment and just be with him.

“Talk to me.”

You waited a moment before conceding, “Okay fine, the software is due in two days and I’ve been working on it for weeks and it still isn’t perfect. Something is wrong with it and I can’t find it and if I can’t fix it then I’m just proving to everyone that I can’t handle this job and that I’m stupid and incapable of doing anything on my own and then I’ll get fired because there’s newer, smarter kids coming into tech everyday and all the men at work will never take another girl seriously again and then after I get fired and end up homeless you’ll realize that I’m actually stupid and useless and that you can do it wayyyy better than me an—”

“Woah slow down,” He interrupted your rambling. You were staring at the floor, hands still trapped between his two much larger ones rendering you useless. He let you go, hands coming up to your cheeks and forcing you to look at him. They were calloused but soft, and his eyes demanded your attention, darting all over your face to read your expression. He poked his tongue out of the right side of his mouth, the same way he has a hundred times. You softened a little into his touch.

“I think you have imposter syndrome.”

You pulled back, “What? Don’t you dare try to diagnose me or profile me Spencer Reid.”

He ignored you and started into his own ramble, much like the one you had just finished, “It’s a collection of feelings of inadequacy that persist despite evident success. 'Imposters' suffer from chronic self-doubt and a sense of intellectual fraudulence that override any feelings of success or external proof of their competence. It was first documented in the 70s by successful working women who felt like they had ‘fooled’ everyone into thinking they were intelligent.”

You looked at him even weirder now, your eyebrows scrunching together, “Oh?”

“It’s very common in the tech industry because of how fast paced it is.” He said it all so matter-of-factly.

“I-I don’t think so. That’s not me.”

“Think about it Y/N. It makes sense!”

It did. It made perfect sense. It explained the constant questioning and anxiety. It explained why you don’t ask for help or offer up an opinion at meetings. It explained why you had jumped from failing a project to being homeless like it was the natural progression of things. A ‘diagnosis’, if you even could call it that, should’ve made you feel better about everything, but it didn’t.

“I just feel like I don’t deserve anything I have. I-I don’t even know how I got here Spence! Like how did I manage to convince everyone that I’m talented enough to do this on my own!”

He let the words marinate between you. Then it all clicked in your head; you sounded exactly like those women in the 70s.

“You just proved my point, Angel.”

You glared at him, “Okay here’s another example. I don’t deserve you. You just got home from a long day of saving lives and being a genius crime fighting machine and instead of getting some damn sleep you have to console me because I’m over here crying like an idiot because some code won’t run.”

Spencer’s hand came under your chin, forcing you to look at him again, “You don’t know how much you do for me, do you?”

You just shook your head, genuinely not knowing what he meant.

He smiled, the corner of his mouth turning up just a little, “Yes I am a life-saving crime-fighting genius, but without you I wouldn’t be able to cope.”

“Really?” You sniffled.

“Yeah, Angel, really. I spend all day looking pure evil in the face, and without you to come home to and talk to I’d be trapped in my head all day, thinking of what I could’ve done better. You’re my safe space. Without you I’d probably go insane,” He tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

You smiled now. You believed him; Spencer isn’t one to lie, “And you’d have no social life.”

He laughed, “Hey! I’d have a social life.”

“Who? Henry and Jack?”

He laughed, “You’re right, I’d have no social life.��

You stood up then and he followed suit. You threw your arms around his slender frame and nuzzled into the crook of his neck. Spencer’s shaggy brown hair tickled your cheek but you didn’t mind. All that mattered was his heartbeat and breathing. You were his sanctuary, and he was yours. When either one of you would dive head first into the deep end, the other would be waiting there to catch you. Tonight it was his turn.

And catch you he did, into a loving kiss, holding you close to him. When you pulled away he planted another kiss on your forehead and mumbled into your hair, “Trust me, you keep the internet world running. Without you we’d all be lost.”

You sighed and thanked him, happily sitting in front of the laptop now. All your fears had been pushed away. You knew they would resurface eventually, but right now it felt like you were unstoppable. With two simple corrections you tried to run the code and it worked perfectly.

“See!” He cheered, squeezing your shoulders again, “You deserve the world, Angel.”

You stood up and jumped into his arms for another hug, wrapping your legs around his waist, his arms holding you up.

“You may be a life-saving, crime-fighting genius Dr. Reid, but I am a bad-ass, intelligent, woman who codes at the top of a male dominated field.”

He smiled then, pride practically beaming out of him, “Well, I’d say we’re a perfect match.”

#spencer reid #spencer x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #fluff #reid #reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #request

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knight-queen · 3 years

Text

Lunatic Parade Azusa Mukami–(Chapter 3)

[O1] [O2] [O3] [O4] [Final] [Care for Vampire]

Place: Grimmer Main Street, Wagon Street

Yui: (For some reason, I was worrying because his behave was rather suspicious… however...)

Vampire Child B: Excuse me. Is there any bouquet of Gerbera here?

Flower Boy: Yes, there are! These are for presents and you need these kinds of flowers, right?

Yui: (Certainly, I have been depressed lately for everything we went through yesterday...but I think my prediction for him was wrong)

Azusa: Eve, I wonder if he’s hiding his real attitude…

Yui: Who knows...I have noticed that he’s behaving much more cheerful than yesterday...

Azusa: As expected...we better...accompany him...right?

Yui: Yeah, it’s important to search where Butler San is but...we just can’t leave him alone.

(What on the Earth shall we do…?)

Flower Boy: Thank you for your efforts. You can go for the bath right now if you prefer.

Yui: Um...but…

Flower Boy: Please, leave the shop to me! It’s because you were always giving a hand until now...

Today, the stall of Kebab will be released at the plaza and definitely look forward to that!

Azusa: ...

Yui: …kh...

Place: ディアマンテの泉 / Diamante Fountain

Yui: ...Haa…

Azusa: Eve...the kebab we get after a long wait...will get cold...

Yui: Oh, you are right.

Sorry. Even though we are having lunch only two of us together...I was making a gloomy expression.

Azusa: No...it couldn’t be helped…

The boy of that flower-shop...I am also confused about... what to do about him…

Yui: I think we will go crazy making a decision…

(Looks like the people who are having meals and conversations nearby are having fun and enjoying themselves...It’s only us who are not enjoying it at all.)

Yui: Huh…? Come to think...that woman?

(I am not sure whether she is that woman from earlier or not but, I am feeling like I’ve seen this woman before…)

Vampire Woman G: ―So, guess what? That guy was screaming, I think?

(I just want to see your smile. That is the only thing that makes me smile too. Won’t you let me meet you again?)

*Continuing conversations*

Vampire Woman: Right~? It’s making me to laugh...fufu!~

Vampire Woman C: Then? Did you bring him back after all, huh?

Vampire Woman G: No, I didn’t! I want to spoil him one more time!

He said, “If you follow me around like this, I will sue you like a stalker” ya’ know?

Vampire Woman C: Uwaa―… You also do rigorous things like him, afterall~...

Vampire Woman G: I did the right thing! That nonsense boy, he was playing around from the beginning.

Rather, I want him to think it like he is able to play with such a beautiful woman like me.

Yui: (Those women are having conversations about a man…...how cruel…!)

Azusa: Hey...they are talking about...the boy from the flower shop…?

Yui: Yes...it looks like so.

(Their talking’s already enough to make me hurt… moreover, they are having a conversation about him putting on such a smiling face...unforgivable… )

*Yui stands*

Azusa: Eve...why…? Standing up so suddenly…

Yui: Sorry, Azusa Kun. Me...I can’t tolerate this kind of gossiping about him…

Azusa: You can’t...If you want to tell them something...then I will go….

Yui: No, I will go.

*Yui starts walking*

Yui: Um...Can I say something....

Vampire Woman G: Haah? Who’s it, a lil’ girl. Hey, have we met before?

I don’t think I have met such a tiny woman before.

Yui: Are you talking about the boy from the flower shop?

Vampire Woman C: Fu!...Is this girl talking about your ex-boyfriend? Seriously~!

Yui: You are free to ignore your boyfriend’s feelings if you want to, don’t answer to him.

But, talking bad about him by laughing like that…! I don’t think it's a good thing to do…!

Vampire Woman G: Tch!...Annoying. Suddenly appearing out of nowhere and starting to grumble about this?

Won’t you disappear from our sight already? You are a disturbance.

Yui: Impossible…! Apologize to him!

Vampire G: I can’t apologize! It’s stupid to get easily melted just for receiving a little bit kindness from him.

Yui: ...ugh…

Vampire Woman G: What with those eyes? Do you still have any business?

I strongly hate justice minded women like you, ...ya’ know?

Good lil’ girl or whatever, just disappear from here―― AAH!!

Yui: (― I am gonna get hit?)

Azusa: You can’t...I won’t forgive them who will raise a hand pointing at her…

Yui: …!? Azusa kun…

Azusa: You withdraw and step back...I will manage to do something…

Yui: ―...Yes!

Vampire Woman G: You are planning to be “Knight-like”, huh? If it’s the case, then you are ultra super annoying than her!

Vampire Woman C: Two of us were just having fun chatting and you guys are just being troublesome. Why’s that?

Azusa: Your…way of talking was not fun…

Speaking about his feelings... like mud-painting...will turn out bad. That’s all.

Vampire Woman G: Haa? What are you saying? She’s the one who’s the most disturbance.

Vampire C: We meant we won’t withdraw! Do you know that all the complaints we have is about this little girl!

Azusa: I won't accept that.

Because... Yui san is my precious person…

It’s my responsibility to protect...the person I love...if she is facing with evil people

I think...the people who haven’t loved anyone before...won’t understand this spirit…

Vampire Woman G: What’s now...Every single one of you is just raising the facts about the boy that I have thrown away…!

Could it be...that you are just having objections to me because that guy asked you to do so?

Azusa: You are wrong...We are doing it for our own convenience…

He...used to love you...For this...he won’t want you to get hurt…

Same goes for you...you should also...consider to...accompany him more…

If you just continue to hurt others...someday...you will have to...face a critical situation…

Vampire Woman G: ...ugh…

Tch!...I got it. You don't have to say anything.

Vampire Woman C: Hey?...Are you sure?

Vampire Woman G: It’s ‘cuz, they have come here for bending for their own selfish reason. Plus, I am tired now.

Yui: Ah…!

Thank you so much!

Azusa: Yes...Thank you…

Vampire Woman G: .......

What are ya’ saying..? How stupid!?

Really you guys are stupid to go that far for that boy.

Azusa: That’s because...he is a nice person...as far I know…

Yui: We are showing our gratitude for him…

Vampire Woman G: Haa, let’s go.

I don’t want to breathe in the same air.

Vampire C: Isn’t it? Let’s go to our usual cafe~.

Yui: (Even though they don’t understand anything right now, but someday, they should come to realize his feelings.)

Thank you for helping me, Azusa kun.

Azusa: No, you don’t have to thank me...but…

By doing this...we can’t say that he will become...satisfied…

Yui: (Azusa kun…)

Don’t worry...I am sure that he will understand if you explain everything…

Azusa: I wonder…

Flower Boy: ....uuh..*Crying* I understand...everything!...guh, uuh! *Crying*

Yui: Huh? Why are you here...—

Oh no! Are you okay…!?

(Flower boy...His face full of tears is becoming more crumpled…)

Flower Boy: I am sorry…*still crying* I ended up hearing everything…

Azusa: I am so sorry...I couldn’t do anything for you…

Flower Boy: It’s not something like that! Just with those feelings...ugh!...

And also...I am a clear conception now…

I will forget about that person at once…!

I will start finding a new route!

Yui: Now way...which means that you will not continue the flower shop?

Flower Boy: No, I won’t.

I am a dumb who is good for nothing but, together, we were continuing to handle the flower shop in a artistic way.

I was inspired...I will drag myself to work even more…

More importantly, everything you did until now, I must have to thank you for those efforts…

I don’t know whether I will be useful or not, however, please let me join with you for searching Butler san…!

Yui: Thank you so much! Same here, you are very welcome to join us.

*After a while*

Yui: (Like this, we three of us are searching Butler san, but…)

Azusa: Well...I think the best idea will be...to split ourselves into groups…

Flower Boy: Yeah, but remember that he is thought to appear in unexpected places…

Since, at the same time, you have to look for the places where there are strange things at the same time.

Yui: (Places of strange things…)

Flower Boy: I will also have a look one more time at the Saint Honore park, where I saw him yesterday.

You two don't know much details about this street, so, at first, we will divide it into two.

Yui: Then, we will search on the mountain side….

Azusa: Um...come to think of it...I never went there...not even...once…

Flower Boy: In that place, if you manage to find him, then you can use familiars out there to contact me.

Azusa: Yes, understood…

Flower Boy: See you again!

*They split in groups for searching Butler*

Place: 湖 / Lake

Yui: (This is the famous Tilkeys lake...)

(Certainly, this has become a popular date spot for couples…)

Azusa: Even though this place is...quite...but there’s a...lot of people…

Yui: I am somehow...tired…

(As expected...looks like Butler san is not here…)

*Azusa gets closer*

Azusa: Eve, I think that’s…

Yui: That’s a swan boat.

Looks like there’s a huge number of couples who are riding on that. Once two people will swing the paddle, it will take you directly onto the water.

Azusa: Two people…?

…...

Yui: (Azusa kun’s is staring like he has freezed...Did he get interested in that?)

Do you want to ride?

Azusa: Is that okay…?

Yui: It’s fine. We can search Butler san from the lake.

Azusa: Thank you...Eve...

*Fades into CG*

Azusa: Uh!... ...Is it okay like this?

Yui: Yes, it’s perfect I think.

Azusa: Thank you… …. It’s so fun...

Yui: Fufu! That’s true.

(Looks like Azusa lun liked it. I am glad that we were invited for this.)

Azusa: Hey, Yui san… ... Let’s go to the opposite shore now.

Yui: Yea, I got it… ...Oops.

….!Ah! Azusa kun!

Azusa: What is it?

Yui: There is a man who is drinking tea on the opposite shore, his forehead! There is a red Granate

Azusa: Red Granate on his forehead….Butler san!?

*Changed to CG (2)*

Azusa: Let’s go, Yui san….

Since I will paddle.... with all my might. Follow me.

Yui: Follow you?ーー...Ah!?

AAH!

Much faster than before..! Is Azusa kun paddling?

(His paddle is moving too fast...I can’t keep up with this speed…)

Azusa: Try your best. There is … just a little left...

Yui: (ーー! Yes…!)

*CG Fades*

Yui: (ーkh, Phew...Finally we’ve reached the shore...)

Azusa: Eve, hold on...Before going any further...let’s send a familiar to the flower boy.

Yui: Got it.

*Flying sound of bats*

Azusa: Let’s go now, Eve…

Unlike usual days, we can’t chase after him by RUNNING. Don’t let your guard down…

Yui: (Uuh...this time, I have to approach as smoothly as I can…!)

Azusa: Um...excuse me

Butler: Uh… ...It’s you…?

Azusa: I am apologizing at first...I am sorry for chasing after you…

Yui: M-me too!. I am so sorry for suddenly scaring you like this…!

Butler: Ugh…

Azusa: But, we have a serious request to you…

Yui: Anyhow, please accept us as workers for the castle…!

Even if it is an odd job...we will do anything! But let us work for the castle…!

I am begging you…!

Butler: ...haa…

I am really apologizing but currently, we have enough manpower.

By the way, I am not the authority for labourers. I want you to give up already.

Yui: Such a…

Azusa: I won’t give up…!

I can’t move from here...until I say it to you...over and over again…!

Butler: Even if you say that…

???: Isn’t it fine, if you hire them?

Yui: You are…!

(So, the familiars have reached our message to him successfully.)

Flower Boy: Never mind for interrupting you so suddenly.

I work at a flower shop in the castle town.

It should be fine if you give a little time to listen to our story, right?

Monologueー

[Afterwards, the flower boy opened his mouth to the Butler san.

He said that he has been working for a flower shop for the past few days, but he’s very grateful for the work.]

[The number of customers has increased several times, and the products in the store had a good reputation.

[If you try that work even though it’s for only one time, you will be able to understand it’s merit…” We all were complimenting him for saying this.]

End of Monologue

Butler: I see. Umm...how many laborers can be available right now…

Azusa: We want to work for the castle in any condition…

Butler: I want to fulfil your wish, but my priority is not sufficient to do it all by myself…

No...By the chance, my manager may have an interest in accepting something...then you may give it a try..?

Azusa: The thing that Earl has interest…?

Butler: Yeah. He has the treasure that is unique in this world...by some chance…

Yui: (What it could be? We don’t have such a treasure…)

Azusa: I understand. Well then...tomorrow...I will bring that treasure with me…

Yui: Wha!?

(He has declared these words without even hesitating...is that gonna be alright!?)

Azusa: Please...tell Earl that...we will meet with him tomorrow…

Best wishes for you…

Butler: Ho...Seeming like you are well prepared.

I got it. I will pass your words to him.

Place: Rubean Canal / ルビーン運河

Yui: (The view scenery is so beautiful from the gondola…. ) (boat, esp.in Venice)

Umm...Really thank you so much for earlier…!

Azusa: Thanks to you...I was rescued from trouble…

Flower Boy: Nope...it was just a little thank you that I showed.

More importantly, it’s AZUSA SAN who is wonderful! It’s because you accept the deal without any hesitation.

Azusa: Me…?

Yui: ...Oh that’s...at that time, Azusa kun, you were having so much confidence. Do you really have treasure?

Azusa: No...I don’t

Yui: Huh? Then why did you tell him such a thing…!?

Azusa: I didn’t see any chance but this one... in order to help you…

For this...I didn’t want to miss...even though I had to lie…

Yui: (He was thinking it like that...even though in that kind of situation, he thought about me..)

Flower Boy: That’s really amazing…

I also want to become cool like you…

Azusa: I…

Yui: You were cool, Azusa kun.

Azusa: Oh, yes...thank you…

Place: Hotel • Mortstein Guest Room / ホテル • モーントシュタイン客室

Yui: (Since we come in the parade, I am seeing Azusa’s showing so many unusual sights, I think.)

(He has become more like a man, much more reliable than before…)

(But, these are still the nice Azusa…)

*Azusa appeared*

My new pair of shoes is already dirty.

and me.

Azusa: What’s wrong, Eve. You haven’t slept yet.

Yui: Ah, sorry for that. You can sleep before me, Azusa kun.

Azusa: I want us to sleep together...I will be awake…

*Azusa hugged Yui*

Yui: ….uuh…

Azusa: So, if you have any distress...tell me...I want to be a little helpful…

Yui: Umm...Actually, there’s nothing which is bothering me or something…

I am always thinking about you...Azusa kun…

Azusa: About me…?

Yui: Yes...I was thinking that, I am seeing a different Azusa than before…

Ofcourse that Azusa kun was friendly but...the Azusa kun of now is much stronger and reliable, I feel…

Azusa: Say...that means I am cool right…?

Yui: Yes, But I think both Azusa kun are nice…

Azusa: Okay, tell me then, Yui san…

*Azusa get more closer*

Azusa: Which one of you do you like the most…?

Yui: Eeh!?

Azusa: I want to know...what are you thinking about it…

Yui: That’s…

Selectionー

I like the Azusa of before

I like the Azusa of now (+Correct)

Yui: Certainly, I used to like the Azusa before, but…

I also like Azusa Kun now…

Azusa: Thank you Eve...I am happy…

Yui: Uuh! Suddenly thanking me like this…

Azusa: You like any side of me, this is why...I'm thanking you…

Yui: That’s…! Despite these, I am also happy that you said something like these to me…

Azusa: Ne~ Eve, what about “this me right now”?

*Azusa undresses Yui*

*Bed creaking sound*

Yui: …!?

Yui: (I was pushed down by Azusa kun!?)

Azusa: Hehe!...I haven't done it before...looking at you from the above…

Even if you said earlier...I wonder how do you feel...about my unexpected side…?

*Touch her more*

Azusa: Ne~ I want you more…*kiss*

Yui: …nh!?

Azusa: A kiss is not enough for me...Ne~ I want your blood next...nh…

Yui: (ーKh, this time, he’s digging his fangs around my neck…!)

Azusa: Nh…...nnh ...nh...Haa ...

Your face is...turning red...fufu~ how cute…

Yui: ...!?...

(No! It’s embarrassing…!)

Azusa: Don’t refuse...don’t hide your face...just look at me…

You each and every expression is cute...I like only you…

Yui: I also like you, Azusa kun…

Azusa: Yes...Thank you…!

ー The End of Chapter O 3

#old translation #azusa mukami #lunatic parade azusa mukami chapter 3 #diabolik lovers lunatic parade #azusa mukami lunatic parade chapter 3 #chapter 3 #diabolik lovers #lunatic parade #diabolik lovers translations

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trikruheart · 4 years

Text

Bellamy Is The Abusive One, Not Octavia: A Rant/Meta

There’s two main “reasons” that people give when they claim that Octavia is abusive. That she beats up Bellamy after Lincoln’s murder, and that she has him put in The Fighting Pits.

Let’s start with the old discourse; Bellamy did get Lincoln killed, not Octavia. Bellamy is the person who got Pike into power, the person who stood by him even after seeing + being told multiple times by people he supposedly cares about that Pike was instituting facism and going to get everyone killed. Bellamy knowingly decided to be a Nazi even though he had other options and was aware of them. And, no, Nazi is not an exaggeration, Bellamy was 100% willing to wipe out an entire race just for being that race including putting them in concentration camp-like conditions to die.

Octavia is not at fault just because she didn’t accept Bellamy’s last minute “help”, he had given her absolutely no reason to trust him so it’s not her fault she didn’t. If my brother was fhe right-hand man of a fascist leader then I wouldn’t have trusted him that after he belittled my concerns several times and stopped me from escaping, he’ll get my boyfriend out of the camp he put him in to begin with. Octavia had no obligation to trust Bellamy after he did everything in his power to destroy her trust.

So, yes, Octavia beats up Bellamy. If I had just saw and heard the love of my life be murdered at the hands of the man that my own brother knowingly put in power then I probably would beat him up to. Especially if my brother had already been abusing me my whole life.

Side note: Let me also just point out that Bellamy was never adequately redeemed for that whole being a Nazi thing, everyone just pretended it never happened. Octavia herself even calls him out “You didn’t turn on Pike because you thought what he was doing to the grounders was wrong.” and he AGREES. Bellamy 👏 never 👏 earned 👏 redemption, because men in this show don’t need to be held accountable for their actions while women (mainly Octavia and Clarke) have to supplicate themselves to men and be dragged through the dirt mercilessly for every wrong breath they take.

The Fighting Pit issue is an even weaker example because Octavia didn’t put Bellamy in there because she was angry or wanted to (although she had every right to be) she did it because Bellamy publicly broke several laws and she would have completely undermined her own authority (and given special treatment, making her a poor leader) if she let him get away with treason, child endangerment, murder, and attempted assassination. Bellamy getting put in the fighting pit was a consequence of his own actions, one that he was well aware of. Octavia wasn’t being abusive, she was being a fair leader.

Now that that BS is out of the way, here’s a list of why Bellamy is abusive to Octavia:

1.) Bellamy has had all of the power in their relationship from day one. Octavia was literally trapped in a room and only able to interact with two people for sixteen years, Bellamy came and went as he pleased. Octavia was essentially a captive, she couldn’t have possibly been more powerless during the entire time their relationship was developing. Then when they get on the ground, Bellamy is almost instantly put in a position of power which he uses to isolate and control Octavia. There’s also the age difference, I think a lot of people forget that Bellamy is way older than all the other Skaikru. Bellamy is 23 at the start of the show and everyone else is under 18 (except Raven is 18). So, we’re talking about a barely 17-year-old girl, one who grew up extremely isolated so is even more immature than most kids her age, and a 23-year-old man who lived most of his life relatively normally.

The power difference entirely favors Bellamy. Octavia has no power over him at all pre-Blodreina (which we’ll get to that) so the idea that she could possibly abuse Bellamy is pretty absurd. Abuse is a habitual pattern of controlling and belittling behavior by someone with more (actual or perceived) power over another, Octavia had no power over Bellamy at all; Bellamy had an insane amount of power over her that he constantly abuses to isolate and control her.

2.) Bellamy supposedly goes to the ground to “protect” Octavia but his means of doing so are abusive and controlling. In season 1 alone; Bellamy uses physical intimidation and manhandling against Octavia several times, he terrorizes a harmless teenager (remember how he’s a grown ass adult? Yikes...) to keep him away from Octavia who was enjoying his company, then he tortures a man in front of her while she begs him to stop because he doesn’t care about her opinions (more in 4) and he’s the leader of The 100 so he can.

3.) The whole “my sister, my responsibility” thing that everyone thinks is so cute? Yeah, that’s emotional abuse. A figure of authority repeating to a child that they are a burden for existing is disgusting and so, so harmful. That phrase is a reinforcement of the more vicious things Bellamy has said “Mom was floated for having you, she’s dead because you’re alive!” and “My life ended the day you were born!”

4.) Bellamy is constantly belittling, dismissing, and patronizing all of Octavia’s opinions and identity.

“You turned this place into a story from your childhood. I mean, the red queen? It’s a joke.”

I’m not saying that Blodreina was a positive identity for Octavia, but it was something she was forced (remember, she didn’t seek power like Bellamy and Clarke did) to become to survive. Octavia was a mentally ill teenage girl with very limited exposure to the world who has never had any power in her entire life, and suddenly she was responsible for saving the human race. How fucking dare Bellamy mock her for basing her leadership off of stories WHAT THE HELL ELSE WOULD SHE BASE IT OF OFF???

Bellamy had a job and a life on The Arc, Octavia never left her room and had no way of seeing the outside world except through stories. She has literally no reference for ruling, or anything else, except those stories and her brief time with the Grounders. Fuck you and your privilege, Bellamy.

On top of that, Octavia actually did save the human race. That “joke” kept humanity alive.

“It is time to stop playing Grounder before you get yourself hurt.”

Yes, how dare she identify with the only people who have ever accepted her and treated her like a human being. How about you stop “playing” Nazi before you get us everyone killed. Seriously, Octavia is not allowed to disagree with Bellamy without him grabbing her arm and talking down to her like she’s a toddler throwing a tantrum.

5.) As soon as Octavia is in a position of power, one she didn’t even ask for, Bellamy’s abuse gets progressively crueler because he’s trying to regain control. He starts actively using Octavia’s mental illness against her and literally suicide baits her several times.

There is NO excuse. None at all. To tell someone who is severely mentally ill, traumatized, and an active suicide risk that “I wish you were dead” and “you’re already dead”. Trying to push someone to suicide and using someone’s mental illness to hurt them, let alone your own sister, is one of the most evil things you can do. The fact that so much of the fandom ignores this genuinely makes me sick.

Bellamy chooses those words because he knows that is what will hurt Octavia the most and he wants to hurt her. Bellamy has heard Octavia say that she’s already dead when she’s at her lowest points, he knows that those are the words that haunt her and drive her to want to kill herself, and that’s why he uses them as a weapon. Notice that he says them multiple times and at very purposeful times, this is not something he yelled once when he was angry; we see him calmly make the choice to say these things to her several times when he is losing control and wants to break her back down to the helpless little girl who was always happy to see him because of her Stockholm Syndrome.

6.) I think trying to MURDER Octavia THREE FUCKING TIMES deserves its own point. Bellamy poisons Octavia, he suicide baits her and let’s her go through with it (someone else stops her, Bellamy makes no move to), and then he leaves her to die with a lovely extra “My sister is dead” for the road.

7.) Octavia spends most of season 6 groveling and trying to “earn” back Bellamy’s love and we see clearly that “earning” Bellamy’s love means being utterly powerless and subservient. Bellamy loved Octavia when she was a captive little girl but suddenly he can’t produce an ounce of human decency towards her? And don’t give me some “but she’s Blodreina” like Mr. Nazi has any room to judge Octavia for becoming a dictator out of desperation when she didn’t know what else to do and she was forced in a very, very difficult leadership position that she never wanted and all of humanity relied on.

My point is basically that Bellamy’s love is conditional, he holds it over Octavia’s head like a fucking dog treat. He wants “his sister” back but what does that mean? He wants back the scared little girl who couldn’t leave one room and was entirely dependent on him. It’s Octavia having autonomy that Bellamy hates, not her being “evil” because Bellamy is 500x as evil as Octavia and I will die on that hill. You’re telling me that Bellamy of all people is soooo upset that his sister was forced to kill some people in the context of war and keeping humanity alive? As if Bellamy isn’t a mass murderer who has killed way more people for way less. Give me a fucking break. “Octavia is dead” because Bellamy’s victim is dead and he can’t handle that.

But, please, do tell me again how two isolated incidents over six years apart from each other that are both the direct consequences of Bellamy’s autonomous choices make Octavia “eMoTiOnAllY AbUsIvE tO pOoR WitTlE BeLl”.

#anti bellamy blake #octavia blake #pro octavia blake #pro blodreina #octavia defense squad

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iamtrebleclefstories · 4 years

Text

I’m Happy Right Here with You

Hi guys!! This story was born out of some prompts that were sent my through comments on my story Didn’t Think on AO3 as well as here on tumblr. So, be sure to check out my prompt list if you want some more stories :)

Great big thanks to @doc-pickles for being my beta!!

What is so special about this fic is that it is a birthday gift for Nat!! Happy Birthday Nat! I hope you enjoy this fun and rather long, jolex fic!

89 - “Oh God, please don’t tell me we had sex.”

33 - “Put me down. You know I can walk, right?”

92 - “Don’t freak out, but I think I’m pregnant.”

Season 10 AU where Jo and Alex do not get together in 9x24, but she moves into the frat house with him and Cristina

“You know what you need? Some picture frames. And throw pillows. Ooh! And some comfy blankets that you put on the couch. Coasters too! We leave beers lying around everywhere and all of the new furniture are starting to get water rings on them.”

“You know, when I asked you to come to Target with me it wasn’t so you could criticize the house,” Alex rolled his eyes.

“I’m not criticizing the house,” Jo looked at Alex pointedly. “I’m just saying that we could really use some things to make the place more homey. It’s not like you don’t have the money for it, the rent check I give you every month is proof of that.”

“The house is homey,” Alex scoffed.

“No it’s not. It’s like a frat house,” Jo laughed.

“Exactly,” Alex grinned. “That’s all part of its charm.”

“Oh whatever,” Jo shook her head. “You just don’t want to admit that you’re too damn cheap to do anything about it. That and if the house looks barren and creepy, the women you hook up with are less likely to want to come back.”

“Woah... just hold on a minute there. The women always want to come back,” Alex smirked. “And it’s never because of the house.”

“You disgust me,” Jo choked on the water she had been drinking.

“That’s because you’ve never slept with me.”

“Yeah, and I’m never going to.”

“You say that now princess,” Alex teased. “But I promise you that if you did, you’d be coming back for more.”

“Shut up,” Jo slapped his shoulder playfully as they continued to browse around for items.

Jo would be lying if she said she’d never thought about it. In the past year that she’d known Alex, she’d acquired a new best friend. At first, she tried to convince herself that she wasn’t attracted to him. He was an ass and a douche at times, but funny and sweet if you took the time to pay attention and get to know him. Eventually, the good things about Alex started to outweigh the bad and Jo found herself growing impossibly closer to this man.

So when Jo started having feelings for Alex, it wasn’t something unexpected. There were so many moments that she had just wanted to grab his face and kiss him, but she had never wanted to mess it up. Alex was the most important person in her life. She never felt like she had anything to lose before she met him. So she kept her mouth shut and continued like nothing was different, even after Jason and the tree and the storm.

Besides, it’s not like he reciprocated her feelings. Alex was all for hookups and one night stands, and had the emotional maturity of a sixteen year old. Relationships weren’t his thing, and Jo didn’t think she could handle being another notch on his belt, not when her feelings were involved. She didn’t want to make a fool out of herself, especially after seeing the types of girls Alex brought home. He had a type; they were all tall, skinny, blonde, with model-esque features. She on the other hand, was average height, brunette, and a little thicker than his usual parade of women.

Unbeknownst to Jo, Alex had been thinking about how much he wished he had the balls that night in the NICU to tell her how he felt. Honestly he hated when she brought up his sexual escapades, it reminded him of how much he didn’t deserve her. Jo was special. He was in love with her. He’d even confessed it to Cristina months ago. But he was screwed up. He didn’t want her to end up like every other girl he’d ever been with—all messed up because they got involved with him. So he kept his mouth shut, hoping the feeling would go away.

That all flew out the window when Jo moved into the house, her bedroom right next to his. Her presence and importance in his life was that much more tangible knowing that all that separated them was a wall. That knowledge led to him escorting a new girl up to his room every other week in hopes of distracting himself from the overwhelming desire to knock on her door.

Alex looked over at her and noticed she seemed to be deep in thought, “Earth to Jo. You okay there? You seem a little weird.”

“Huh,” Jo turned her head in his direction. “Yeah I’m fine. Just thinking about what I want for dinner tonight. I was thinking of ordering from that taco place down the street from the house. Do you want some?”

“I’d love some, but we can’t order tonight. It’s Mer’s 35th birthday and we’re having the party at the house remember? She thinks she’s just coming over to drink tequila with me and Cristina, but Shepherd planned the whole fiasco. He’s over there setting up and I was told to buy some stuff to make the house look a little nicer.”

“Crap that’s tonight?” Jo asked. “I don’t really have to go to that right? I mean—I don’t know how I feel about partying with my bosses.”

“Of course you have to go,” Alex furrowed his brows. “Do you know how weird it’s gonna look if you’re not there? You live there, they can’t kick you out of your own house. You’re going and you’re going to get drunk and sing karaoke and dance on the table in your underwear.”

“No way,” she protested. “I do not plan on getting drunk off my ass at a party with my bosses.”

“Why not?” Alex questioned. “We’re all gonna be drunk off our asses. No one will even remember. Besides, you get drunk off your ass with me all the time. And half the time Cristina is there to witness it.”

“That’s different,” Jo defended. “You are my best friend and I live with you. It’d be weird if you never saw me drunk off my ass. Well that, and I respect my other bosses. And Yang... well... Yang doesn’t scare me as much as Grey does. Plus half the time she’s not even home. More often than not she’s in the woods with the Chief doing it in his trailer.”

Alex snickered, “True. But did you just say you’re more scared of Meredith than Cristina?”

“You know we call her Medusa right?”

“Yeah it’s a good one,” Alex laughed. “You know they used to call me Evil Spawn.”

“Hate to break it to you, but they still do.”

“Shut up. At least I’m getting some on a relatively normal basis,” Alex glared at her playfully. “When was the last time you got laid? You’re super uptight.”

“I am not uptight!” she exclaimed. “And it has not been that long since I got laid. The last time I had sex was... shit.”

“What?”

“I can’t remember the last time I got laid. It’s been that long.”

Alex snorted, “Wow. Well, like I said, if you get really desperate... and I mean really desperate... I’m right next door if you ever need anything.”

“Go to hell,” Jo stuck her tongue out at Alex like a child. He laughed and told her to hurry up and go find what she wanted to buy for the house before he changed his mind.

The rest of their Target trip was uneventful and they made their way back to the house to finish whatever Shepherd was planning. By the time 8pm rolled around, all the decorations were in place, the guests were in their hiding places, and the liquor was ready for consumption. When Meredith finally walked in, they all yelled surprise and the party got started.

It was quite the party, too. It reminded Alex of the party that Izzie threw in this very house during their intern year. People underestimated doctors’ abilities to party and consume alcohol. And with Meredith being the guest of honor, there was no shortage of the hard stuff. He had to say, Derek really outdid himself with this party. He planned something that screamed crazy, dysfunctional Meredith Grey and it was quite refreshing. So refreshing, that even Jo decided to loosen up and have a few drinks, since she saw her superiors let loose.

A few beers and way too many tequila shots in, they were both pretty wasted, as was the majority of the party. People slowly began to leave and Alex took that as his cue to go upstairs.

Leaving the hosting duties to Cristina, Alex trudged up the stairs with a heavily inebriated Jo trailing behind him, giggling about something. They reached the top of the stairs and were about to go their separate ways when something shifted. It could’ve been the alcohol or just the pent up desire bubbling up under the surface, but one minute he was standing at the top of the steps and the next he was kissing Jo and pushing her into her bedroom.

*****

Jo woke up with a pounding headache. She hadn’t even opened her eyes yet, but she could tell she was going to have one hell of a hangover. She attempted to open her eyes only to close them again due to the stark brightness. She wasn’t exactly sure what time it was, but it was definitely late morning. As Jo laid there, she realized something. She wasn’t alone. There was an arm wrapped around her midsection.

Alarm bells started going off in her head as she racked her brain for any memory of what happened last night. Just as she was going to open her eyes again to see who she had ended up in bed with, she heard an unmistakable groan. She knew that groan. She knew those arms.

The hand that had been on her waist brushed her breast before freezing, “What the hell?”

She took a deep breath and spoke, “Don’t freak out.”

The hand on her breast pulled back instantly, as if it had been burned. The man attached to it sat up quickly, “Oh God, please don’t tell me we had sex.”

Jo lifted the blankets to look at her naked body that was now littered with love marks. She cringed, “We had sex.”

Jo looked up and finally locked eyes with none other than Alex Karev. He looked wrecked and Jo was sure that she probably did, too. They stared at each other with a mixture of disbelief and horror on their faces.

“Ah shit,” Alex rubbed a hand over his face. “Jo, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Jo shook her head. “It takes two to tango. Plus, I must’ve enjoyed it because you have a hickey on your neck.”

Alex placed his hand on the spot before finally turning to look at her, face turning up in a smirk, “So do you.”

They looked at each other, cheeks flushed before bursting out into laughter. “Ow, be quiet.” “No, you be quiet.”

“I can’t believe we had sex,” Jo remarked in disbelief. “And I don’t even remember most of it.”

“Me neither,” Alex admitted. They slipped into another fit of giggles, the leftover alcohol in their systems seemed to still be affecting them. By the time their mirth died down, the reality of what happened sunk in. It was ironic, just yesterday they had been talking about how they’d never sleep with each other.

Jo moaned as she stretched to get out of bed. Alex furrowed his brows, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Jo replied as she brought the blankets up to cover her chest. “Just a little sore.”

“Oh, God. Don’t tell me I hurt you,” a concerned look crossed Alex’s face.

Jo chuckled awkwardly, “No you didn’t hurt me. It’s... it’s a good sore.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well... um... I’m gonna—um... I’m gonna go get ready,” Alex stuttered.

“Hmm... yeah me too,” Jo bit her lip and nodded as Alex stood up and searched for his pants. For the first time, she actually took a moment to look at him, watching as she saw as the muscles in his back and arms contracted as he pulled his pants over his legs and ass.

Almost as if he could sense her stares, Alex turned around, “What?”

“Nothing,” she cleared her throat. “It’s just... um... you have scratch marks on your back.”

He titled his head to look at his back and sure enough, found a few red scratch marks. He began to laugh again, “Oh wow. That’s just... Sorry, I’m just gonna leave.”

Just as he was going to walk out the door, Alex stopped at the threshold and looked at Jo, “Um, Jo... You might want to wear a turtleneck today.”

*****

It had been a week since Jo and Alex had woken up together after their drunken night. In that week, the memories of what happened had returned. Knowing and remembering that night was so much worse than having no memory of it.

For Jo, it was as though her body would forever be imprinted with the reminder of that night. Too often that week, she had found herself daydreaming about that night. She could almost feel Alex pressed against her. She could almost hear the moans he let out as he made her feel like the most precious thing in the world. She could almost taste his lips and feel the ghost of them against her own. Now she understood. She understood why women always got hung up on Alex Karev, because he was incredible. And not just in bed. He was incredible in every way and she wanted more.

For Alex, remembering that night was torture. Every nerve in his body cried out for Jo. The very little self-control he had left was threatening to fall apart. Before it was easier. He didn’t know what it was like to have her; to be with her. Now that he had, it was taking everything within him to not knock on her door night after night. The mere thought of another woman no longer excited him, he was ruined. Jo had completely ruined him for anyone else. He wanted her and not just her body. He wanted all of her. He wanted everything with her.

Which is why, for the entire week, he’d been avoiding her. He made sure she wasn’t on his service. He was careful to ensure they were on opposite schedules so that he didn’t have to see her at home. Opposite schedules also meant that he’d have less of a chance of slipping up and doing something stupid like telling her he was in love with her. Any time they just so happened to be in the same room, he’d avoid making eye contact and walk the other way.

By some unfortunate miracle, that morning, all three of the frat house residents were on the same schedule. It was a rare occurrence for all three of them to be leaving the house at the same time. As he walked into the kitchen, Alex was careful not to brush against Jo while trying to get to the cereal in the pantry. He kept his eyes fixed on the box of cereal and remained silent as he readied his bowl. Jo’s eyes flicked up at him before burying her face in the piece of toast she was eating and decided against bringing up what would be an extremely uncomfortable conversation.

What the two of them hadn’t counted on was Cristina’s overly observant eyes watching the scene unfold before her.

“You too are acting weird. Hairball is always chatty in the morning and Evil Spawn, you always come up with a way to be a pain in Wilson’s ass before 7am,” Cristina took another bite into her apple before speaking. “Did you guys fight? Is that what this is? Does someone have hurt feelings?”

“Everything’s fine,” Jo answered.

“It’s none of your business Cristina,” Alex snapped.

She stared at them for a while longer when she let out a gasp of disbelief, “Oh my God. You two had sex! That’s why you’re acting so weird lately! Finally! We’ve all been waiting for it and you guys just won me some money.”

The two of them stared at her like deer in headlights. Neither said anything, causing Cristina to laugh hysterically, “Oh God. You guys haven’t talked about it. You’ve been avoiding each other. Now tell me, was it horrible? Did someone cry? Did you have trouble... you know? Ooh! Does Wilson have a secret penis?”

“What? No!” both Jo and Alex exclaimed.

That when Cristina, finally understanding what happened, gasped, “You guys liked it! You loved it and you want more.”

Jo’s face was red and hot, “Yang, please stop.”

“You know, I was having a bad morning but I knew you’d make me feel better,” Cristina snickered. “Well, I’m going to work. Have fun carpooling together.”

“Dr. Yang! Wait!” Jo called out. “I’m ready. I’m coming with you!”

As they hopped in the car, Cristina eyed Jo, “You know, you should just tell him.”

“Tell him what?”

“That you’re in love with him,” Cristina stated. “It’d be easier then whatever the hell you’re doing. Just get it all out there. No fear, no shame. And who knows, maybe you’ll be surprised and find out he feels the same way.”

“He does not feel the same way,” Jo sighed.

Cristina, who knew for a fact he did, scrunched her face in confusion, “How do you know for sure?”

“Because I’m not his type,” Jo pointed out as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “He’s got a type. Tall, skinny, blonde, perky, bubbly. I am none of those things. I’m average height, I actually have some meat on my bones, brunette, and I’m sarcastic, jaded, and all kinds of complicated.”

Cristina rolled her eyes, “The only reason Alex chooses the same type of girl to hook up with is because he knows that no one with substance would be up for what he’s looking for. You have a personality. Use it.”

Jo stared at her incredulously, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“I am a nice person,” Cristina glanced at her before putting her eyes back on the road. “And I don’t think I can live with the two of you pining over each other. Just be with him already. Then I won’t have to feel the sexual tension while I’m trying to eat breakfast or watch a movie.”

*****

A few more weeks passed, and although they weren’t back to how they were before the incident, Jo and Alex had decided to put that night behind them and try to be in the same room together again. After about a month, Alex finally felt comfortable enough around her not to jump her bones and decided to request her on his service. He had an interesting case coming in today and was sure that she wouldn’t want to miss it.

Alex walked up to the residents’ lounge and popped his head in, “Wilson! Let’s go. You’re on my service today.”

Jo looked up at him with a surprised expression on her face, “Really?”

“Yup,” Alex nodded. “Let’s go. We got a super cool case today.”

She smiled widely and turned around to the other residents, “So long suckers.”

Stephanie rolled her eyes, “Oh please. You’re just excited you get to hang out with Karev today.”

“I think it’s unfair that she gets on a cool case just because he’s into her,” Leah pursed her lips.

“He’s not into me,” Jo said, pulling the scrub shirt over her head. She grabbed her lab coat and walked out to the hall where Alex was waiting. “Hey! So, what do we got?”

“Take a look for yourself,” he handed her the tablet.

She scrolled through the chart and read the kid’s information, “No way! He’s got Hirschsprung’s disease? There are like less that 200,000 cases of that per year around the world.”

“I know,” Alex grinned. “When I saw it I got excited and thought, why not share the excitement with my favorite resident?”

“You really shouldn’t pick favorites you know. People might start to suspect something is going on.”

“Oh please,” Alex scoffed. “Everyone’s got a favorite resident. Ross is Yang’s, Edwards has been working with Bailey a lot, Warren is tight with Webber, and I basically had to fight Torres for you. So, choosing favorites is normal. It means we see potential in you for our speciality. Which, by the way, since when do you love ortho so much? I thought you were considering peds.”

Jo smiled, “Well, I haven’t really been on your service for the past month so I had to find somewhere to shine. Torres says my aggressive tendencies are just what you need in ortho. It’s quite the rush. But, I must say, you might just turn me back onto peds if you keep putting me on cool cases like this one.”

“Haha, okay.”

They did their rounds and went to prep four year old Oliver Maxwell for his Hirschsprung’s bowel resection. As they walked into the room Alex shook hands with the parents and gave the kid a fist bump, “Hey Ollie, how are you feeling?”

“Eh,” Ollie shrugged. “I’m weady to feel betta. You can help me feel betta Dr. Awex?”

“I sure can, kiddo,” Alex grinned. “Dr. Wilson and I are going to go into your belly and take out all the bad stuff and make you feel so much better.”

“Good,” Ollie smiled.

Alex looked up to Ollie’s parents, “Okay. So, we are going to perform Ollie’s bowel resection in about an hour and a half. I’m going to send in an intern and a couple nurses in thirty minutes to make sure everything is ready for him to go up to the OR. We’re very hopeful that once the bowel resection is complete, he will no longer have any issues. However, since Hirschsprung’s is so rare, I would personally like to do a follow up every 3 months for the next year to see how he’s doing.”

Mrs. Maxwell nodded, “Alright. And the surgery is a simple one right?”

“Yes, a bowel resection is a very routine procedure that we do everyday. However since he’s got Hirschsprung’s, the technique we use will be altered in order to fit his condition. But, if all goes well, he should be just fine.” Jo assured.

“I’m sorry,” the woman apologized. “I’m just worried. You know how it is. To have your kid in the hospital. Do either of you have children?”

Alex shook his head, “No, neither of us have kids. But I do have a niece and nephew and a few months ago I had to give my niece, Zola, some stitches on her forehead. Her mom, who’s also a surgeon, was so worried and it wasn’t even anything serious. There are no rules when it comes to sick, hurt kids. If a surgeon is worried about their kid’s cut, it is completely normal for you to worry about your kid’s surgery.”

Jo smiled proudly. Alex had a long history of being great with kids, but not so much with the parents. It made her happy to see that he had developed himself and grown in the time she had been off his service. As they said goodbye to the parents, she gave him a cheeky look.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Whatever... go eat a snack, take a power nap, use the bathroom and meet me in OR 2 in an hour,” he instructed.

Their surgery went extremely well. Ollie did fantastic in surgery and would make a wonderful recovery. They updated the parents and continued on with the rest of their cases.

“Nothing like a bowel resection on a Hirschsprung’s kid to start out your day,” Jo sighed.

“Ahh you see, there it is,” Alex motioned at her. “There’s that peds glow. I may be able to steal you back from Torres after all.”

“Shut up,” Jo shoved him playfully. “What’s next?”

*****

Another two weeks passed and Jo and Alex were back to normal, teasing each other, hanging out, and working together. It was nice being on peds again, she got to spend time with cute little kids, watch and assist on awesome surgeries, and hang out with her best friend. Today, they had done 2 appendectomies, 1 bowel resection, removed a neuroblastoma, and assisted on a peds trauma that came in. She hadn’t been feeling all that well today, and it could be the fact that she was around sick, germ-infested children all day. Her head was hurting and it was progressively getting worse as the day went on. To top it all off, her stomach had started hurting about an hour ago, but she pushed through the last couple hours of her shift.

As she got in the car later that evening, Jo was sure she was going to throw up. She must’ve looked green, because Alex looked at her from his spot in the driver’s seat, “Dude are you okay?”

“I think I’m gonna hurl,” she pressed a hand up to her mouth.

Alex searched around the back seat and produced a trash bag and handed it to her, “Here. If you’re gonna vomit, aim for the bag.”

She glared at him, “Why do you even have trash bags in your car?”

“I like to be prepared,” he replied. “And I don’t like a messy car.”

Jo closed her eyes and tried to take deep breaths to distract her from the moving vehicle, in hopes of making it home. She must’ve dozed off, because the next thing she remembered is being lifted out of the car, and into the house. She opened her eyes and saw Alex cradling her closely, “Put me down.”

“Huh?”

“Put me down,” she mumbled. “You know I can walk right?”

“I don’t mind,” one side of Alex’s mouth turned up in a small, sweet half smile. “Just relax.”

Jo closed her eyes again, she could tell that this time, she would fall asleep for real. Something about those arms made her feel so safe and warm. It was the closest they had been since the night they spent together and she couldn’t help but lean into him. Eventually, he reached top of the stairs and laid her down in her bed, pulling the covers up around her. Thinking she was asleep, he leant down and pressed a small kiss on her forehead, “Goodnight Jo. I hope you feel better.”

“Alex,” she called out. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

*****

The next morning Alex was awoken by the sound of his bedroom door being slammed open. Startling out of sleep he looked to see who was at the door, “Jesus! Cristina. What the hell? It’s early.”

“Sorry Evil Spawn,” Cristina walked in and made her way into the bathroom. “But Hairball is all over my bathroom puking her guts out and I need to get to work. I’ve got a very important surgery scheduled and I need to prepare.”

“How long has she been throwing up?” Alex asked.

“I don’t know. The past hour, maybe?” she shrugged. “Did you guys drink too much last night?”

“No,” he shook his head. “She was feeling sick at work yesterday and almost threw up in my car on our way home. By the time we got here, she had fallen asleep and I had to carry her up to bed.”

“Well she’s definitely sick,” Cristina surmised. “Don’t know what it is, but I do know that I cannot catch whatever she has because I have very important patients that need me to save their lives.”

“I’ve got the day off. I’m gonna go check on her,” he got out of the bed and put on a pair of sweatpants before walking through the hallway to the bathroom. He stopped outside the door and knocked, “Jo you okay?”

She groaned, “No.”

Alex pushed the door open and found Jo sitting on the floor with her head against the wall, “You know I’ve got to say... this isn’t your best look.”

She glared at him, “Shut up. I feel like crap.”

“You look like crap,” he crouched down to the ground and wrapped an arm around her. “Hey. Look at me. You want me to tell Hunt that you’re not going to work today?”

She nodded, “Yes please.”

“Okay. I’m going to call him right now.”

She hummed in response and crawled over to the bathroom cabinet where she kept the medicine. As she was searching through the cabinet, her eyes fell on a box of tampons. In that instant, Jo could’ve sworn that her heart stopped. She picked it up and traced her brain, trying to remember the last time she had used one. It had been at least two months. How the hell did she not notice?

“Hey I called Hunt,” Alex came in, startling her. “You okay? Oh... do you need me to go buy you some more tampons?”

Jo shook her head, “No. No... I don’t need them.”

Alex looked at her strangely, “Okay...”

She took a steadying breath, “I’m gonna say something, but you have to promise me you’ll stay calm.”

Alex sat down on the floor next to her and cradled her face in his hands, “Jo, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong.”

She looked at him nervously, “Don’t freak out, but I think I’m pregnant. I haven’t had a period since... before we...”

Jo wished someone would’ve been there to see the exchange, because the look that crossed Alex’s face was one that she would’ve wanted on film. He was doing his best not to freak out, but his eyes were wide as saucers and his jaw dropped. He took a deep breath and closed his mouth before nodding at her, “Okay... okay. That’s fine. It’s gonna be alright. We’ll go get the test right now. How about you get in the shower and I’ll go to the store.”

“Okay,” Jo agreed.

The drive to the drugstore was a heavy one. Alex was doing his best to keep it together, he couldn’t freak out. Not when Jo might be pregnant with his baby after one drunken night together. When he finally made it into the parking lot, he stopped and banged his head on the steering wheel.

He’d done it again. This is exactly why Alex didn’t want to pursue things with Jo, because every girl he got involved with came out of it worse than before. He thought they’d be okay. He thought that they could get past this and he’d eventually long for her a little less every day that passed. But instead, he might’ve just knocked up his best friend. He might’ve just screwed up the life of the woman he was desperately in love with.

He put her in an impossible position. She could choose to have an abortion, a choice that was difficult to make and go through with for any woman. Not to mention such a decision would put a strain on their friendship because they would always think about what could’ve been. There was adoption, but Alex didn’t think he’d be able to live knowing he had a kid out there and Jo had such horrible experiences in the foster care system that she would never be able to do that to her own kid.

That meant the other option was keeping the baby. How would that work? Would they be together? Would they co-parent? Would that be the best option for either of them? Jo was only a second year resident. Having a baby right now could affect her career. It could affect any decisions she made in the future about her life.

Taking a deep breath, Alex finally got out of the car and walked into the store, buying five pregnancy tests. Each one was a different brand, in hopes of getting the most accurate results. He took the boxes up to the register and locked eyes with a woman who seemed to be in her mid-60’s in line, in front of him. She looked down at his basket and smiled, “I don’t know what answer you’re hoping for, but good luck.”

He huffed a laugh, “Thanks.”

Back home, Jo was having a mini-meltdown. Jo was almost positive she was pregnant. She had all the same symptoms as the last time. That’s right. This wasn’t Jo’s first pregnancy. While Jo had been married to Paul, she got pregnant. Days after discovering her pregnancy, he beat her half to death. She knew then, that she could not have that baby. She couldn’t allow her child to come into a home full of abuse. She couldn’t allow for her child to be scared of their father. She couldn’t allow for herself to be tied to Paul forever. Because she knew that’s what would happen. If she ever tried to leave, if she ever tried to divorce him, they would fight over the kid. And there was no way she could fight his lawyers for custody. Her child would lose in every scenario.

So, she made the hardest decision she’d ever had to make in her life. Jo had an abortion and sobbed throughout the experience. She wasn’t ashamed of it. She didn’t regret it. But she promised herself that she’d never have to go through it again. She’d be more careful. She’d have a kid when she was ready, with a man who loved her and treated her with nothing but respect. She couldn’t go through an abortion again. The last time almost broke her, but it was the catalyst she’d needed to get herself out of that situation.

Jo knew she would keep this baby. There was no question that she’d be this baby’s mom. Everything else was up in the air. How would she fit a baby into her life? She was a second year surgical resident with a crazy schedule. She wanted to be a good mom, a present mom. But that would require her taking a step back in her career. Where would she and the baby live? Could they stay in Alex’s house? Would Alex even want to be in the baby’s life? Would he kick her out? Or would he co-parent with her? Did he want to be tied to her for the rest of his life?

All of those questions and fears had to be put on pause when she heard the front door open. From her spot on the couch, she saw Alex enter with a plastic bag in his hand. Holding it up, he gave her a small smile, “I bought five... all different brands and stuff.”

Jo reached out for the bag and took it with her into the bathroom. Despite this situation being almost as complicated as the last time she peed over a stick, the one emotion she realized wasn’t present was fear. Last time she had been terrified. This time she was nervous, sure, but she wasn’t afraid. It was Alex, and whether he decided to be this baby’s dad or not, he’d never hurt her over this.

She washed her hands and stepped out of the bathroom, setting a timer on her phone, “I took them all. Boxes said to wait about three minutes.”

Those three minutes were some of the longest minutes of her life. Her and Alex stared at each other silently, waiting for the timer to go off. When it finally did, Jo felt a wave of nausea come over her. She looked over at Alex who grabbed her hand and squeezed it, leading her back to the bathroom for the moment of truth.

Unsurprisingly, every single test came out positive. Jo couldn’t tell if it was the stress or the pregnancy itself, but soon, she was crouched above the toilet vomiting again. She felt a hand on her back rubbing circles as another one pulled her hair back. When she was finished, she rinsed her mouth and brushed her teeth before flopping onto the floor. She groaned, “Alex I’m fine. Just go. You don’t have to do this. I can do this on my own. Take the out. I’m giving you an out, take it. You can be fun Uncle Alex, no responsibilities.”

“No,” Alex said firmly, bringing her close. “I’m not taking the out Jo. I’m not leaving you alone in this. Above everything, you are my best friend and we’re gonna have a baby together. So, I’m gonna be here and I’m gonna be a great dad and you’re gonna be a great mom and we’re going to do this together.”

She rested her head on his shoulder, “Are you sure? You live your life a certain way and I don’t want to get in the way of that. A kid is really gonna put a damper on your sex life. And I know you didn’t mean for us to even have sex anyway. I’m not exactly your type and I don’t know if I could handle knowing that you didn’t want me for the rest of my life.”

Alex looked at Jo as if she’d grown three heads, “Are you kidding? Jo, what we did, wasn’t an accident. We both wanted it. We’ve wanted it for so long, but we were too scared and needed some liquid courage. Ever since that night, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head. I can’t even talk to a chick without every cell in my body protesting because it’s not you. Because it’s always been you, Jo. I love you. So, I’m staying right where I am, because I’m happy right here with you.”

Her face broke out into the brightest smile he’d ever seen. She leaned in and kissed him, “I love you too. I have for a long time, now.”

“Holy shit,” Alex exclaimed. “We’re having a baby.”

“Oh my God. Yeah. We’re having a baby,” Jo laughed. “Me and you. Together. Having a baby.”

They both cackled loudly until the point of tears. It was hilarious to think that two months ago, they would’ve never even dreamed of a moment like this. As their laughter died down, Alex gasped, “Crap.”

“What?”

“We’ve gotta tell people,” he shared. “Not right now, but eventually we gotta tell people.”

“Shit,” Jo responded. “Oh God! We’ve got to tell Yang. She’s never going to let us live it down.”

Alex’s eyes widened, “Dammit. I forgot about Cristina. Be prepared to get custom made onesies that say Evil Spawn’s Spawn on them.”

“Our kid is going to be so spoiled,” Jo grinned. “They’re going to have everything we didn’t as kids.”

He placed his hand on her still flat belly, “Yeah they are.”

#jolex #jolex fanfic #jolex au #jo wilson #alex karev #jo karev #jo x alex #greys anatomy #greys fanfic #grey's anatomy #greys au #grey's anatomy fanfiction #jolex babies #gift fic #sentence prompt #dialogue prompts #fanfic prompts

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rwbyremnants · 3 years

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NOTE: Working on more fics, I promise! For now I'm gonna try to not sleep on this one so much.

=Chapter 32

Fortunately, they only had to wait inside with Mrs. Nikos for about half an hour. She was quite accommodating and understanding, having heard from her husband how unreasonable Jacques had been when they confronted their daughters together - and hearing first-hand his shouting after them as they walked up the street scant minutes before. Most of the small town knew about the incident by now, and while a man might have sided with Jacques, few women would do the same. She had no problem providing Willow with tea and sympathy, and a handkerchief to bawl into.

The minute Pyrrha walked in the door, she knew something was wrong without even having to ask. But she did.

“What's wrong? What happened?”

Mrs. Nikos attempted to field the question herself, adjusting her spectacles. “The Schnees are having… a disagreement. Would you mind driving them to a motel or wherever they need to go, sweetie?”

“A disagreement?” Her friend swallowed hard. “Oh no… oh no, he got out.”

“What?”

“He did,” Mrs. Schnee answered for her, looking wearier by the moment. “And as much as I hate the idea of causing a scene, I can't put my daughter in danger. Not knowingly. If he could drug another poor girl once, send her after Weiss with a knife…”

Mrs. Nikos shook her head, red bob bouncing to and fro. Pyrrha definitely favored her father a bit more in terms of features and size, but the hair was unmistakable. “To think he could treat his own family that way! Absolutely disgraceful - and right here in Atlas Heights!”

“I know, Mom,” Pyrrha said calmly, even though Weiss could tell that she was extremely upset beneath the facade. “But he's hurt them more times in the past. I hate to see any family fall apart, but…”

“Mia zoí malákas!” She spat downward three times; Weiss and her mother were a little surprised, but Pyrrha merely nodded solemnly. “Not that I could believe that of my Nick, of course… but one can never be too careful.”

At their continued confusion, Pyrrha explained, “Old superstition - she's warding off the same evil happening to our family.”

“A-ah,” Willow stammered, not having been prepared for what a high society woman such as she would consider to be a display of extremely unladylike behavior. Weiss knew it probably wasn't unladylike in Mrs. Nikos' culture, of course, but her mother was even less worldly.

“Where will you go?" Pyrrha asked. "I mean… I'm sorry, I don't mean to ask too many questions, but…”

Mrs. Schnee waved that away. “It’s alright, dear. I think… well, maybe I'm presuming too much, but Kali once told me to come to her for anything I might need. And we were talking about my marriage, all the financials. So…”

“Oh! Oh, that's fine - I can definitely drive you there. What about your clothes and things? Do you want me to see if Mr. Schnee will let me in to collect-”

“NO!” When everyone else was surprised by Weiss’s outburst, she hurried to follow up with, “Pyrrha, this isn't your job. Besides, I'm worried he would take out his frustrations with us on you.”

Before she could protest, Pyrrha’s mother said, “Listen to her, kóri. Best to only go in there with more than one of you. It's safer. My God, I never thought I would have to say that about someone in this neighborhood…”

They bade Mrs. Nikos goodnight and piled into Pyrrha's car. The minute they had pulled away down the street, Weiss turned to look at the driver.

“Don't go to Kali's house.”

“What?” they both said.

“Not straight there. I don't want Father having you followed and leading him straight to us, or putting you in danger, like your mom said. You’ve already had to protect me once and that’s more than you ever should have.” She thought frantically. “Let's go to the Branwen's. Then Yang and her mother can take us to the Belladonna's. Just an… an extra, um…”

“A precaution,” her mother finished for her, nodding. She had to crane her neck to see her. “My smart daughter. It might not be necessary, but you're right; better safe than sorry.”

Pyrrha reached over and took up Weiss's hand, drawing her gaze as they came to a stop sign and paused there. “But I would gladly protect you again. I know you would do the same for me! But… oh, you're right. We shouldn't invite trouble when it can be avoided.”

So they did exactly as they planned. Weiss could see that her mother was growing more and more uncomfortable as they got deeper into the poorer part of town, but she was trying to pretend otherwise, maintaining light conversation about the weather and asking after Pyrrha's studies. The other two women were much better at small talk than Weiss was.

Her nerves spiked as they got closer to the Branwen house. Yang’s mother was decidedly no fan of hers, but she had been marginally more civil the last couple of times she visited, so maybe there was some hope.

“Both of you wait here,” she commanded them, reaching for the door handle. “This shouldn't take long. Either she'll help us, or she won't. Simple as that.”

“Be careful, sweetie,” her mother bade her as she slipped out of the car and walked up to the house.

Raven answered after the first knock. She rolled her eyes when she saw the young cheerleader on her doorstep, but made no other derisive comment or gesture - only stood back to let her into the house.

“Actually, we can't stay, Mrs. Branwen. I wondered if I could ask you or Yang for a favor?”

Her bottomless eyes narrowed further. “Like what? And who's ‘we’?”

“Well… it's a long story. The short version is, my father is out of jail and we'd like a ride to Kali's house because we don't want him to strangle us in our sleep.”

She had been expecting some kind of snarky comment, or at the very least a demand for further explanation. Instead, Raven nodded for a moment, then held up a finger before retreating into the house. Weiss was just beginning to worry that she had been ignored when the woman returned, jacket on and keys in hand. It wasn't the kind of coat the Dragons normally sported, but one of a red leather with black fur around the collar. Sunglasses were clipped to the breast pocket, almost as an afterthought.

“Mrs. Branwen? What- I mean, um, what about Yang?”

“This is a grown-up problem, girl. The grown-ups should handle it.” She headed straight for her rusty old car, barely pausing to call over her shoulder, “Whoever's coming had better hurry up. I ain't got all day.”

Pyrrha followed them back to Atlas Heights in her vehicle. Even though she privately thought her mother would be just as comfortable staying with her friend as riding with Raven, if not moreso, she came along, anyway. It was a fairly tense trip.

“He knocked you around?” she asked Willow without preamble.

“What? Oh… yes, I'm… I'm afraid so.”

“Both of you? And you just took it?”

“Raven!” Weiss hissed, unable to help herself. The glare of doom she saw in the rearview mirror made her rethink the action, but she stood her ground.

“Don't you sass me, girl. Grown women are talking.”

Before Weiss could reply, her mother held up a hand to signal that she could field the question herself. “It's fine. She's right; I should have done something about this situation long ago. But I… well, I convinced myself that keeping the peace within our family was more important than my own safety. I was wrong.”

“Damn right you were wrong. If my Taiyang had ever so much as tweaked my girl's nose wrong, I would have slit his throat. That goes for most mothers, I'd wager - and if I'm actually a better parent than you are, that's pretty sad.”

Again, Weiss wanted to argue with her, but this time she stopped herself. That was the most solid proof thus far that Raven wasn't quite the negligent parent that she seemed to be. Maybe this wasn't the time to shout her down. Though she certainly resolved to comfort her mother later, and assure her that she didn't think of her as a bad parent.

Not when they had her father to compare her to.

“Must we do this?” Willow asked in a shaking voice as they pulled into her own driveway. “Shouldn't we leave well enough alone for a while?”

Raven spared her a dark little smirk as she turned off the engine. “A highfalutin’ woman like you? Probably wouldn't last two days without her collection of lipsticks and pantyhose. No, we’d better do this now.”

The walk up to the front door seemed to last an eternity. Both Weiss and her mother were trembling, and she could feel her own palms were moist, stomach clenching in anticipation of another fight, or a shouting match… or worse.

It was Whitley who answered the door. He looked shocked enough to see his own family members, and yet more when he noticed the strange woman glaring down at him as if he had been spawned from a swamp.

“What-?”

“Excuse us.” Raven pushed her way past him without even waiting for him to finish a sentence. After only a second or two spent getting her bearings, she headed for the stairs. Weiss and her mother hurried to follow, the flustered boy tagging along at their heels.

“Your room?” When Weiss nodded, she stormed in and looked around. “Suitcase?”

“Up here, in the closet.” She went to get it herself, hoping that if she wasn’t completely useless she might earn some tiny shred of Raven’s respect. The woman started yanking open drawers, shoving her hands into piles of panties. “H-hey! Don’t touch those!”

Her lip curled as she tossed them unceremoniously into her bag. “Please. You have to be this tall to ride this roller coaster.” She held her hand out at the height that just happened to match that of her mother, and she snorted when she noticed. “Huh. Look at that.”

“Excuse me?” Willow breathed.

“Nothin'. Hurry up, Weiss.” Then she steered the older woman out of her room.

It took another few seconds for Weiss to snap out of her dazed state and begin to pack. They wouldn’t have much time; so far, they had been lucky that her father wasn’t around to interrupt their desperate grab for their personal effects. She focused on clothes first, then began to grab for school supplies, makeup, other things that could be easily picked up and moved. Lastly, she made sure to pluck from the bottom of her closet the single slipper that had lost its mate to her love, tucking it in the corner before she shut the case.

“Do you really think you two will get away with this?”

When she glanced up, it was to see her brother looking quite livid, fists clenched at his side. Sighing as she pulled the suitcase down from the bed to rest on the floor, she finally snapped, “Get away with what?”

“Abandoning Father when he needs us most!” he half-shouted, pasty little face livid. “You already got him thrown in prison, and he’s finally shown that he is willing to reason with you and Mother after all of this… and still you throw that back in his face?”

“Reason with- Whitley, he attacked us! There's nothing for us to feel sorry about - we had to protect ourselves!”

“Of course there is! If you hadn't been… well, you know! Hanging around those bad girls! Why would you keep doing that when you could simply do as Father says and… and ensure your future with the company, with this family? You're even crazier than I thought!”

Weiss had been prepared to hate Whitley for siding with their father. To lash out, to try and make him see reason. Instead, the most prominent emotion she felt… was pity.

“Oh, you poor little idiot.”

“I am not poor and I am not an idiot!” he snarled with a stomp of his foot.

“You are. You just don't know it yet.” As she began to haul the suitcase toward her doorway, she grunted, “You're still welcome to come with us instead of staying here with a dangerous lunatic. But I have a feeling you won't.”

Rolling his eyes, he folded his arms over his chest. “Don't be absurd.” When she kept going, he jogged a bit to catch up and asked, “Where will you be staying?”

“The Starlight Motel.” The lie felt disgusting in her mouth, but it was for their own safety. “Don't bother calling; we are staying under assumed names and asking not to be disturbed.”

“You would rather stay in a fleabag motel than with your own family?”

Narrowing her eyes at him, she hissed, “That man is not my family anymore.”

Then she walked into the hallway. Hers and Yang's mothers had yet to return; that was no surprise. Her mother always took forever to pack. It was one of the many and varied topics she and her husband argued about, nearly every time they took a vacation. Before her mother had stopped arguing and started drinking, of course.

“Thinking about raiding our good silver?”

“Shut up, Whitley.”

“This isn't over, you know,” he sighed in a would-be causal voice. The trembling gave away that he was much more frustrated than that, of course. “Father will make you come back. Or at least return these things you're stealing.”

Taken aback, she snapped, “They're my things! My clothes and books! And do you really expect me to believe you think this is Father's pantyhose in my suitcase?”

“Yes. Oh - well, not in that way!” he burst out in annoyance. “I meant that he paid for all these things and you know that!”

Weiss was about to argue about that, take him down a peg, when the older women emerged from the master bedroom. Two bags were packed - Weiss now wished she had done the same, but she had been trying to pack light and take only the bare necessities. Her mother obviously didn't agree with the same definition of “necessities”.

“...quite a shock at first,” Willow was saying as they approached. Were they actually talking? Raven and her mother?! “But, well… I don't have much room to throw stones in my glass house.”

“I keep telling you, that's not what I care about.” But the instant she saw Weiss standing there, she buttoned her lip. “Hmm.”

“Yes?” Weiss gently prompted.

“Nothing. You ready?”

“I am. Is… everything alright?”

Raven spared her mother a glance. They looked a little more at ease around each other now, which she found as confusing as encouraging. “Think so. Let's go before Willow tries to pack a tea set or something.”

As they descended the stairs, Weiss goggling at Yang's mother calling hers by name, the woman in question whispered, “Oh… the tea set…”

They had just put the second bag into Raven's trunk when another car pulled into the driveway. They were blocked in. Even worse was the man getting out of said car.

“Ah,” he said, face aglow with a self-satisfied smirk that Weiss found infuriating. “Already crawling back with your tail between your legs, eh, Willow? I might have known it wouldn't take long.”

“Jacques,” she said in a dignified voice, which did nothing to hide her obvious fear.

“Wait…” His eyes finally took in the way Raven was stashing the last suitcase and slamming the trunk door closed. “Who is this? What are- did you come back to burgle me? Can you really be that pathetic?”

Raising a hand as if already warding off an attack, his wife backed up until the car pressed into her rear. “We came for what is rightfully ours. Please just… don't cause a fuss.”

“This is absurd!” Weiss almost wanted to laugh at him using the same word choice his son had scant minutes ago. “You really mean to do this! To abandon everything we've built together over some petty squabble! Where will you even stay? With this, this… bitter hag?”

Though Raven’s jaw tightened, she made no other move and offered no word. Weiss had a feeling that was a lot clearer sign of danger than if she had replied.

“At the Starlight Motel,” Weiss repeated loudly, cutting off whatever her mother had been about to say. “And don't bother asking for us; we're using assumed names and… and told them…”

Her voice faded as he turned the withering glare upon her. A few quick steps took him into her personal space, and she felt her flesh crawling in disgust for a man she had once trusted to provide for her, to protect and guide her into adulthood.

“This is all your doing,” he growled into her face, sounding more like a beast than a man. “Poisoning my own wife against me, dividing our home in two. You and those people you fraternize with now, skulking around and doing God knows what! And we both know what you're doing with that Chinese girl!”

She wasn't sure where the moment of boldness came from. Straightening up to her full height, despite it still being half a foot shorter than that of her father, she hissed as sharply as possible, “We do know that, Father. I'm in love with her and there's not a damn thing you can do about it!”

All the color drained from his face as he stared, open mouth, at his youngest daughter. If nothing else, at least she had accomplished shutting the man up for once.

“You…” He ground back to life like a toy having just been wound up again. One of his hands clamped hard on her bicep. “Disgusting… ungrateful… degenerate! Going against God’s laws - the laws of nature! We'll see about that! You're going up to your room, and you're going to stay there until I come up to teach you some-”

His words suddenly cut off. At first, Weiss thought he simply ran out of things to say in his frustration with her. Then he took a step back, and she saw a hand clamped on his shoulder at least as hard as the one on her own bicep.

“Careful, Papa Schnee,” Raven told him in a low, rattling voice. “Don't forget that you aren't alone in your house anymore. People are watching.”

His eyes raised, glancing wildly around the neighborhood. No one was looking out of their windows, or staring from the sidewalk. “Who is ‘people’? You? Please. Some barren old maid who looks like Evil Kineval? I'll thank you to stay out of things that are none of your concern.”

“Look again.”

Even Weiss had to do a double-take to notice what Raven was talking about. Two cars were parked on the other side of the street, their drivers staring intently at the Schnee household. Pyrrha and Kali - her personal knights in shining armor. Though Pyrrha looked a little bit more scared, Kali was filled with grim determination. Even as they stared, the latter's door opened and one of her high heels extended to rest on the pavement, ready to sprint toward the house at a moment's notice.

“You really think I'm scared of a bunch of women?” he scoffed, turning back to look at Weiss as if there had been no interruption. “I've seen the inside of a prison. Nothing you can do can compare with the atrocities I saw there.”

“Really?”

A loud click filled the air between them. When both Weiss and her father looked around, it was to see a prominent bulge in Raven's jacket pocket. Only a truly innocent lamb could mistake it for anything other than…

“A gun?!” she hissed at her. “Again?!”

“Why does everybody act so surprised that I have this and am ready to use it?”

Jacques flicked his beady eyes between the pocket and Raven's passively determined expression. He licked his lips, finally lowering his hand from Weiss's bicep to clench at his side. “It's a bluff. You're bluffing; I've never heard of a woman carrying around a pistol in all my life.”

“Keep threatening my daughter's girlfriend and you'll call my bluff,” she growled in a purely murderous tone, despite the cold smile on her lips. “Nobody gets to do that but me.”

Weiss wanted to sigh but decided she shouldn't.

“Jacques,” Willow set in a firmer tone than Weiss remembered hearing from her. “Please be reasonable. We just want to leave in one piece. Don't be stubborn and get someone hurt. Please?”

To drive home the point, Raven added, “I haven't even decided for sure that I won't shoot you if you do back off. Men like you make me sick. Really not smart to push me right now.”

“I'll have the police haul you in,” he growled angrily, his cheeks beginning to flush with redness due to the sheer levels of anger he was reaching. “You won't get away with threatening me! Do you have any idea who I am? How much power I have in this city?”

“Do you have any idea how little I care? Stop trying to impress me with the size of your piece and go away. I guarantee mine is bigger.”

Never before in her life had Weiss seen her father look so flustered and - to echo Raven's sentiments - impotent before. He glanced toward the front door, where Whitley was watching with an open mouth and an anxious expression, and again at the two women watching from their cars. By now, Kali had exited her vehicle and had one arm resting on the open door. Weiss cautiously retreated to stand next to her mother, silently reaching down to clasp her hand in solidarity. She felt the fingers flex and latch onto her own hard.

“Yes, I see, I see,” he muttered. “Battle of the sexes, is it? Well… we'll see about this. Yes, we will.” Glaring down at Weiss, he hissed in a venomous tone, “You have no idea how much worse I can make your life, ungrateful child.”

“Yes, we do. And we've had enough.” She pointed at the house with a shaking limb and said, “Go, Father. Just go.”

He went. Even though he looked like he had a million more things to shout at them, he seemed to realize that they no longer wanted to listen. His steps toward the front door were sure and swift - Whitley had to jump out of the way to avoid being mowed down in his determination.

Their mother hesitated for a moment, watching Whitley's worried expression. Then she took a step toward the house. “Come with us, son. I don't want to leave you in his care. I really don't! But I won’t force you.”

“Mother…” He sighed, lowering his eyes. Though he looked as if he regretted it, he turned and went back inside the house, pulling the door closed behind him. Weiss had a sneaking suspicion that at least some of what she had said to him sank in, but he wasn't ready to fully believe it yet.

“Glad that's over,” Raven snorted. There was a distant clicking in her pocket again; uncocking her pistol, most likely. “Some men have heads full of sawdust, I swear to-”

The rest of her sentence was cut off by Willow throwing her arms around her, squeezing with all of her might. Weiss took a step backward in shock. The next emotion that flared up in her was pure worry; Raven wasn't exactly a touchy-feely kind of person. How would she react?

“Oh, thank you so much!” Willow breathed urgently against her shoulder. “That was terrifying, and you were so… calm, and made him listen, and you… I've never seen such a strong woman before! Standing up to a man like him!”

The only thing that could have been more surprising would be if Raven embraced her back. Which was exactly what she did - only patting her in the middle of her back with one hand, but it was still more than Weiss expected. She looked mostly wide-eyed and confused. “No big deal.”

“But it is!” She drew back and kissed Raven on either cheek. Privately, Weiss knew that she was just being sociable in the same way she would have with the ladies at the Country Club, but was amused when she realized how it might come across to Raven instead. “How can I ever repay you?”

Sure enough, for just a moment, there was a slight bashfulness in Yang's mother's expression. The shy grin spoke volumes. “Honestly, don't mention it. Ever again.”

“Well, well, you two look cozy.” They had been so wrapped up in the various events that they didn't even hear Kali approach. Her own features were a curious mixture of bemusement and irritation.

“Kali!” Raven gasped - proving that she had completely forgotten she was even there. “This isn't- I mean, I only came to help them get their stuff from the creep in there. That's it, I promise.”

Smirking as she folded her arms over her chest, the Belladonna matriarch needled her, “Never could resist a blonde in distress, could you? But it's all right. You handled that really well and I'm proud of you.”

Her smile was obviously pleased, despite her response being, “Like I care if you're proud or not. But thanks for the backup.”

“Wait,” Willow asked, “you know each other?”

“Boy, does she know me,” Raven half-purred, and Kali rolled her eyes.

“I hate to interrupt this… whatever this is,” Pyrrha announced in a nervous voice, even though none of them had noticed her approach, either, “but I think we should go to Mrs. Belladonna's house before we continue this conversation. I don't like knowing he's in there, watching us like this.”

Their eyes turned as one to the house just in time to see one of the upstairs curtains be wrenched shut. Raven grunted under her breath, “Good idea. Don't want the cops to arrive and find me with this piece in my pocket.”

As they went to their separate cars, Willow asked her, “So you weren't kidding? That's really a gun in your pocket, not just a bluff? I didn't even know women could buy guns!”

“Of course we can. Not that I bought it through strictly legal channels…” She started the car and glanced at the two platinum-haired women in her passenger seats. “You did good. Maybe… I was wrong about you, Little Schnee.”

That was about the most glowing praise Weiss could ever hope to receive from Raven, and she couldn't help the huge grin that broke out across her face. It made the older woman grimace and turn back around.

“How are we going to get out?” Willow asked. “Jacques boxed us in.”

“Did he?”

The next several seconds were like something out of a movie. Raven threw her car into gear, nearly plowed into the fence, then cut the steering wheel hard so she would reverse into the front yard around her father's car. Deep gouges were left into the grass and earth that would take a groundskeeper many hours to fix. As if an intentional finishing touch, she backed over the mailbox before winding up on the road again, shifting into drive and taking off at top speed.

That was fine with Weiss. She hated being boxed in.

“Oh, our mailbox…” After a brief second, Willow turned to nervously say, “But it's fine! I… we can buy another!”

“Who is ‘we’? Thought you were done living with that walking pile of dog shit.”

Simple as that statement was, it shattered the excitement for the two Schnee women and left them with nothing but melancholy and regrets. A chapter in their life had ended forever, leaving only an uncertain future looming on the horizon through the cracked windshield of Raven Branwen’s old rusty Dodge.

#princess and the dragons #freezerburn fanfic #1950s au #rwby fanfiction #rwbyremnants

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waitingtobeimpressed · 4 years

Text

The Duchess (1/?)

A/N- howdy friends, I actually wrote this like a year ago but I was never really happy with it, but anyways here it is.

**Not my gif**

Warnings: a severe attitude problem?

Captain Celeste Guthrie was finding it incredibly hard to keep control of her facial expressions. At this current moment in time she was hyper aware that if she let her guard down for even a second her sour mood would become evident on her face. It would be unprofessional of her to get up and leave and childish of her to just simply state just how ‘fucking

boring’ this was. Celeste could have been doing any number of things instead of being sat in a brittle wooden chair with all these old men all gaping at her breasts. It was exhausting to pretend like she gave a crap about all of this political bullshit, but if she didn’t even try to act like she cared as much as the rest of them she would be ridiculed for it, so instead she politely smiled and nodded her head along with the other men’s words. The six other Captains sat around Eleanor’s office table were all men and they all highly doubted the oldest Guthrie sisters’ capabilities to lead any ship let alone a pirate ship.

“Miss Guthrie?” an annoyed voice pulled her from her thoughts and seemingly grounded her at an instant, her deep blue eyes flicked over the source of the sound to see a short, round burly man with a long greying beard and mustache. He was shaking his head with a wicked smile etched onto his lips. He looked like he wanted to rip the much younger woman into several pieces for even acting like she belonged there.

“Actually, I prefer Captain, if you wouldn’t mind” Celeste could feel her sisters disapproving glare from next to her. Which only incited her bad mood further. Normally, Eleanor herself would have put the old man in his place for even daring to talk to her sister like this, however, she was trying to convince him to lower his prices for her so Celeste’s feelings would just have to be put on hold.

“Just as I thought” he continued to blabber on, he truly believed that he had her figured out, that he had all women figured out, because a woman couldn’t lead, a woman couldn’t even tie her shoelaces without help from a man. All men were the same, or at least all the men in Nassau were the same. All arrogant assholes.

“Why are we even entertaining this child!” he spat with more venom that was needed to get his point across while slamming his hand upon the table like it was a gavel. Celeste raised an annoyed eyebrow in his direction before turning to look at her sister who simply mouthed the word ‘no’. Celeste just thought that he was incredibly lucky that he was sat on the other side of the room to her otherwise she would have shown him just how much of child she could be.

Celeste stood, pushing her dress down to press out the wrinkles before placing both of her hands upon the table, leaning the rest of her body weight in the direction of her certain accuser. A forced laugh escaped her lips as she shook her head, her blonde ringlets bouncing as she did so. “I feel so incredibly sorry for you Captain Pike” a confused look flashed over his features before an angry one took its place. “ it must be truly terrible to always have the smallest brain in the room, and with all of these big, offensive ideas brewing up there I’m personally surprised that you are not constantly plagued with a searing headache” Celeste smiled, she simply couldn’t help herself. Now this was a meeting that was worth going to.

“Now, I don’t want to come across as hostile because I know that you men are extremely sensitive when it comes to the size of your… Ships,” Celeste paused to locate her choice words carefully, Captain Pike looked like her wanted to throttle her, like many of the other Captains, on the other hand Captain Flint looked highly amused.

“however, The Duchess has once again brought in the most imports, most of which are ready for market” Celeste sat, slumping slightly in her chair to indicate to the others just how unjust these accusations were. “Once again, my ship and my crew have made the most money, which is probably why I’m being ‘entertained’ at this meeting,”. She shot a pointed look towards Pike who looked like he needed to take a breath to ‘calm his nerves’. ”so the real question is why are you being entertained?”

“It’s truly great that your humble about your success” Flint chuckled with a wide smile as he kicked up his feet onto the table. Celeste mocked his actions as she crossed her arms over her chest. “but the lady does have a point, Pike,” he said as he stretched his arms to rest above his head. “so shut your damn mouth”

“Now that’s no way to speak to one of our most respected colleagues” an instantly recognizable deep voice echoed throughout the room and the wind knocked out from Celeste’s chest, her arms instantly became slack.

Celeste snapped her head in her younger sisters’ direction who looked incredibly guilty. That little witch. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Eleanor promised that she wouldn’t have to see him during these meetings.

“Ah Vane, nice of you to finally join us” Eleanor piped up for the first time this meeting, Celeste’s burning glare making the younger girl a little nervous, “However you are almost an hour and a half late.” Vane closed the door behind himself and lazily dropped himself into the seat directly opposite from Celeste who was currently finding her shoes incredibly interesting. Vane however couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from her body. He pulled a cigar from his pocket and used one of the shorter pillar candles that were placed upon the table to light it, blowing out smoke as he did so.

Celeste wanted nothing more than for this meeting to be over so she retreat back to the safety of her ship. She hadn’t laid eyes on the man in nearly 6 years and she certainly didn’t want to start up again now. She hoped that she could just go unnoticed for the rest of this meeting like she had done for the first hour. That wish was, however, unlikely.

“Im here now, aren’t I?” Vane wanted a rise out of the young woman, she knew this, and she would rather die than give it to him. “ and if you had mentioned that your lovely sister were here Elenor, I would have quickened my pace.” He said very amused with himself while balancing the cigar between his lips. Celeste rolled her eyes, huffing to herself back into the corner of the room. She caught a glimpse of the traveling people outside on the street below and she envied all of them. They didn’t have to be in this sweltering box of a room with possibly the people she hated the most on the planet’s, “What were you fine gentleman, oh and I mustn’t forget, ladies, discussing?”.

One of the other captains stood, Captain Kane who was a ugly stick of a man, pointed at Celeste accusingly, which caused her to tear her eyes up towards him, scowling at him. “Captain Guthrie was just informing us that her and her crew, which might I had is almost entirely made up of women, have managed to make the most coin this past month. Which I highly doubt to be the case” He spat as he downed the rest of the ale that was left in bottle. Celeste scoffed loudly which didn’t by any means go unnoticed by the rest of the men. Suddenly felt a sharp elbow press into her side. To her side she could see her younger sister glaring, totally unamused.

“Ow! What the fuck was that for I’m not the one being a bigot” Celeste snarled at her younger sibling who was cautiously eyeing the other people in the room who were all now bickering amongst themselves. All except Flint and Vane. Flint was looking down towards his hands, looking at a small folded parchment paper in between his calloused fingertips. His tired face looked bored much like Celeste’s. Which is probably why they got along so well.

Vane, however looked entirely all too pleased with himself, like he had everyone where he wanted them. Celeste snapped her vision and locked eyes with the man, instantly regretting the choice when he smirked at her, to be perfectly honest she knew she would eventually run into her childhood friend again one day, it was just a matter of time. And unfortunately, her luck had run out. It would’ve been perfectly fine with her to never see the person who had ruined her life ever again. Vane, being as stubborn as he was believed that he had given the older Guthrie girl enough time to ‘get over it’ and now she was just being bitter.

“Would you at least try and act civil” Eleanor whispered as she leaned into Celeste’s side. Celeste ripped her gaze away from Vane and back to the window.

“Me being ‘Civil’ does not mean bowing down to every man in sight because it suits your needs.”

“This is exactly why father left me to run this business, you can’t see past your pride and into the future!”

“ No, father left you the business because you are his little pet. And might I had that you were also the only one here. I believe in creating my own worth not riding on daddy’s wealth and pretending that its my own.” Celeste angrily whispered back.

An evil grin formed on Vanes face, he could quite clearly see the rift between the two sisters and wondered how much more strain their relationship could handle before it cracked completely, “Convenient , because if that was true then that would mean that Captain Guthrie here probably had the help from her little sister, you know giving her the best tips for the most valuable ships, the biggest plunders. And that really wouldn’t be fair at all. Would it?” He stated matter of factly, tilting his head to see if his efforts had managed to anger Celeste. Which they definitely had.

“How fucking dare you!” Celeste sat bold upright in her chair, purposely turning her attention to Vane, “Since when was my crew and my ship being brought under investigation, maybe if you weren’t all drunks, or out whoring all the live long day, or you actually knew how to captain a goddamned ship, you would be spending your coin rather than watching me roll around in mine.” Celeste forcefully pushed the chair from underneath herself, not bothering to correct her dress this time. “now if you’ll excuse me, I have far better things to do with my time, like watching paint dry.” she hatefully spat before walking the short distance to the door and ultimately deciding that slamming it was her best course of action.

Pike laughed so weakly that it could have been mistaken for nasty chest infection, “see?” he pointed to the still rattling door, “this is why women can’t be in charge of anything, they are far too emotional” he said stroking the gruff on his chin.

Vane took everyone by surprise when he also abruptly stood, stubbing the end of his cigar out directly onto the table, avoiding the ash tray, “I suggest you shut the fuck up” his low gruff voice bellowed out before he too made his way to the door, leaving everyone else with a look of confusion on their faces. Eleanor knew that the two had a history, but she assumed that they would either pretend it never happened or Celeste would be the bigger person and not let his often-relentless teasing get the better of her, looks like she was wrong.

Celeste practically ran down the steps of the tavern wanting nothing more then to seek the safety of her nice cool cabin on her ship, surrounded by people who she can somewhat tolerate. At least her cabin had a bolt on the door, as Celeste marched through the maze of people and reached the street, she felt eyes boring into her. She had a pretty good idea of who it was which was why she was gradually picking up her pace. Celeste couldn’t deal this this right now, or ever to be perfectly honest, so she kept her pace until the beach came into sight. The heat at this point was almost unbearable and the layered long black dress was not helping the situation. She gathered the ends of her dress, exposing her bare legs, before jumping down off of the dock and onto the white hot sand.

Or the beach is where you can really see the split of people in Nassau as only Pirates dared show their faces down there, which made Celeste, who was a woman, a bit of a rarity. The only thing she hated more that Charles Vane was this beach, with all of its vagrants and criminals, however it was the only way back to her ship, so it was a necessary evil. Weaving in and out of the makeshift tents she eventually broke their density and to made it out to hear the gentle lapping of the sea against the sand.

Celeste could feel a mass amount of eyes piercing her figure as she shielded her own with her hand from the blazing sun. she ignored them like she always did and tried to locate her second in command Rosabelle who should have been waiting with their rowboat along with two of her most trusted men, Felix and Jack. No luck however, and she soon realized that they was barely anyone this far down the beach, not a single person was rowing out to the larger ships in port.

What the fuck is going on?

Slowly, Celeste turned her body to look to the left of her to inspect the rest of the beach, but she really wished she hadn’t. Stood there was Vane, both of his hands perched upon his hips has he squinted his ice blue eyes towards her, a smirk pressed against his lips. “Hello, Love. Its been a while.” His gruff voice spoke as he took a view steps closer, Celeste did not move, not under any circumstances. She was not going to be bullied by him a she certainly wasn’t going to give in to him. She would rather die.

She glared at him, “Not nearly long enough” she spat as she pushed past his broad shoulder as bolted past him. He wasn’t about to let her leave him standing on this beach, again, so he sharply turned and grasped onto her wrist. She jumped out of instinct and mentally scolded herself for doing so. She tried ripping her arm from her grasp but when she kept failing she began to walk again and to her surprise he didn’t try to stop her, instead he followed her like a child until they were back at the top of the beach.

“What the fuck do you want Vane, let me fucking go” Celeste shouted as she spun around to face him. Pushing him against a wall on one of the unsuspecting houses that lined the beach. Celeste had pushed him with just enough force for him to to let go of her wrist. A smile broke through on to his face, not a smirk but a genuine smile. This caused Celeste to immediately let go of his chest and retreat back a few steps before walking away again.

“You really must let your petty anger go love, its not attractive” vane said, hot on Celestes heals as she darted in and out of the various merchants. Celeste was not really sure what he was planning to gain from making her angry and though she hated to admit it was almost working.

“Its not attractive?, oh heaven forbid, will the gods ever forgive me?” she seethed as she quickened her pace anxious to escape Vane. This is why she didn’t want to see him again, he was being insufferable and didn’t show any signs of letting up soon.

Vane chuckled as he darted in front of her,quite effectively stopping her in the middle of the street., “neither is sarcasm” Celeste was finding it very difficult to not punch the man straight in the face, but she knew that would do little to nothing to change if persistency.

“I don’t give a fuck what you think of me Vane” Finally and totally stopping to move around him because it was basically pointless. Obviously her old find had something on his mind and he wasn’t about to let Celeste skip out of town until she had heard it.

Vane clicked his tongue and tilted his head to the side ever so slightly,“I highly doubt that” he said.

Unbeknownst to the squabbling pair below, Jack Rackam and Anne Bonny we’re watching in amusement from the balcony of an ale house directly opposite from them.

Jack let out a laugh as he leaned on the weathered wood of the railing as he cradled a half filled bottle in his hand. “ Oh Christ, is that Celeste Guthrie with Captain?” He questioned as he lightly lurched forward to get a better look. “ She does not look happy to say the least.”

“ She never looks happy, part of her’ charm” Anne said as she settled next to him, staring at the pair who had finally stopped.

Jack turned to Anne with a look of realisation on his drunken face. “ That’s right, you were a member of her crew a few years back if I’m not mistaken”, Anne rolled her eyes. “ How was that experience my love? Is it true that their are only down on their luck women to man the ship?” He stopped for a second before turning to gage his partners current mood before deeming that it was safe enough to carry on. “That hardly seems practical.”

“Hey Captain, ive been looking everywhere for you” Celeste whipped her head to see the extremely concerned look on Rosabelles pale face.

“oh thank god, Rosabelle, what is it?”

“you should probably just come and see this”

Various things were running through Celestes mind as she and her second in command lead her through the bustling streets of Nassau. However she was just happy to be rid of Vane. To be perfectly honest she hadn’t expected him to hound her like he had done.

Rosabelle led Celeste right back to the tavern, much to her dismay. Celeste could her sister pacing anxiously.

“What do you want now?” Celeste called out but was instantly taken aback when see saw tears rolling down her cheeks.

Elenor was wringing her hand in front of her “ it’s Aurora, she’s missing Celeste”

#charles vane x oc #celeste guthrie #captain vane #charles vane smut #charles vane x reader #blacksails #elenor guthrie

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reddeadinmybed · 4 years

Text

Simplicity (M)

ANON ASKED; can we get NSFW dutchxreader? maybe something a little rough but not too violent or crazy.

Life on a farm was never easy. My father was never one to ask for money from loan sharks, he was too proud of a man to ever admit that he needed help when times were troubling. However, when a stormy night hit the farm and destroyed the crops and killed our livestock, my father had no choice. My father had somehow managed to find a loan shark easy due to them being only up the road. Something about them recently moving here from Ambarino.

The lenders name was Leopold Strauss. He was a German who was very good with numbers and anything mathematical. He lent my father approximately $250 to let the farm to get back on its feet again, which didn’t need the insane amount of money. He gave my father the time limit of a week and if we didn’t seek him out, he would send one of his men to come and “collect the money” for him. Sounded like a crock of shit to me. No loan shark would come and collect the money without starting a fight.

When my father told my little sister and I, we hit the roof. My father didn’t know the first thing about loaning or money in general. My father was now well over-encumbered with money and my sister and I had to make sure that the money was going to be spent accordingly and wouldn’t be spent on the likes of alcohol. It was either my father spending all the money for his own pleasures, or it was some assholes trying to steal the money for their own pleasures.

My sister and I thought we had managed to get the money back on time. We had put the money in the safe and didn’t let father know where the key was hidden. He agreed, not wanting to be indebted to a loan shark for the rest of his life. It was perhaps one of the smartest moves he made ever since mum died. The smartest move he ever made was to quit drinking and start focusing on a life with his two daughters.

Everything was going great until our farm got raided by some scum who called themselves the O’Driscoll’s. They stole our money, the money that we had saved to return to Leopold Strauss. They had blown up the safe whilst my father, sister and myself went to Valentine to grab supplies.

We came back to nothing. No money. No cattle. Absolutely nothing. We were lucky they didn’t burn our house down. If they had, we would not have been able to have shelter. We were already on the cusp of losing the house. Prices were slowly starting to increase and supplies were scarce.

Leopold Strauss was going to send someone after us and there was nothing we could do about it. There was no way the three of us could make $130 in four hours. Father was told 6:00pm otherwise they would come and if was 2:00pm now.

Father told us that he was going to handle this problem and that we needed to hide. Something about not wanting any of the men in the gang to know we were here however we didn’t make it.

Just as my sister and I were going to hide, there was a man who kicked the door opened. My sister screamed in surprise and I pulled her closer to me, protecting her from the man. My sister was clinging to me desperately, terrified of the man who just knocked our door off its hinges.

“Mr L/N, it appears you haven’t handed us our money back.” The man says whilst taking a look around our house, most probably searching for something for him to take.

“Mr Williamson, you have to believe me when I say I had the money but those O’Driscoll boys took all of it. They had left us with nothing...I-I–”

Mr Williamson grabbed a glass from the cabinet and grabbed the scotch that was half empty. He then took a seat at the table and placed his feet on top of it. Mr Williamson poured himself a shot and brought it to his mouth, swigging it back.

“Now Mr L/N, do you really think I care about those damn O’Driscoll’s? You learn money to our Strauss and you need to pay up.” Mr Williamson chuckled, clearly finding the whole situation amusing.

Father spluttered with his words, giving Mr Williamson more of a reason to find the situation funny. Mr Williamson just sat there and continued to chuckle and pour another drink, knocking it back.

Mr Williamson looked over toward my sister and I, finally noticing us standing there, shaking in fear. If it was even possible, my sister gripped onto me even harder. I felt that if she held onto me tighter, I would die from getting crushed.

Mr Williamson gave a smirk.

“Well ain’t this a surprise,” he looked over at father. “Forget about the money Mr L/N, we’ll clear the debt for one of your beautiful beautiful girls over here.” Mr Williamson started as he creeped towards us.

“You leave them alone you hear! They’re not taking a single step out of this house with you. You and your gang can...can go fuck themselves! You hear me? Go fuck your self!” Father yelled and took steps closer towards Mr Williamson.

“Shut up you old bastard.” Mr Williamson pulled his gun out of his holster and whacked father over the head with it. Father fell to the floor, knocked unconscious from the impact of the hit.

My sister screamed, scared because father was our protector yet he was knocked out on the floor, leaving me to deal with Mr Williamson by myself, who was staring at my sister with predatory eyes.

Panic swarmed through me at the thought of Mr Williamson trying to take my sister. There was no way I could let him take her. I would rather him take me and even kill me before he even lays a finger on her.

“Now the question is, which one of you ladies should I take as payment.” Mr Williamson’s smirk only grew wider when my grip on my little sister tightened. It was obvious he wanted my sister and his menacing steps towards the two of us made it even more obvious.

“Y-You leave her alone you! Take me instead. I will go willingly if you let her go.” The words were meant to come out strong and make me long strong but my words were stumbled and quiet.

Mr Williamson’s smirk didn’t falter. He knew that I was scared and he knew that I couldn’t do a thing to stop him from taking my little sister. I would still try my hardest to keep the evil man that stands before me from stealing my little sister.

If Mr Williamson manages to take my little sister, I would never forgive myself.

“Well then. If I can’t have her...I’ll take you.” Me Williamson grabbed my arm and yanked me towards him. His grab caused me to go flying into his chest.

He stank of alcohol, no doubt he was drunk even before he came to ‘collect his money’. The smell made me want to gag, it was so bad. Not to mention that he hadn’t bathed in what seemed like centuries.

“H-hey! Let go of me!” I yelled out, trying to yank myself out of his grip.

Mr Williamson laughed.

“Look at what we got here. First she wants me to let her sister go and now she wants me to let her go. Well, I’ve got some bad news for ya sweetheart...” he looked me dead in the eye, “I’m going to have to take you with me. You’re the payment.” He then started walking towards the door, his grip on my collar pulling me with him.

“Y/N!” My little sister yells and proceeds to run after me.

Mr Williamson ignored her pleas and hogtied my hands before throwing me on the floor and hogtying my legs together. He threw me over his shoulders, his disgusting hands giving my waist a squeeze. He chuckled, throwing me over the horse.

“Y/N! No, please don’t go! I need you!” My sister cried out but there was nothing I could do. I was stuck on the horse and I couldn’t even see her. The repulsive man in front of me had faced me away from my little sister so as Mr Williamson got on his horse and started cantering away, I could only turn my head and look at her.

She looked a mess, crying her eyes out and eventually she collapsed onto her knees and thrusted her arms out as if she was trying to grab me. My little sister looked broken hearted and as Mr Williamson’s horse retreated, a tear fell from my eye.

How was I going to survive this?

It was only a 30 minute ride but it felt like hours. I didn’t attempt to speak in fear that I would get hit. I didn’t look towards Mr Williamson at all, not wanting to attract his attention towards me. During the ride Mr Williamson pulled out a flask and proceeded to frantically drink out of it. He finished it by the time we made it to the gangs hideout.

When Mr Williamson’s horse was hitched up, he grabbed my waist again, muttering about how nice my waist looked, threw me over his shoulder, and walked towards a large tent.

There was people in this gang - women to be in fact. They didn’t at all look intimidating, apart from one but she only looked stressed, ordering them girls to clean the sheets and clothes. Maybe they were like me. Slaves.

“Jesus Bill, Strauss sent you to collect money, not a girl.” One of the males said to Bill.

The man wore a worn out stenson with a blue shirt. He had a bandana wrapped around his neck and wore blue jeans with black and white suspenders. He had chaps that overlapped his pants and wore black boots. He was handsome, there was no denying it.

“Oh shut it Arthur, maybe if you could’ve done it better you should’ve gone instead,” Bill retorted and proceeded to walk towards the tent.

I looked at Arthur and he gave me an apologetic look, apologising on behalf of Bill.

I didn’t even get the chance to smile back at him because I was thrown to the floor. I grunted as I hit the floor, the air being knocked out of my lungs. I wheezed trying to find air for me to breathe again.

“Mr Williamson, I trust that this girl is important and that’s why you’ve kidnapped her from her home and robbed her from her family.” A sombre voice rang out and it had me turning to see who was the owner of the voice.

He was a tall but handsome man. He held a cigar in one hand and had the other holding on to his belt. He wore a black top hat with a red lining. He wore all black consisting of a black button up, jacket, dress pants and shoes. He stood there like a god and he looked like one too.

There was a girl in the tent who had red hair. She was gorgeous and had her hair professionally put up and looked perfectly in place. Her dress accentuated all her curves and made her bust looked luscious and plump. She was glaring at me, seeming displeased that I had pulled her away from the gorgeous man that stands before me.

“Dutch, this woman is payment for the L/N loan. Apparently the O’Driscoll’s had stolen their money right before I came. As punishment I took her.” Bill’s words made me angry; livid even.

“The O’Driscoll’s took everything we had! Even our payment to you, you incompetent asswipe.” I spat towards Bill, tired of seeing his excruciatingly annoying face.

Bill looked at me, annoyance dripping down his face.

“Now you shut it you dumb little bi –”

“Enough Bill. You can leave now.” Dutch called out, not once looking at him, his gaze remaining on me. “Before you do leave, untie the girl, she doesn’t need to be bound.” He placed the cigar in his mouth.

It was like I was entranced. Everything he did was perfect and all he did was put a cigar in his mouth.

Bill untied me and Dutch offered his hand out for me to grab. Apprehensively, I grabbed his hand and he pulled me up and towards him. I collided into his hard chest and his hand let go of mine and he placed it on my waist, stabilising me.

I blushed, not expecting such a brazen move. He was all kinds of warm, from his hands to his gaze. The weather was warm, probably why his grip was so warm.

“Everybody gather around. This here is –” he stopped and looked at me, expecting me to introduce myself.

“Y/N,” I muttered. It was so quiet I don’t even think that Dutch had heard it but he had.

“This is Y/N. She will be staying with us now. Keep your eye on her and if she runs away,” he paused to look at me. “Bring her back.” His voice was deep and it brought a shiver down my spine. It was clearly a warning. A warning to let me know that if I try and escape, there will be hell to pay.

A couple of minutes passed and everyone went back to what they were doing. People were cooking, others cleaning. Some were sitting there and writing in a book - a ledger. Most likely Leopold Strauss.

However Arthur caught my attention the most. He had a journal open and it appeared he was sketching. He looked at me ever so often and it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. Arthur was drawing me.

I slowly moved towards him and sat down next to him. He was sitting on a log that was overlooking the river. There was a lot of bugs around here but it was something that Arthur had seemed to be used to, not paying attention to any of the bugs flying around his face.

“Do you like drawing Mr –” I waited to hear his last name.

“Morgan,” he looked up towards me, staring at me for a bit before looking back down and sketching once again. “The last name is Morgan.” He looked very handsome sketching, yet not quite as handsome as Dutch.

“Mr Morgan,” I tested out his name and Arthur looked up at me. I gave a small smile and he returned one to me.

I had no idea but I wasn’t afraid. Mr Morgan made me feel...safe. It was as if he would never hurt me. I know its strange considering I just met him but he doesn’t look like he would hurt me. In fact, no one in this camp looks it. Apart from Mr Williamson and one other man in this camp (he had blonde hair and a strange moustache with an expression that was truly evil), it didn’t seem that any of them wanted to hurt me. Hell they even had a kid in this camp.

I felt somewhat safe with this camp which is definitely crazy considering they just kidnapped me from my family and my home.

“The answer is yes.” Mr Morgan said, confusing me. I frowned at him as if trying to remember if I said anything.

“You asked me if I liked to draw,” Mr Morgan clarified. “Yes, I like to draw.” Was all he said and we were sat in silence again.

I took one look at Dutch and he was talking to the girl in his tent. They didn’t look happy, somewhat yelling at each other. You could hear the phonograph playing classical music, drowning out their argument. I then looked back at the river again and watched as the sun started to go down.

I don’t know how I’m going to survive here but I’m hoping that eventually, they’ll let me see my family again.

It’s been a couple of weeks since I have been with the gang known as the Van Der Linde Gang. I have gotten to know everyone a bit better during the weeks I’ve resided here. I’ve even gotten to know Bill. He was a grumpy brute and although I don’t particularly like him (or Micah and Molly) I remain - for some silly reason - hopeful that a friendship can grow between the two of us.

I’m extremely close to Arthur Morgan and Mary-Beth. Karen doesn’t like me too much, saying I need “exposure to the real world and not some fairytale world”. The reason being that Mary-Beth and I love to read. We love to read about other lives. Other lives being the rich and famous and love stories that we could only dream of.

Arthur is my lifeline. When I felt like I was drowning, Arthur had managed to pull me back and remind me of who I am and what I was doing here.

Although I miss my family very much, I felt like this was the life that I was missing. I felt like I was meant to be here. I didn’t want to leave this place. Yes, I wanted to see my family again, everyone would in my situation. Yet I feel like I don’t want to go back to how things were before. It seemed boring.

Over the few weeks I also got to know Dutch Van Der Linde and his somewhat ‘girlfriend’ Molly O’Shea. Dutch refuses to call her that but Molly jumps at the chance, reminding me that Dutch belongs to her.

It was currently 7:30 in the afternoon and the sun had just left the sky a couple of minutes ago, yet there was a gorgeous residue of patterns from the sun that littered the sky. It was gorgeous.

“Miss L/N,” Mr Matthews voice called out. I turned to face him, a smile on my face.

Mr Matthews was a lovely old man who acted like a father to me. He always talked about his ex-wife Bessie and how things used to be. They were interesting stories and I loved to sit down by the fire and listen to them, a smile on my face.

“Yes Mr Matthews,” I said whilst turning around to face him completely.

His old age was slowly getting to him, the wrinkles becoming evident as each day passes. I had no idea how old he truly was but I was assuming he was in his late 60’s to early 70’s.

“Dutch would like a word with you in his tent.” A spark of nervousness ignited in my belly. The tingle I felt made my breath hitch and I could only give a small smile as a response to Mr Matthews.

He walked off leaving me to sit there and think about what Dutch could possibly want. Was it that he has noticed the stares that I give him? Was he going to kick me out of the gang? Was he going to yell at me for doing something wrong? My mind went into overdrive, thinking of all the worst case scenarios in my head.

I stood up abruptly and started walking towards Dutch’s tent which was all closed off. I had no idea how I was going to let him know that I was there, it wasn’t like I could knock on the sheet. Instead I resorted to, “Mr Van Der Linde, I’m here.”

Dutch uttered out a “come in,” and I found myself opening the sheet and stepping inside, making sure the sheet was shut properly. I then turned to face Dutch and my jaw almost dropped with the sight I had before me.

Dutch held a book in his hand and flicked the page when he had finished the page. His jacket was not one and his shirt was unbuttoned allowing me to see his chest. His hat was sitting on top of a barrel and I could see his hair was rough due to the hat being on all day.

“Y-yes Mr Van Der Linde?” I asked, stuttering at the beginning.

Dutch noticed this, a smirk on his face as he took a puff of his cigar. He blew out the smoke and placed cigar on a tray, ensuring that the whole tent won’t set on fire due to the cigar dropping.

“Miss L/N, I have called you in here so I can discuss a...an observation I have seen with you and Mr Morgan in the camp.” At the mention of Arthur my cheeks turned red.

Oh no, he thinks I like Mr Morgan!

“M-Mr Morgan? He and I are merely just friends, he and I a-are nothing more.” I muttered out quickly and Dutch smirks once again.

Dutch closed the book and placed it on the barrel before walking closer towards me. I took a step back, not wanting to be in his way but it appears he was walking towards me. I took another step back, afraid of what he was planning.

He flicked the switch of the phonograph and classical music started to play. The sound blocked my thoughts, it being way too loud for me to think.

“Dance with me Y/N.” The way he said my name sent a shiver down my spine. He offered out his hand and I didn’t even think before I grabbed his hand, eager to dance with him.

He pulled me to him, much like the first day that I met him, and I collided to his chest. His arms encircled around my waist, giving a little squeeze before his left hand gripped my own.

My breath hitched at being so close to him. His grip on me was tight, as if he never wanted to let me go which was fine by me because I never wanted him to let me go. Being in his arms felt right and I never wanted to be held in another mans arms.

Dutch moved backwards slowly, guiding me with him. Everything felt so right. I could feel his chest pressed against mine and my right hand was gripping his shoulder with such desperation, I’m sure Dutch could feel my nails digging in.

My gaze remained on his and his gaze remained on me, both of us too afraid to look away from each other. It was as if we’d disappear if we looked away from each other.

Dutch’s gaze flickered fo my lips, and at that moment, I desperately wanted him to kiss me. I wanted him to make me his, I wanted to be his.

His head tilted in, as if he was going to kiss me and I wasn’t going to pull back. I wanted this just as much as he did. I wanted Dutch to kiss me, to call me his. I could feel his breath on my lips and we were so close our noses were almost touching. If I leant forward even the slightest, our lips would be pressed against each other.

The kiss was going to happen except Molly barged through the tent and saw Dutch and I. She saw me pressed completely towards Dutch and our heads tilted and close together.

I broke away from Dutch and removed myself from his embrace. Immediately a sense of longing filled me. A feeling of yearning for his embrace nagged at me and it would do anything to be in Dutch’s arms again.

Not thinking, I turned and ran out of the tent, not wanting to hear what Dutch nor Molly had to say. I just kept going until I finally made it to my tent and laid on the bed, attempting sleep.

I was afraid. I was afraid of the way I felt when I was with Dutch. I should hate him. He’s forbidding me from seeing my family and he’s keeping me here. I should feel nothing but repulsive when he touches me and I should be trying to escape as I’m thinking at this very moment; but I can’t. I don’t want to leave because when I’m with Dutch, my world is complete.

Maybe I was crazy but the simplicity of being with Dutch is what I yearned for. I didn’t have a struggle when I was with him, life was easy and simple. I wanted him and I knew I couldn’t have him.

He was with Molly.

A couple of days had passed since that night with Dutch. I had avoided both him and Molly, still not wanting to hear what they had to say. Not only that, I had no idea what to say to either of them. What would I even say to Molly? There was nothing to us? Clearly Dutch and I both wanted something that night whether it was just pure intimacy or each other. It wouldn’t make sense if it was just intimacy he craved, he had Molly for that. Right?

I was walking to a table to place my stew down when Molly stood in front of me and knocked my plate causing the hot stew to land on my chest and the food to cover me.

I gasped, not expecting Molly to do that or have food all over me and my clothes. It burned, the stew being fresh off the burner. I wanted to scream and flick the hot food off of my chest but I was also too proud to admit that I was in pain, especially to

Molly looked proud of herself for ruining my dress. She had a proud smirk on her face and she crossed her arms, pushing her bust out.

“What the hell!” I yelled out looking at Molly with an angry look on my face. Everyone in the camp looked our way to see what was happening.

Micah let out a little chuckle and made a remark, no doubt a disgusting one.

“That was for hanging out with Dutch, when you know he was mine.” She then turned away and started to walk away from me.

A flash of anger ran through me and I stormed towards the stew pot. I grabbed a bowl and grabbed a handful of stew with the spoon and placed it in the bowl before walking towards Molly O’Shea and dumping all on her.

She gasped in shock and yelled that it burned.

“Two can play this game Molly. Don’t fuck with me.” I then turned and started walking towards the river. I needed to get these clothes off of me.

I continued walking a few metres away from the camp, just to make sure that no one could see me. I didn’t want anyone to see me naked especially Micah. He was a creep.

When I thought I was clear, I started to undress. I then walking into the water, with my dress in hand. I needed to clean the stew off of the dress if I ever wanted to wear it again. I was limited in clothes and I needed this one to not be stained.

I stood in the freezing cold water trying to get the stain out, not even noticing that Dutch was slowly walking towards me. His steps were slow, him taking his time appreciating the view.

The water stood up to my waist so he would’ve been able to see my breasts and me struggling to get the stain out of my dress.

It wasn’t until I groaned and threw the dress towards the shore that I saw Dutch Van Der Linde standing there watching me. I gasped and covered my breasts although there was no point, he had already seen them.

Dutch stood there with a smirk on his face.

“Miss L/N, I didn’t realise you were so brass.” He grabbed his hat and placed it on the floor. He then took his jacket off, slowly undressing himself in front of me.

“Mr...Mr Van Der Linde, I-I wasn’t expecting you to follow me. I-I needed to clean my dress after –”

“After miss O’Shea threw your stew all over you. Yes I heard. I also heard that you threw stew over her. That was a very bad thing to do Miss L/N. You’re disturbing the peace around here,” Mr Van Der Linde said as he unbuttoned his cuff-links.

“I-I didn’t m-mean to. I was mad and...and I –”

“That’s enough talking Miss L/N, you need to be punished,” he cut me off once again. I gasped at his words. Punished? For sticking up for myself? How exactly is he planning on punishing me?

His shoes were off and his shirt was now unbuttoned, much like the night before. He was now pulling his belt out of the loop holes in his pants. He was staring at me as I watched him undress. Who knows what he was thinking at this point. All I know was that he was so darn attractive right now and I was excited to see what was going to happen.

I took a step back, gasping at the coldness of the water as it hit my nipples. Dutch noticed and smirked, pulling down his pants leaving him bare all for me. I started walking into the water, not even giving me a chance to bask in his naked glory.

He walked towards me and once he reached me he stood there, waiting for something to happen. Or perhaps that was me. We were just staring at each other, naked, with the water reaching my shoulders and his chest.

I don’t understand why he’s not doing anything. Was I not attractive enough? I don’t understand.

“Miss L/N, I must say, you are ravishing. I’m finding it quite hard to hold back.” I looked up in surprise. Hold back? What does me mean by that?

“What if I don’t want you to.” It was a bold move but I wanted to know what he would really do and what he’s really holding back.

He gave one last smirk. It was one last smirk before his lips were on mine and kissing me as if it was the last chance he would ever get to kiss my lips. The kiss was aggressive and fast but no doubt passionate. All of our emotions from the last couple of weeks towards each other were embodied in this kiss.

Dutch tilted his head to the left, allowing me to bring myself closer to him and for his arms to trail down my waist and grab at my ass. He squeezed his hands and I gasped in surprise, which allowed Dutch access to inside of my mouth. His tongue explored my mouth, learning every crevice within my mouth. I moaned and the intensity of the kiss. Never have I been kissed like this before.

Dutch’s lips detached from mine and his left hand came up and grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking it down, causing my head to roll back. I winced at Dutch’s grip on my hair but all was forgotten once his lips attached to my neck.

They were slow kisses to start off but soon his patience was worn thin and he proceeded to sloppily kiss and suck at my neck before moving down and towards my breasts.

Dutch’s hands went down to the back of my thighs where he gripped them and pulled them up, wrapping my legs around Dutch’s waist. I could feel his length rub against my thigh and my stomach turned in anticipation.

I have never felt so hot and heavy for any man. Dutch is the only one who has brought these feelings upon me. I felt desire, a copious amount and it was only for him. I only wanted him. Every other man seemed like nothing in comparison to Dutch and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Dutch circled his tongue around my nipple, sucking at the skin and making lewd noises that I have only dreamed of hearing. I’ve dreamt about this moment for weeks on end, wanting Dutch to fuck me; hard.

“Dutch,” I moaned out, gripping his hair with my hand. I pulled him closer towards my breast. He nibbles before biting at my left breast and I gasped in pleasure and in pain, the mix feeling so good.

Dutch pulled away from my breast and looked at me. I was puffed out, wanting Dutch to desperately fuck me and show me how bad I was being. I wanted him to punish me and tell me I was a naughty girl. I wanted everything and I wanted it now.

He turned around, me still in his grip and he walked towards the shore before placing me - surprisingly softly - on the ground. He hovered over me, looking at my body which was still wrapped around his waist.

“Fuck you’re gorgeous,” he whispered to me before kissing me once again.

The kiss was still passionate and rough, exactly what you’d expect from Dutch Van Der Linde. He wasn’t a soft guy, he was a hard and tough man who brought nothing but dominance to the table.

His hand traveled down my body. His hand brushed past my stomach and I jerked due to reflexes until he finally placed his thumb on my clit. He placed pressure on it and sparks flew and travelled up my body. I let out a slight moan at the pleasure.

He pulled away and looked at my face, watching my face contort in pleasure as he slowly rubbed circles on my clit. He did this for what seemed like minutes but it was only a few seconds before pulling away.

“Do you like this Y/N?” His voice was incredibly deep, most probably due to the need he felt, much like I’m feeling at this moment. I needed more from him, I needed him inside of me.

He continued to circle my clit with his thumb gaining more moans from me. It was like I couldn’t control the noises that came from my mouth. They were dirty moans. The type of noises my parents would kill me for letting out.

“Answer my fucking question Y/N!” He raised his voice whilst rubbing my clit faster, causing more moans to escape my mouth. “I said do you like this?” He asked once more.

“Yes!” I called out, halfway through a moan. I wanted more, the teasing was getting too much. I wanted him to stop teasing me and actually do something.

Dutch said no more and moved the finger that was on my clit and travelled down to where I was needing him most. Dutch placed his finger at my entrance and slowly pushed it in. The intrusion made me gasp, bucking my hips forward to feel more of him. Once his finger was fully inside of me, he kept it there, not moving it at all.

“Please,” I begged whilst thrusting my hips up towards Dutch, wanting to feel his finger move in me. Dutch however would not move his finger at all, watching me with a smirk on his face as I looked at him pleadingly.

“What do you want me to do Y/N?” Dutch asked, moving the finger that was in me slightly but never retrieving his finger or attempting to move and make me feel good. It was as if he was waiting for me to tell him what I want.

“I want you to fuck be Dutch. Please,” Dutch pulled his finger out and plunged it back in, causing me to gasp in pleasure once again. “Fuck me,” I moaned out.

That was all it took for Dutch to pull his finger out and grip my legs, spreading them open. He looked at me with such a devious smirk that if I wasn’t so desperate for Dutch to fuck me, I would’ve gotten up and left my now.

Dutch without hesitation thrusted into me, giving me no time to adjust to his hard length which I have not even properly seen yet. It felt large and it left me breathless. It filled my walls up so perfectly and I just wanted him to move already. I wanted to cum so bad and I wanted him to mercilessly fuck me.

He sat there for a moment, looking at me to see how I was fairing. I wrapped my arms around his waist, bringing my arms back up to grip his shoulders. Dutch moved his head and placed it in the junction between my neck and shoulder.

Dutch pulled his hips back, causing his length to come out of my entrance before he slammed his length back in. I moaned loudly, loving the way that he managed to fill me so nicely.

“Faster,” I moaned out and Dutch grunted.

Dutch thrusted faster and harder causing my body to be thrusted upwards. My legs wrapped around his waist and I brought my nails down his back whilst moaning.

Dutch’s right hand travelled from my waist and moved towards, brushing over my breast and travelling up to my neck. He gripped my neck and gave a light squeeze. My breath gave way from the grip on my neck.

It all seemed too much. From the grip on my neck to the hard and fast thrusts that he was giving to me. I couldn’t make a noise, my mouth was open but nothing was coming out of my mouth. Dutch’s thrust kept moving my body, my breasts bouncing up and down. Dutch watched my body, enamoured by the way that my body was reacting to his movements.

“Yes Dutch!” I moaned out, not even caring that the camp may hear us from where we are situated. “Right there, please keep going, please!” I was practically begging, that was how much I wanted to cum, to unravel under Dutch’s touch.

Dutch grunted and brought his other hand to my clit. This caused me to jerk into Dutch’s grip allowing him more access to my neck. Dutch practically growled as he slammed his lips back onto mine once again. His tongue invaded my mouth, connecting with mine. However I could hardly kiss him back due to my moans of pleasure from Dutch’s thrusts. Dutch rubbed my clit in circles and I couldn’t control the jerks my body was making.

A familiar tingle in my stomach formed and a yearning for the upcoming orgasm filled me and it had me panting for more and jerking my body so that both Dutch’s and my hips were meeting together, allowing for his thrusts to hit deeper.

I could stop the moans as my orgasm was quickly approaching. It had me clutching onto Dutch and pulling him as close as I could possibly get him to me.

Dutch looked at me with a smirk (which he never removed).

“Are you going to cum sweetheart?” He asked and I nodded, throwing my head back in pleasure.

It was all too much to handle. The pleasure was flowing through me and I was shaking, it felt that good. From Dutch’s hard thrusts to the lack of oxygen from Dutch’s grip on my neck, I could almost feel the coil snap within me.

I brought my hand up to Dutch’s hand which was wrapped firmly around my neck. I placed my hand on top of his, appreciating the coolness of his rings on my hot skin. I then pulled it at an attempt to let sit back into my lungs as I felt I was going to pass out at any point.

The water from the river hit our legs, the tide coming closer to shore as the day progressed to night. I rubbed my right leg up and down his leg as he thrusted himself into me.

I would never forget the feeling that I was feeling at this moment. I never wanted it to end, it felt so good. I just wanted Dutch to fuck me forever, I could get used to the way that Dutch fills me up so nicely.

The coil that was holding me together was just about to snap, I could feel it. It would only take a couple more thrusts before I would cum on Dutch’s dick.

“I’m going to cum! Dutch, yes, oh my god, I’m going to cum. Please Dutch, faster!” I moaned out, no longer holding back as I was desperate to cum.

“C’mon Y/N, come for me. You know you want to,” the smirk was evident in his voice but god I did want to cum. I wanted to cum so bad, I would do anything at this point.

One last thrust was all it took before the coil snapped and I was cumming around Dutch’s dick, hard. I screamed in pleasure as the pressure finally overwhelmed me. I gripped Dutch hard and clenched around him, causing Dutch to groan in pleasure.

My head was thrown back and my eyes (although were already shut) were squeezed shut and I could bet that Dutch’s back would be scratched to pieces due to my nails gliding down his back.

It only took a couple of more thrusts and Dutch was cumming in me, his cum filling me to the brim. I moaned at the feeling of his cum painting my walls whilst he was still buried in me.

Dutch let out a quiet, “fuck”, letting me know he enjoyed this just as much as I did.

We sat there for a while, trying to regain our breathing. We were panting crazily, both our stamina depleted from the dirty act we had just completed.

“I hope you have learnt your lesson Miss L/N.” Was all Dutch said before he pulled himself out and stood up, giving me a once over before grabbing his clothes.

Without even sparing me a glance he put his clothes on. During this time, I frowned, wondering why he was acting so cold. Usually the people I’ve been with showed some sort of aftercare whether it was one last kiss, cleaning me up or even giving me some cuddles before leaving. Dutch however gave me nothing. He just left me in the sand and put his clothes on.

With one last glance he walked off in the direction of the camp, leaving me, extremely naked and extremely embarrassed that all of this had just happened the way that it just did.

Over the next couple of days, Dutch hasn’t talked to me. He refused to even look in my direction. It was like nothing had happened between us whatsoever and it felt like the hospitality that I should’ve received when I first came here.

I felt used and abused.

Now that he had gotten his way with me, he wanted nothing to do with me. Like there was nothing else he wanted from me. He didn’t even want to talk to me.

The worst part of it all was that Molly O’Shea loved this.

Molly would sit there and smirk at me whilst she clung onto him like he was going to disappear at any moment. It annoyed me to no end that she had to throw it out there to me constantly that ‘Dutch was hers’ or that ‘I was never woman enough for Dutch’.

So I did what I only thought was possible.

I decided to leave the camp. They couldn’t keep me here anymore. Especially since the leader Mr Dutch Van Der Linde didn’t want even acknowledge me as a part of the gang, so I’m sure they wouldn’t mind me leaving.

I made sure to do it at the middle of the night. There would only be one man on patrol duty and that was Javier. Javier had no idea that I was going to escape, just like the rest of them.

That was because I didn’t escape from the front road where the gang usually rode in. No, I escaped via the woods. I ran through the woods until I eventually made it back to the road that lead to Rhodes. It was from there that I managed to hitch a ride from a lovely stranger with the name Hewitt and he drove me back to the farm on his carriage.

When I arrived back to the farm I had no idea what I was going to see. The feelings I felt had never caused me to vomit from shock, pain, anger and grief all at once. The breath in my lungs was no longer there and I struggled to breathe.

What was before me was my house on fire and in front of me, was Dutch, holding a gun to my fathers head.

I had no idea how they managed to become one step ahead. I hadn’t said anything about it and I had never made any plans until tonight to even leave so how the hell did Dutch know that I was going to leave the gang and how the hell did he get here before I did?

Dutch turned to look at me with a smirk on his face. He didn’t say anything, he just looked back at my father who was on his knees and looking at me with an apologetic look on his face.

It was then that Dutch pulled the trigger, killing my father.

I watched as my fathers life flashed before his eyes before his life faded right in front of me and he fell to the floor, a bullet in the middle of his forehead, blood pouring everywhere.

Dutch then turned to me and chuckled. It was a deep chuckle that truly showed how evil he was. He killed my father and my sister was no where to be seen; presumably dead. It was all because of him.

“Miss L/N, did you really think you’d be able to escape from me?” Dutch then walked forward and raised his gun, placing it to my head. “No one escapes from the Van Der Linde gang.”

It was then that he pulled the trigger and all I saw was black.

Hello everyone!

I hope you all enjoy reading this long and extremely unedited imagine which I went way overboard with. But hey, the anon wanted rough, I went there on all levels.

Anyway, thank you for the reads and I will see you next Tuesday maybe.

- REDDEADINMYBED

#Red Dead Redemption #Red Dead #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan imagines #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan #Dutch Van Der Linde #dutch van der linde imagines #dutch x reader #dutch van der linde smut #red dead redemption 2 imagines #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption smut

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atleasttheresthis · 4 years

Text

Project Partners (Song x Katara)

Happy day two of ATLA wlw week! This one is for the academia AU.

content warning: alcohol

@atla-wlw-week

"So, in conclusion, you and your partner will research one new surgical or oncological technique from the last five years on any of the cancer types I've included here. You'll have three weeks to complete the project." Professor Pakku pauses, lifts his eyes from his notes and turns them on the horde of bleary eyed, eight am lecture suckers in front of him. "Any questions?"

Song, who is just as tired and out of it as the rest of her classmates at 8:30 on a Monday, studies the powerpoint slide in front of her, struggling to write down all the project requirements before Professor Pakku moves on from the assignment and starts the day's lecture.

"Before you ask, Taedo," the Professor is saying from the front of the room, "no, I will not accept any late papers. If you would have read the syllabus I distributed at the beginning of the semester instead of no-doubt chucking into the garbage as I'm sure you did, you would know my policy on late assignments."

Song grins to herself as Taedo slumps down in his seat. Pakku is something of a hardass, but since Song mostly keeps to herself and stays out of his way, she's never had a problem with him. Besides, his course on cancer treatment was super popular among the pre-med and nursing students. It would take a lot more than verbal abuse to get Song to give up her seat in the course. She needed the elective to finish her third year of the nursing program at Ba Singh Se University, and since she wanted to work at a cancer ward after graduating, this course was practically a requirement.

From the front row, Katara pipes up. "You could just put the syllabus online."

Pakku sighs, rubs the bridge of his nose while Song rolls her eyes. For the entire semester, Katara seems to have made it her mission to make the Professor's life difficult, and it drives Song crazy.

"I suppose I could, but my ancient and old-fashioned ways make it quite difficult for me to use the computer, or so you told me in class last week." Even from her spot in the middle of the room, Song can hear Katara harumph.

"Any other questions?" Professor Pakku asks, then sighs when Katara shoves her hand into the air. "Yes, Katara?"

"I've noticed you didn't include the breast as part of the infected areas we could study," she begins, but the professor interrupts her.

"Yes, thank you for proving, yet again, that you know how to read," Pakku says easily. Song winces. Lately she’s found herself unable to focus in this class, devoting her energy instead to either silently cheering on Professor Pakku in his misguided quest to get Katara to be quiet for more than five minutes so he can teach, or silently (always silently) commending Katara as she points out Pakku’s rampant sexism. Their relationship confuses the shit out of her, and while right now she finds herself inclined to defend the student (because wow, that was a really asshole thing to say, Professor), she thinks both of them go way too far.

Either way, it’s threatening to wreak havoc on her GPA.

Unaffected by Pakku’s rudeness, Katara presses the point. “That’s sexist,” she says bluntly, and Song finds herself nodding. “We should be able to study whatever cancers we want to. Just because you want to ignore all the stuff that only affects women doesn’t mean we want to.” She stops for a moment, considers. “Also, will we be able to pick our own partners?"

Pakku seems to have lost his temper. "You know what, just for that, everyone else gets to pick their partners, except for you. You will be paired with," he stops, consults the class list on his podium. "Song Ma."

Um, what? Song lets out a breath, unable to believe her shit luck. Everyone in the course turns around to stare at each other, wondering who the unlucky girl is until they catch Song's face. She knows she's got a completely disbelieving, what the fuck look on, so much so that Pakku actually smiles when his eyes catch hers. He gives her a small shrug, evil grin totally upstaging his non-apology. "Good luck," he adds helpfully.

Katara sniffs, turns back around in her chair. Song resigns herself to the inevitable. It's obvious there's no getting out of this one.

***

Song finds Katara waiting in the hallway after class. Slugging her backpack over one shoulder, Song steps forward and introduces herself. "Hi. I'm Song." She briefly considers holding out a hand, then stops herself, raising it to stifle a yawn instead.

"I know," Katara says snobbishly. Jesus, this is going to be like pulling teeth, isn't it? Biting back a rude reply in kind, Song asks "do you have any ideas for what you want to research?"

"I want to research the use of dye to identify positive lymph nodes in breast cancer patients," Katara says immediately, and Song sighs. "Look, I know you're apparently cool with being on Pakku's bad side, but I don't need a shitty grade on this report because you can't pick your battles and have to stick it to the man whenever you have the chance." Katara looks a bit surprised by her outburst. Whatever. Song's grade is on the line, she's not going to risk it for some girl with a death wish, even if she is really pretty, skin somehow looking shiny and gorgeous even under the fluorescent lights of the hallway.

"I'll talk to Pakku," Katara offers begrudgingly. "See if he'll officially allow us to go beyond the project parameters."

"Fine, go ahead," Song relinquishes. Katara hadn't asked if she had any ideas, but whatever. "Your funeral."

Katara cracks a smile. "Is that okay, or did you want to research something else?"

Song is so surprised by Katara's thoughtfulness, by her apparent ability to reach into Song's head and pluck out her inner monologue, that she merely shakes her head. That's alright, though. Lymph nodes are fascinating enough.

"Cool," Katara says. "I'll swing by his office hours today and let you know how it goes." Song nods, watches Katara walk away, and realizes she never even gave the other girl her phone number.

Oh well. They have three weeks to work it out, and she'll see Katara in class on Wednesday.

Song shrugs to herself, walks out of the biology department toward the squashy chairs on the ground floor of the science building to get some reading done before her next class.

Later that day, when she's studying with her housemate Bohei after lunch, an email pops up on her phone.

Hey Song,

I talked to Pakku, he'll let us do the breast cancer project without deducting anything from our grade.

Let's find a time to talk soon so we can figure out how we should divide the work. I can handle the research part of it if you want to handle the conclusion and summary.

-Katara

Song is furious. Why is Katara relegating her to the easy stuff? Doesn't she think Song can do good work?

"What's wrong?" Bohei, one of her housemates, asks from across the table. Song reads her the email. "Isn't that the stuck up girl that's always getting into fights with the professor? Sucks that you're paired with her."

"The professor put us together," Song explains. "Ugh. Why won't she let me do the work on this project? I'm smart, I can handle a research paper!"

"I actually think you're in a golden situation," Bohei says, reaching over to snag a few of Song's chips from an open bag on the table. "Just let her do all the work, if she cares about it so much you'll probably get a good grade, free A for the project."

Song shakes her head. "No, I want to help, I can do it. Why doesn't she think I can help?"

"Why do you care?" Bohei counters, raising an eyebrow. A great question, but Song is not in the mood for self-reflection.

"I, I don't," Song splutters. "I don't care, I just, I just don't think it's fair that she's doing all the work alone! And besides, how do I know she'll do a good job?"

"Okay," Bohei says, giving Song a look that says she knows what a flimsy excuse that is. Why does Song care what Katara thinks of her? She's just some know-it-all who can't leave well enough alone. Song emails her back, tells her she's free for dinner, and gets a reply a few minutes later that Katara will meet her at the dining hall. Song tries to push the other girl out of her mind, turning back to her chemistry notes.

It's no use. By the time dinner rolls around, Song is simmering with indignation over Katara's assumption that she couldn't help with the project. She packs up her stuff, trying to tune out Bohei's pointed questions (the other girl had gotten over her instinct to leave Song alone about it and has instead spent the rest of the afternoon asking if Song likes Katara, like, like-likes Katara???) and begrudgingly makes her way over to the dining hall. After swiping her school ID to get in, she sees Katara at a table with a plate of food. Sighing, resigning herself to a confrontation, Song heads over there, dropping her bag onto an empty seat.

"Hey," she says, monotone, and Katara looks up. "Hi," she says back, a bit startled, but Song's not exactly giving her the best attitude.

"How was your day," Song asks rhetorically, and Katara raises an eyebrow but whatever, Song is just being polite.

"It was okay," Katara answers, tossing some of her long brown hair over her shoulder. Song likes it this way, better than when she puts it in the long braid that snakes down her back. "How was yours?"

An awkward moment, where Song has lost herself staring at Katara's hair. She realizes the other girl has asked her a question, and gives herself a shake. "It was fine too," she answers quickly.

"Do you want to get a plate before we start working?" Katara asks.

Song agrees, gets up to scour the dining options for something to eat. She ends up with a bowl of pasta, some carrots, and a glass of water. Reaching Katara again and sitting back down, Song pulls her laptop and notebook out of her bag before spearing a piece of pasta and angrily throwing it into her mouth.

Katara, oblivious this time to her anger, has gotten out a laptop of her own. "So, I already made a google doc, I'm sharing it with you now," she says, and Song moves to check her email, loading the document on her screen. "Like I said, I can handle the research part and you can do the conclusion, is that okay?" Katara asks, not even looking up from her computer.

Song takes a deep breath. "No, it's not really okay," she answers in a rush. That makes Katara look up. "I can help with the research part too, I think I can handle it," she says drily. "I just don't think it's fair for you to do so much of the work," she tacks hurriedly, wanting Katara to think she's doing this for more noble reasons than wanting the other girl to think she's smart.

"Oh, it's okay, I don't mind doing the work," Katara brushes Song off, turning back to the laptop.

Song groans internally. "Katara. I can help. I want to do some of the work on this project, it's my grade too," she reminds her.

Katara looks at her skeptically. "Alright," she concedes finally. "Here, want to look over some of the sources I've already gathered?"

Song takes another bite, nodding. They spend the rest of the evening compiling journal articles and studies on the use of dye to identify positive and negative lymph nodes in the armpit. It's not half as bad as Song thought it might be, both girls are focused on the work, and after an hour and a half they have enough to start working on the paper. Song drafts a preliminary outline, which Katara approves of after making only one or two small changes, and then they call it a night, agreeing to meet up again later that week. Song packs up her bag feeling good, they got work done. And she's definitely proved to Katara that she's smart enough to hold her own. Not that she cares about any of that.

***

As the week goes on, Song finds herself enjoying her study sessions with Katara more than she'd like to admit. For all her sharp edges in class, she's surprisingly laid back when she talks with Song. She's got a sharp sense of humor, and the way she vivisects Pakku and some of the other asshole idiots in their class causes Song to nearly pitch a fit. About the work itself, she's pretty anal, but Song's own standards are exacting themselves, so it's not like she can complain.

They meet again on Wednesday, but it's on Friday that Katara tells her that she's pre-med and plans to become a breast cancer surgeon. Her mother died of breast cancer, and she wants to work so other people don't suffer like she did. It only seems natural to tell her about her father's fatal car accident, in turn.

"Is that why you want to become a nurse?" Katara asks quietly. She doesn't say she's sorry, and neither does Song. What good would that do?

Song blows out a breath. "Maybe?" she offers. "I don't know. I just know that I'm good at this, I'm good at helping people when they're hurt, and if I can do it, shouldn't I?"

Katara nods. "I understand," she says, and Song gets the feeling that she really does.

***

By Friday night it becomes obvious to both Song and, unfortunately, Song's housemates, that their girl is quickly becoming enraptured with Katara. "What do I do?" Song moans into a chocolate chip cookie that D'wei made to cheer her up.

"I thought she was annoying," he asks, topping up his glass of cheap, Barefoot wine, before handing the bottle to Song.

"No, she's still annoying," Bohei chimes in. The three are sitting in their kitchen, Bohei painting her nails at the table and Song in the chair next to her while D'wei perches himself on the countertop.

"But she's annoying in a hot way," Song whines. She gives herself a generous glass of wine, her third of the evening, then slumps over the table, cheek pressed against the wood.

"Haven't you only met with her like, twice?" D'wei asks. Song opens her mouth to respond, but Bohei beats her to it.

"D'wei, come on. Song's a, you know," and she holds her wrist at shoulder height and bends it so her arm flops over.

Song chuckles, face mashed into the table.

"A what?" D'wei asks, and Bohei rolls her eyes.

"A lesbian," Song mumbles. "Exactly," Bohei says, nudging Song's head with her elbow. "Falling in love inside thirty seconds, that's classic lesbian behavior, you should know that."

"That's our M.O.," Song agrees. "Song's done that four times in the past year and half," Bohei continues.

"And once with a boy, but we don't talk about that," Song says. "But Katara's different, I can tell."

"She's stupid beautiful, I'll give you that," Bohei adds, capping her nail polish and blowing on her nails to dry.

"I know," Song grumbles, shoving the rest of the cookie in her mouth. "How do I tell her I like her?"

Bohei shrugs. "You could play 'girl in red' while you guys study, that will probably clue her in," D'wei suggests.

Song wrinkles her nose. "Too obvious," she answers. "Japanese Breakfast, then?" he asks.

Song thinks on it. "That one might work, actually."

"Hope so, or else you'll just have to pine from afar," Bohei stands up, blowing on her nails to dry them. "Or grow a pair and tell her you like her. Are we watching a movie or not?"

"We're watching," D'wei says decidedly, while Song moans, hopping off the counter and pulling Song into the living room by the wrist. "Don't worry, we'll watch something that's not about romance so you won't feel bad."

Song scoffs but settles herself on the couch between them nonetheless. D'wei's assurance turns out to be a complete lie, and they watch Pride and Prejudice, but whatever, Song's totally not thinking about Katara while the movie plays.

"Hey, Song, do you want Katara to stroll determinedly toward you through the morning mist wearing that exact unbuttoned shirt?"

Shifty silence from Song. "She does! D'wei, she does!"

"It would be super romantic," Song mumbles.

"Holy shit! Dude, you'd better tell her how you feel, or your ovaries will shrivel up!"

Eye roll. "I'm pretty sure you can only say that about people with dicks, Bohei, it's not like Katara's going to get me pregnant."

"But you want her to!"

***

On Friday, the week after their project was assigned, Song blinks the rain out of her eyes, holds her phone to her chest to keep it relatively dry under her bowed head and stares blearily at Google maps. Picking her head up she squints at the street signs, turns left, and then finally spots a sign saying "The Jasmine Dragon" above what looks like a small but cozy shop across the street. Grateful to have finally found the place, after trekking halfway across the city. Song had finished her exam earlier than expected, and with her and Katara's project deadline coming ever closer, she'd texted the other girl to see if she had any free time to work on it right now. Katara had agreed, saying she was studying with some friends at a place called the Jasmine Dragon. So here Song is.

Hurrying into the shop, Song relaxes after getting out of the rain, pulls the hood of her jacket down and snakes her braid out from where it's pressed uncomfortably between her backpack and her shoulder blades. The Jasmine Dragon tea shop is well-lit against the downpour, filled with comfortable armchairs dotting the room in twos and threes, with one long table at the back of the shop. Seated at the table are a few people working quietly by themselves, along with Katara and what must be her friends, working not at all quietly. Katara is sitting next to a boy who looks enough like her to be her brother, along with two people Song doesn't recognize, a boy with a completely bald head and shorter girl next to him. And--

"You!" Song shouts, then looks around herself, embarrassed, as she realizes how loud that was. Blushing a bit, she takes two sharp strides toward the table and says "you!" again, in a much smaller voice.

The boy on Katara's other side, with a nasty burn scar across his face and a Jasmine Dragon employee apron on, mutters "oh, shit," under his breath.

Katara is looking at Song, confused. "Hey Song, this is Zuko. How do you--"

"You're the asshole who stole my bike!" Song says angrily. Bike thief, whose name is apparently Zuko, goes bright red.

The shorter girl across from him lets out a laugh. "Oh man, Zuzu, you have the worst luck!"

"Shut up, Toph," Zuko mutters, eyes anywhere but on Song.

Katara lets out a long-suffering sigh. "Just once," she says, "just once, I would love it if someone recognized you from something nice you did for them, instead of whatever dick move you pulled."

"Never gonna happen, sweet sister!" The boy next to her crows happily. "Our Zuko was an asshole in a previous life!"

"Last year was a previous life?" The bald boy says, half-serious, and then high fives Katara's brother uncertainly.

"Fuck all of you," Zuko says. "He's doing his best," the shorter girl says dramatically, then slugs Zuko in the arm.

"Wait," the bald kid says, turning to address Song. "Are you sure it was him?"

"Yes," Song says through clenched teeth, "I saw him leave a party at my house on my bike last year!"

It was one of the only parties Song and her housemates had thrown that semester. From what she can remember, Song spent a good portion of the evening trying to get close to the moody boy who was drinking alone in her kitchen. She had definitely tried to flirt with him, she remembers, cheeks going red, before Bohei had pulled her away to do shots. At the end of the night Song had passed out on their living room sofa. She woke up some time before morning at the sound of the door closing to see the moody boy, who was definitely Zuko, pick the lock on her bike and ride away on it, but she was too drunk to realize what had happened. In the morning, it was too late. Nobody else seemed to remember the boy, and she had no luck finding it.

Back in the tea shop, the bald boy is trying to defend Zuko. "That doesn't sound like something Zuko would do," the kid says, a bit soothingly.

"No, it does," Katara counters. The shorter girl nods while Zuko hangs his head.

"Yeah, that was me." He admits. "Look, I'm really sorry. I...was in a bad place that year, and I was super drunk, and--"

"Yeah, whatever, " Song says, uncomfortable with his honesty. "Are you going to give it back or not?"

"Of course he's going to give it back," the bald kid says enthusiastically. Song wonders who died and made him group spokesperson.

"Wait, do you even still have it?" the other girl asks. Song notices that she hasn't been making eye contact or even turning her head to look at anyone talking. She catches eye of the cane lying next to the girl's chair and realizes she must be blind.

"Yeah," Zuko says uncomfortably. "I woke up the next morning and, I, uh, didn't know what to do with it? So I just...kept it in the garage." He runs a hand through his hair uncomfortably. "It's still there."

Song, who has dropped her bag to the floor and started peeling off her jacket, throws up her hands. "You haven't even been using it?"

Zuko coughs. "No?"

"Ugh!" Song shouts, furious that he didn't even seem to need the bike.

"Look, I'll, I'll bring over to your place tomorrow," Zuko says placatingly, standing up. Song shoves past him and falls into his empty chair. "Yeah, maybe you should have tried doing that eight months ago, when you drunk-stole it from me," she deadpans, before turning to Katara. "Are we working on our project or not?"

Katara looks like she wants to keep laughing at Zuko's expense, but stops herself when she sees Song's face. "Uh, yeah, sure. Guys, this is Song, from my biology class. Song, this is Aang, Toph, and my brother Sokka." She points to the bald kid, the girl, and the dark-skinned boy next to her in turn. "You already know Zuko."

Song grits her teeth. "Song, I--" he starts helplessly.

"Zuko!" Someone calls from the back of the shop. "A little help back here?" From behind her, Song hears Zuko sigh. "I'll see you guys later," he says, before walking away. "Let us know if anyone else accuses you of something awful!" Sokka calls out after him gleefully.

"Or if something else from your dark past comes up to bite you in the ass! I want to start a facebook album!" Toph adds, and Song snickers, despite herself.

"Sorry about Zuko," Katara says carefully. "He was in a really bad place last year."

"So I've heard," Song says drily, fishing out her notebook and a pen.

"I'll make sure he gives you the bike back," Sokka offers. Song nods minutely.

"Why don't you guys get out of here," Katara says after a moment. "It's not like you're getting any work done."

Sokka opens his mouth, clearly affronted, but Song beats him to it. "No, you guys don't have to go, it's okay," she starts, but Aang catches onto Katara's meaning and has started packing up his stuff.

"No, Katara's right, we'd just waste your time," he says easily. "Come on, Sokka, Toph, we can study at my place."

Sokka sighs dramatically, but helps Toph get all her stuff together nonetheless. "Ugh, fine." Then he shoots his sister a sharp grin. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Katara splutters indignantly while Toph cackles. Song can’t even begin to guess what that means. “Nice to meet you, Song!” Aang calls over his shoulder before tailing Toph and Sokka out of the shop.

Song raises an eyebrow in Katara’s direction. “Ignore my idiot brother,” she says hastily, dark skin growing rosy with a blush. Maybe Song does know what that means.

“Do you want something to drink?” Katara continues quickly. “The weather is so shit outside, a hot drink will probably make you feel better.”

“I’m studying to be a nurse, Katara,” Song says, rolling her eyes but letting a grin escape so the other girl knows she’s playing. katara’s face lights up as she sticks her nose in the air. “Well, I’m studying to be a doctor, so I don’t know what they cover in nursing school.” She gets out of her chair and flounces towards the counter.

“You don’t even know what I want,” Song says half-heartedly, eyes on Katara’s ass. “You’ll like what I get you,” she says airily, half-turning to catch Song in the act of looking. Song blushes again, but boldly meets Katara’s eyes. The other girl smirks, before turning to the woman at the counter and rattling off something Song can’t hear.

When Katara returns a few minutes later, steaming mug of tea in her hand, Song has unpacked her laptop and is half-looking over the work they’d done so far. She passes the mug to Song. “Thanks,” she says gratefully, warming her hands against the bright red ceramic of the mug. “How did you guys find this place?” She asks, fighting off a yawn. Holding onto the warm tea has suddenly reminded her how tired she is.

Katara takes the seat across from her, picking up her own cup. “Zuko’s uncle owns it,” she explains. “Zuko’s really sorry about your bike, I know he is,” she says earnestly, casting a glance across the shop at him moving around in the back. “He went through a lot in the past year, he used to be such an asshole, even to us,” she adds. “But he’s alright now.”

Song doesn’t know what to say, can’t quite believe her, so she takes a sip of her tea instead. “Oh, it is good,” she said, surprised. Katara smiles in satisfaction. “Uncle Iroh thought you were a fruit tea girl, but I told him different. Guess I was right.”

It’s cheesy, it’s so, so high school, but Song’s stomach flutters at the idea of Katara knowing what sort of tea she’d like. It's got her tongue tied, but Katara saves her by asking about her day.

“It was good,” she answers. “I finished my international relations exam early, that’s why I texted you that I had time.”

“Well look at you, smartypants," Katara says, and Song scoffs. They spend the rest of the afternoon like that, sort of but not really working on their project, until Sokka comes back to pick up Katara and gives Song a ride back to her apartment.

"See you tomorrow!" Katara calls through the car's open window. Song shoots her a confused look. "When Zuko and I come to return your bike!" She reminds her. Song agrees, but doesn't think anything will come of it, which is why she's so surprised to open her apartment door at eight o'clock the next morning to see Zuko and Katara in her doorway, bike in hand.

"Good morning!" Katara says triumphantly, and Song stares. Katara, she, she looks so incredible Song can hardly believe it. Her hair is perfect and shiny, and she looks like she's wearing extra eye makeup. Zuko, meanwhile, looks like how Song feels, bedraggled in comparison. "Told you we'd bring you the bike!" Katara says excitedly, while Zuko yawns next to her. "Here, here you go," he says, steering the bike into Song's apartment. "Uh, thanks," Song answers slowly, leaving the bike by the door.

"Put your shoes on, we're taking you for breakfast," Katara instructs, and before she realizes what's happening Song finds herself in the back of Zuko's car, sitting next to Katara and behind a girl Song vaguely knows from one of her politics courses last semester, who Zuko introduces as his girlfriend. Song thinks Mai is way too cool a girl for someone like Zuko, but keeps her mouth shut.

"Go to the diner on fifth," Katara instructs, and in front of Song Mai scoffs. "No way, their coffee is garbage."

"All diner coffee is garbage," Zuko offers from behind the wheel, and behind him Katara says "I want pancakes. We went to your shitty coffee shop last time."

"It's not shitty, you just don't appreciate aesthetics," Mai sniffs.

"It's overly minimalist and their cake is bad," Katara says bluntly, before turning to Song. "What do you want to do?"

Song blinks, slightly overwhelmed at being thrust into this dynamic of people who were clearly comfortable in each others' lives. But also, it's early, so: "I want to eat eggs."

"Diner it is, you're outvoted, Mai!" Katara crows happily.

"You didn't ask me what I wanted," Zuko protests, already steering the car in the direction of the diner. "We know you're happy with either one," Mai explains.

"Always happy when I'm with you," he says to Mai, and Song can see his face in profile, he's offering Mai a small smile. Mai meets him halfway and gives him a quick kiss.

"Eyes on the road," Katara interrupts, pulling a face to make Song laugh in the backseat. It occurs to her that this might be something of a double date.

And it's definitely a date, she realizes, or she hopes, because Katara has squeezed herself next to Song onto the vinyl covered cushion of the diner booth, and keeps knocking her knees into Song and, once, even holding her thigh flush against Song's. She eats off Song's plate with no remorse, encourages Song to do the same to her, and quietly flirts with Song for most of the meal. It's enough to give Song a pleasant whooping feeling in her gut that lasts the whole day.

The restaurant environment is certainly helping, Song loves diners. The way they all sort of look the same, the ridiculously long menus, the poor lighting, all of it. It's her and her mother's favorite place to go, and when she lived at home they used to go there almost every day, even if it was just for a cup of bad coffee. Song feels at home here, which is why she loves the diner so much.

Besides Katara's flirting, Song actually has a good time enjoying Mai and Zuko's company. Maybe he really was a different person when he stole her bike and ignored her at her own party, because now he's making an effort to include her in the conversation, filling in the gaps into which she might have fallen, being the odd one out in a group of friends who knew each other so well.

"We went to school together first," Zuko is explaining, gesturing to himself and Mai. "A different school, actually, one our parents wanted to go to. It was really close to our hometown. Caldera College."

"Our parents are in business together," Mai says. "Well, my father works for his father."

"And my father wanted me and my younger sister, Azula, to work for him too. But that, uh, didn't work out…" his hand moves to the scar on his face, and Song stifles a wince. "So I left the old school and came here. Well…"

"His Dad cut him off," Katara butts in. "But it was actually a good thing, here I met these guys." Zuko says with a small smile.

"Didn't start off as a good thing," Katara mutters, and here Zuko blushes, tilts his face to the table. "Yeah, those were my uh, my bike stealing years," he grimaces another apology at Song.

Katara yelps, it seems like Mai has kicked her under the table. "But we're good now," she adds brightly.

"Like I have to keep reminding you," Zuko says, raising his eyebrows, and now it's Katara's turn to look chagrined. Song wonders at their need to air their dirty laundry in public.

"And then I decided fuck my parents' business and followed Zuko here," Mai declares, setting her hand on top of Zuko's.

Song nods. It's a lot to process. "What about your sister?" she asks, wondering if this is the right question.

Maybe not. The emotion runs from Mai's face like colors in the wash, her mouth settles into a dull line. Zuko sighs, and, next to Song, Katara huffs out a breath. "We're working on her," Katara explains.

"My Dad was working her to the bone, putting way too much pressure on her after I left," Zuko says. "Especially after I left," he adds to himself, and on the table Mai squeezes his hand. "She snapped, dropped out," Mai picks up from him. "We're trying to make sure she gets the help she needs."

"That's really hard, I'm sorry you have to go through that," Song offers, and Zuko nods. "She'll be okay," he says, face determined.

An awkward pause, but the first of the meal and the plates are nearly clean, so that's a success. "You don't have any siblings, right Song?" Katara asks.

"Mm-mm," Song shakes her head. "Just me and my mom," and Katara nods, which she was expecting, but then Zuko does too, and maybe they have more in common than she'd thought.

"Mai has a younger brother," Katara volunteers, and Mai rolls her eyes but tells them an adorable story about Tom Tom regardless.

"That was...nice," Song says truthfully, when they've dropped her back at her place and she's got Katara on her doorstep.

"They're alright, huh? I thought you'd like them," Katara says happily.

Song, feeling warm and full of eggs and lukewarm coffee, has the confidence to say "maybe they're not the only ones I like," eyes catching Katara's before dropping to her doorstep.

"Yeah," Katara says softly, hand reaching towards hers. "I--"

She's cut off by the sound of the horn. Katara turns and Song sees that Mai's got a hand on the horn while Zuko sits by looking pained. Katara gives them the finger before turning back to Song. "I like you t--"

The horn again. "Katara, let's go!" Mai shouts, and Katara rolls her eyes and Song smiles. "I'll see you at our next study session?" she offers.

"Yeah," Katara says, looking relieved, "I'll see you then." She waved goodbye, bounds off the porch toward the car, opens the back door while yelling "jesus christ, Mai, I'm here, calm down."

Song unlocks the door of her house, still smiling, and heads inside.

***

Katara and Song meet, one last time, to go over the paper. It takes them ages, both of them are deliberately dragging it out. They go through it one line at a time, taking turns reading the paragraph aloud and double, triple checking the references. When it's finally over, i's crossed and t's dotted, Katara's hand hovers over the trackpad of her laptop, mouse on the 'submit' button. "Are we ready?" she asks one more time.

"You're sure it's cool with Pakku if we do breast cancer?" Song clarifies, and Katara scoffs. "Oh, actually Song, I forgot to tell you, he's not cool with it and we're going to fail. Whoops!"

"Okay, okay," Song laughs. "We're ready, do it."

Katara takes a deep breath, clicks the trackpad. Project over.

"It's in the lap of the gods now," Song comments, and Katara nods, shutting her computer.

"Now what should we do?" she asks, and for the first time she's almost shy. It's utterly adorable, the light blush under her eyes, and Song steals herself and says "well, I'd like to kiss you now."

Katara stiffens beside her. "You should definitely do that," she says hastily, and Song laughs, reaches up slide her hand into Katara's hair and leans in, catching her lips.

It's perfect. Katara tastes like everything Song had imagined plus more. When she pulls back Katara chases her lips. "I think you should give that another go," she murmurs, and Song laughs again, happy to oblige.

It's even better the second time. They kiss for a while, lazy, and afterward, when they're resting their foreheads against each other, Katara speaks up.

"I think I'm going to take you on a proper date," she muses.

"I'd like that," Song answers happily. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

#kira writes #avatar the last airbender #song #katara #song x katara #zuko #mai #zuko x mai #atla wlw week #atla #college au

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fourteenaway · 3 years

Text

A Tragic Prologue | The Story of Cary / Part I

tw: abuse, rape, domestic violence, infidelity, pregnancy.

Exactly five years and three months had passed since Caren had married Leeland, and it’d taken that long for them to finally have something that resembled a real vacation. Five years and three months and still she often felt as if Leeland was a stranger to her.

Madame Ephron had been the one to suggest that they take a break, go to Barcelona, they deserved it. Or rather she thought perhaps that Leeland needed it to get back in true form.

It was here that Daniel’s graduation invitation from med-school finally found her in a little villa they’d taken up in for the weeks they’d be here. She knew it instantly when she spotted the thick envelope, her heart jumping at the announcement of Daniel’s achievement of his medical degree. How proud she felt knowing he’d done it, completed college and then medical school in seven years what took most at least eight.

When she opened it she found not only a formal announcement but a note from Daniel, written in his handwriting that was far better than any other doctors unreadable scrawl:

Dear Caren,

I am embarrassed to tell you this, but I am the top graduate in a class of two hundred. So don't you dare try and find an excuse to keep away. You have to be there to bask in the glow of my excitement, as I bask in the radiance of your admiration. I cannot possibly accept my M.D. if you aren't there to see. And you can tell Leeland this when he tries to prevent your coming.

Your dearest,

Daniel

Caren smiled glowing from cheek to cheek at his excitement and good humor. The only bothersome thing about this was that she and Leeland had signed a contract some time ago to tape a TV production of Giselle. It was set for June, but now in May, they wanted them both. Both of them were sure the television exposure would make them the stars they'd strived so long to be.

It had seemed a perfect time to approach Leeland with the news. They’d returned to their villa after touring old castles. So as soon as their evening meal was over and the pair had sat out on the terrace sipping glasses of a red wine, she knew he was nuts about, but gave her a headache. Only then did she dare to timidly approach going back to the States in time fo Daniel’s May graduation.

“Really, we do have the time to fly there and be back in plenty of time to go into rehearsal for Giselle," she tried.

"Oh, come off it, Caren!” Leeland said impatiently. “It's a difficult role for you, and you'll be tired, and you'll need to rest up."

“Two weeks was plenty of time ... and a TV taping doesn’t take too long. Please, darling, let's go. I'd be sick not to see Daniel become a doctor, just as you'd be if your friend was reaching the goal he'd strived for year after year,” Caren tried again.

"Hell, no!" Leeland flared, narrowing his dark eyes and shooting sparks her way. “I get so damned sick and tired of hearing Daniel this, and Daniel that, and if it isn't his name you drum in my ears, then it's his brother, William this and that! You are not going!"

Caren pleaded with him to be reasonable, “He's only like a brother to me,” she lied slightly, “it just means his graduation day is nearly as important to me as it is to him. You can't understand how much this means not only to him, but to me as well! You think he and I lived lives of luxury compared to yours, just because we were adopted by the Derricks, but you can rest assured, it was no picnic!"

"Your past is something you don't talk about to me," he snapped back. “It's exactly as if you were born the day you found your precious Dr. William! Caren, you are my wife now, and your place is with me. Your William has Cassidy, and they'll be there, so Daniel won't lack applause when he gets that damned M.D.!"

"You can't tell me what I can do and what I can't do! I'm your wife, not your slave!"

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," he said, standing and seizing hold of my arm. "C'mon, let's hit the sack. I'm tired.”

Without speaking Caren allowed him to tug her into the bedroom where she began to undress. But he came over to help, and in this way she was informed it was to be a night of love, or rather sex.

But she shoved his hands away.

Scowling, he put them back on her shoulders and leaned to nibble on her neck; he fondled her breasts before he reached to unhook her bra. Caren hissed and slapped his hands away, before screaming, “No!”

But he persisted in taking off her bra, finding it as easy as a mask to take off, he threw away his anger and put on his dreamy-eyed romantic look.

Caren supposed there had been a time when Leeland had appeared to her the epitome of everything sophisticated, worldly, elegant, but compared to the way he was now, since his father's death, he'd been only a country-bumpkin.

There were times she actually detested him. This was such a time.

"I am going, Leeland You may come with me, or you may meet me in New York after I fly back from the graduation ceremony. Or you can stay on here and sulk. Whatever, I am going. I want you to come with me and share in the family celebration, for you never share in anything-you hold me back, so I don't share either-but this time you can't stop me! It's too important!" Caren told him sternly.

Quietly he listened and he smiled in a way that sent chills down her spine. Oh, how wicked he could look.

“Hear this, beloved wife, when you married me, I became your ruler, and by my side you will stay until I kick you out. And I'm not yet ready to do that. You are not leaving me alone in Spain when I don't speak Spanish. Maybe you can learn from records, but I can't,” he spoke coldly.

"Don't threaten me, Leeland,” Caren said coolly, though she backed off and felt a terrible pounding of panic. “Without me you don't have anyone who cares, except your mother, and since you don't care for her, who have you got left?"

Lightly he reached out to slap both her cheeks. She closed her eyes, resigned to accept anything he did, as long as she could go to Daniel. She allowed him to undress her and do what he would, even though he clutched her buttocks so hard they hurt. For she could, when she chose, withdraw until she was outside of herself, looking on, and what he did to me So that what was appalling didn't really matter-for she wasn't truthfully there-unless the pain was great-as sometimes it was.

“Don't try and sneak away," he warned, his words muffled because he was kissing everywhere, teasing her like a cat who plays with a mouse when it's not hungry. "Swear on your word of honor that you will stay and miss your dearly beloved Daniel’s graduation and stay with husband who needs you, who adores you, who can't live without you," he demanded.

She knew he was mocking her, though his need for her was that of a child needing his mother. For that was what she had become. His mother, in everything but sex. She had to choose his suits, his socks and shirts, his costumes, his practice outfits, though he consistently refused to let her handle the household accounts.

"I will not swear to anything so unfair. Daniel has come to see you perform and you have gloried in showing off to him. Now let him have his turn. He's worked hard for it," she insisted.

Caren pulled free from him then, and strolled to pick up a black lace nightgown he liked her to wear even though she hated black nightgowns and underwear. They reminded her of whores and call girls but also her mother who'd had a fancy for black lingerie.

"Get up off your knees, Leeland. You look ludicrous. You can't do anything to me if I choose to go. A bruise would show, and besides, you've grown so accustomed to my weight and balance you can't even lift another dancer properly,” she spoke chillingly though she thought, truthfully.

He came at her angrily then, shouting, "You're mad because we haven't made it to the top, aren't you? You're blaming me because our booking was canceled. And now Madame Ephron has given us a leave so I can sober up and come back refreshed, made wholesome by playing games with my wife. Caren, I don't know how to entertain myself except by dancing; I'm not interested in books or museums like you are, and there are ways of hurting and humiliating you that won't leave any bruises-except on your ego-and you should know that by now."

Foolishly she smiled, when she should have known better than to challenge him when he was feeling less than confident. “What's the matter, Lee? Didn't your sex break satisfy your lust for perversion? Why don't you go out and find a schoolgirl, for I'm not going to cooperate."

She'd never before thrown in his face that I knew about his debaucheries with younger women.

It had hurt at first when she found out, but now she knew he used those girls like he used paper napkins, to casually toss away when soiled, and back he'd come to her, to say he loved her, needed her, and she was the only one.

Slowly he advanced, using his pantherlike stalk that told her he would be ruthless, but still she held her head high, knowing she could escape by shutting off her mind, and he couldn't afford to hit her.

He paused one foot away as she heard the clock on the nightstand ticking in the silence.

"Caren, you will do as I say if you know what's good for you," he warned.

He was cruel that night, evil and spiteful; forcing upon her what should only be given in love. He dared her to bite. And this time she wouldn't have just one black eye, but two, and maybe worse.

“And I'll tell everybody you are sick. That your period has you so badly cramped you can't dance, so you won't skip out on me, or make any phone calls, for I'll bind you to the bed and hide your passport,” he told her as he took.

He grinned and slapped her face lightly when he finished before whispering, "Now, honey-chile, whatcha gonna do this time?” He asked reverting into the southern drawl he’d grown up on.

The next morning, smiling and himself again, Leeland sauntered naked to the breakfast table, and flung himself down, sprawled out his long, beautifully shaped legs and asked casually, "What's for breakfast?"

He held out his arms so Caren could come and kiss his lips, which she did. She faked a smile and brushed a lock of dangling hair from his forehead, and poured his coffee, and then said, "Good morning, darling. Same old breakfast for you. Fried eggs and fried ham. I'm having a cheese omelet."

Assured by her tone that all was past he sighed, “"I'm sorry, Caren," he murmured. “Why do you try to bring out the worst in me? I only use those girls to spare you."

"If they don't mind, then I don't mind... but don't ever force me to do what I did last night. I'm very good at hating, Leeland. Just as good as you are at forcing. And at harboring revenge I'm an expert!" She warned him.

She slid onto his plate two fried eggs and two slices of ham. No toast and no butter. Both of them ate in silence. He sat across the checkered red and white tablecloth, closely shaven, clean and smelling of soap and shaving lotion. In his own dark and light exotic way he was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen.

"Caren ... you haven't said you love me today," he said eventually.

"I love you, Leeland," she replied.

An hour after breakfast,and she was now madly searching every room to find her passport, while Leeland slept on the bed, where she'd dragged him from the kitchen after he fell asleep from all the sedatives she'd dumped in his coffee.

He wasn't nearly as good at hiding as she was at finding. Under the bed, and under the blue rug, she found her passport. Quickly she threw clothes into her suitcases. When she was packed, dressed and ready to go, she leaned above him and kissed him good-bye.

He was breathing deep and regularly, and smiling slightly; perhaps the drugs were giving him pleasant dreams. Though she'd drugged him, she hesitated, wondering if she'd done the right thing.

Shrugging off her indecision, she headed toward the garage. Yes, she did what she had to do. If he were awake now, he'd have buried himself into her side all through the day, with her passport in his pocket. Besides she'd left a note telling him where she was going.

When she arrived at the airport William was waiting for her and after hugging him briefly she asked, “Did Daniel get my message? He does know I'm coming right?"

"Oh, indeed. He was fretting through every moment, afraid Leeland would refuse to let you leave him, and knowing Leeland wouldn't come. Honestly, Caren, if you hadn't shown up, I don't think Daniel would accept his degree," he said with an appraising look in his eyes.

To sit beside William and Cassidy, and watch her Daniel stride down the aisle and up the steps to accept his diploma, and then stand behind the podium and make the valedictory speech, put tears in her eyes and a swelling happiness in her heart.

He did it so beautifully she cried. William and Cassidy also had tears to shed. Even Caren’s success on stage couldn't compare to the pride she felt now. And Leeland, he should be here too, making himself a part of her family and not stubbornly resisting all the time.

When she looked back at the stage though, and saw Daniel up there, ready to step behind the podium though, it all slipped away.

She didn't know how he managed to find her in the crowd, but somehow he did. Their gazes met and locked, and across all the heads of those who sat between them, they met in silent communication they always had and shared an overwhelming jubilation! For they'd done it! Both of them. Reached their goals; become what they'd set out to be when they were children. The dreams they’d shared to each other when they were both young and feeling unwanted and undeserving of the love the Derrick’s had both given them. And watching Daniel, Caren believed she could see his whole life.

She saw him swinging a bat when he was ten to smash a ball over the fence, only for him to run like mad to touch all bases in the quickest possible time, when he could have walked and made his home run. But that wasn't his way, to make it look too easy.

She saw him that first day when she’d showed up on the Derrick’s doorstep only a few years after he had, scared and untrusting of everyone as she clutched her younger sister to her chest. She saw that encouraging smile on his face that gave her hope when there was none.

She saw him racing on his bike yards ahead of her, then slowing down deliberately so she could catch up and they'd both reach William’s office at the same time and then locking up the bike for her.

The ceremony ended with a huge luncheon planned by the university in celebration. At the table Cassidy babbled away, but Caren and Daniel could only stare at each other, each of them trying to find the right words to say.

Suddenly Daniel frowned and asked why Leeland hadn’t come.

"He wanted to come, Daniel, really he did," Caren lied, “But he has obligations that keep him so busy he couldn't spare the time. He asked me to give you his congratulations. We do have very tight schedules. Actually, I can only stay two days. We're going to do a TV production of Giselle next month," she reasoned to him.

When everyone had gone and they were back at William’s house, alone on the veranda Daniel sighed and said, “Caren, he didn't want you to come to my graduation, did he?”

Caren remained silent in her answer and Daniel shook his head and said, “He’s going to ruin your careers. I warned you not to let him be your manager. Madame Ephron would have treated you more fairly. She loves you."

Caren began to pace the porch. Her original contract with Madame Ephron. had expired two years ago, and all she owed her now was twelve performances a year. The rest of the time, Leeland and her were freelance, and could dance with whichever company they liked.

Now everything was falling apart.

Everything was made worse by the fact that she had made a secret trip to the gynecologist the day before. Two missed periods didn't really mean anything for a woman like her, who was so irregular. She might not be pregnant, she thought. It might be just another false alarm ... but something about this time felt different.

If it wasn't a false alarm, she prayed she'd have the strength to go through with an abortion. She didn't need a baby in her life. For she knew once she had a child, he or she would become the center of her world, and love would again spoil a ballerina who could have been the best.

Ballet music was in her head when she drove Daniel's car to visit Leeland’s mother, Madame Milena one hot spring day when all the world seemed sleepy and lazy except for those poor children being instructed by a shrill little bat wearing black, as always.

Caren sat in the shadows near the far wall of a huge auditorium and watched the large class of boys and girls dance. It was scary to think of how soon those girls would grow up to replace the stars of the present. Then she too would become another Madame Ephron and the years would flow like seconds, until she was Madame Milena, and all her beauty would be preserved only in old, faded photographs.

“Caren," called Madame Milena joyfully when she spied her. She came striding swiftly, gracefully her way. "Why do you sit in the shadows?" she asked. “How nice to see your lovely face again. And don't think I don't know why you look so sad! You're one big fool to leave Leeland! He's a big baby; you know he can't be left alone or he does things to hurt himself, and when he hurts himself, he hurts you too! Why did you let him get control of your management? Why did you let him burn up your money as fast as it hits your pockets? I tell you this, in your place, I would never, never have let him put another in my role of Giselle!"

‘God, what a blabbermouth he was!’ Caren thought.

"Don't worry about me, Madame," Caren said coolly, "if my husband doesn't want me for his partner anymore, I'm sure there will be others who will."

She scowled and advanced on her. She put those bony hands on her and shook Caren as if to wake her up. Up close, Caren could see she'd aged terribly since Leeland’s father had died. Her ebony hair was almost white now, and streaked with charcoal.

“You gonna let my son make a fool of you? You let him put another dancer in your place? I gave you credit for having more backbone! Now you hightail it back to New York and push that other girl out of his life! Marriage is sacred, and wedding vows are meant to be kept!" She insisted.

Then she softened and said, “Come now, Caren," and led her into her small cluttered office, “Now you tell me about this foolishness going on between you and your husband!"

"It is really none of your business!" Caren insisted.

She swung another straight chair to where she could straddle it. Leaning forward upon her arms, she stabbed Caren with her hard penetrating glare, “Anything, and everything concerning my son is my business!" She snapped. “Now you just sit there and keep quiet, and let me tell you what you don't know about your husband."

Her voice turned a little kinder, "I was older than his father when we were married, and even so I dared putting off having a child until I believed the best of my career was behind me, and then I became pregnant. Leeland’s father never wanted a child to hold him down, and back, and so, from the beginning Leeland had two strikes against him,” she tells Caren.

She looks down then and whispers, “I tell myself we didn't force the dance upon our son, but we did keep him with us, so the ballet became part of his world, the most important part.”

She sighed heavily and wiped a bony hand over her troubled brow. "We were strict with him, I admit that. We did everything we could to make him what was perfect in our eyes, but the more we tried, the more determined he became to be everything we didn't want him to be. We tried to teach him perfect diction, so he ended up mocking us with all kinds of vulgar street language-gutter talk, his father called it. You know," she went on with a wistful expression, "only after my husband was dead and buried did I realize that he never spoke to our son unless it was an order not to do something, or an order to improve his dancing technique. I never realized that my husband could have been jealous of his own son, seeing that he was a better dancer and would achieve more fame. It wasn't easy for me to become only a ballet mistress, and for Georges to be only an instructor. Many a night we lay on our bed and held to each other, craving the applause, the adulation. ... It was a hunger that would not be satisfied until we heard the applause for our son."

Again she paused, and birdlike craned her neck to peer at Caren and see if she was paying full attention.

Oh, yes, she had her attention. She was telling her so much she needed to know.

"Leeland tried to hurt his father, and my husband got hurt because Leeland made light of his father's reputation. One day he called him only a second-class performer. My husband didn't speak to his own son for a whole month! They never got back together after that. Farther and farther they drifted apart ... until one fine Christmas Day when another prodigy drifted into our lives, and offered herself. You! Leeland had flown back to visit us, only because I had pleaded with him to try and make it up with his father ...and Leeland saw you,” she took a pause and sighed, “It is our responsibility to pass along our skills of technique to the younger generation, and still I felt some apprehension in taking you on, mostly because I thought you would hurt my son. I don't know why I thought that, but it seemed obvious from the very start, it was that older doctor you loved and if not him then his younger brother. Then I thought you had something very rare, a passion for the dance that is seldom seen. You were, in your own way, equal to what Leeland was, and the two of you together were so sensational I couldn't believe my eyes. My son felt it too, the rapport between you two. You turned those big, soft, admiring blue eyes on him, so later he came and told me you were a sex kitten who would fall easily under his spell and into his arms. He and I always had a close relationship, and he confessed to me what other boys would have kept secret.”

She paused, flicked her stony eyes over Caren and went on breathlessly, "You came, you admired him, you loved him when you were dancing with him, and when you weren't, you were indifferent. The harder you were to win, the more determined he was to have you. I thought you were clever, playing a skillful woman's game when you were only a child! And now you, you ... you go and leave him when he was in a foreign country, when he couldn't speak the language, when you should have learned he has weaknesses, many of them, and that he cannot bear to be alone!"

She jumped up like a black, scrawny alleycat and stood above Caren.

“Without Leeland to give you inspiration and enhance your talent with his own, where would you be? Without him would you be in New York, dancing with what is fast becoming one of the leading ballet companies? No! You'd be here, raising babies for that doctor. God knows why you said yes to Leeland, and how you can keep from loving him. For he tells me you don't, and never have! So you drug him. You leave him. You take off to see that younger brother, not even the one you were with before, become a doctor, when you know damn well your place is at your husband's side, making him happy and taking care of his wants! Yes! Yes!" she shrilled, "he called me long distance and told me everything! Now he thinks he hates you! Now he wants to cut you off. And when he does, he won't have a heart left to keep him alive! For he gave you his heart years and years ago!" She shouts.

Caren began to shake, slowly she rose to her feet; her legs felt weak and trembly as she brushed a hand over her aching forehead, and held back tired tears.

All of a sudden it hit her hard, she did love Leeland. For now she saw how very much they were alike, him with his hate for his father who had denied him as a son. And her with her hatred for her mother, making me do crazy things, like sending off hateful letters and Christmas cards to sadden her life and never, never let her find peace. And Leeland in competition with his father, never knowing he'd won, and was better...and her in competition with her mother-but feeling that she had yet to prove herself better.

"Madame, I am going to tell you something Leeland might not know, and I didn't really know until today; I do love your son. Perhaps I always loved him, and just couldn't accept it."

She shook her head, then fired her words like bullets, "If you love him, why did you leave him? Answer me that! You left him because you found out he has a liking for young women? Fool! All men have yearnings for young women but still they go on loving their wives! If you let his desire for young flesh drive you away, you are crazy! Slap his face; kick his behind-tell him to leave those girls alone or you will divorce him! Say all of that, and he will be what you want. But when you say nothing, and act like you don't care, you tell him plainly you don't love him, or want him, or need him!”

“I'm not his mother, or a priest, or God," Caren said wearily, sick of all the passion she used. Backing toward the door, Caren tried to leave before saying, “I don't know if I can keep Leeland from younger women, but I'm willing to go back and try. I promise to do better. I'll be more understanding, and I'll let him know I love him so much, I can't abide the thought of him making love to anyone but me."

Madame came then to take Caren in her arms. She soothed, “Poor baby, if I have been hard on you, it was for your own good. You have to keep my son from destroying himself. When you save him, you save yourself, for I lied when I said you would be nothing without Leeland. He is the one who would be nothing without you! He has a death wish, always I've known it. He thinks he's not good enough to live on because his father could never convince him he was, and that was my fault too, as well as his father’s. Leeland waited for years and years for his father to see him as a son, worthy of being loved for himself. He waited equally as long for his father to say yes, you will be even a better dancer than I was, and I'm proud of what and who you are. But his father kept his silence. But you go back and tell Leeland his father did love him. To me he said it many times. Tell him too that his father was proud of him. Tell him, Caren. Go back and convince him of how much you need and love him. Tell him how sorry you are to have left him alone. Go quickly before he does something terrible to himself!" She begged before Caren left.

So it was time for her to say good-bye to Cassidy and William. Only this time she didn't have to bid adieu to Daniel.

He put his foot down, “No! I'm coming with you! I'm not letting you go back to a crazy man. When you've made your peace with him, and I know everything is alright only then will I leave," Daniel declared.

The plane set down at La Guardia around three. A hot, sultry day. Both Carena and Daniel were both tired.

"At this hour Leeland will be in the theater rehearsing. They'll use the rehearsals as a promotion film. There have to be a lot of rehearsals; we've never danced in this theater before and it's important to get the feel of the space you have to move in,” Caren explained to Daniel.

Daniel was lugging along Caren’s two heavy suitcases, while she carried his much lighter bag. She laughed and smiled his way, glad he was with her, though she knew Leeland would be furious.

"Now you stay in the background ... and don't let him even see you if everything goes alright. Really, Daniel, I'm sure he'll be glad to see me. He's not dangerous,” Caren reasoned.

“Sure," he said glumly.

They sauntered on into the darkened theater. The stage up ahead was very brightly lit. The TV cameras were in position, ready to shoot the warm-ups. The director, producer and a few others were lined up in the front-row seats.

The heat of the day was chased by the chill of the huge space so Daniel opened up one of Caren’s bags and spread a sweater about her shoulders after they both sat down near the aisle, midway back in the center section.

Automatically Caren lifted both her legs to stretch them on top of the seat just ahead. Though she shivered, the corps de ballet were sweating from the hot light. Caren looked for Leeland but didn't see him.

Just to think of Leeland though, was to bring him out of the wings, onto the stage in a series of whirling jetés. Looking so handsome.

"Wow!" whispered Daniel in Caren’s ear. "Sometimes I forget how sensational he is on stage. No wonder every ballet critic thinks he will be the star of this decade when he learns some discipline. Let it be soon ...and I mean you too, Caren."

She smiled, for she too needed discipline, "Yes," she said, "I too, of course."

No sooner had Leeland finished his solo performance than the woman that had replaced Caren, Loretta Price pirouetted out from the wings, wearing red. She was more beautiful than ever and she danced so extraordinarily well for a girl so tall.

That was, she danced well until Leeland came to partner her, and then everything went wrong. He reached for her waist and got her buttocks, then he had to quickly shift his hold, so she slipped and nearly fell and again he adjusted to save her.

A male dancer who let a ballerina fall would soon never have a partner to lift. They tried again the same jump, lift, and fall back, and this time it went almost as awkward, making Loretta seem ungainly, and Leeland unskilled.

Even Caren, sitting halfway down the row of seats, could hear her loud curse. "Damn you!" she screeched. "You make me look gauche-if you let me fall, I'll see you never dance again!"

"Cut!" called the director, getting to his feet and looking impatiently from one to the other.

The corps de ballet milled about, grumbling, throwing angry looks at the pair center stage that was wasting so much time. Obviously, from the sweaty, hot looks of all of them, this had been going on for some time, and badly.

"Laurent!" called the director, well known for having little patience for those who required two, or even more takes. "What the hell is wrong with your timing? I thought you said you knew this ballet. I can't think of one thing you've done right in the past three days."

"Me?" Leeland railed back. "It's not me... it's her-she jumps too soon!"

"Okay," the director said sarcastically, "it's always her fault and never yours." He tried to control his impatience, knowing Leeland would walk out in a second if criticized too much. "When is your wife going to be well enough to dance again?"

Loretta screamed out, "Hey, wait a minute! I came all the way from Los Angeles and now you're sounding as if you're going to replace me with Caren! I won't have it! I'm written into that contract now! I'll sue!"

"Miss Price," said the director smoothly, "you are the cover only—but while you are, let's attempt it again. Laurent, listen for your cue. Prince, make ready and pray to God this time it will be fit to show an audience who might expect better from professionals."

Caren smiled to hear she was only the cover. She had thought she was really written out. She found she perversely enjoyed watching Leeland make a fool out of himself and Loretta as well.

Yet, when the dancers on stage groaned, she groaned along with them, feeling their exhaustion, and despite herself she began to feel pity for Leeland who was diligently trying to balance Loretta.

Any second the director could call "take ten" and that's when Caren would make her move.

Up ahead, first row, Madame Ephron suddenly turned her wizened giraffe neck to crane Caren’s way, and those sharp little beady eyes saw her sitting tensely, watching like an eagle.

"Hey, you, Caren," she called with great enthusiasm, “Come,” she gestured, “sit by my side.”

"Excuse me a minute, Daniel," Caren whispered. “I've got to go up there and save Leeland before he ruins both our careers. I'll be alright. There's not much he can do with an audience is there?"

Once Caren was seated beside Madame Ephron, she hissed, "Sooo, you’re not so sick after all! Thank God for small favors. Your husband up there is ruining my reputation along with his and yours. I should have known better than to always let him partner you, so now he can dance with no one as well."

"Madame," Caren asked, "who arranged for Loretta to be my stand-in?”

"Your husband, my love," she whispered cruelly, “You let him get control, you were a fool to do that. He is impossible! He is a tempest, a devil, so unreasonable! Soon he will go mad, if he doesn't see your face or we will go mad. Now run fast and put on dance clothes and save me from extinction!"

It was only a matter of seconds before Caren had on a practice outfit and, as soon as she had her hair bound up and securely fastened in place, she strapped on her pointes. At the dressing room barre she warmed up quickly. Doing her pliés, and the rond de jambes to pump blood into each limb. Soon enough she was ready. Not a day passed where Caren didn't do her exercises for several hours.

In the darkened wings Caren hesitated. She was prepared, she thought, for almost anything for when Leeland saw her, what would he do? While she watched him on stage, suddenly from behind she was brutally shoved aside!

"You've been replaced," hissed Loretta. “So, get out and stay out! You had your chance and loused it up. Now Leeland is mine! You hear that? He's mine! I have slept in your bed, and used your makeup and worn your jewelry. I have taken your place in everything."

Caren wanted to ignore her and not believe anything she said. When the cue came for Giselle to go on, Loretta tried to hold her that's when Caren turned savagely upon her and pushed her so hard she fell. She blanched with pain, while Caren went on pointe and glided onto the stage, making her perfect little string of pearls.

Each tiny step could have been measured and proven to be of an exact distance. For now was the shy, young village girl, sweetly, sincerely falling in love with Loys. Others on stage gasped to see her. Relief lit up Leeland's dark eyes for an instant.

"Hi," he said coolly as she neared him, and fluttered her dark lashes to enchant him more.

"Why'd you come back? Your doctors kick you out? Sick of you already?" He asked.

"You are a nasty, inconsiderate brute, Leeland, to replace me with Loretta! You know I despise her!"

His back was to the lookers as he sneered wickedly, all the while keeping time, "Yeah, I know you hate her. That's why I wanted her."

He curled his beautiful red lips so they looked ugly, “Listen to this, dancing doll. Nobody runs out on me, especially my wife, and comes back and thinks she can still fit in my life. My love, my dearest heart, I don't want you now, I don't need you now, and you can go and play bitch to any man you want! Get the hell out of my life!"

"You don't mean that," Caren said, as they both performed perfectly, and no one called cut. How could they when they did everything so exquisitely right?

"You don't love me," he said bitterly. "You've never loved me. No matter what I did, or what I said, and now I don't give a damn! I gave you the best I had to give, and it wasn't enough. So, dear Caren I give you this!"

And with those sudden words, he broke the routine, jumped high into the air, to come down forcefully and directly onto her feet. All his weight, brought down like a battering ram to crush her toes.

Caren uttered some small cry of pain, then Leeland was whirling back to chuck her under the chin.

“Now, love, see who will dance Giselle with me. Certainly it won't be you, will it?" He hisses.

“Take ten!" bellowed the director, too late to save her.

Leeland gripped her shoulders and shook her like a rag doll. Caren stared at him rattle-eyed, expecting anything. Then suddenly he whirled away leaving her center stage, alone, on two damaged feet that hurt so badly she could have screamed. Instead, she sank to the floor and sat there staring at her rapidly swelling feet.

From out of the darkened auditorium Daniel came running to her assistance.

“Damn him to hell for doing this!" He cried, falling on his knees to take off her pointe shoes and examine her feet. Tenderly he tried to move her toes, but she cried out from the awful pain.

Then he picked her up easily and held her tight against him, "You'll be alright, Caren. I'll see that your toes heal properly. I fear a few are broken on each foot. You'll need an orthopedist,” he told her.

"Take Caren to our orthopedist," ordered Madame Ephron who teetered forward and stared at Caren’s darkening, enlarging feet. She peered more closely at Daniel, having seen him only a few times before.

“You’re Caren’s doctor boy who caused all this trouble?" she asked, making Caren blush. “Take her quick to the doctor. We have insurance. But that fool husband, this is it. I fire him!” She declared.

At the doctor of Caren’s feet were X-rayed disclosing three broken toes on her left foot, and one broken small toe on her right.

Thank God both her big toes were spared, or else she might never dance again!

An hour later Daniel was carrying her out of the doctor's office with a plaster cast drying on one foot that reached to her knee, while the small toe was only taped and left to heal without such protection.

The doctor's last words rung in her ears though, “You may, or you may not dance again, it all depends."

On what it depended, he didn't say.

So she asked Daniel.

“Sure," he said confidently, of course you'll dance again. Sometimes a doctor likes to be overly pessimistic so you can think how great he was when everything works out fine due to his special skill."

Clumsily he tried to support her while he used her key to open the door of the apartment Leeland and her shared. Then he carefully lifted her up again, carried her inside and kicked the door closed behind him. He tried to make her as comfortable as possible on one of the soft couches.

Caren had her eyes squeezed tightly together, trying to suppress the pain she felt at every move.

Daniel tenderly supported both legs so he could stuff pillows under and keep them elevated to reduce the swelling. Another fat pillow was carefully eased under her back and head and he never said one word not one word.

Because he was so silent, she opened her eyes and studied his face that loomed above her. He tried to look professional, detached, but he failed. He showed shock each time his eyes moved from one object to another.

Fearful Caren looked around and her eyes bulged and her mouth opened.

This room! The mess! Oh, God, it was awful!

Their apartment was a wreck! Every painting Leeland and her had so carefully selected was torn down from the walls, smashed on the floor. Even the two watercolors Daniel had painted especially for her, portraits with her in costume.

All the expensive trinkets they’d bought lay broken on the hearth, lamps were on the floor, the shades slashed to ribbons and the wire frames bent. Needlepoint pillows she'd made during the long tedious flights from here to there while on tour were ripped, destroyed! Houseplants had been dumped from their pots and left with roots exposed to die.

Two cloisonné vases that William had given as a wedding gift, gone too. Everything fine and costly, and very cherished, things they had planned to keep all their lives and leave to their children, all beyond restoration.

"Vandals," said Daniel softly, "Just vandals."

He smiled and kissed her forehead and squeezed her hand as tears came to her eyes. “Stay calm," he said, then he went to check the other three rooms, while she sank back on the pillows and sniffed back her sobs.

Oh, how he must hate her to do this!

Shortly after, Daniel was back with his expression very composed, in that same eye-of-the-hurricane way she'd seen a few times on his face.

"Caren," he began, settling cautiously down on the edge of the sofa and reaching for her hand, “I don't know what to think. All your clothes and shoes have been ruined. Your jewelry is scattered all over the bedroom floor, the chains ripped apart, the rings stepped on, bracelets hammered out of shape. It looks as if somebody set out deliberately to ruin all of your things and left Leeland's in perfect condition."

He gave her a baffled, troubled look, and maybe the tears she tried to hold back jumped from her eyes to his. With glistening blue eyes he extended his palm to show her the setting of a once exquisite diamond engagement ring, given to her by his brother, William.

The platinum band was now a crooked oval. The prongs had released their clasp on the clear and perfect two-carat diamond.

Sedatives had been shot into her arm so she couldn't feel the pain of her broken toes. She felt fuzzy and disoriented, and rather detached. Someone inside her was screaming, screaming hatred was near again-the wind was blowing, and when she closed her eyes.

"Leeland," she said weakly, "he must have done this. He must have come back and vented his rage on all my belongings. See the things left whole, they are things he chose for himself."

"Damn him to hell!" cried Daniel. “How many times has he vented his rage on you? How many black eyes—I've seen one-but how many others?"

"Please don't," Caren said sleepily, "He never hit me, that he didn't cry afterward, and he'd say he was sorry. Yes, so sorry, my sweetheart, my only love. I don't know what makes me act as I do when I love you so much,” she muttered.

"Caren," began Daniel tentatively, tucking the platinum band in his pocket, "Are you alright? You look close to fainting. I'll go in and straighten up the bed, so you can rest in that. Soon you'll fall asleep and forget all of this, and when you wake up, I'm taking you away. Don't cry for the clothes and things he gave you, for I'll give you better and more. As for this ring William gave you, I'll search around the bedroom until I find the diamond."

He looked, but he didn't find the diamond, and when she drifted into sleep, he carried her to the bed he'd made up with clean sheets. She was under a sheet and a thin blanket when she opened her eyes, and he was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her face.

Caren glanced toward the windows and saw it was getting dark. Any moment Leeland would come home, and find Daniel with her and there'd be hell to pay.

But she wanted him to stay. For always he gave her comfort when nothing else could. Always he was there when she needed him to do and say the right thing.

“You’ve made it Daniel. I haven’t yet. You should let me go,” Caren whispered and then added, “You've achieved your goal of being a doctor. But I'm still not a prima ballerina." she said this last part bitterly.

"Caren, don't belittle yourself. You will be a prima ballerina yet!” He said fervently. "You would have been a long time ago, if Leeland could control his fits of temper that makes every company manager afraid to sign the pair of you on. You get stuck in a minor company just because you won't leave him."

Caren sighed, wishing he hadn't said that. It was true enough Leeland’s fiery temper tantrums had scared off more than one offer that would have placed them in a more prestigious company.

“You've got to leave, Daniel. I don't want him to come home and find you here. He doesn't want you near me. And I can't leave him. In his own way he loves me and needs me. Without me to keep him steady he would be ten times more violent, and I do love him after all. If he struck out sometimes, he was just trying to make me see that. Now I do see,” Caren told him.

"See?" he cried. “You're not seeing! You’re letting pity for him rob you of good common sense! Look around you, Caren! Only a crazy man could have done this. I'm not leaving you alone to face a madman! I'm staying to protect you. Tell me what you could do if he decides to make you pay again for leaving him alone in Spain? Could you get up and run? No! I'm not leaving you here, unprotected, when he might come home drunk, or on drugs,” Daniel started.

“He doesn't use drugs!" Caren defended, protective of the good that was in Leeland, and for some reason, wanting to forget all that wasn't.

"He jumped on your toes, when you need those toes to dance on, so don't tell me you will have a sane man to deal with. You need to leave him,” Daniel insisted only to be rebuffed.

"Daniel, I'm going to have Leeland's baby. I went to a gynecologist while I was in town. It's the reason I stayed longer than I originally intended. Leeland and I are having a baby."

She could have slapped him from the way he moved backward. He sat up on the side of the bed and bowed his head into his hands. Then he sobbed, "Always you manage to defeat me, Caren! First William, my brother who I can’t even hate, then Leeland who I’ll never understand why you put up with, and now a baby."

There was a silence for a moment before he suddenly faced her, "Come away and let me be the father to that child! Leeland isn't fit!”

"Daniel I'm going to have the baby with Leeland,” Caren said with a firm resolution that surprised even herself, “I want Leeland's child for I do love him, Daniel, and I've failed him in so many ways. Failed him because you and William got in my eyes, and I didn't appreciate what I could have had in him. I should have been a better wife, and then he wouldn't have needed those girls. I…” Caren tried to continue before Daniel interrupted.

"You forgive him for breaking your toes?" he asked, astonished.

"He kept begging me to say I loved him, and I never would. I kept a deceptive parasol over my head, to keep dark doubts in my mind, and I refused to see anything that was noble and fine about him but his dancing. I didn't realize that to love me, even when I denied him, was noble and fine in itself. So, let me go, Daniel. Even if I never dance again, I'll have his child and he will go on to fame without me."

Daniel looked at her with deep sadness before standing up and leaving.

So Caren slept only to bolt awake at the sound of a telephone ringing.

Why did a telephone ringing in the dead of night always have such a threatening sound?

Caren sleepily reached for the receiver and muttered, "Hello?”

"Mrs. Leeland Laurent?"

Caren came awake a bit more, and rubbed at her eyes. "Yes, this is she."

She named a hospital on the other side of town, “Mrs.Laurent, would you please come as quickly as possible? If you can, have someone else drive you. Your husband was in an auto accident, and is even now in surgery. Bring with you his insurance papers, identification, and any medical history you have, Mrs. Laurent...are you there?"

But she wasn’t she was back to being a young child and hearing her father was dead in auto accident, and she instantly cried out, “Daniel!” Hoping her hadn’t left.

He was to her in a second coming from the other room, “I’m here,” he said, for he always was and would never truly leave her.

In that dim and lonely hour that comes before dawn, Daniel and Caren arrived at the hospital.

In one of those sterile waiting rooms they sat down to wait and find out if Leeland would survive the accident and the surgery.

Finally, around noon, after hours in the recovery room, they brought him down. They had him laid out on what they called a "fracture bed", a torturous looking device that strung up his right leg which wore a cast from his toes to his hip. His left arm was broken, and in a cast, and strung up in a peculiar way too. His pale face was lacerated and bruised. His lips, usually so full and red, were as pale as his skin. But all of that was nothing compared to his head.

Caren shivered to look. His head had been shaved and small holes drilled for metal calipers to be hooked in to pull his head up and backward. A leather collar lined with fleece was fastened about his neck. A broken neck! Plus a leg fracture, and a compound fracture of his forearm, was to say nothing of the internal injuries that had kept him on the operating table three hours.

Caren cried out, “Will he live?”

"He is on the critical list, Mrs. Laurent," they answered so calmly, "If he has other close relatives, we suggest you contact them."

Daniel made the call to Madame Milena, for Caren was deathly afraid he'd pass away any moment, and she might miss the only chance to tell him she loved him. And if that happened, she'd be cursed and haunted all through the rest of her life.

Days passed. Leeland flitted in and out of consciousness.

He stared at Caren with eyes lackluster, unfocused. He spoke but his voice came so thick, heavy and unintelligible she couldn't understand. She forgave him for all the little sins, and the big ones too, as you are apt to when death is around the corner.

She rented a room in the hospital next to his where she could catch naps, but she never had a full night's rest. She had to be there when he came to, where he could see and know, so she could plead with him to fight, to live, and, most of all, say all the words she'd so stingily kept from his ears.

"Leeland," she whispered, her voice hoarse from saying it so often, "Please don't die!"

Their dancing friends and musicians flocked to the hospital to offer what consolation they could. His room filled with flowers from hundreds of fans.

Madame Milena flew up from South Carolina and stalked into the room wearing a dreary black dress. She gazed down on the unconscious face of her only child without any expression of grief.

“Better he die now," she said flatly, “than to wake up and find himself a cripple for life.”

“How dare you say that?" Caren flared, ready to strike her, "He's alive-and he's not doomed. His spinal cord wasn't injured! He'll walk again, and dance again too!"

Then came the pity and disbelief to shimmer her jet eyes and then she was in tears. She who'd boasted she never cried, never showed grief, wept in Caren’s arms.

"Say it again, that he'll dance-oh, don't lie, he's got to dance again!"

Five horrible days came and went before Leeland could focus his eyes enough to really see. Unable to turn his head, he rolled his eyes Caren’s way.

"Hi."

"Hello, dreamer. I thought you were never going to wake up," Caren said.

He smiled, a thin ironic smile, "No such luck, Caren love."

His eyes flicked downward to his strung-up leg. "I'd rather be dead than like this."

Caren got up and went to his fracture bed that was made with two wide strips of rough canvas slipped over strong rods. It was a hard, unyielding bed to lie on, yet she stretched beside him very carefully, and curled her fingers into his tangle of remaining uncombed hair.

Her free hand stroked his chest, “Lee, you're not paralyzed. Your spinal cord was not severed, crushed, or even bruised. It's just in shock, so to speak."

He had an uninjured arm that could have reached to hold her, but it stayed straight at his side, "You're lying," he said bitterly, "I can't feel one damn thing from my waist down. Not your hand on my chest either. Now get the hell out of here! You don't love me! You wait until you think I'm ready to kick off, and then you come with your sweet words! I don't want or need your pity-so get the hell out, and stay out!"

Caren left his bed and reached for her purse, crying, even as he cried and stared at the ceiling.

“Damn you for wrecking our apartment!" Caren stormed when she could talk, "You tore up my clothes!" Caren rampaged, angry now, and wanting to slap his face that was already bruised and swollen, “Damn you for breaking all our beautiful things! You knew how painstakingly we chose all those lamps, the accessories that cost a fortune. You know we wanted to leave them as heirlooms for our children. Now we've got nothing left to leave anyone!”

He grinned, satisfied. “Yeah, nothing left for nobody,” he yawned, as if dismissing her, but she was unwilling to be dismissed, "Got no kids, thank God. Never gonna have any. You can get a divorce. Marry some son of a bitch and make his life miserable too."

"Leeland," Caren said with such heavy sadness, "Have I made your life miserable?"

He blinked, as if not wanting to answer that, but she asked him again, and again, until she forced him to say, "Not altogether miserable-we had a few moments."

"Only a few?"

"Well... maybe more than a few. But you don't have to stay on and take care of an invalid. Get the hell out while you can. I'm no good, you know that. I've been unfaithful to you time and again."

"If you are again, I'll cut your heart out!"

"Go 'way, Caren. I'm tired."

He sounded sleepy from the many sedatives they fed into him and shot into him, “Kids are not good for people like us anyway."

“People like us...?"

"Yeah, people like us."

"How are we different?”

He mockingly, sleepily laughed, bitterly too, "We're not real. We don't belong to the human race."

"What are we then?"

“Dancing dolls, that's all. Dancing fools, afraid to be real people and live in the real world. That's why we prefer fantasy. Didn't you know?" He asked.

"No, I didn't know. I always thought we were real,” Caren whispered.

"It wasn't me who ruined your things, it was Loretta. I watched, though."

Caren felt sick, scared he was telling the truth. Was she only a dancing doll? Couldn't she make her way in the real world, outside the theater? Wasn't she better at coping than her mother?

"Leeland ... I do love you, honest I do. I used to think I loved someone else, because it seemed so unnatural to go from one love to another. When I was a little girl, I used to believe love came only once in a lifetime, and that was the best kind. I thought once you loved one person, you never could love another. But I was wrong,” Caren tried.

"Get out and leave me alone. I don't want to hear what you've got to say, not now. Now I don't give a damn," Leeland told her.

Tears coursed down Caren’s face and dropped down on him. He closed his eyes and refused to see, or listen. She leaned to kiss his lips, and they stayed tight, hard, unresponding.

Next he spat, "Stop! You sicken me!"

"I love you, Leeland," she sobbed, “and I'm sorry if I realized it too late, and said it too late but don't let it be too late. I'm expecting your baby, the fourteenth in a long line of dancers, and that baby is a lot to live for, even if you don't love me anymore. Don't close your eyes and pretend not to hear, because you are going to be a father, whether or not you want to be."

He rolled his dark, shining eyes her way, and she saw why they shone, for they were full of tears.

Tears of self-pity, or tears of frustration, she didn't know.

But he spoke more kindly, and there was a tone of love in his voice, "I advise you to get rid of it, Caren. Fourteen is no luckier a number than thirteen."

She left his room to sleep on Daniel’s shoulder for a few hours. When she got up she walked to Leeland’s room to see he was asleep, deeply asleep. The intravenous tube that led to his arm ran under the sheet and into his vein.

But for some reason she fixed her eyes upon that bottle with the pale yellow liquid that seemed more water than anything else, so quickly it was being depleted.

She ran back to shake Daniel awake, "Daniel," she said, as he tried to pull himself together, “isn't that IV supposed to just trickle into his arm? It's running out very quickly,too quickly, I think."

Hardly were the words out of her mouth when Daniel was up and running toward Leeland's room.

Daniel only had to throw back the sheet to see the problem, the tube had been cut!

"Oh, God," sighed Daniel, "an air bubble must have reached his heart."

Caren stared at the shiny scissors held so loosely in Leeland’s slack right hand.

"He cut the tube himself," she whispered, "he cut the tube himself, and now he's dead, dead, dead.”

Daniel turned on the nurse, but Caren stopped him even in her grief, “It's all right," she said dully, "If he hadn't done it this way, it would have been another. I should have known and warned you. There was no life for him if he could never dance again. No life at all.”

Leeland was buried next to his father. On the headstone, Caren made sure Madame Milena agreed to the name she added:

Leeland Laurent Romanov, beloved husband of Caren, and thirteenth in a long line of Russian male ballet stars.

Maybe it was ostentatious and gave away her own failure to love him enough while he lived, but she had to let him have it the way he wanted or as she thought he wanted.

Daniel, William, Cassidy and her paused at the foot of his father’s grave too, and she bowed her head to show respect to Leelands father. Respect she should have given him too.

“Caren," said William when they were all seated in the long black limousine, "your room is still as it was, all yours. Come home and live with Cassidy and me until your baby is born. Daniel will be there too, doing his internship at the local Hospital."

Caren stared over at Daniel who was seated on the jumpseat, knowing he'd won a much better position in a very important hospital—and he was interning in a small, unimportant one.

“Duke is so far away, Caren," he said with his eyes avoiding hers. “It was bad enough traveling when I was in college and med school so if you don't mind, let me be somewhere near so I can be here the day your son or daughter arrives in the world."

Madame Milena jolted so her head almost struck the ceiling of the car, "You carry Leeland's child?" She cried. "Why didn't you tell me before? How wonderful!" She glowed, so the sadness dropped from her like a gloomy cloak. “Now Leeland's not dead at all, for he will father a son, who will be exactly like him!”

"It may be a girl, Madame," William said softly, while he reached for Caren’s hand causing Daniel to turn away slightly, “I know you long for a boy like your son, but I long for a little girl like Caren and Cassidy ...but if it's a boy, I won't object."

"Object?" cried Madame. "God in his infinite wisdom and mercy will send to Caren the exact duplicate of Leeland! And he will dance, and he will reach the fame that was waiting just around the corner for the son of my husband!"

That night as Caren sat on the porch, the door behind her opened and closed quietly. She didn't look to see who it was, for she knew. She was good at sensing people, even in the dark.

William sat in the chair next to hers, and rocked his chair in the same rhythm as she rocked.

"Caren," he said softly, "I hate to see you sitting there with that lost and drained expression. Don't think all the good things in your life have passed you by and nothing is left. You're still very young, very beautiful, and after your baby is born, you can quickly whip yourself back into shape, and dance until you feel you're ready to retire and teach."

She didn't turn her head. Dance again? How could she dance when Leeland lay in the ground? All she had was the baby. She would make the baby the center of her life. She would teach her child to dance, and he or she would reach the fame that should have been Leeland’s and hers. Everything that her mother failed to give her and her siblings she would bestow on her child.

Never would her child be neglected. When her child reached for her, she would be there. When her child cried out for Momma, he wouldn't have to make do with only an older sister. No, she’d be like her mother was when she was with her father. That was what hurt the most, that she could change from someone loving and kind into what she was, a monster. Never, never would she treat her child as her mother treated hers!

She had to be careful and not eat junk food; She had to drink plenty of milk, take vitamins, and think happy thoughts, not vengeful ones. Every day from now on she would play ballet music. Inside her, her baby would hear, and even before he or she was born a small living soul would be indoctrinated to the dance.

She smiled, thinking of all the pretty tutus she could buy for her little girl. She smiled even more to think of a boy like his father with dark blue eyes just like his.

Carailand Ryan Laurent would be his name. Carailand for both her and his father and Ryan for Daniel’s little brother who now filled her dreams, remembering the way Daniel described him.

Though she tried diligently to think only of the innocent child growing within her, still her thoughts would steal to her mother, filling her with hate, filling her with unwanted plans for revenge. For somehow she had caused Leeland’s death too.

Madame Milena came often to check on her condition,and filled her with authoritative advice.

“Now you keep up your practicing; play the ballet music to fill Leeland’s baby with love for beauty before he is born; inside you he'll know the dance is waiting for him."

She glanced down at Caren’s feet that had finally healed, “How do those toes feel now?"

"Fine," she answered dully, though they ached when it rained.

The long days of grief sped by more quickly because she had Leeland's baby, part of him to keep with her.

Soon Christmas was upon them, and she was so large she didn't feel she should show herself. Daniel insisted, along with William, that it would be good therapy to go shopping.

Caren bought an antique gold locket to send to Madame Ephron, and inside she put two small photos of Leeland and her, in their Romeo and Juliet costumes.

Shortly after Christmas her thank-you note arrived:

Dear Caren, my own love,

Yours is the best gift of all. I grieve for your beautiful dancing husband. I grieve for you most of all if you decide not to dance again just because you are to become a mother! Long ago you would have been a prima ballerina if your husband had shown less arrogance and more respect for those in authority. Keep in shape, do exercises and bring your baby with you. My poor son just had a baby himself, I pray he will be a dancer. Bring your darling child and they can run around together. We will all live together in my place until you find a new dancer to love. Life offers many chances, not just one. Come back.

Forever here for you,

Madame Ephron

Her note put a wistful smile on Caren’s face.

It was a cold February night when Caren felt her first contraction. She gasped from the sharp pain. She had known it would hurt, but not so much!

She glanced at the clock, two o’clock in the morning of Valentine's Day. Her baby would be born on what would have been her and Leeland’s sixth wedding anniversary!

"Leeland," she cried out, as if he could hear her, "you are about to become a father!"

She got up and dressed as speedily as she could before she crossed the hall to rap on William's door. He mumbled something in the way of a question.

“William," Caren called, "I think I just had my first contraction."

"Thank God!" he cried from the other side, instantly wide awake. "Are you all set to go?"

"Of course. I've been ready for a month."

"I'll call your doctor, then alert Daniel, you sit down and take it easy!"

"Would it be all right if I came in?" Caren asked.

He swung open the door, wearing only his trousers, "You're the calmest mother-to-be I've ever seen," he said as he helped her sit.

He raced next to swipe at his face with an electric razor, then he was running to put on a shirt and tie.

“Had any more contractions?" He asked.

It was on the tip of her tongue to say no, when another seized her. She doubled over, “Fifteen minutes since the last."

She gasped and he looked pale as he pulled on his jacket, then came to help her up,"Okay, I'll put you in the car first, then go for your suitcase. Keep calm, don't worry, this baby will have three doctors doing their very best..."

"To get in each other's way," Caren concluded.

"To see you have the best medical attention possible," he corrected.

He left a note for Cassidy for when she woke up, also telling her to call Madame Milena and put the tape they made for her.

It seemed forever before the hospital loomed up ahead. Under a protective canopy at the emergency entrance, a solitary intern paced restlessly back and forth. Daniel, who said "Thank God you're here! I was picturing all sorts of calamities," even as he assisted her out, while someone else rushed up with a wheelchair, and without any of the preliminaries other patients had to endure.

She was snug in bed in no time at all and gasping from another contraction.

Three hours later, her son was born, Daniel and William were there, both of them with tears in their eyes, but it was Daniel who picked up her son, still with the cord attached, messy and bloody. He put him upon her belly and held him there while another doctor did what he had to.

"Caren can you see him?" Daniel asked tears in his eyes.

“He's beautiful,” Caren breathed in awe, seeing all that light wavy hair, the perfect little red body. With a fierce anger so like his father's he waved his tiny fists and flailed his thin legs, screaming at all the indignities inflicted upon him and all the light that came so suddenly to shine in his eyes, and put him center stage, so to speak.

“His name is Carailand Ryan Laurent, but I'm going to call him Cary,” Caren whispered.

Both Daniel and William heard her thin whisper. She was so tired, so sleepy.

“Ryan?” William asked for the rest was understandable to him.

It wasn't Caren who had the strength to answer. It was Daniel who understood all of it.

“Carailand was for both of them, and she always did love Cary Grant movies. But he’s blonde and beautiful just like my brother Ryan was. I used to tell her about him all the time when she first came here,” he whispered with a small smile.

For a moment their eyes met and she smiled. How wonderful to be understood, and never have to explain.

#cary: musing #cary: story #caren: musing #danield: musing #harry: musing #anything in these story pieces is something cary knows happened #most of this writing comes from the book in which cary's character is largely based on with several details changed and parts rewritten #we worship cary's bad ass mother caren and amazing step father daniel in this house

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ronninoir · 4 years

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Can I Steal You for a Second? CH9

Summary: Adrien is forced to participate in a new dating show, but becomes more excited when Ladybug says she’ll participate as her civilian self.

AKA: AU where Adrien doesn’t know Marinette, the superheroes are 22 and Gabriel is mean and ruthless but not Hawkmoth.

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Start from the beginning Chp 1 on AO3

Chapter 9

Adrien was notified of the akuma alert but was told to continue talking to girls as the akuma was not in this part of the city and shouldn’t affect the show.

Adrien disagreed, wholeheartedly.

“We have to hide.” Adrien told the producer firmly. He needed to transform, Ladybug needed a way to transform too if she hadn’t done so already.

“Mr. Agreste, the akuma is too far from the mansion for us to shut down shooting. We still have about an hour left to shoot and we can’t do that if we are all in a safe place.”

“Do you hear what you’re saying? Are you telling me that my life, that the life of these 22 women are LESS important than the filming of this show?” Adrien was yelling now and he knew that he would be hearing about this from Gabriel, but at this moment in time, he didn’t care.

“We have explicit instructions to do so, yes.” The producer responded, clearly exasperated with Adrien’s attitude.

“Who told you to keep filming? There are girls here not from France, not to mention Chris and the other crew members from America who have never dealt with an akuma attack. We have to move everyone to safety now, before the akuma comes closer to here.” Adrien wasn’t yelling anymore but his voice had gone to a level of calm that was frightening. He needed to transform and this producer wasn’t going to stand in his way.

“Gabriel Agreste was the one who gave the order.”

Adrien stopped short. That was a whole other problem. He couldn’t directly disobey his father without there being consequences. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, we got the call right before we notified you.”

Adrien sat down with an angry groan and put his head in his hands. He knew he had lost. Standing up, he straightened his suit jacket and looked at the producer he had been arguing with. “Who’s the next girl?” He asked, his voice barely over a whisper.

Looking at his clipboard, he read, “Jeanne.”

Adrien sighed and began walking towards the group of girls. He was still fuming, but knew that the only person who deserved his anger was the one person who was never allowed to see it. On the bright side, at least he knew for a fact that Jeanne wasn’t Ladybug.

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Ladybug was not okay. She was swinging through the rooftops of Paris getting closer and closer to the akuma, while also painfully aware that Chat Noir hadn’t joined her yet. She knew that Adrien had heard about the akuma, but she didn’t know if he’d be able to find a good enough excuse to escape the cameras in order to transform.

When Ladybug landed on a rooftop nearest the akuma, she dropped low to observe what this akuma was up to. The akuma appeared to be male, he was dressed in what looked like a suit, but it was more brightly colored than a regular dinner suit. With splashes of blues, purples, and greens, it was beautiful in an almost sad way. His skin was a light shade of blue and his hair was the same. He had some strange markings on his face, but she was too far away to make out exactly what they were.

This akuma didn’t seem to be too threatening, as no bystanders seemed to be injured and there was minimal damage in the surrounding area. After watching for a bit longer, she gathered that he shot a beam at people and they started acting funny. Some burst into tears, while others moped around on the street. She couldn’t figure it out exactly, but knew she needed to get closer to fight the akuma anyway. She just didn’t want to go in without her partner.

She had stalled for as long as she could, but Chat still hadn’t made an appearance. “How can I make it where the producers HAVE to let Adrien out of their sight?” Ladybug thought aloud as she began pacing the rooftop. The only way the girls would be evacuated is if the danger was close enough to disrupt filming. “That’s it!” Ladybug shouted, while jumping up. Her exclamation and her movements caught the eye of the akuma, but that was just as she needed it to be.

“Well well, look who decided to join the fight. Are you ready for a blast of sadness Ladybug?” The akuma taunted after a purple butterfly mask appeared over its face. Hawkmoth knew she was around and wouldn’t let the akuma leave her alone anytime soon. Perfect. She grabbed her yo-yo and swung down to meet the akuma on the street.

“I prefer to look on the bright side of things, akuma!”

“My name is Tristessnelle, and with me around, Paris will never be happy again!” Tristessnelle screamed, followed by something that could only be described as an evil laugh.

Ladybug felt a slight shiver go down her spine as she landed near the villain. “If you want to take away my happiness, and my miraculous, you’ll have to catch me first!” she took off at a full run down the street, knowing without having to look that the supervillain was following her.

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This was really bad. There was an akuma wreaking havoc on Paris and Adrien was sitting on a bench surrounded by a beautiful rose bush sipping champagne with a girl he honestly felt nothing for. It’s not that Mathilde wasn’t a nice girl, it was just that she was so quiet, Adrien felt like he had to do all of the talking. That was especially annoying when all he really wanted to do was escape, transform, and help his lady out in battle.

The only thing keeping Adrien seated was the fact that one of the producers near him was following the akuma attack and was giving the surrounding crew updates on what was happening. So far, Ladybug had made it to the scene and was quickly moving through Paris, with the akuma following her. According to the Ladyblog, the akuma was about 3 blocks away from the mansion. Thank God for Alya Césaire and her ability to stay on top of a story. Adrien couldn’t figure out what Ladybug was doing, having the akuma chase her through the city, but he trusted that she knew what she was doing.

Adrien decided to end the “conversation” with Mathilde and walked her back to the main area. Instead of finding another girl to talk to though, he took one of his allotted breaks and slipped in with the producer and his crew that were following the attack. He watched as Ladybug skillfully avoided the akuma’s beams, but didn’t engage in combat. What is she doing? Adrien wondered. Plagg was watching too, but he seemed to understand more of what was happening than he did.

“Okay, the akuma is about a block away now. I think we should move everyone to a safe place. We don’t need any lawsuits because of silly akuma attack.”

Adrien was moving before he had even finished talking. He strutted into the main area where almost all of the girls were sitting. He absentmindedly scanned the faces, trying to see who was missing, while he addressed the girls. “Sorry to interrupt, ladies, but I need to inform you that there is an akuma attack going on and it is dangerously close to the mansion. For those of you that don’t know, an akuma is a villain that is controlled by the supervillain, Hawkmoth. Ladybug and Chat Noir will take care of it, so there is no reason to worry. I need you to make your way to the bedrooms on the lower floors and lock the doors and windows. We will let you know when it is safe to come out.”

There was a slight panic that went through the girls at his words, but no one screamed or burst into tears, so Adrien counted it as a win. Lucie was the first one to move, the other girls quickly following. He knew that Lucie virtually lived in Paris because of boarding school when she was growing up and was glad to see that she could keep focused during an event like this.

Once all of the girls had rushed out of the room, he ran to a bathroom looking for a window. On his third try, he found one with a window just large enough for him to slip out. Plagg zoomed out his pocket as he was locking the door.

“Do we have to go? I’d much rather talk with some more the girls.” Plagg whined as he looked at Adrien pleadingly.

“Sorry, Plagg, the love of my life needs me,” Adrien responded as he propped the window open.

At that Plagg rolled his eyes and managed a dramatic sigh before Adrien’s cry of “Claws out!” dragged him into the miraculous.

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Ladybug was almost on top of the mansion when Chat Noir was able to join her.

“Miss me, Bugaboo?” Chat asked her as he joined her on the street. They were standing side by side, facing the akuma and Ladybug felt braver, stronger, and more capable of handling this akuma with him next to her.

She gave him a confident smile before responding with an, “Of course, Kitty. I brought the party to you, didn’t you notice?”

“Oh, that’s what you were doing.” Chat whispered under his breath. Ladybug cocked her head at him and he recovered by responding, “So, what do we have here?” Chat said loud enough for Ladybug and the akuma to hear.

The akuma gave a creepy grin and walked towards the two superheroes with his hands outstretched in a grand welcoming gesture. “Chat Noir, so glad you could join me. You know what they say, misery loves company!”

Chat shot Ladybug a confused look and she quickly explained, “His beams make people feel sad. From our run through town I learned that he got stood up on a date and was really upset about it. So now he wants all of Paris to be miserable like him.”

“Ah, gotcha. Where’s the akuma hiding?”

“In the rose in his hand,” Ladybug replied with a smirk.

“Of course it’s a rose. I just can’t seem to escape them,” Chat responded bitterly.

“Sorry kitty, can’t help you there,” Just then, Tristessnelle shot one of his beams at the two and Ladybug had to flip out of the way. Mid-flip, she shot out her yo-yo and swung towards the top of the mansion, landing gracefully on her feet. Worry suddenly dropped into the pit of her stomach. When Chat landed next to her, she quickly asked, “Where did you put the girls?”

“In the downstairs bedrooms. Let’s try to keep him away from them, okay? There’s already too much emotion in this mansion without him interfering.”

Ladybug let out a laugh and nodded. “You’ve got that right.”

The akuma landed on the mansion rooftop and started shooting at the pair. Ladybug swung her yo-yo to make a shield, protecting both herself and Chat. “Can you distract our sad little friend, while I see what luck may bring?”

Chat shot her one of his Cheshire grins, “Whatever you need, milady.” He flipped out of the protection of her yo-yo and started calling out to Tristessnelle. Ladybug quickly called for her Lucky Charm and got a pair of gardening shears. She couldn’t see a use for it from the top of the mansion, but she held onto them and joined Chat in the fight.

“Gardening shears?” Chat asked as she landed next to him. “If you wanted me to cut you some flowers, all you had to do was ask,” He joked, shooting Ladybug a wink. She felt herself flush, but then an idea popped into her head.

“Chat! You’re a genius!” She reached over, kissed his cheek, and whispered in his ear, “Push him on my signal,” She then called out to Tristessnelle. “Hey! Blueberry!” Tristessnelle was furious and turned towards Ladybug, turning his back completely on Chat. She swung away towards the seating area where all of the girls had been sitting to talk with Adrien. She remembered somebody saying that there was a bunch of rose bushes right near them. Thankfully, nothing on the set had been touched and there were no crew members around to interfere with her plan.

She landed gracefully on top of the rose bushes, knowing that the akuma would eventually follow. Her earrings beeped once, meaning she had less than 4 minutes to finish off this akuma. Once she had stepped to where Tristessnelle could see her as he looked over the roof at her, she called out to Chat, “Now!” The villain fell, none to gracefully towards the bushes and landed with a crunch.

“See, when you play with roses, you have to deal with the thorns.” Chat smirked as he landed next to Ladybug. He plucked the rose out of Tristessnelle’s hand. “For you, milady.”

“Awe, Chat you shouldn’t have,” she responded with mock sweetness. She used her gardening shears to cut through the rose and release the akuma. She quickly caught the now loose purple akuma with her yo-yo and with a “Bye-bye little butterfly,” released a pure white butterfly into the night sky.

Chat was helping the akuma victim out of the rose bush. Her earring gave another beep, and she picked up the gardening shears and threw them into the air. “Miraculous Ladybug!” The magical ladybugs fixed all of the damage from the akuma, including all of the scratches from the roses on the victim.

She looked at Chat and he gave her a slight nod. They shared their signature fist-bump as the akuma victim shuddered a little bit from the chill of the night air.

“Hey, dude, let me take you home.” Chat said kindly as he walked towards the man and got directions to his house. He gave Ladybug one more glance back that made her heart flutter before he used his baton to take him and the victim into the night.

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When Adrien arrived back at the house, they producers were just going around and knocking on doors. He was immediately rushed into a room and was told that the rose ceremony had to start in 15 minutes in order to keep the time schedule. Chris was telling all of the girls now and they were getting them into position.

He was faced with a poster board of picture cards and was told to eliminate 4 girls. Grateful that his fight with Ladybug had cleared his head and allowed him to feel more confident about some of his choices. He began moving girls around and once he thought he was done, one of the producers, Mark, came and checked what he had done.

“Camille has to stay,” He said as he switched her to the “Stays” side towards the end of the rose ceremony list.

“What? Why?”

“Because she is in your father’s Top 10. If his Top 10 don’t become the Top 10, then all deals about breaking up in 6 months is off the table.” He said this so matter-of-factly and with no care towards his opinions that he had to double check that it wasn’t actually his father muttering these words.

“He can’t control my opinions and my decisions on the show like that.”

“Actually, he can, as he is the one paying for the whole thing. So, sorry to burst your bubble, but your opinions don’t matter here and your father’s top choice will win. That’s just how this works.”

“So, I’m not going to get to choose my future wife at all? It’s all up to my father?”

Mark nodded and walked off, leaving Adrien staring dumbfounded at the poster board.

Adrien was so appalled he couldn’t even speak. He randomly switched another girl to the “Goes Home” side and stormed out of the room. It took everything in his power not to punch a hole in a wall.

“I’m sorry you had to find out this way, kid.” Plagg said as he flew out of Adrien’s suit pocket.

“How did you find out?”

“I heard Natalie on the phone with Gabriel right before the show started filming. He was talking about how he had his Top 10 and his winner already picked out as they were the ones who would benefit the company the best overall with your proposal.”

“Do you know who the winner is supposed to be?”

“Yeah,” Plagg had the decency to sound upset about this fact.

“Just, don’t tell me just yet. I don’t need to hate a girl because she’s Father’s favorite.”

“Whatever you want, kid.” Plagg flew back into his jacket as Adrien was called forward for the rose ceremony.

Mini-Natalie gave him a list of the names and told him he had 5 minutes to memorize them. He began working on it accepting that this was going to have to do. With a pasted-on model smile, he walked out to where the girls were waiting and began passing out the roses.

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

Something was bothering Adrien, and it annoyed Marinette that she couldn’t ask him about it. He had on a fake smile and was passing out the roses like he was a robot. Marinette was paying attention enough to notice that Lila, Gabrielle, and Hanna were some of the first five to receive roses. Marinette didn’t zone back in until there was one rose remaining and Hanna, who happened to be standing beside her, was shaking. Hanna had a rose, but Juliette didn’t and Marinette was suddenly worried that she would lose one of her friends tonight after only a week.

There was a dramatic pause as Chris Harrison stepped forward and announced, “Ladies, Adrien, this is the final rose tonight.” Marinette instinctively grabbed Hanna’s hand as she waited for Adrien to speak. He reached down, grabbed the rose, and scanned the crowd of girls before calling out, “Juliette,” Both Marinette and Hanna sighed in relief as Juliette made her way to Adrien.

“Juliette, will you accept this rose?”

“Yes, I will,” she gave him a hug and joined the rest of the group as Chris stepped back out to address the girls.

“I’m sorry ladies, but if you did not receive a rose, please take a minute to say your goodbyes.” Instant chatter was heard as everyone began doting on the girls going home. Marinette counted four, and noticed with a start that Mathilde was one of them. She found her in the crowd and gave her a slight hug.

Victoria stepped up and called each girl going home one by one to allow them to say goodbye to Adrien. He still wasn’t acting like himself, but Marinette seemed to be the only one to notice.

They ended the night with a toast, which Gabrielle gave for the group, and were quickly sent off to bed. Marinette made sure to give Hanna and Juliette a quick hug good night before running off to her room, which she now slept in alone.

We hoping to get the next few chapters out while we in quarantine, so bare with us!

Let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list

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