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ohbuckie · 3 years

Text

FLUORESCENT ADOLESCENT

college!bucky x reader

summary: bucky fucks you on his bedroom floor.

warnings: smut, fingering, unprotected sex

word count: 2.3k

masterlist

Bucky’s room is at the end of the hall. It’s decorated simply—white rug in the center of the floor, a desk sharing a wall with the door, a few posters littering the walls, a dresser across from the bed in the corner of the room. His bed frame is metal and cheap; flimsy, to say the least. He holds onto it while he fucks you—arm outstretched above your head, trying desperately to keep it from slamming against the wall and using the leverage it gives him to pound into you harder.

His friends’ rooms are both attached to his, with their common wall being the front one that the door is on. Sam and Steve have gotten used to banging on the walls of their bedroom in protest of the loud sex happening on the other side, or even sitting in the hallway and knocking on the door. Of course, this means nothing to Bucky, who could probably ignore a category seven earthquake in order to finish. He’s nothing if not thorough.

He tries to be considerate. He plays music loudly—something with lots of bass, to drown out at least a little bit of the sound—but it renders itself useless in between every song, when both of the guys can hear every sound the two of you make. Good sleep is a lost cause in apartment 4B.

Arriving home from a double date with your roommate, you let your jacket—Bucky’s, actually—fall from your shoulders, and you catch it in your hands to hang it up by the door. You kick off your shoes, run your fingers through your hair, find your boyfriend who scurried away to the kitchen, plant a kiss on his lips.

“That was fun.” You say, running your hands up his chest, remembering how he kissed you in the cab on the way here. He smiles and leans on the counter with the heels of his palms, with you in between his arms, in front of his chest.

His lips find yours, and you cup his cheeks in your hands, accepting the tongue that he runs along your lower lip. He tastes like the red wine that he had with his dinner and smells like the expensive cologne that you gifted him last Christmas.

“I don’t think the guys are home.” He says against your mouth, and you smile, breaking the kiss and practically running down the hallway.

He follows you to his bedroom, his hand making contact with your ass, leaving it stinging while you twist the knob and push the door open. He beats you to the bed, sitting on the edge with his legs open, waiting for you to climb onto his lap. You straddle him, feeling his arms wrap around your waist and his lips attach to your neck, delivering wet, hot kisses to your throat and collarbones. He runs his hands over your body—along your shoulder blades, down your spine, across your lower back—appreciating the figure-hugging black minidress that you’re wearing.

You lean forward to push him onto his back, catching yourself on your hands, which are positioned on either side of his head. You grind against his lap and he flips you onto your back in response, rolling his hips into yours.

You kiss like pornstars, swapping saliva between your mouths through tongues and clashing teeth, sucking and biting at plush lips. With his hips between your thighs, your dress inches further up your legs, making your red thong visible.

Your hands are free, and you use this opportunity to pull his shirt out of his pants and unbutton it until it’s open. The two sides hang down, exposing the top of his prosthetic arm and the outrageously defined muscles of his torso.

“Bucky.” You breathe, lips wetly separating from his.

“You okay?”

You nod. “Just want you.”

He chuckles teasingly, nudging your chin upwards with his nose and kissing down to your chest. You arch your back into him, pushing your fingers into the hair at the base of his head.

The room is dark, except for the animated screensaver of the open laptop of his desk and the moonlight that pours through the blinds perfectly, casting rigid bars of light across the wall opposite the bed. You reach to the nightstand beside you, pulling the cord on the lamp and wincing when it turns on as you’re staring at the bulb.

He pulls away and gathers himself, licking his lips and pushing hair from his forehead while he catches his breath. He looks up at you and smiles sweetly, kissing your cheek before standing from the bed and unbuckling his belt, unbuttoning his slacks, pulling the zipper down, shoving them past his thighs. His belt hits the floor with a jingle and he steps out of the pants that are now pooled around his ankles. Dark gray briefs are revealed, and you appreciate how nicely they cling to his legs and ass. You remember an earlier comment from him about “fancy underwear,” and you giggle to yourself when you realize that this is what he was talking about.

“What’s funny?”

“‘Fancy underwear.’” You repeat to him, and he cracks a smile before he steps over to you to get back to business.

Instead of removing your dress, he pushes it up past your hips, harshly pulling your panties down and out of his way. He kneels in front of you and kisses your inner thighs, moving up to your pussy, ghosting over it with his lips for a moment before pressing a delicate kiss to your clit, his eyes trained on yours. His gaze remains unwavering when he licks a stripe up your entire pussy. His tongue pushes between your folds and applies pressure to your sensitive bud, and you both moan—you at the sensation and him at the taste.

“Buck.” You whine. “Please.”

“Please, what?”

“Please fuck me.”

He sighs, disappointed that he can’t eat you out. Not that he isn’t excited to fuck you.

He stands and steps out of his underwear, tossing them behind his right shoulder. His cock stands against his stomach, seemingly thrilled to be freed from its fabric prison. You can’t take your eyes off of it—pretty and pink, fairly long and definitely thick enough.

He spreads his large hand over your lower stomach and lets his thumb hover over your bundle of nerves, keeping it still, for now. He gives his cock a few pumps, holding it just below the head to line it up with your entrance. He looks at you while he pushes in, because he loves the way that your eyes squeeze shut and your hips wiggle to get more comfortable with his intrusion.

He chews on his bottom lip, waiting until you stop clenching and fluttering around him before he moves. When he does, you reach to the hand on your stomach and hold his wrist tightly. He uses his other hand to put your right leg over his left shoulder, the cold metal of his mechanical hand at variance with your hot skin. You take the initiative to put your other leg up on your own.

His movements are less of a rhythmic roll and more of a pistoning in and out of you, giving you what you begged him for only a moment ago. At first, the thrusts are shallow, but after about a minute he can’t help himself anymore. With every jerk of his hips, his cock slams against a spot inside of you that only he has ever reached—although you’d never tell him that, because you’re too proud to admit that he can make you feel better than you ever could yourself.

When you let go of his wrist, he withdraws his hand, licking his thumb before putting it back where it was and putting it to use. He draws small circles into your clit, just like you taught him to do when you first started dating. You buck your hips up and it makes him smile, and you want to smack that look off of his face. You hate that he knows exactly how good he makes you feel.

You tighten around him when you study his concentrated face—how his brows furrow and he licks his lips.

“Feel good?”

“Yes.” Your voice is strained by desire.

“Good.” He mumbles, and starts to put a little more behind every thrust. He pulls almost all the way out before pushing back in, and the slapping noises that your skin makes upon contact with him is obscene. The bed frame squeaks as it rocks, and it hits the wall over and over again, at a moderate-but-still-annoying volume.

Loud knocking on the closed door startles you, but doesn’t phase Bucky.

“What?” He asks, not stopping, or even so much as looking in the direction of the interruption at the door.

Sam’s raised voice is on the other side. “At least put on the music, man. I’m tired.”

“Yeah, okay, fine. Go away.” Bucky replies. Footsteps descend and a door closes. Bucky pauses his movements, clearly annoyed, to lean over and fish his phone out of the pocket of the pants that he let fall to the floor earlier. He thanks God for Bluetooth when it automatically connects to the speaker that lives on his desk, and all he has to do is press play. He tosses the phone onto the mattress, lets it bounce behind your head, and picks up where he left off.

The music is loud enough to drown out the squeaking and the slapping, but definitely not the bed hitting the wall. You can’t bring yourself to care, because the circles against your clit are growing bigger and faster, and your eyes are rolling back into your head.

“Fu-u-uck.” You moan, syllables choppy from the way that you’re being fucked.

“You’re so hot.” He mutters, letting a breathy moan slip out after his words.

Something hits the part of the wall that Steve’s room is behind, and you both can hear shouting. “Shut up!”

Neither of you respond.

A familiar feeling pools in your lower stomach, tightening and threatening to spill. “I’m so close, Buck.”

You tense around him, squeezing his cock and surely bringing him close, too. He pulls out suddenly, but quickly replaces his dick with two of his fingers, curling them against the upper wall of the inside of your pussy. It shoves you violently over the edge, and you cum with a moan that rips through your chest and leaves your throat burning. His fingers continue to move through your orgasm and he watches your legs tremble, kissing your calves that are still rested beside his head.

“You good?”

You only nod.

“We’re being too loud on the bed. Get on the floor.” He orders, and you breathe through your nose, exhaling through your mouth before you stand on wobbly legs. Before you lower yourself to the floor, covered by his pristinely clean, white rug, he clarifies, “Hands and knees.”

The bass of the music booms through your chest, reverberates through your bones, echoes through your head. You feel him kneel behind you, putting one foot onto the floor for balance. You wish you could see him right now—shirt open, sweaty chest heaving, cock standing at attention, ready to fuck you to completion for the second time. He tilts his head down and you can hear him spit onto his dick before shoving it back into you, exercising no restraint.

Your head bows between your shoulders, and you try not to be too loud, because Sam and Steve hardly ever let you hear the end of it when you do, but Bucky’s making it extremely difficult. He’s taking what he wants now, since he’s already made you cum.

His hands hold your hips like they’re handles, yanking your body backwards onto his cock at the same time that he’s ramming into you. His breathing is heavy, and you close your eyes to picture his face right now. A piece of hair over his forehead, fallen from the gelled mass atop his head, jaw tight, abs tensing. That’s what he usually looks like, anyway, when he’s fucking you into oblivion. It’s an image that’s forever burned behind your eyelids.

His hips are moving bruisingly fast, bringing you closer to another orgasm. It’s actually more like you’re being dragged behind a pick-up truck that’s approaching a cliff and is showing no signs of stopping.

It takes only a hard clench to throw off his rhythm and have him cumming inside of you, scrambling to blindly locate your clit with only his fingertips so that you can finish together. He rolls it between his fingers, rubs haphazardly, and gets lucky when you cry out that you’re there again.

“Bucky! Oh, fuck!” Your knees sting from the rug beneath them, and your hands make a fist around the strings between your fingers. “Oh my God.”

He pulls out slowly, kissing down your spine while his warm seed spills out of you, trickling down your leg.

You lay on your back on the floor, much too tired to stand, and watch him pull his briefs back up, on a mission to dampen a face cloth to wipe you down with. He comes back with one, and wipes the cum from your legs and pussy, leaving small kisses in the wake of the warm water that refreshes you.

He gives a final kiss to your lower stomach before he tosses the cloth in the direction of his hamper. He lays beside you on the floor, taking your face in his metal hand and pressing sweet kisses to your cheeks and forehead and chin.

It's silent for a moment, before he decides, "I need to invest in a sturdier bed."

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan smut #bucky barnes fluff #sebastian stan fluff

2K notes · View notes

h2bakugou · 4 years

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4k special | WAP dance reactions

a/n: it’s here! the big moment!! (edit 9.12.2020 - requests are closed and will reopen again soon!)

thank you for 4,000 followers, and as of editing, we’re at 4.3k, it’s insane, thank you so much, i love writing, and your support is what makes it possible. here’s to more in the future. thank you for all your love and support <3

dance credits go to @/ besperon on tiktok!

all characters aged up 18+ au!!

headcanon: them reacting to their s/o doing the wap dance

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: swearing, suggestive themes, fluff, no smut but 16+

»»————-　★　————-««

katsuki bakugou

»»————-　★　————-««

Before you even start the dance, you’re pumping yourself up. The song is playing, and you’ve just decided you’ll dance to the part when it gets to it.

You practiced hard enough, and you had a few injuries but now you were ready.

Bakugou’s watching you closely. This song was very interesting to him.

All of the analogies in the song are shocking him the more he listens to it. It’s kind of groovy though.

Bakugou’s waiting, and as he reaches for his phone the ending hook comes and he’s frozen as you kick your leg up and begin to dance.

He watches as you bounce back in forth, your curves moving to the music.

He’s shocked by the way you move, he’s never seen you do anything like that before. But he’d certainly like to see you do it again.

“What was that?” Bakugou smirks. You catch your breath and stand up, smiling.

“The new dance I learned, did you like it?” You question, walking over to him.

“Oh I loved it.” Bakugou smirked. You rolled your eyes and sat down on his lap.

“Glad you enjoyed it.”

“Could you teach me how to do it?” Bakugou’s eyes were speaking for him, you knew exactly what he meant, but before you’d show him the dance privately, you’d worked his ass out and had him learn the dance.

He nailed it-

»»————-　★　————-««

shoto todoroki

»»————-　★　————-««

You’ve been practicing this dance for about a week or two now. And you were so excited to see Todoroki’s reaction of it.

“Hey Sho?” You call for your boyfriend and he emerges from his room. You were at his house, and thankfully there was plenty of space for you to do said dance.

“Yes baby?” He asks, standing in the doorway of the large studio you’d been warming up in.

“I have a dance I’d like for you to see me do.” You smile innocently.

“Alright.”

You begin to play the music, just before it gets to the part you’ll be dancing too and Todoroki’s face is already red.

And when the beat drops, you’re kicking your leg up and dropping down to the floor, popping your ass out and going at it.

Todoroki is entranced as he watches you, completely mesmerized by how you’re moving.

It’s so beautiful.

When you get to the split, Todoroki’s eyes widen as you move. He’s blown away.

“That was amazing.” Todoroki compliments. It was hot.

“I’m glad you liked it.” You whisper to him, pecking his cheek as his face reddens even more.

“Hey wait.” Todoroki grips your wrist and looks down.

“Do you have a few minutes?”

“Do you want a private dance lesson?”

“Yes.” Todoroki whispers.

»»————-　★　————-««

izuku midoriya

»»————-　★　————-««

Be prepared. Because Izuku is going to be a blushing mess before and after.

You’ve practiced, and he’s heard the song you practiced too. It was all over social media and he accidentally interrupted you while you were practicing.

But you shooed him out and finished up alone without any interruptions.

Deku can be a shy boy but he can also be dominant. A true switch.

“You ready?” You ask as Izuku sits down on the couch nervously. He nods and relaxes, sitting back into the dark green sofa.

The music starts and you sway your hips, waiting for the beat to drop, and when it does, you do too.

Izuku’s eyes are glued to you as you kick your leg up and land on the floor, throwing your ass out and following the routine.

Midoriya’s cheeks flush red as he watches, but he can certainly tell how hard it must’ve been to learn the dance, let alone how badass it was as well.

When you finish the dance, you bow and smile at Izuku, who’s trying his best to contain his excitement and fluster.

“That was amazing!” He was proud of you. He knows how hard training can be.

“Did you like it?” You questioned innocently, striding over to him on the couch, taking a seat on his lap.

“I loved it! You did great!” Deku beamed, no longer trying to hide his blushing face.

“There’s a lyric, in this song...”

“Yeah?” Deku’s hands rest on your hips.

“I think I’d like to spell my name out for you sometime.”

»»————-　★　————-««

denki kaminari

»»————-　★　————-««

Horny. Jail.

If anyone knows this song, it’s Kaminari. He knows it word for word, and it’s probably one of his most played songs at the moment. Not for its lyrics, but because he genuinely finds it pretty groovy.

He also finds the ‘touch that little dangly dang that swing in the back of my throat’ part funny.

He’s probably also seen the dance a few times, he’s woke when it comes to tik tok culture.

So when he overhears you practicing the dance, he’s very curious.

“Whatcha doin’?” He peaks his head into the room and you quickly snap out of the position you were in.

“Nothing! Go!” You shoo him away with a smile, closing the door so you can finish practicing.

Kaminari has an idea of what’s going on.

So when you perform the dance for him, he’s aware and he knows what he’s expecting, but at the same time, he did not expect it at all.

The way your body moved and flowed with the music, you looked good, really fucking good.

“Shit.” Kaminari cursed, biting his bottom lip as you brought your leg back around, bouncing into the final split as you bounced up and down.

Kaminari’s never really seen you move like that before, but he knows now that he loves every second of it.

“What’d you think?” You ask, stepping over to him.

“I-It was good.” Kaminari had drool leaking from his mouth as he stared at you, his entire body threatening to short circuit.

“I’m glad you liked it.” You lean down and kiss his cheek, knowing that he was going to be smitten for you even harder.

»»————-　★　————-««

eijiro kirishima

»»————-　★　————-««

He’s heard the song maybe once or twice thanks to Kaminari. He likes the song and thinks it’s actually pretty good.

He doesn’t know there’s a dance for it, and he certainly doesn’t know that you’re practicing it.

So when you bring him into your bedroom and sit him down on the bedroom, he’s a little confused.

And when you start dancing, his faces turns a shade of crimson, very similar to the one he dyes his hair.

Your body moves swiftly, and Kirishima’s eyes never seem to leave you as he watches you dance.

From the way you move your hips, to the point of your toes as you kick into the split.

Watching you do something like that is impressive, Kirishima is impressed.

“Wow.” Kirishima utters as you rise to your feet, clapping your hands together with a big grin on your lips.

“Did you like it?” You question, excitement bubbling inside you. It’d taken hours, probably close to a few days in fact, of practice to nail it. And it was well worth it.

You felt sexy, and validated, and strong, and badass.

“I loved it. You did amazing.” Kirishima smiles, trying to ignore the heat on his face.

“You’re blushing Kiri.” You comment, teasing the red-head as you walk over to him.

“I’m not! I’m just...”

“Being manly. I know.” You kiss his cheek and sit on his lap, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Are you tired?” Kirishima asked quietly, his large hands resting on your hips.

“Why? Do you have something in mind?”

»»————-　★　————-««

tamaki amajiki

»»————-　★　————-««

Tamaki is flustered just being around you. He’s a nervous kind of guy, granted he can swallow his nerves when he needs too, but generally speaking, he’s gonna be a blushing mess when you mention even holding hands.

It’s no surprise what this song does to him.

Between the loss of words, and the sheer heat that radiates off of the bright blush on his cheeks, he’s flustered.

Even more so when you begin to dance.

It’s not like he’s embarrassed of sex, or songs that mention it, he just happens to get flustered easily.

Especially when you dance.

And you dance well.

He’s battling watching you or looking away and not trying to imagine the dance as anything more than a dance. It’s hard, but you wanted him to watch you. Why should he feel bad?

“B-bunny.” He stutters quietly as you transition into the split, popping your hips out, bouncing off the ground.

When the music fades out, he covers his face to hide the enormous blush on his cheeks.

“Awe, Tama-”

“Bunny. T-That was so beautiful.” He stutters, peeking through his fingers to look at you as you approach him.

“Thank you. Are you alright, your face is really red.” You peel his hands away and get close to his face, admiring your boyfriend up close.

“I-I’m fine. J-Just a little hot.” Tamaki gushes, looking away quickly.

“You don’t have to be so flustered about it, I wanted you to see me dance! It’s okay Tamaki.” You kiss his cheek and hold his hands, earning his gaze.

“Bunny.” Tamaki pulls you on top of him and you laugh at him for a second before admiring him even closer.

»»————-　★　————-««

mirio togata

»»————-　★　————-««

Ass man ass man ass man.

He literally sticks his ass out of a bush and you’re gonna tell me he isn’t-

He’s sold the second he hears the song, he already knows what’s about to happen because he’s kind of into the whole tiktok thing.

He watches in antcipation as the song plays, waiting for the moment you drop to the floor.

And he’s so into it. He’s grinning like an idiot, practically drooling over you as your hips move in ways he’d only ever imagined them to move.

More so, when you do the splits, he’s curious about how long you can do them for.

And when it’s over, he’s clapping.

“That was amazing, I had no clue you could move like that.” Mirio hus as you walk over to him.

“I’ve been practicing. I’m glad you liked it!” You smile, giving hin a short hug.

“Could I see those moves again sometime?” Mirio asks cheekily. You giggle and sigh.

“I guess I could teach you a little about them.”

»»————-　★　————-««

hawks/keigo takami

»»————-　★　————-««

This motherfucker.

He knew from day one what you were going to do. Just from hearing the song a little more often from your shared room, and the denial of him entering said room while it was playing-he caught on really quick.

So he did a little research.

And after watching a few videos of people dancing to it, he couldn’t fucking wait.

To see you do those moves? To see you move like that? Oh god he was foaming at the mouth.

He’d purposely try and spy on you while you were practicing, even daring to peep in from the window by flying outside of it.

But at the same time, he wanted it to be a surprise. He’d catch himself in the act of trying to watch you practice and he’d curse himself for being so impatient. Being patient was going to make the final experience even better.

And oh how happy he was to have waited.

Watching you pop your ass and move your hips, laying on the floor and bouncing your ass upward and even doing a split.

He was impressed.

And he was even more so, very intrigued.

“You gonna put all that training to use, Babybird?” Hawks’ sly smile and relaxed position on the couch made the comment that much more sensual.

With his arms stretched out over the tops of the cushions, and his legs pointed outward, you crawled and sat right between them, gazing up at him with bright eyes.

“You’d be lucky if I even let you sleep in the same bed with me tonight, horny ass.”

“Hey- I’m not even in season yet!”

“Shut it bird brain! You can test them out for yourself!” You joked as you got up, walking away from the winged man.

“Oh Babybird, you have no idea.”

»»————-　★　————-««

dabi

»»————-　★　————-««

Much like Hawks, this bastard is way too horny to not know what the fuck is going on when he hears the song WAP playing.

Even more when you practically beat his ass for barging into your apartment without knocking.

“I’m busy! What do you want?” You ask as you push him out of your bedroom, into the hallway toward the front door.

“I’m just checking in on my baby. Is that illegal?”

“Dabi, you’re literally a criminal-”

“A criminal of love baby.”

“Get out. I’ll text you if I need you dumbass.”

Back to practice, it’s tricky. The dance is very fast-paced, but you nail it. after way too many ice-packs and ‘fucking shit’s said later, you have mastered the WAP dance.

Around ten minutes after a ‘come over’ text, Dabi arrives to your apartment.

With candles set out, awaiting Dabi’s blue flames to light them and set the mood, you’re dressed simply in one of Dabi’s favorite outfits.

“Oh baby.”

“Light the candles and sit down.”

With no further questions, Dabi does as he’s told and takes a seat on the couch which he quickly notices is pushed back further than it usually is. Come to notice even more, most of your living room furniture is moved out of the way entirely.

When the music begins, you begin to dance as well, not wasting a second as the lyrics float into Dabi’s ears.

Watching your hips and your ass, Dabi is clearly interested in what you’re serving him. You look good too, but when you move like that, of course he’s going to be a drooling mess.

In a less sexual way, he’s impressed with your moves, he knows training is a big step to anything, so he wonders how hard you worked, and for how long, it took you to master this dance.

“Come here baby.” Dabi ushers for you to come to him with his pointer and middle finger after you finish dancing.

You take a seat on his lap and smile.

“We’ve already set the mood, why not continue? You could give me a private lesson on those moves you just did.”

»»————-　★　————-««

overhaul/kai chisaki

»»————-　★　————-««

He has no clue what you’re doing. You asked if you could show him something and now he’s in a room alone with you.

You’re setting up some music and he can’t keep his eyes off of you and the way you’re dressed. He was thankful he was alone in the room with you or he might’ve had to tell people to step out.

You were his angel after all, not anyone else’s.

When the music starts, his the tips of his ears begin to burn bright red. This music is raunchy and sexy, but he likes it. It’s got a good tune, and it’s empowering, and then he sees you.

You’re swaying your hips to the music until a certain point and you drop to the floor, popping your ass and grinding against the floor, dancing to the music erotically.

He’s impressed. Not as much that you’re dnacing on the somewhat dirty floor, but he’s impressed nonetheless.

“Angel, that was riveting.” Chisaki comments, his arms crossed over his chest. He can feel his pans becoming tight but he decides to ignore it.

“So did you like it? I worked extra hard on it.” You look so innocent as you approach him, your pink lips pursed and begging to be kissed as you stand in front of him.

“I loved it.” Chisaki nods, a smile rests on his lips under his mask unable to be seen.

“I could show it to you again up close if you’d like.” You hint at something a little more physcial which only stirs Chisaki more.

“That sounds like a good idea, angel.”

»»————-　★　————-««

tomura shigaraki

»»————-　★　————-««

I’m not sure if Tomura is a big tik tok guy. He’s into video games, and probably graphic novels too, but depending on his fyp, he probably won’t even get close to hearing the WAP song or know anything about the dance.

That being said, he’s gonna get annoyed if he hears “now from the top, make it drop’ one more time.

Currently wishing he could grip a sound wave and decay it.

But, when you pull him away from a video game, or say a meeting with league and sit him down in a chair in a dark room with some rather unpleasant lighting, maybe just enough to illuminate the two of you and nothing else, he’s confused, but also very interested in what you’re about to do.

And there’s that stupid line- ‘now from the top,’ and- you’re dancing.

His crimson eyes lock onto your figure as you dance, the growing urge to turn the music off suddenly dies as he watches you bounce and pop your hips.

The way your body moves, he’s addicted. Like you’re administering some sort of drug, he can’t look away.

When you lay on the ground and roll onto your back, spreading your legs as you roll into a crawl and then into split and continue to bounce your ass, he’s completely speechless.

The very definition of no thoughts, head empty.

And the aftermath of it all.

forget whatever the fuck he was doing before, forget the grudge he was holding against the lyric’ now from the top, make it drop’, forget the terrible lighting, he’s getting down to the bottom of whatever you just did.

“What was that?” Shigaraki ask, his hands daring to scratch at his neck.

“Did you like it?” You ask, batting your eyes at your flustered yet confused boyfriend.

“I liked it yes.” He mumbles, looking at you from the chair, you’re still sitting on the ground as he stands and walks over to you.

“You’re really flexible. Why didn’t you tell me that before?” He towers over you before squatting to your height.

“Meet me in my room in ten minutes.” He whispers.

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eraserhead/shota aizawa

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A man addicted to black coffee and funny cat videos on youtube has no knowledge of WAP or it’s current dance craze on tik tok. But do not let that discourage you.

After hearing the song a few times while you practice your dance, unbeknownst to him, of course, he might get a little curious.

You’re being secretive and it leads him to do a little research. Simply typing in a few lyrics, he finds the song and the dance shortly after.

He’s more or less very interested in what you might have to be doing. Because if you’re learning this dance, he might not know what to do with himself.

Sure enough, you come striding out of your shared room one day, wearing something cute for Aizawa.

“Got a minute?” You ask, pulling him away from grading papers.

Sitting him on the couch, you step back and turn on the song, smiling as he watches you.

And watch you he does. From the second you kick your leg up, to the second you bounce your ass the last time, ending the dance.

His eyes never leave you. The way you crawl, the way you lay on the floor and pop your hips up, he’s not the least bit uninterested.

“Where’d you learn all that Kitty?” He asks, folding his arms over his chest, his long raven hair parted to watch you even better.

“From the internet. Why? Curious to learn it too?” You tease, crawling over to him.

“Only if you teach me.” He says slyly.

“You’re supposed to do the teaching not me.” You smile up at him.

“Is that how you want to play?” Aizawa smirks and crosses his leg, cutting you off from crawling between his legs.

“You tell me, Kitty cat.”

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masterlist

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heelmcmahon · 3 years

Text

Ring Games ♛ Adam Cole

fem!reader x adam cole

18+ readers

warnings: just smut lol

word count: 3337

- The daughter of Shawn Michaels, Y/N, is a wrestler in NXT. She currently feuds with NXT women's champion, Shayna Baszler in a storyline. Her good friend, Finn Balor is the #1 contender for the NXT championship, currently held by Adam Cole. A mixed tag match has been set up for NXT Takeover: Atlanta, winner takes all, no DQ with both titles on the line.

----------

You do your final stretches before having to walk down the ramp to the ring. This would be the biggest match of your WWE career thus far. You and your tag partner for the night, Finn Balor were hoping to win your respective titles in a hard fought match in the main event. This would be his 3rd title reign and your 2nd. You previously held the title for 89 days before losing it to Shayna Baszler in a ladder match. Your rematch had finally arrived.

You feel a hand on your shoulder whilst shaking off any nerves you may have. You turn your head to see one of your opponents for the night, Adam Cole. Adam was never really a friendly guy to you. He loved to tease you and make sarcastic jokes and snarky comments. There wasn't really any bad blood, he's just an annoying guy to be around. Also, everyone knew how much of a flirt he was. You couldn't help but feel like there was some sort of tension between the two of you. He knew it too. You two are always flirting with each other, you more subtle than him. Your most common form of flirtatiousness was nicknames.

"Hey, Michaels. Don't wine too much when you come up short tonight, it's not easy facing a guy like Adam Cole Bay Bay.", he says. Your ring name is Melody Michaels, after your dad, the Heartbreak Kid, Shawn Michaels. It was hard at first to make a name for yourself in this business without being compared to your dad all the time, but soon you realized you could embrace it and be your own person at the same time. You take a lot of inspiration from him with your moveset. Hopefully tonight will really take your career to the next level.

"Sure, Cole. I'll do my best, just for you." you replied back with a fake smile so he clearly knew you were being sarcastic.

"This outfit you've put together tonight is really something different. I've never seen you wear something like it." He's clearly checking you out since you catch his eyes on your thighs. He was right though. Tonight you had new gear made for the special occasion of main eventing Takeover. You wear a dark purple set. It consists of a top that cuts off a little bit below your boobs with thick straps that cross across your back like an X. The top is sparkly and is lined with rhinestones. The bottoms are high waisted and reach just under your butt. They are super tight and lift a little above your thighs on the sides. They are also coated in glitter and lined with rhinestones. You wear your normal black fishnet tights, black knee pads, and your wrestling boots. You also decide to do your makeup a little heavier than usual. Nothing too extreme but still flawless and noticeable. You're also wearing your signature black leather jacket with a broken heart on the back to carry the legacy of your father. Your hair is curled and hangs low to the middle of your back.

"Yeah well I want to look good when Finn and I win our titles back". You don't look at him when you respond; you stay focussed on your warmup.

"Whatever you say, babe. I'll see you in the ring then." He walks past you but not before sending a wink your way. You simply roll your eyes and dismiss it.

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"And his tag team partner, from Chandler, Arizona: Melody Michaels!" The crowd roars as your name is announced and theme song plays. Finn stands by the end of the ramp waiting for you. You share a quick look, nod to each other, and then proceed to the ring. Shayna and Adam stand in the back corner of the ring eyeing you down. Finn walks up the stairs and holds the ropes open for you. You step in and walk with confidence to the front of the ring, facing the hard camera. You hold your arms out and yell words to pump up you and the crowd. You do the same for the right side of the ring and then turn your back to the camera to acknowledge the fans behind you. Finn waits in the ring for you to finish your entrance while Shayna looks around at the crowd with an annoyed face as they chant your name. Adam however can't keep his eyes off you. He has a sly smirk on his face. Your music dies down and you go stand next to Finn, across from Adam and Shayna.

"The following contest is a Mixed Gender Tag Team Winner Take All Extreme Rules Match! And it is for the NXT Women's Championship and the NXT Championship! Introducing first: the challengers. Melody Michaels and Finn Balor!

You and Finn step forward and acknowledge the fans cheering for you. You turn your head to yell in your opponents faces. "Better say goodbye to your title reigns because those championships are coming back to where they belong." Shayna simply rolls her eyes but Adam responds. "Not a chance, babe. Now backup and let the champs get introduced." He says.

You take a step back and think about his words. He is such a flirty jerk, but you couldn't help but feel butterflies when he called you babe this time around.

When Alicia Taylor introduces Adam and Shayna, you watch Adam take a few steps forward and yell at the crowd. Shayna does her signature "Queen of Spades" pose. They turn back around and hold their titles up to the ref. Adam sends you another quick wink, but before you can process it, the bell is rung.

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You're about 15 minutes into the match. Finn and Adam lay outside the ring trying to regain some strength after they both went through tables. You and Shayna fight in the ring. You hit her with a fisherman suplex and go for the pin. She kicks out at 2. Before she can get back up, you grab her and put her in her own submission, the Kirifouda Clutch. She is slowly fading, but she reversed it and somehow gets your shoulders pinned to the mat. You also kick out at 2. You both get back to your feet. She charges at you and you use her momentum to send her over the top rope. Shayna now stands on the apron. You run to the ropes to gain momentum and spear her through the middle rope. She hits the floor hard. You throw your hands up and taunt to the crowd. However, when you turn back around, Adam Cole stands in the ring.

"What is it, Cole? Are you gonna punch me?" You ask in a fake pouty voice with a puppy dog lip. You hold your hands around your back in an innocent way.

"I could never hit you, babe. You know that." he says looking down at you.

You find a wave of confidence come over you as the crowd cheers. You respond, "Well, what is it that you want, handsome?" Your hand now rest on Adam's bare chest as you get a little closer to him. His face shows that he is surprised by the nickname you've given him.

"Come on now, Michaels, you know what I want." He takes a step closer to you with a seductive look on his face. Now it's his turn to place his hands on your body. He rests them low on your waist.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Finn start to make it to his feet again. You play along with Adam while you see Finn slide into the ring. You also take a step closer to Adam and lift your head up a bit (if it's even possible to get closer). Your mouths are just inches away from touching.

"I'm not sure I do, Cole. But I do know one thing, maybe you should turn around."

He looks confused as he turns around. You get out of the way so Finn can hit Adam with a sling blade. Adam lays on the ground and you look down at him, "Sorry, handsome, I guess that's just what happens when you aren't paying attention." You send him a wink.

Finally, Finn Balor climbs to the top rope and hits Adam with the Coup de Grace. Before he goes for the pin, you see Shayna get back in the ring. With your quick thinking, you tune up the band and kick her square in the face with some Sweet Chin Music. You and Finn both go for the cover on your opponents.

3! The bell rings.

"Here are your winners, and new NXT Women's Champion and NXT Champion: Melody Michaels and Finn Balor!"

The crowd is going crazy. You pull Finn in for a hug and then clink your titles together in a celebratory fashion. Shayna looks beyond pissed. Adam on the other hand, has a look of pure anger, but yet a look of lust is written on his face. You blow him a kiss and display a smirk as you and Finn exit the ring. You walk up the ramp with your backs to the titantron as Adam Cole is still staring you down.

You and Finn walk through the curtain and arrive backstage. You two are greeted with hugs, congratulations, water bottles, and towels. You place your titles down on a road case.

"I had such a great time tagging with you tonight, Y/N", Finn says, "Hopefully we'll get another mixed tag match soon."

"I couldn't agree more, Finn! You seriously killed it out there. I'll see you tomorrow for lunch?" you say.

"You know it. See ya then, Y/N". He gives you a long hug and walks towards the men's locker room.

It isn't long before Adam and Shayna come through the curtain. Shayna shakes your hand and you two have a quick and casual conversation about the match and working together. Then, Adam walks your way. With no warning at all, he grabs your hand pulls you out of gorilla. He drags you through the halls of the arena until you reach his private locker room that he shares with the rest of the Undisputed Era. The room is empty since the Kyle, Bobby, and Roddy left after their matches earlier in the show.

Adam pulls you into the room and quickly shuts the door. He wastes no time before pushing you up against the wall. His left hand is placed on your lower back, pulling you close to him so your lower halves are touching. His right hand is next to your head, resting on the wall. Your faces are extremely close together, but there is still a few inches in between you.

"What the hell was that out there? Huh? Explain to me what that was all about?" Adam says, clearly extremely annoyed.

You decide to act dumb and play innocent. "I'm not sure I know what you're talking about, babe." You stare into his blazing blue eyes.

"Don't play dumb with me, Y/N. You distracted me in the ring and I lost my title because of it. So, now you're gonna pay for it." Adam has an intense and serious look on his face but his eyes long with lust.

You reply to him, your faces now closer than ever. Your hands roam Adam's chest and slide over every part of his abs, quickly looking down at them. "Oh? I'm gonna pay for it? How so?" You look up at him again.

"We are going back to my hotel room and I'm gonna fuck you into the mattress until you scream my name loud for everyone to hear." He says.

You answer simply. "I'll meet you at your car in 10." Your hands slide down Adam's arms and you pull away from him, exiting the room, but not before winking at him for the millionth time tonight.

You walk to the women's locker room. You strip out of your sweaty ring gear and put on your casual everyday clothes. You wear a pair of leggings, a cropped yellow top, with white shoes. You pair it with your WWE PC jacket since it is a bit chilly tonight. You grab your large bag and carry it out to the parking lot.

The walk to Adam's car was much easier than you thought it would be. You spot him leaning on the driver door. He looks up from his phone and sees you coming, so he hops into the driver's seat.

---

The car ride back to the hotel was only about 4 minutes. It was silent, but not awkward. You could not wait to get inside and let Adam see and touch every part of your body.

When Adam pulls up to the hotel, you both grab all of your items, walk in, and check in. You walk up to a desk and Adam talks to the lady at the desk next to you. Somehow he finishes checking in before you and walks over to the desk you're being helped at.

"You can just cancel her room", he tells the front desk lady helping you, "she's gonna stay with me tonight," he tell the woman. You shoot him a very knowing look. The front desk lady looks at you and says, "You don't need this room?". You look up at Adam and he's looking down at you. His face looks so serious and stern. He simply states to you, "You don't need that room, Y/N." You look back to the lady at the desk and say, "Sorry, I won't be needing a room tonight." She looks down at her computer screen pushing some buttons. Before she gets the chance to look back up, you are pulled by the arm to the nearest elevator.

Before you can even say one word to Adam about that whole front desk show he just put on, his lips are planted on yours. You hear a ding, signaling that the elevator doors are closing.

With no thinking at all, you kiss him back. Your back is pressed to a wall in the elevator. Adam's hands are set low on your back. You have one on his chest and one in his hair. The kiss is so passionate and full of desire. You both want more. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip. You allow him to deepen the kiss. When he does, a soft sound escapes your lips. This makes Adam crazy. He removes his left hand and places it on your butt. Eventually, his hand rises from your butt to your waist. He plays with the hem of your cropped tank top signaling that he wants it off. Before the kiss can escalate anymore, the elevator doors open. Both of you break the kiss, quickly gather your bags, and move as fast as you can to Adam's hotel room, which apparently you were staying in tonight.

Adam opens the door and you both enter. He pulls you to the bed and pushes you to sit on the edge of the bed. He slowly crawls over you, his hand roaming your body the whole time. Finally, Adam says something, "You're gonna do whatever I say. The only thing I want to hear coming from your mouth is my name. Do you understand?" His voice is very stern. You nod with fake innocence written all over your face, excited for what's to come.

"Good girl." Adam's mouth attacks yours again. His hair drapes over your face like a curtain. His hand reaches for your shirt again. This time, he pulls it off your body. Adam breaks the kiss to pull your leggings and panties off in one go, as you remove your bra. Adam stands up and removes his clothing as well. When he lays back down, you climb on top.

Another strong and sloppy kiss begins. This time Adam shows dominance as he attacks your neck and shoulders instead of your mouth. You let moans escape your mouth. Your fingers are laced in Adam's long hair. Shortly later, Adam gives you a command. "On your back, now."

You remove yourself from Adam's grasp and lay down on the bed. Adam takes in the sight of your naked body. "Damn, babe. I've been waiting for this moment for so long" Adam says. You let out a slight giggle.

Next, Adam gives you no warning and slide one finger deep into your soaking wet pussy. You groan loudly, not expecting the sudden pleasure. Adam seems satisfied with your reaction. He slides in another finger, pumping in out out. Now you're really a moaning mess. Adam takes your vocalness as a sign to add another finger. He slides in and out of your body at a rapid pace. You yell out, "Oh god! Adam! Please!" When Adam feels that you are getting close to your climax, he pulls his fingers out of you. "Good girls get to come, you cost me my title. This isn't going to be easy for you, babe." Adam says to you. You try to catch your breath as ecstasy almost washes over you. You close your legs and wine a bit, not getting the full feeling of overwhelming pleasure.

Adam harshly opens your legs back up. Once again with no warning at all, he slams his cock into you. Now you really scream out. Feeling embarrassed, you drape your arm over your moth in an attempt to keep quiet. Adam notices this and pins your arms on the bed on each side of your head. "Not today, babe, I want you to scream my name so everyone in the building knows who's giving you the best sex of your life."

And with that, Adam picks up the pace. He slams into your body over and over and over, watching you every step of the way. Skin slapping and the bed creaking fills the room. The sounds that escape your mouth make Adam thrust even harder. Suddenly, he rams hard into your g-spot.

"Oh my fucking god! Adam! Don't stop! Oh god!" You moan in pleasure.

"That's right, baby, yell my name. Scream it." Adam lowly groans out.

"Adam, I'm gonna come," you say.

"Not until I hear you screaming my name." Adam says. He thrusts even harder than before, slamming every time directly into your g-spot. Except now, his thumbs plays around with your clit.

"Adam! Adam! Oh my fuck- Adam! Shit!" You finally scream out. Your vision is quickly taken away as your eyes are tightly shut. The ecstasy and pleasure washing over you right now in this moment is unlike any other sex you've had before.

Adam finally allows you to release, "That's right, baby, fuckin' scream it." He releases shortly after into your pussy. You both ride out your orgasms as Adam thrusts slowly and deeply into your body.

Adam lays on the bed next to you as you both catch your breath.

"Fucking shit, Adam," you say.

He laughs quietly and replies, "I hope you're ready for round 2, tonight isn't gonna be easy for you."

And with that, the rest of the night was spent fucking until daylight. As the night went on, Adam became more and more aggressive. You seriously didn't know if you would be able to walk at all tomorrow. But that's tomorrow's problem, right now you're just focussed on Adam... and will be all night.

#adamcole #adam cole x reader #adamcolewwe #adamcoleroh #adamcolesmut #wwesmut #adam cole imagine #imagines #wwe fanfiction #wwe imagine #wrestling #wrestling imagine

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specterchasing-a · 3 years

Text

Coming Clean || Eddie & Bex

TIMING: Wednesday, June 23rd

PARTIES: @inbextween & @specterchasing

LOCATION: Eddie’s Apartment

SUMMARY: Eddie finally has a chance to tell Bex the truth.

CONTENT WARNINGS: Internalized homophobia tw

Two days ago, Bex’s heart stopped beating, and today Eddie planned to break up with her. He would understand if she ended hating him, he kind of did too. Not for being gay, but for involving her in his repression-fueled fantasy. Building a relationship where denial served as a linchpin would have been a lousy decision no matter what. Doing so with Bex, an incontestably wonderful girl with too much already on her plate, placed him on the leaderboard for the world’s biggest scumbags. The more he thought about it, the more Morgan’s worst-case scenario sounded like a pipedream.

As per usual, he picked her up at the docks not far from where they shared their first kiss. Eddie tried not to think about that night at the karaoke bar as she settled into the passenger seat, but failed immediately. If divine punishment existed, it was probably reserved for guys who dumped girls that liked them enough to kiss them in front of an audience. He wondered how the people who cheered them on would feel if they could see them now. Shockingly, the imaginary crowd didn’t help calm his nerves.

“Hey,” Eddie squeaked as he gripped the steering wheel so tightly it turned his knuckles white. “Good to see you.” He put the car in drive and navigated them towards the road. The song playing from the car’s speakers faded into silence before the next one kicked off. Eddie didn’t recognize it until the vocals chimed in.

Now I’ve had—

Eddie hit the radio’s power button and plunged them into awkward silence, now certain he’d been onto something with his theory about divine punishment.

She could do this. Bex took in a deep breath as she waited on the bench by the ferry, where she always waited for Eddie. It gave her the perfect view of the road, as far down as the sharp turn left that took you away from Amity and towards Downtown, as well as of the ocean, reaching out beyond the horizon. Ever since she’d found out about Mina, every body of water reminded her of her. It was just another of many things that did. And then the guilt would start. Especially because today she was meeting with Eddie.

She didn’t know what he wanted to talk about, but it was something big and probably serious. And so she’d put on her best “I'm Fine!” face and made sure her smile reached just enough of her eyes when she saw Eddie’s car pulling around the corner. She couldn’t let the nothingness consume her, she knew that, but forcing it felt wrong and raw. She could fake it, though. She was really good at faking being okay. She’d done it for twenty years and sometimes she forgot she might not need to do it for another twenty.

The car pulled up and she waved at him, like she always did, before straining to lift herself from the bench. Her heart pumped loud in her chest and she put a hand over it to calm it down. “Hey,” she said gently, smiling, “thanks for picking me up, like always. I-- feel like it’s been so long since I’ve seen you.” Was she supposed to hug him? Kiss him hello? She didn’t know and it felt wrong, when she’d just kissed Mina a few days ago. She slid into the front seat. “Are you doing-- okay? With-with everything?”

All in all, Bex seemed like she always did. Eddie couldn’t fathom walking away from what she’d been through without losing himself altogether, but it would have been a mistake to underestimate her resilience. He appreciated that she didn’t greet him with affection. It would’ve only made what he needed to do more difficult.

“Uhm, well,” Eddie stalled after her question. ‘Okay’ wasn’t how he would describe his current state, but he preferred to avoid introspection. Other people had it worse, Bex included. He didn’t need to pile his problems on top of hers. “Yeah, all things considered.” His anxiety slowly began to ebb as they picked up where they left off. Even now, Bex managed to have a soothing effect on him.

“How about you?” Eddie glanced over at her as he drove. He needed to make sure she was stable enough to cope with a break-up. Otherwise, he’d need to suck up his reservations about playing the role of her boyfriend a little longer. “I mean, we don’t have to go into it if you don’t want to, but I won’t lie and say I’m not worried about you.”

“I’m--” Bex started, but she didn’t know how she was. “--dealing.” It was the closest she’d get to the truth, for now. She didn’t want to lie to Eddie, but she couldn’t tell him the truth, not yet. Her pain was just hurting other people, and she needed to not be that for him. She owed it to him. If she was just using him for safety, she owed that to him. She hoped one day, he’d forgive her. She gave a brief smile. “It’s a lot, but I’ll be okay. I have Morgan and Mi--” she paused, “--my other friends.” She licked her lips. “I have people.”

The car ride wasn’t exactly a long one, they’d made it so many times. From the ferry to Eddie’s place, but it felt like ages. “I know you’re worried, and I-- I won’t tell you not to be, because I know that’s hard right now. But don’t-- don’t think you have to focus on me. I don’t know how well you knew-- everyone. Everything.”

Eddie hoped he counted as one of the people Bex felt she could rely on, but recent evidence suggested otherwise. When it came to sharing her feelings or even being open about how she spent her time, he clearly didn’t register as someone she was comfortable confiding in. It stung, but Eddie harbored secrets too. It would be hypocritical to expect Bex to lay out the truth for him when he couldn’t offer her the same candor.

“I only met Adam once,” Eddie said quietly. He knew Bex’s comment referred to more than the recently dead hunter, but it was hard not to think about him specifically. “He saved my life.” Nervousness gave way to a sinking feeling in his chest.

“I’m worried about everyone right now, but especially you and Nell. I guess that’s the price of caring, I don’t really have a say in the matter.”

Eddie pulled into his apartment building’s parking lot and came to a stop in his usual parking space. “I know you hate it when I do this,” he said, looking at Bex. “But I’m gonna open the door for you.” With that out of the way, he exited the car and circled around to the passenger side to make good on his word.

“The elevator’s been out of order since its brief stint as a portal to hell, so we’ll have to take the stairs,” Eddie informed Bex as he held out his hand for her. “You think you can manage that, or is it human-crutch time?”

Bex didn’t get why everyone kept saying that. They were worried about Nell and her, but Bex wasn’t the one who had lost someone. Bex wasn’t the one who had been trapped in a hell dimension for over two weeks. Bex wasn’t the one who had died. She didn’t say anything, just shook her head and smiled sadly. “I’m so worried about Nell,” she admitted quietly, “but I don’t know how to help her. So I’m just-- focusing on what I can do, and who I can help.” They pulled up to his building and he parked and she reached for the handle, when suddenly he was announcing he’d get the door.

She didn’t have the heart to argue and just nodded. “Right, okay. Just this once, though,” she agreed, watching him walk around and open it. She pulled herself out, standing up. Her body didn’t hurt as much as ache, now that the healer had done his work and made things less-- painful. Maybe that wasn’t quite the word, but it was close enough. “I can walk! Honestly. No leg injuries this time.” Just heart palpitations and a burn that rose up every time she moved too much. It still felt like asking him too much. “Lead the way.”

Eddie refrained from offering his opinions on Nell’s situation. The only help she could be given was confidence in her safety net. Friends and family being there for her would ease the pain, but nothing would rid her of it completely. Adam’s death and the grief it brought her would be something she carried for the rest of her life. Over time, she might learn how to have good days again, but reminders would wait around every corner. Grief, after it introduces itself, never leaves for long.

The two of them traversed the stairs in silence while Eddie’s anxiety returned in full-swing. After three flights, he opened a door that led to a long hallway of apartments. His eyes lingered on Alfie’s as he led Bex to his own. He made sure Silas knew not to be around for today. An imaginary audience was bad enough.

Bucket rushed to greet them at the front door. As per usual, he showed how bad of a guard-dog he would be by not barking. Eddie picked up the Pomeranian currently shaking with noiseless excitement and kicked the door shut with his heel.

“So,” he ventured. His mouth felt uncomfortably dry. “You thirsty, or anything?” He hoped she was. Eddie would take any excuse he could get to prolong the inevitable.

Bex followed him up the stairs and slunk behind just enough to let her expression fall for a moment. Keeping up her facade felt harder now, for some reason, when she couldn’t quite access the feelings inside of her. She just wanted to not think about any of that stuff, she wanted to think about other stuff. Better stuff, happy stuff. She perked back up as soon as they were at the door, inside, and she gave a gentle smile. “I, uh-- no, not really,” she answered, shaking her head. She really just wanted to get this over with, whatever it was. She didn’t know, how could she possibly know? She’d been bad to him lately, and she felt increasingly more guilty about it, the longer they stood there.

“So, what was it that you wanted to talk about?” she asked, moving further into the apartment. She’d found comfort here in a lot of ways, but something felt as if it were sitting in the room with them, and she assumed it was whatever Eddie wanted to talk to her about. “It seemed pretty urgent.”

Eddie’s hope collapsed when Bex tackled the elephant in the room. “Right, that,” he said with a sigh. He lowered Bucket to the floor and attempted to steel himself. Whatever it was that he said to Morgan when the two of them acted out this very scenario was now completely inaccessible to him now. Eddie’s heart pounded loudly in his ears while he tried to piece together a new script.

“Before I say anything else, I want you to know that I really do care about you and… that I’m sorry,” Eddie began, crossing his arms over his chest as he spoke. Words weren’t coming to him easily. Every thought in his head sounded disjointed and scared. He decided to approach the situation as if he were ripping off a band-aid. “I’m gay, Bex.” Eddie couldn’t bring himself to look at her. “I knew that when we got together, but I didn’t want it to be true and I thought dating you would, I dunno, fix me, I guess.” His lips pursed. “I’m sorry,” he said for the second time.

Bucket plodded over to Bex and she bent down to pet the excitable dog, looking up at Eddie. He looked nervous. And he was looking at her strangely, and then he was apologizing. Oh, was he breaking up with her? She shouldn’t have been relieved. He provided something for her that she needed-- normalcy. Protection. But that was selfish. That was so selfish to think. She pulled her hand away and stood up, tilting her head. He wasn’t looking at her anymore, he had more to say, and then-- “Oh.” Oh. Eddie was...gay. That-- made sense. It made sense. It really did. How hadn’t she seen it? How hadn’t she known? Probably because she still had a blindfold down over her own eyes, buried herself deep in that closet. It was safe back there.

“You’re-- oh.” No, no, she needed to say something else. Not just Oh. She needed to say something else. “That’s-- wow. You’re--” Me, too. She wanted to say, but the words made her heart seize. Was this how Eddie had felt? Bex was a coward. “I-- I’m sorry. I didn’t know. But I-- I’m happy for you. Really! I am. I’m glad you could figure that out, I’m just sorry I--” she wasn’t sure what she was sorry about, she just knew she was sorry. “Didn’t realize. It’s...it’s okay. That you knew, before.” He wanted to be reassured, right? She shook her head and walked towards him, holding out her hand. “Hey,” she called to him, “I’m not mad. This-- this was really brave of you. Really. I’m glad you told me. I don’t want to make you live a life you’re not happy with.”

Bex’s initial reaction caused Eddie’s heart to stall in his chest, but the words that followed replaced terror with confusion. His gaze slowly found hers. An apology was the last thing he expected to hear her say. Instead of hating him, she almost sounded relieved. With all she’d been through, he guessed that made sense. Their relationship never seemed to offer her much comfort, so its ending only meant one less thing to worry about.

When she offered her hand, Eddie gladly took it. “You’re… sure it’s okay?” He didn’t know why he asked that, her answer didn’t have the power to change anything. “Thank you, Bex.” Eddie gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Really, I can’t tell you how grateful I am for everything you’ve done for me, but… especially this.” A tentative smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Does this mean we’re still friends?”

Bex gave a small laugh, a genuine laugh, the first time in days, but she laughed and it felt good. “Yes, Eddie, I’m sure,” she shrugged, “not sure my answer would be able to change how you feel, how you are, anyway. And I wouldn’t want it to. You-- all I want is for you to be happy. You know that, right?” She hoped he knew that. She squeezed his hand back. “No need to thank me, really. I’m just doing what should be done, what any friend would do.” What she hoped her friends would do for her, when she finally could be safe about it, too. If ever. “Of course we are. We were friends before we were-- you know, whatever this was. We’re still friends.”

She tried to keep herself stable, as she looked at him, and she realized her last line of defense was falling. If she had to go home and tell her parents that she was single again, what was to say they wouldn’t just give up on her right then and there? Her smile soured. “Are you...okay? About all this?”

Eddie’s smile grew and lost its nervousness. The longer Bex spoke, the more his anxiety melted away. He still had a long way to go before the truth about his identity stopped being something he lost sleep over, but having people in his life accept and even support him made it easier to stomach. “That’s all I want for you too,” he softly replied.

He took a deep breath after her follow-up question, not noticing the way her smile suddenly seemed less genuine. “I think so,” he said with a nod. “Most days are pretty up and down in regards to this particular topic, but… I’ve got a lot of people in my corner, it seems.” Alfie, Morgan, Silas, and now Bex. So far, everyone he told responded positively. “So, yeah, don’t waste time worrying about me. I’m gonna be just fine.”

#c: bexley #wickedswriting #coming clean #internalized homophobia tw #// my days of having to use that tw for eddie are coMING TO AN END #hopefully #at least

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hihellogoodbyebruh · 4 years

Text

Just Me and You - Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Pairing: Rio Alvarez x Black!Plus size!Oc

Summary: Simone Dunn is a singer just trying to live her best life and make it through the obstacles that have been put in front of her. Living life in the city isn’t always easy. Life might be kicking her in the ass presently, but she kept a smile on her face regardless. Rio Alvarez is all about his business. He’s expanding up and out of just the money laundering business. He wanted it all. He was hooked from the second he heard her voice, but will her past and his enemies let them be together?

Warning(s): None really. It’s a meet-cute. They meet, it’s cute.

Word count: 2,026

Author’s Note: I’m not gonna lie, this story means a lot to me. I was never sure if I’d start posting it or not. Simone has been an OC of mine for a long time now and when the idea to pair her with Rio popped into my mind I knew it could be something very special. I hope you all enjoy the journey. As always questions, comments, and concerns are welcome! Might even start a tag list but we’ll see. Thanks for reading. xo

Rio stared out of the window, looking out at his investment. It had the perfect eye line for all the exits and it had the best view of the stage. Since he began flipping his game and moving up in the world he became acquainted with folks that had different tastes than him. The opportunity to invest in this club kind of fell in his lap. His new co-owner was a sloppy prick, but Rio couldn’t deny the club was bringing in a nice grip of money for him. He liked the anonymity of being a silent partner. Every two weeks he’d roll through, check up on the club, and collect some cash to put into his other businesses.

As he looked down at all the club goers, he was pleased to see the place was pretty packed. He was not happy to see the owner, Shaun, with two women on his arm. This wasn’t a social hour. He was here for business. Mick, his right hand man, was guarding the door and hadn’t moved an inch to let Shaun in.

“Hey man. Place is poppin tonight right?” Shaun greeted Rio as he tried to maneuver past Mick who only moved at Rio’s nod. “Enjoying your night? These are a couple lady friends of mine. Say ‘hi’ ladies.”

“Hi.” The two girls parroted at Rio, waving at him.

Rio didn’t bother greeting the women. “Get rid of the bitches man.”

“What?” Shaun asked, his tone confused.

“I ain’t gonna tell you twice.” Rio’s face hadn’t changed. He just stared Shaun down.

Shaun cleared his throat and whispered something to the ladies before they shuffled back out of the room. It was quiet except for the sound of the music pumping through the speakers.

“My bad man. They were sexy as hell though right? Can you really blame me?” Shaun tried to excuse, a smile on his face as he walked over to where Rio was standing.

As soon as he was within arms reach, Rio gripped the back of his neck tightly and pulled him close. He stared directly in his eyes. “Don’t ever bring nobody to one of our meetings again. I choose to keep you on, but that can easily be changed. Get my money and stop fucking playing with me.”

Shaun merely nodded and Rio let go of him. Shaun tried adjusting his suit and cleared his throat. He walked over to the wall that was furthest from the window and opened a panel in the door. He put the code into the panel and opened it up. There was a silver case inside that he pulled out before closing the door back. “Business has been better than ever. I was able to add a permanent residency here that has us packed every week. We may even be able to up prices a bit.”

Rio’s eyebrow quirked in interest at the man’s words. “Permanent residency?”

Shaun had set the case on the table and Mick opened it, starting to count the money that was inside. Rio walked closer to take a look inside and noticed that there seemed to be a couple more stacks than usual.

“Yeah. I’m still having different live performers come in, but people also like consistency. They like knowing they’re coming to hear quality music. And the pipes on this one? Massive. Doesn’t hurt that she’s gorgeous too.”

Rio would never admit it but he was definitely intrigued. “Who is she?”

Shaun walked back over to the window and smirked as he looked down. “Simone Dunn. Lucky for you, you came at the perfect time.”

Rio noticed the club music had shut off and people were clapping. As he walked to stand next to Shaun, a slow instrumental was playing. A soft spotlight appeared on the stage and the crowd’s clapping intensified. A giggle was heard over the mic.

“Aww, y’all are too good to me.” The woman’s voice was clear as day, but had an alluring quality. She had big black hair falling over her shoulders in waves. Her dress was pink and it gave a tantalizing view of her breasts as well as her full figure. Her skin was creamy brown and the outline of her ass was particularly appealing to Rio.

“We’re starting off grown and sexy tonight y'all. So if you’re vibing with someone, gon’ head and pull ‘em a little closer. I’m just tryna help y’all possibly end the night on a good note, if you know what I mean.” She winked at the crowd and people laughed as others hollered and whistled.

A familiar beat reached Rio’s ears, taking him back to house parties in his old neighborhood. He remembered talking slick to a fine girl as she danced on him, knowing she was gon let him fuck by the end of the night.

I'll always think of you Inside of my private thoughts I can imagine you Touching my private parts And just the thought of you I can't help but touch myself That's why I want you so bad Just one night of

The sultry sound of her voice traveled from Rio’s ears straight to his dick. He watched as her hips moved side to side as she gripped the mic stand. She was a temptress, an enchantress. Hell, she was a siren and her song was the one calling him home. Home being the absolute treasure he was sure is hiding between her thighs.

Can't get my mind off you I think I might be obsessed The very thought of you Makes me want to get undressed I want to be with you In spite of what my heart says I guess I want you too bad All I want is

Her eyes were locking onto different people in the crowd. She was working her magic on everyone. People were partnered up and there was lots of grinding happening on the dance floor. As she looked around, her eyes happened to dart up and land on his. She looked taken aback, but curious. She never once stopped singing and now it seemed like she was singing the words directly to him.

“She’s a beauty, ain’t she?” Shaun asked, but Rio ignored him. His eyes were still locked with Simone’s as she sang. A smile pulled at her lips and her cheeks felt hot so she pulled her eyes away from him to look back toward the crowd. She missed the quick smile that appeared on Rio’s face before he turned his back to the window.

“Have you had any trouble here? Fights? Anyone tryna shake you down?” Rio asked Shaun, who looked perplexed by the sudden topic shift.

“No. I would have called you right away. Like I said, things have been great. Should I be worried or on the lookout?” Shaun asked, his tone taking on a nervous quality.

“Nah, man. Just looking out for my investment. Enjoy your night with your lady friends.” Rio dismissed the other man and Shaun took the exit without hesitation.

“You think they know you got dealings in this place?” Mick asked, once Shaun was gone.

“No, but you can never be too careful.” Rio replied, eyes drifting back toward the stage. She had begun singing a new song. Something a bit more fast paced. “I wanna keep this place as legit as possible. We need something clean in case we run into some trouble. But I aint scared of them. I’ll deal with ‘em when the time’s right.”

Mick merely nodded his head as he finished up the count.

“Everything square?” At Mick’s confirmation, Rio walked over to him. “Go ahead and take everything back to the warehouse. Imma stay and check things out for a bit. Have a drink. I’ll call you in the morning.”

Rio headed down to the bar and got himself a shot of brandy. He nursed his drink as he finished listening to the performance going on. He was in the middle of texting some associates to set up meetings for the next week when applause broke out all around him. He looked up to see Simone walking towards the bar, blowing kisses as she went.

“Ji, baby! Please get me one last malibu pineapple and I’ll love you forever.” She exclaimed, taking a seat one away from Rio. He was watching her interaction with the bartender.

“You better already love me.” The bartender, Ji-hoon, retorted even as he went about making her drink.

“You know I do boo.” She winked, a wide grin on her face. “In fact, I love you so much that I’m leaving you a big tip tonight.”

“Are you trying to buy me? Cause I’m absolutely up for sale.” He smiled, sliding her drink over to her as he leaned on the bar. He glanced over at Rio and nodded his head towards him. “Hey, you need to be topped off?”

“Yeah, man.” Rio answered and Simone finally noticed him sitting there. Ji poured Rio another drink before getting distracted on the other side of the bar by other paying customers.

Simone made eye contact with him before looking down at her drink and swishing the glass around.

“You have a beautiful voice, mama.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.” She looked up at him with a smile on her face.

“Interesting choice of song too. I know a couple people here gotta be happy about the assist you gave them.”

She laughed and shook her head. “Anything for my fans.”

“Anything?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Within reason.” She quickly added.

“So you’ll let me buy your drink, then.”

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow and she turned around in her stool to face him, legs crossed and her silver heels shining. “So you’re a fan?”

“I am now.”

“I’ve had an open tab all night and I just promised Jian a big tip.”

“Okay.” He shrugged, and her eyes narrowed.

“And what do you want in return for so graciously picking up my tab?”

A smirk appeared on Rio’s face and he slid one bar stool over to be closer to her. Their eyes never left one another. “I’d love to have a conversation with one of the sexiest women I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Her lights lit up in surprise and delight at his words. That soft smile of hers, returning to her face. “I guess I could swing that. So what’s your name?”

“It’s Rio, sweetheart. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Rio….I like it. I see you’re familiar with Shaun. Y’all friends or something?”

“Or something.” He answered, taking a sip of his drink.

“Or something. That’s not mysterious at all.” She joked.

“I aint no mystery baby. What you see is what you get.”

She snorted. “That’s what they all say.”

“Who?”

“Boys.” She retorted, finishing her drink.

“I’m all man and I’d love to demonstrate just how much of a man I am.”

She looked back over to him and there was a delicious smirk on his face. No one man should be able to look like that. It’s too much power. “Tempting, but I have plans.”

“At 2 in the morning?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Is that judgment I hear in your tone Mr. ‘I-Can’t-Say-How-I-Know-Shaun?’”

Rio had to chuckle. “You got me there.”

She checked her phone and sighed at the time. “I gotta go, but it was nice meeting you Rio. Hope to see you again.” She then asked Ji-hoon to hand her the bag that was hidden behind the bar.

“You will.” He asserted, wondering why she didn’t use the employee lockers he remembered being installed. The thought was erased from his mind by her leaning into his personal space. His hand immediately went to her waist and his fingers grazed the top of her ass.

“I’m counting on it.” She whispered in his ear, before walking away and waving at a couple people as she went. He watched her the whole time and it wasn’t until she reached the exit that she turned her head to look back at him. He knew he had her.

#rio good girls #good girls rio #black!oc #rio x black!oc #black!reader #rio x black reader #rio x plus size!reader #just me and you #hhgbyebruh fics

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princessofguineapigs · 3 years

Text

A Straight Line to You | Harry Holland Chapter 5

We got more angst and fluff. The end of this chapter gets wild.

When you walked into choir that afternoon, you were feeling anxious. Harry was already there and smiled at you from the risers. You waved to him and took your place in the soprano section. Your phone dinged. Rehearsal hadn’t started yet so you checked it.

Harry: Coffee after this? I have so much to tell you.

You: Sure.

Harry: Thanks, you’re the best.

Maybe this was a better day. You felt hopeful at the idea of alone time with Harry. It was going to be fine. Rehearsal began and Mr. Ceiber reminded everyone that the solo audition would be in two days. Good thing you’d spent all that time practicing. The rest of the rehearsal was a blur of songs.

When it was over, Harry came right up to you.

“To coffee?” he asked.

“To coffee,” you replied with a genuine smile.

The pair of you walked out into the sunshine and talked about your classes all the way to the coffee shop. When you got there, you ordered your drinks and sat down at a table in the back corner. You liked it best when you and Harry could be isolated from the other customers.

Your finger was tracing circles on the tabletop absently while you waited for Harry to share whatever it was he had to tell you.

“Twice now, Heather has sent me home after at date. Actually, I’m not totally sure that she thinks of them as dates. All I know is I end up walking home alone, feeling confused. She gets handsy with me in public, but she won’t so much as kiss me when we’re alone. I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong. She came on to me and flirts with me, but then she says she wants to take it slow. And honestly, I don’t even know what I want either,” Harry explained.

Your circling finger stopped as you took the information in.

“What do I do, Y/N? How do I know if she likes me? How do I know if I like her?” Harry asked.

“Spend a few days without her and see if you miss her,” you shrugged.

Harry pondered your advice. Lately, he’d found himself missing you whenever you were apart.

“I’ll give it a try,” he said.

“Let me know how you feel in a day or two,” you said.

“Girls are confusing,” Harry sighed.

You chuckled.

“Hey, what are you doing after this?” Harry asked.

“I was thinking to go to the gym, why?”

“Can I come with you?” he asked.

“Sure you can. I have to go change first though,” you said.

“I do too. Meet you there in an hour?”

“See you there,” you replied.

Finding motivation to keep your intention to actually go to the campus gym was easier now. You didn’t want to look gross in front of Harry though. You went to change into leggings and a tank top. You weren’t quite ready to workout in just the sports bra on top in front of Harry yet. You slipped your athletic shoes on your feet. You started on your way to the gym.

When you arrived, Harry was already stretching.

“Getting a head start, I see,” you joked.

“How else am I going to keep up with you? I never come here,” Harry said.

You giggled. Confidently, you headed toward the climbing wall. Harry followed.

“Okay, expert climber, show me how it’s done,” he said.

“I never said I was an expert climber,” you retorted.

The two of you began your ascent. You loved the feeling of accomplishment. Every rock you used to hoist yourself further gave you a sense of pride. Every foothold you fit yourself into made you feel unstoppable. You reached the top before Harry did.

You thought to yourself that you could make it down and back up again before Harry finished the climb. You rappelled down, passing Harry.

“So you are the queen of rock climbing!” he called.

“How are you going so slow?” you teased back.

You stretched your fingers to uncramp them. You may have gripped the rocks a bit too hard. You were about to start climbing up a second time when a voice behind you made you stop.

“Hey, Y/N, right?”

You whirled to face her. Heather.

“Hi, Heather. I’m sorta in the middle of my workout right now, so it’s not a great time to chat,” you told her, trying to be polite.

Harry was closer to the top now, out of earshot.

“Oh this won’t take long,” Heather said, “I just wanted to tell you that you shouldn’t get your hopes up with Harry. I have him wrapped around my finger, so you don’t stand a chance.”

“Y/N! Look, I made it,” Harry called down.

“Ta-ta,” Heather said in farewell.

You watched her walk over to the yoga station before you directed your attention back to Harry and the rock wall. You climbed faster this time to reach Harry. He was still catching his breath at the top. Heather’s audacity made anger course through your veins like electricity.

“Who was that?” Harry asked when you reached him.

“Heather,” you replied.

Both of you rappelled down the wall.

“Oof,” Harry said when he hit the bottom, “Coming down is a lot faster. I actually felt my insides turn a bit when we dropped.”

You tried to laugh, but you were still mad about Heather’s comment.

“We could do some weights now,” Harry suggested.

You didn’t want to be near Heather and the yoga station was far from the weights, so you agreed.

It was past five o’clock when you and Harry finished with the weights.

“What’s bothering you? You’ve been quiet ever since we finished climbing,” Harry said in a worried voice.

“Heather said somethings that didn’t sit right with me,” you answered.

“What sort of things?” Harry questioned.

You ignored his question.

“I’m going to go to the locker room and freshen up. Meet you back here in a bit,” you said.

Your blood was still boiling and you wanted to splash some water on your face. It was pumping in your ears so much you could barely think.

One of the things you hated about Heather was the way she treated Harry like a dog. An abused dog that only wanted to please her. You couldn’t tell if she was using him for his brother’s fame, wanted his money, was just a psychopath who enjoyed playing with good guys, or all of the above.

When you found yourself in the locker room with her, you decided to say something.

“You can’t keep leading him on if you don’t have feelings for him,” you admonished.

She knew exactly who you were talking about.

“But I’m having fun with him,” Heather scoffed.

“He’s not a fucking toy!”

“Oh, but he is. My favorite toy right now. You can have him when I’m done if you like. I have no use for toys once they’re broken,” Heather taunted.

You clenched your fist. You’d be damned if you let her keep hurting Harry. Without another thought, you decked her in the face.

She was stunned at first. Then, she lunged at you.

“YOU BITCH!” Heather screamed.

You dodged away from her. She swung again. You ducked. She grabbed you hard by the sides of your shoulders. You struggled forward, trying to break her momentum, but she pushed you back to the wall. With your arms pinned you couldn’t hit her, so you kicked out a leg instead.

The pain made her let go of you momentarily. You tried to edge away and get to the door of the locker room. You made it a few paces when she grabbed you by your hair. You cried out in pain.

“Y/N!”

Harry burst through the door, totally unbothered that he was in a ladies locker room. Heather let go of you in an instant. Harry’s eyes darted between the two of you. It was clear to him that Heather had been hurting you, but she also sported a bloody nose.

Realizing she was caught, Heather pushed past Harry and ran from the room. He walked over to where you were on the floor and stooped down to examine you for injuries.

“What happened, why was she hurting you?” Harry asked.

You knew then that you’d have to tell Harry what had happened and everything she said. But you also trusted that Harry would believe you over anything Heather had to say. You were only scared that Harry would finally realize your feelings for him.

End of Chapter 5

taglist: @canwekissforever-haz @wonderfulfluffer @hollanddolanfangirl

#harry holland #harry holland x reader

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knittingdreams · 3 years

Text

Fireheart - Chapter 14

Hey! I know it’s been a while since I updated here, I’m so sorry if you were waiting for this! I’m on holidays and internet isn’t great here! I promise I’ll upload the next one in a few days, I won’t leave you hanging again!

Check Ao3 for more chapters!

Or the Masterlist for older ones in here :)

TW: Graphic Violence/ Blood/ Mention of Sexual Abuse (No graphics, just a comment done by a character!)

CHAPTER 14

Getting Heated Up

The backroom filled up fast, and within half an hour, all the fighters were warming up, jumping over on the spot and throwing punches in the air. The noise outside was also picking up, and Celaena could feel the rambling energy in the air from all the customers getting louder and louder. She was jumping on the spot, almost dancing as one of her favorite songs was playing in her head. The adrenaline was pumping in her veins, and she could feel her lips trying to pull up into a smile, but she remained dead serious as she waited for the first fight to be called. She was keeping to herself on the farthest corner while she eavesdropped on the other fighter’s conversations in case she found any useful information about her aunt or the running of the fights.

She hadn’t seen Maeve since before the plane crash, but she still remembered her clearly. Her father’s sister had had his same dark eyes, and his dark hair, but she had dyed it raven black so long ago that Celaena could barely remember if her natural hair really looked like her father’s. Maeve had always treated her right and used to spend a lot of time around their house, coming over with presents for young Aelin or visiting for lunch on the weekends. According to the information she had gathered through the years, her aunt was still single and had never had kids, and still lived in Terrasen. She remembered how Maeve and Rhoe, Aelin’s father, used to spend a lot of time in her father’s office discussing work, and she used to peek through the window and try to hear what the adults were talking about.

“I’ll feel bad for whoever needs to fight her,” a slinky blond guy said only a few feet away, bringing Celaena back to the present.

“What do they think this is, allowing a girl here?” Another one growled.

Celaena balled her fists by her side and took a deep breath through her nose.

“And what’s up with that stupid mask?” The first one added, a little louder this time.

“I could break her in two with my bare hands,” the tallest guy smirked, looking straight at her.

Celaena took a step forward, and she could see the tall dark-haired security guard through the corner of her eye, talking into his radio as she did.

“Say that to my face if you’re so fucking brave.” She looked up at the guy who towered a head over her. He was huge, with bulky round shoulders and eyes as dark as the night.

“I could break you in two with my bare hands,” he repeated as he took a menacing step and looked down at her. Celaena’s upper lip lifted up as she ground her teeth and her balled fists started rising slowly.

“I would like to see that,” she spat back.

“Enough of that you two. Everybody, fuck off and get ready to fight, we’re starting in five,” a new voice said as a guy walked into the room, a smug smile on his face. He gestured with his hands for them to break apart, but no one moved.

The tall guy kept his eyes on Celaena and leaned down. “Remember my face, sweetheart,” he whispered in her ear before straightening back up.

“Cain, I said fuck off,” the blond security guard pushed the tall guy with a hand against his chest. Cain huffed and turned around to leave. “You all good, girl?” The guard turned towards her, his dark eyes fixed on her.

“Fine,” she hissed. “I didn’t need your fucking help.” She crossed her arms over her chest and uncrossed them again as she realized she must look like a childish teen throwing a tantrum.

“Can tell you don’t, just doing my job.” He raised his palms, and smiled broadly at her. “By the way, I’m Fenrys, nice to officially meet you.” He stretched a hand towards her and Celaena shook it begrudgingly.

“Fireheart,” she muttered in an exhale.

“That one over there,” Fenrys said as he pointed to the dark-haired guard that was still over by the door. “Is my asshole brother Connall. He’s an alright dude once you get to know him. And the grumpy ass by the corner,” he said as he pointed at Rowan, who was now in the corner of the room, looking at her with squinted eyes and his lips pressed into a tight line. “Is one of my best mates, Rowan.” He leaned closer to her, lowering his voice. “Don’t let his looks fool you, he’s as soft as a puppy deep down.” He winked at her and stepped back, leaving Celaena confused as to why this guy was being so friendly. The security team was normally known for being a bunch of self-righteous assholes that didn’t care about anybody.

“I’m here to kick ass, not to make friends.” She turned around and walked back over to her gym bag as she heard Fenrys chuckle behind her.

She pulled out her hand wraps and put them on slowly, savoring the moment her fists would collide against skin. She still didn’t know who she’d be fighting against, but she was hoping it’d be Cain. Whoever it was, she’d win. She’d win, and they could all go to Hell.

***

“Fireheart,” Rowan called from the door.

All the other fights had already taken place, and it was finally Celaena’s turn. She walked towards the white haired-guy, her fists already balled by her sides, and her chin held high.

“Xavier,” Connall walked in from the other side, and the blond guy that had teased Celaena earlier walked out, flashing her with a cocky grin before he did. He was tall and slinky, with the dullest brown eyes ever seen on the planet, but there was something in his expression that told Celaena not to be too quick to judge him. He looked like an absolute prick, and like someone that would stab his best mate in the back for a handful of coins.

She walked out of the backroom and headed towards her side of the platform, the place now looking smaller with the big crowd gathered around them. As soon as she stepped out, the crowd went wild, some cheering and howling while others booed and hissed.

“That girl looks like a joke!” Someone yelled to Celaena’s right.

“Give us a real fight!”

“Too much clothing!”

“Show us what you’ve got under there, babe!”

She kept her chin held high and thanked the world for the fact that neither Sam nor Arobynn were there to hear the crowd. She’d show them what she had under, what she had inside. She’d give them fire, ash, and blood. Her own blood was boiling by the time she reached the platform, only barely aware of Rowan’s hand resting against her lower back as she made her way up the stage. She thought she heard him say something, but his words were lost in the roaring of the crowd.

The command couldn't have come fast enough: “You know the rules, no deadly hits, you fall, you lose. Now fight!”

Celaena moved to the middle of the platform as soon as the words left the judge’s lips, her fists still balled and her muscles aching to get put to use. Xavier met her in the middle, and before he could swing, Celaena went against her usual defensive stance and threw the first punch.

She got a hook straight to Xavier’s jaw before he could even react, and quickly took two steps back, staying out of his way. He moved forward, following her as expected. She crouched, swung her leg behind his, and stepped to the side as she watched Xavier’s body plummet down to the floor. He rolled awkwardly to the side as he got up, and Celaena couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips.

“You fucking bitch,” Xavier growled between his teeth, the sound barely reaching Celaena over the crowd.

“You’re going to eat your words,” she retorted. She was making him look like a fool, and she was loving it. She was quick, and she knew that was her best advantage. That, and the fact that guys always underestimated how hard she could punch.

“You’re going to regret this,” he hissed.

He almost ran towards her, and she sidestepped in the last second. He stopped an inch off the edge and turned around. He took two steps forward, she took two back. He took a jab at her ribs, and she let him graze her skin, staying close enough to punch him on the jaw again. He staggered back, she pushed forward. She kicked his side, and this time, he was expecting it. He grabbed her leg and pulled up. Before her body could touch the ground, she laced an arm around his calf, making him fall with her. She flipped, getting on top of him, and landed two punches to either side of his face before getting back up and moving back a few steps.

She was enjoying herself too much to make it quick. She wanted him to see that she could toy with him as much as she wanted, that she was the one in control. Xavier got up slowly, a murderous look on his face as a little glint of light flashed in his ring finger. Celaena went for a jab to his ribs and stepped back, but not before Xavier tried to go for her stomach, barely touching her over the hip instead as she moved to the side. Pain flared on her side as if a fire was burning in her insides. Her brain sent a rush of adrenaline, and she stepped forwards, taking three quick jabs at his kidney. She needed it to be over, and fast. She punched and kicked as fast as her limbs could move, watching carefully as Xavier took one step back after the other, oblivious of the edge.

The moment he looked to the side, recognition flashing on his face, she kicked him in the chest with all her strength, and he tumbled back, falling off the platform and granting her the needed win.

“Fireheart wins,” the judge said in a loud voice, and the crowd roared.

She pressed a hand against her side as she solemnly vowed to the crowd, and she felt the stickiness in her catsuit’s fabric. She jumped off the platform as fast as possible, barely aware of the shadow following behind her. She reached the back room, grabbed her gym bag off the bench, and shouldered it, her right hand still pressed hard against her side.

“Running away, princess?" Cain’s stinky breath swirled around her as she turned around to face him.

“I’m not running, but I got places to be.” She tried to keep her expression cool, her stance sure.

“Oh, the little girl’s got a curfew.” All the other fighters behind him booed and laughed, and Celaena turned on them, heading to the back door.

“Cain, I’m not telling you to fuck off again,” Fenrys moved from his spot on the wall and trailed after Celaena. “Are you okay, Fireheart?” He lowered his voice as she reached the door and stepped out into the back alley. “You look a bit pale.”

Celaena didn’t turn or reply, she walked towards the main street, her hand soaked in blood that was already dripping down her fingers. Her motorbike was parked five blocks away for security measures, and she wished she hadn’t been so careful. One block in, and she had to lean against a brick wall to catch her breath. The streets were deserted and dark in the moonless night, and she was back to being a mere shadow lurking the city.

“I’ve been through worse, it’s just a fucking cut,” she grumbled as she straightened up as much as she could. The memory of blood was taking over though, and her mouth felt dry, her throat closing up on her. “It’s nothing like it,” she whispered, reassuring herself. She looked down at her bloody hand, and carefully unstuck the fabric from the wound. Blood was still rushing out of the gash, and Celaena cursed Xavier in every language she knew.

“That mother fucking cheating scum!”

She heard voices, and looked behind her shoulder, noticing the crowd that started to spill out of the alley. Her feet moved out of their own accord, and she rushed to the next alley over. Why Rifthold had so many alleys was something that she couldn’t comprehend, why couldn’t streets just keep on going and be fucking connected?

She needed to do something about the wound, or she’d bleed out before she managed to get back to Arobynn’s mansion. Considering the amount of blood lost so far, the blade had to be laced with some kind of poison or anticoagulant, which would also explain the burning sensation on her side. She dropped her bag on the floor in the shadows of the alley and took out a bottle of water. Sitting on the floor, Celaena washed the wound as fast as she could and used the spare hand wraps to bandage her middle as tight as she could. That would do, for the time being, she had to get out of there, get to her motorbike, and go to Arobynn’s to get stitches.

“Funny to find you here, little bunny.” Celaena stood so fast, that her head spun. Right at the end of the alley, was Cain. His arms were folded across his torso, and Xavier was standing a step behind him to one side. “You don’t look so sure of yourself now that you have no protectors, do you?”

“I don’t need anybody to protect me.” She stood straight, ignoring the burning on her side, and lifting her fists up.

Both men walked towards her, smug smiles tugging at their lips, and Celaena threw the first punch, not ready to go down without the fight of her life.

She hit Cain on the chest and turned to kick Xavier in the ribs knowing he’d still be sore there. As Xavier staggered back, Cain pushed forward, and Celaena’s back hit the wall behind her. She hooked Cain on the jaw, and he barely flinched at the punch. His fist collided so hard against her ribs, that she doubled over. His hand closed around her throat, and he smashed her head back against the wall. White dots hovered in the air between them, and the night turned darker, pressing over her.

“How tough, you make my blood boil.” He secured both her wrists in one of his big hands, and leaned closer, pressing a kiss under her ear.

She took her knee up as fast as she could, hitting him in the groin and making Cain double over. “Fucking bitch!” He groaned between ragged breaths. “Xavier, for fuck’s sake, hold her.”

New arms grabbed her, pulling her from over the wall and trapping her. Xavier was behind her, holding her arms behind her back, and being so close that she could hear his breathing. Cain stood in front, a hand still clutching his groin as pain flickered in his semblance. His other hand reached up to her throat, and the white dots danced like crazy in front of her eyes.

“Now, hold her tight you fucking dumbass, I want to see what secrets hide under that mask… And the rest of it.”

#chapter fourteen #throne of glass fanfic #tog fandom #celaena #fireheart

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letsbenditlikebennett · 4 years

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Encounters of the Strange Kind || Ariana & Frank

TIMING: Before the last full moon during the nightmares POTW PARTIES: @frankmulloy & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: Ariana goes to watch a soccer match and bug her favorite bartender, Frank. Some nightmares brought to life make for a strange afternoon.

It wasn’t often lately that Ariana found herself with a free afternoon and as much had been preferred. Just when she felt like she was finally beginning to move forward again, Winn had to go and die on her, too. If she let herself sit in all those feelings for too long, she was almost certain she wouldn’t be able to find it in her to get up again. Moving was easier. At least that’s what she had kept telling herself, but now the erratic weather meant soccer practice was cancelled which means she wouldn’t spend the rest of her day coaching. She was far ahead on all of her projects for school and she didn’t want to bother Blanche or Grace yet again. The weather also meant a run with her dog was out of the question so she opted to drink beer and watch some soccer matches at Perfect Pint. It wasn’t the world’s best distraction, but bugging the bartender had always proven to be a good time. While the USWNT wasn’t playing, she threw on the Rapinoe jersey Athena had gotten her anyway. Something about channeling Rapinoe had always left her feeling a little tougher. Which was saying a lot because most days, she considered herself to be pretty badass.

Considering it was a weekday afternoon, Ariana found the bar wasn’t overly crowded, so she grabbed a seat in front of the women’s Olympique Lyons team’s match. While they weren’t her team, she remembered Kaden was a Lyons fan. It gave her some sort of deeper attachment to the game which meant it’d be more likely to hold her attention. She waved at Frank as she settled into her seat and gave him a wide smile. Confidence was key to no one questioning her fake ID. “How are you doing today,” she asked brightly before adding, “I’ll take a Guinness when you get a chance.” She hadn’t liked it at first, but it grew on her. She admittedly just said the first thing she looked at the first time she came here and just kept going with it.

Frank had always considered Perfect Pint a lesser form of Soul. Less sticky, less sleazy, less were the chance of someone kicking someone else’s teeth in—or maybe that was just his shift. Maybe in his absence the patrons that gathered at the latter establishment were perfectly pleasant, either way, the Irish bar was a welcomed breath of civility before the shit-storm the evening would no doubt bring. The presence of another gancanagh added to the ease of simply being as the pub owner exercised a control over his ability that even after all these years Frank had never fully mastered. His pheromones fluctuated to a rhythm of its own make, a song Frank was not privy to and struggled still to understand. But the shadow of a smile that threatened to break his mask of perpetual indifference came at the hands of one that, legally, shouldn’t even be allowed at the bar. They both knew this— that no matter what her ID said, Ariana was not 21, not the fact that he silently enjoyed her company. No drink was strong enough to make him admit anything so personal. But more than that, if he admitted it, then it must be true, and if that was true then so was the very real possibility that she was only hanging around him because of the reason that most people were. The same reason he slid people their drinks across the bar, why he was always so generous with his distance, why he didn’t smile when he turned to meet Ariana but rather regarded that she was there—of course she was wearing a fucking Rapinoe jersey—another body to warm the bar’s seat.

“Do you have an ID for that Guinness?” Frank said, with perhaps a little too much enjoyment, after the glass was already in his hand. “I get the pub is Irish but you know that American laws still apply right?”

Something about the chatter around the bar was much more comforting than the near silence of her apartment. Ariana was glad this place was close to her new apartment and that her fake ID never seemed to be extensively questioned even though it seemed fairly obvious Frank knew she wasn’t 21 yet. Plus, they always played the soccer matches so it always gave her something engaging to do even if she didn’t have someone joining her. As Frank asked for her ID, she pouted and dramatically pulled her wallet out of one of the pockets in her cargo pants. “You know, you keep not remembering me and my very iconic blue hair, I’m gonna stop tipping… okay, that’s a lie,” she responded with a small laugh as she slid her ID across to him. She gave him a pointed look as she waited for him to set her beer down. The urge to do a triumph fist pump was resisted. Instead, she motioned her glass up in a cheers motion and took a sip before commenting, “You never told me how you were doing. You haven’t seen any weird fish lately, have you?” She’d seen a few of them floating around along with some other strange things. Still felt like a good idea to check in and make sure everyone was staying safe amidst the crazy that was White Crest.

The threat of no tip was met with a slight upward lean to the corner of Frank’s mouth, which was more of a smile than most could say they’ve ever received from the infamously stoic bartender. The Guinness had already slid across the bar’s top to her awaiting hand before she had even pulled the ID out; the presence of the little card vaguely acknowledged though not such attention was paid to its content. “Fine,” he said, and he was fine, and was happy to leave it at fine, but of course, Ariana had a talent for catching his attention when he least expected it. Like, say, a remark about weird fishes. “This whole fucking town is weird.” Frank would be remiss to say that the amount of fog that blanketed the town was a common occurrence, not to mention the pair of bright glowing lights that peered eerily behind them. Logically, he’d sooner owe it to a pair of headlights, than anything stranger, which was rich coming from a guy with giant wings sticking out of his back. Logically, he also knew that no vehicle or trunk had lights that large, that moved so silently, seamlessly-- there was nothing mechanical about these lights. “Why? What have you seen?” A pause. The temptation was to close the distance between them, but alas (at least this time) habit dug down its heel, and so did Frank. “What have you been up to kid?”

Of course he hadn’t actually bothered to look at her ID which made Ariana laugh a bit. While Frank was never the overly talkative type, she did enjoy his mostly quiet company. It gave her something else to focus on when the game wasn’t enough to keep her thoughts from drifting somewhere darker. He was a bit of mystery though and fine almost never meant fine. She knew better than anyone because she’d put that brave face on every day for the kids and a little bit for herself. “I hate that word,” she stated plainly, “90% of the time it’s bullshit, but I’ll give you that one.” At least his response to the question about fish led her to believe he wasn’t completely clueless to the ways of this town. That made it easier for him to stay safe. “You know, you’re not wrong,” she agreed, “Some of it is good weird though, like the dog toys falling from the sky. My dog had a field day with that one. Still, probably a good idea to avoid the giant floating fish if you can.” For a moment, she could almost detect a hint of concern in his voice though he still kept his distance. She didn’t want to alarm him, so she shrugged and answered, “Honestly, I’ve seen a lot, but more recently it’s been the floating fish. Thankfully, they seem to mostly just kind of float by if you don’t bother them. I may be tough, but I’m not exactly eager to see if I can take on an oversized flying fish.” The answer to his next question was decidedly nothing good outside of school and work. Between ghost hunting, avoiding sleep, and her plans to turn Ace into a werewolf like her, she was decidedly not staying out of trouble. Not even a little bit. “Oh, you know-- work, class, typical young we-- people things. I opened up an Etsy shop, so if you need any custom woodwork or repairs, I’m your girl,” she responded hoping her answer sufficed even if she definitely left big bits of the truth out. She shifted in her seat slightly and a puzzled look crossed her face as all the TV screens in the bar went fuzzy. That was weird. It was a perfectly sunny day out so she couldn’t think of any good reason for the television picture to just go out.

For reasons too complicated, and probably too depressing, to dissect without the supervision of his therapist, Frank had somehow convinced himself of being able to care for little else beyond that which directly affected him. Now Frank was a great many things but never the uncaring type, and while he was a talented wordsmith (when he had the energy to be) he was, as was the nature of his species, a poor liar. Even to himself. So when “fine” was met with a reaction that was far from it, his heart—he was frequently surprised to learn, or be reminded, of its existence—reared its head, and fixed a tender gaze on the younger girl. He said nothing however, feeling that it was the wrong time to press, but he would remember the minor outburst, and keep it close to heart. While Frank himself was still challenged with admitting to the existence of the strange and unnatural, despite himself being one of those strange and unnatural things, to have Ariana confess to it so readily, and so casually at that, made it concrete, and real. No, the lights were not in fact a truck in the foggy distance, it was indeed a giant floating fish. That was normal now. He was part of that normal. So what happened then when a normal person has spent his entire life believing he was not? How does he come to terms with that? The answer: he doesn’t. He instead focused his attention on anything else, on anyone else. “Right, so that sounded decidedly unconvincing. Your fake ID is more convincing than…whatever that was.” He waited for a characteristically snappy response, but when she looked up at him—no, past him, her brows knitted together at whatever the TV was showing. “What are you…?” Nothing, the TV was showing nothing, and yet she seemed entranced, or at least concerned enough to be curious. This made him concerned, and by the way the few patrons that were in the bar were whispering and mumbling to themselves and each other, it was going around.

“Jesus H,” the dish rag draped over his shoulder, Frank sought for the remote and tried to turn it off, but the battery was either flat or the TV refused to obey. Logic supported the former, and logic made him reach up to press the button on the monitor itself. That was when water started leaking from the screen. Logic offered no sound explanation for that. Somewhere within the bar came a yelp as the water from one of the leaking TVs (was he seriously admitting to that?) short-circuited the juke box. No, Frank thought decidedly, it had been two weeks since he last fed and he was too fucking tired for this shit. “Yeah, I’m not cleaning that shit up.” He tossed the towel aside, stuck his head into the kitchen and announced his early finish. “No offence but I don’t think your game is playing kid,” he said and ducked out from behind the bar. Something wasn’t right, and frankly he felt no great desire to stick around, and owed to some strange endearment he’s found in Ariana, he didn’t want her to stick around either. “I’m heading out. Finish your Guinness. Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

Normally, she would have been quick to comment on the fake ID remark. Ariana wasn’t sure just how serious he was, because would he really be serving her if he thought her ID was fake? Maybe he just didn’t give a crap which actually checked out to a degree. The water leaking from the TVs was far more pressing though. She was pretty sure electronics and water didn’t mix, so she took a step back. “TVs,” she answered as she pointed upward. How were they even doing that? She doubted there was any satisfying answer, but slowly scooted away from any electronics. After all she’d been through, she wasn’t about to go out by electrocution of all things. She took a big gulp from her glass of beer because frankly it was warranted with the current level of insanity. So much for having a nice escape from White Crest reality. It hadn’t been all that surprise to see Frank ditch the bar. She laughed a bit and commented, “I don’t blame you. Probably dangerous back there right now anyway.” The jukebox seemed to agree with her so she was glad he was seemingly away from any spots that may cause electrical shock.

While the TV situation was still concerning, Ariana figured she didn’t have much of a reason to stick around with both the game off and Frank gone. Beer alone wasn’t going to be enough to distract her from the whirlwind of emotions she currently didn’t feel like acknowledging. His offer to walk her home was unexpected though. She looked up to him and said, “Yeah, thanks, I’d appreciate that even if I am probably a lot tougher than you think I am.” She jokingly sized him up, but agreed her beer was worth finishing. “For sure gonna finish this bad boy. Can’t be out here wasting a perfectly good beer!” She was quick to polish off her beer. She refrained from burping as she set the glass down because as Celeste taught her growing up, it wasn’t proper table manners. Not that she truly understood why table manners were a thing humans cared about, but for the sake of blending in, she did her best to follow some sort of norm. “So we adding bodyguard to your business card now,” she joked as they left the now nightmarish scene behind. Thankfully, everyone else had also been quick to bolt, so she wasn’t too concerned for their safety. Every so often, a creepy face would flash on the screen and she muttered, “Wow, I fucking hate that.” She pointed down the block and said, “I live this way, not too far away and surprisingly decent rent. Not sure if you know the area well or not, but it really is a steal.”

“I am sure that you are.” Frank’s lips twitched as a genesis of a smile began to take shape across his mouth, one that came very close to becoming fully formed, until he too saw the ghostly face that haunted the TV screens. Fuck. That. Many of the pub’s patrons shared the same sentiment and a steady stream of people trickled out behind them, and for the first time (and hopefully the last) Frank was glad that he had the evening shift at Soul that day. A snort escaped his guard, harsh and full, a gleam of something mirthful reflected in his eyes as he turned them toward Ariana. “Depends on how much you’re willing to pay me,” he said and was only half joking. Bartending doesn’t pay a great deal, and there were many artefacts in his piece of crap apartment, including the piece of crap apartment itself, that would attest to this. The Bend wasn’t exactly known for its New England style living, but then again, neither was Frank.

“It’s nice.” He mused, quietly observing the shops that lined the streets and the plants and bushes that trimmed the sidewalks. Frank spied what looked like a stray dog toy tangled in the leaves of one of the passing bushes. Raining dog toys. That was normal too. Another thing he had to come to terms with getting used to. Not the fact that that particular thing happened, but the possibility of something similar, and equally strange and outlandish happening again. “I never really took the time to take in the streets. I mostly just come in for work, and then go to Soul and then go home. But this street, this place, I can see you living in it.” In the same weird way that you can somehow just sense that someone does not belong in a certain place, you can also sense when someone else belonged exactly where they were-- the latter was usually a lot more pleasant to observe. Walking next to Ariana, in the street she lived, Frank came to the conclusion that she looked like she was exactly where she needed to be; a place bustling with life, and events, and possibilities...even if it was a little strange. “It’s nice.”

Ariana noted the almost smile that Frank made though she didn’t comment on it. He was seemingly gruff, but she was pretty sure he enjoyed her company. Well, at least more so than the rest of the bar’s patrons. Which was fair, she was way cooler and far more adorable. As they walked, she laughed a bit at the mention of paying him. “Thankfully, I don’t need my own bodyguard, not that I could afford one. As it turns out, coaching kids’ soccer a few times a week doesn’t pay enough for a glamorous lifestyle. Not that I want one, but building a cabin one day would still be nice. If my woodworking really takes off, I may have a job for you.” They rounded a corner and something about the sky felt off. She ignored it and added, “I should warn, I’m good at finding trouble.” To be fair to herself, trouble often found her based on her species alone, but she definitely had a knack for following her nose right into some sort of White Crest nonsense.

It surprised Ariana that Frank hadn’t done much exploring the streets yet. While the more populated parts of town weren’t necessarily her thing, she did know the woods like the back of her hand. Or paw, depending on the day of the month. “Yeah, there’s a lot of good shops and restaurants down here. It’s a good area, I prefer the woods, but it’s nice living across the hall from one of my best friends. So thanks.” She was almost wistful for that cabin in the woods she was supposed to build with Celeste one day. Hell, she even missed the place she helped Ulfric build, but there was a sense of pride that came with having a place of her own. Plus, hiking with her school projects that were often bigger than her was a bit much. She’d been smiling softly when a strange smell hit her nose. She paused in the middle of the sidewalk and looked in the direction her nose was picking up a more animalistic smell. Before it could even register fully in her mind, a raging moose was charging them. “Shit,” she yelled out and pushed Frank out of the way as she barely dodged getting impaled by a fucking antler. “What the fuck,” she grumbled as she regained her balance and stared the moose down, letting out a low growl.

“Me too.” Frank’s smile hiked a little higher, and there was something knowing about it, like sharing in a secret that they both had, even if it was from each other. Though he did not necessarily indulge in the more cursed aspects of his existence, he always found that it was better to take it with good humour lest he drowns himself in self-pity; the latter being a significantly worse reality.

Frank spent the rest of their walk quietly observing the younger girl, his eyes squinted in a mixture of easy amusement and sharp curiosity. She spoke, a lot, and he listened, filing away pieces of information that he found useful or interesting: her relationship with the woods, her best friend, woodwork, how the three worked together to form an idyllic picture of the life Ariana wanted for herself. The pieces of information that went untold, fueled by a detailed history, alive and well as evidence in how she spoke. It made him wistful for a future that he never imagined for himself (he never tried to), and wanted dearly for her to have—her sudden stop elicited the same reaction in him, though it was obvious that she was sensing something that he wasn’t. Something he couldn’t. He heard the rumbling of hooves on pavement before he saw it, and even then he saw very little as a force, and a very impressive one at that, pushed him out of harm’s way, very nearly knocking him off his feet were it not for the swift sweep of his wings slowing gravity just enough for him to recover his balance—the product of instinct rather than any great skill. And then a low growl, unmistakably animal, and too near for comfort. First the ghost child TV, then the moose, now if he was about to get mauled by a fucking wolf Frank was going to lose his shit. Alas, there was just Ariana, and a very angry moose carving its way through the street before disappearing around the corner. No wolves to be seen…and yet. “Ariana, are you okay?” Concern coloured his words and made his touch more gentle as he reached out to examine her for any obvious injury. “Are you hurt?” And then finally, inevitably, “only in this fucking town.”

As she reoriented herself she swore she saw a flicker of wings on Frank. Ariana blinked slowly a few times and realized it must have been a trick of the light. Not that wings would be totally off base in this town, but the rest of their surroundings still felt surreal enough that she wrote it off. There was still a small lingering suspicion that maybe Frank wasn’t quite so human either. She’d have to observe him more carefully. She brushed herself off and answered, “Yeah, I’m fine. More startled than anything.” The moose kept running and rounded a corner. Maybe she should have been more concerned, but she simply didn’t have the energy to chase a moose right now. Not in this form. She figured she could shoot Kaden a text and let animal control deal with the seemingly pissed off moose. She stood still for a moment as he looked her over and kept her demeanor calm despite the internal ‘what the fuck just happened’ vibes she had going on. “I’m not hurt. Did only narrowly dodge becoming a moose kebab, but it be like that I guess,” she said with a slight laugh. “Yeah, that was super on brand for White Crest, but hey, neither of us turned into moose-pops today, so I’ll call it a win.” She was dying to ask about the wings, but she still wasn’t entirely sure of what she saw, so she’d file that one away for later. “To be safe, let’s keep moving in case he decides to come back for round 2.” She paused briefly as she started leading the way to her apartment before she finally caved and noted, “So… you were pretty good at catching your balance there.”

Ariana’s note was like a plunged blade, spearing through the glamour that he has tried so hard to maintain. Did it fall? Did she see? She couldn’t have. Frank’s wings were not little plastic accessories that you found hanging off some rack at some halloween store. They were huge, and not something that usually elicited such a casual response...not that he’s had many experiences to draw from. Yet at her remark, he prompted his face to smooth over any evidence of emotion, trying his best to manufacture the closest imitation to nonchalance. “Oh yeah? Thanks kid,” he said before allowing an edge of gentle humor pushed into the timber of his voice, “I mean I’d be a pretty shoddy bodyguard if I’m tripping over my own damn feet.” This made sense--even if Frank’s history of fighting recorded more losses than wins. “Maybe you should consider getting into the bodyguard business. That’s some arm you’ve got.” Needless to say, had it not been for Ariana’s quick reaction, his day would have gone in a very different, most likely more painful, direction. The reminder beckoned curiosity’s head to surface through the crack’s of his apathy, and despite the strangeness of the TV, the moose, he could not erase from his memory the distinct sound of a dog’s growl.

Curiosity also prompted him to vocalise his next words, but Frank was careful with them, lest he risked sounding insane in a town known for its strangeness. “After that moose, did you, I don’t know, hear anything weird? Like a growl?” Was he suggesting that he heard the moose...growl? Perhaps. But what was the more likely event: the moose growling or Ariana growling? Then again, little ghost girls were crawling out of leaky TVs and only moments ago they were almost ran over by a rampant moose and Frank himself had a literal silver tongue and giant wings stuck to his back, Ariana growling was hardly the strangest thing that happened in that afternoon alone.

“Fair point,” Ariana responded with a laugh. A clumsy bodyguard seemed like more of a hazard than protection. At the mention of having a strong arm, she shrugged. The full moon was quickly approaching so her strength was peaking though even during the new moon she liked to think her athleticism afforded her a bit more in the way of strength. “What can I say? My natural athletic prowess surprises yet again,” she answered with a laugh. It wasn’t entirely a lie and she was tempted to just throw out the fact she was a werewolf. She was almost positive she had seen the briefest glimpse of giant ass wings on his back when he stumbled from her push. It was unlikely he’d have anything against werewolves. She was trying to have a little bit more in the way of tact regarding this kind of thing, but was pretty much failing at that. Would there really be much harm in telling him? As stoic as he was, he seemed to have a soft spot for her. Not that she could blame him. She was adorable and she knew it.

As Ariana started to lead the way toward her apartment again, Frank mentioned the growl and she stopped in her tracks. Of course he heard that. Sometimes her instincts were stronger than her common fucking sense. If she was being honest, it was probably more than sometimes. She sighed and explained, “That wasn’t the moose. You did hear a growl. That was me.” She was already most of the way there to telling him, might as well go for it. “I’m a werewolf, that happens sometimes.” And there it was. Did this give her the ground to ask if she saw wings or would he just think she was crazy? She could probably chalk it up to weird teenaged Twilight daydreams if anything else. She watched Frank carefully, looking for any sign of how he was taking that little bomb.

In summation: little ghost girls were crawling out of leaking TVs, they were almost ran over by a raging moose, flying fishes were a thing, and so was raining dog toys apparently, and Ariana was a werewolf. The truth settled over Frank like a blanket and he was unpanicked and strangely unperturbed, though either would have seemed a more conventional reaction to the news. In fairness, that tends to happen when you have a tongue that is literally silver and giant wings sticking out of your back. She could have told him that she was Irish (considering how often she was at the Irish pub), and his reaction would not have differed greatly from that he had on now: raised brows, mouth slightly parted as if wanting to say something but unsure of what, and a pensiveness had settled over his eyes as he digested this new discovery. “You are…a werewolf.”

The first time Patrick told Frank that he was a fae, and that Frank was one too, he laughed (and then punched him again, but that could also be accredited to several other factors), and though the reality of his situation seemed entirely too impossible to be logical, his father’s explanation was the only one that made sense. Frank didn’t laugh this time, but was instead preoccupied with another thought: why was she volunteering this information? He was suddenly very acutely aware of his wings, and the effort he exerted to keep them hidden—like one who was suddenly very cognizant of their own breathing, and the mechanics of that unconscious process. She did see his wings, was the first thought, followed by a question of whether he minded that she did? Was he comfortable enough to let her know of what he was, as she apparently was with her secret? Was it ever a secret? It wasn’t as if the subject came up in a lot of their conversations to begin with. “A werewolf like…Michael J. Fox, werewolf?”

The news of her being a werewolf didn’t seem to come across as too much of a shock and Ariana was grateful for that. There was definitely some processing happening, but as much was to be expected. At least he wasn’t looking at her like she had five heads or something which meant he most likely believed her. “Yes, I’m a werewolf,” she said quietly. It wasn’t a secret, but shouting it from the rooftops would likely attract hunters that weren’t as understanding as the ones she knew. If she could help it, she’d rather not be a trophy on some asshole’s wall. She wanted to follow that statement with ‘you have wings’ because she was pretty sure she’d gotten a glimpse of them, but if she was wrong, he’d really think she was insane. At the mention of being a Michael J. Fox werewolf, her features contorted in confusion and she paused for a moment. “Wait, what?” Her head tilted as she looked at him in earnest and said, “I have no idea what that means or who Michael J. Fox is. The gist of it is I become wolfy around the full moon, have a good sense of smell and strength, and really like red meat. Oh, and I guess I growl sometimes.”

Well, fuck. There’s nothing quite like making an aged reference to remind you exactly of how old you are. “Michael J. Fox...like, Teen Wolf nineteen-eighty—you know what, don’t worry about it.” Although Ariana’s general description seemed to follow, more or less, the general formula of the werewolf myth Frank was familiar with, the strangest part of all of this was not that she was a werewolf but that he felt no distance between them since the discovery. No unease, or distrust; she was still exactly the Ariana he had come to know. The same Ariana who knew exactly which buttons of his to press, and the right words to say to coax a grin or a chuckle out of him, especially when he least expected it. In fact what he did feel was something more akin to relief. She wasn’t a fae but she wasn’t entirely human either—like him. A small part of Frank was almost envious of her. She was so comfortable with herself, she knew exactly what she was, and unapologetically so. She listed her traits with the familiarity and ease of a cook listing the ingredients of a well-known dish: no judgement, no prejudice, just simple facts. The same could not be said of himself. The subject of his fae heritage had always left a bitter taste in his mouth. One Frank washed down with cheap cigarettes and even cheaper alcohol, finished with a serving of good old fashioned denial. You know, healthy things. “You didn’t have to tell me that you know,” he said, “why did you?”

No one had ever really asked Ariana that question before and it left her a bit curious. Frank definitely did not seemed bothered by her revelation or afraid of her in any way which was good. It wasn’t like she’d ever hurt him. Still, she supposed other people were a bit more tight lipped about their species than she was. The fact of the matter was that she liked Frank and she didn’t believe he’d ever do anything to hurt her. She shrugged as they rounded the corner toward her building and she answered, “I don’t know, it’s not like a big secret or anything. I mean, I don’t like broadcast it for the world to know, but given everything today, I didn’t think you’d be too shocked. Plus, pretty sure you’re not a hunter… not that hunters are automatically bad. I’m friends with a few, but still.” It dawned on her she was growing more curious about what he was so she added, “Plus, you don’t seem too shocked. Do you have like some sort of background with this stuff?”

Frank kept his eyes forward, his expression betrayed little of his thoughts, but he could not deny the sliver of ice that slid down his spine at the mention of the word. Hunters. He didn’t know why that was. He also didn’t know why he started thinking about his father. Didn’t know why the word triggered the image of him to come to the forefront of his mind, and the fear that he saw in his eyes, or perhaps most frightening: the resignation in them. Most faes were immune to things that otherwise proved fatal to humans; difficult to kill if you didn’t know what you were doing, entirely possible if you did. Hunters would. Was that what happened to Patrick? Frank had never cared to ask, and thought little of that night since, until now. Not that hunters were automatically bad, Ariana had assured him. Frank offered her a smile (it looked off, but then again, it was Frank), though he wasn’t particularly eager to go out and test that theory either. He turned his gaze back down, and for a moment their eyes met. She knows. He lets out a sigh, his fingers raked through the side of his beard, unsure of how to put together the words he struggled to say even to himself in front of a mirror. “Er…yeah, you could say something like that. I mean not werewolves, obviously, you’d be the first, but other things.”

While it was still a mystery of how Frank knew all of this, he seemed to take it relatively with stride. At least, he wasn’t any more or less stoic than he normally was. Ariana was still curious to know if her hunch was correct, but he could tell her in his own time. She knew not everyone was as comfortable sharing their species as she was. Or maybe he was human and just didn’t try to make excuses for everything weird that happened in this town. She’d sworn she saw wings for a second there, but with everything else that happened, it was hard to tell. Either way, she offered him a warm smile as they neared her building. “Well, whoever said save the best for last was wrong then,” she joked with a smirk present on her face. She took on a more serious tone and added, “I know a lot of people here who have a bit of something extra, so if you ever find yourself in trouble or anything, let me know. Even if it’s not something you can throw a werewolf at, I usually know who to ask for help.” She stopped outside the front of her building and turned to Frank. With a small gesture, she said, “This is my stop. Keep an eye out for angry moose and let me know you make it home safe, alright?”

The invitation was a door and Ariana had so graciously held it open for him. All warm smiles and not even a glimpse of a shadow to hint judgement or malice or a well to use the knowledge of what he was against him. But Frank’s history shackled his feet and he didn’t move but looked at her with feigned ignorance. He’d as good as closed the door himself and every part of him wondered why. Simply, it was not Ariana he wanted to hide the truth from but himself. So he could play grumpy bartender a little bit longer, supplying banter and alcohol to underage werewolves and deny the responsibility of his supernatural inheritance. It was fucking pathetic, he knew it, and he swallowed the truth with a smile as Ariana was delivered safely to her front door. Although that was perhaps more her doing than his. “I’m not going to ask who or how you know said persons, but I will keep that in mind. Personally, I hope that it never comes to that.” He mirrored the gesture back to her, a reluctant grin cracked across his face in a way only Ariana could force out of him, “yes ma’am. You stay out of trouble kiddo.” Somehow he knew, as soon as he said it, trouble and Ariana were never too far away from each other.

#wickedswriting #encounters of the strange kind #frank #// this was so fun and i love their dynamic #JT also sent me with that last line

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saturntamoki · 3 years

Text

Mafia-Leader's Kitten Part 2

Warning: Smut, ddlg, breeding kink, daddy kink, hybrid, gangbanging

For new readers!: Y/N; Your name

Member: Jungkook

Words: 1171

Notes: Yes; So I'm going to start suggestions and songs for any readers who are looking for a song that they might like!

Suggestion Song: Lemaitre; Closer

Edited: Yes;

Requested: No; Make sure you comment a request!!!

Mafia's Kitten Part 2...

Crying and kicking on the floor, you desperately try to get up. You didn't know what was going on, but Jungkook sure did. You were about to give birth! Kicking and screaming in pain, you feel your water break.

"Hey, hey!" Jungkook yelled, his crew coming over and petting your head. "Stop kicking baby, just push..." He tried to calm you down.

* * JUNGKOOK POV * *

I lightly push on her stomach as she wails in pain. I never want to see my poor little kitten in pain, only when she's fine and I know she is.

"Hey baby, they're almost out!" I continued, "Just give this a huge push." I lifted her tail so that the baby kittens would come out easier. I hear a squeaky wail come from her and the fourth kitten is out. Smiling sweetly I hand the baby kittens to my men for them to take care of. "Want me to stuff you up tomorrow?" She nodded her head yes and squealed. Even though her disappointment struck me like lightning, I still denied her request. Her pleases and whines scratched my ears like an un-rosined bow striking an un-played violin. It hurt me, and her cries didn't sound good either.

* * Y/N * *

I crawled back to my little bed on the floor, all I want is daddy. But he can only stuff my pussy up tomorrow! And it's not fair, so what if I got one of his men to?

"Daddy, can I go see Jimin?" I tried my best to look innocent so he wouldn't think anything of it. But Jimin and the others and I already made our perfect plans. "Please?" I pouted.

"Okay, okay, just be careful though." I nodded my head at daddy and crawled out the kitchen door. Jimin picked me up and hugged me, making me squeal in excitement. It wasn't just excitement about Jimin, but the other 5 boys in the room. Jimin gently put me down and motioned me over to Taehyung, also one of daddy's men.

* * JIMIN POV * *

I watched as she followed my motions over to Taehyung with his cock out, we didn't really care that she just gave birth a couple of hours ago. We are ready to fuck her and we're ready to fuck her now. Taehyung pointed his cock at kitten's lips and gently rubbed them with his cock.

"Kitten, open your lips and suck my big cock..." He smiled sweetly at her, as she opened her mouth I gently sneaked up behind her. I lift her pink skirt up to see her light pink pussy, gosh, it's so small... Wouldn't this be painful? I asked myself in my head. I softly rub her little pastel red folds before pushing in as slow as possible. She started to gasp and pant uncontrollably around Taehyung's cock. To calm her down, I timidly rub her clit. It didn't work much, but at least it made her tighten less than before. I pump in making her scream and vibrate Taehyung's cock like crazy.

"Yah, be careful with her..." I heard Jin say behind me, I felt bad but if I went fast the pain would go away! Right? "Her hole is too small, you should stretch it out more before fucking her." Jin scolded me for fucking my boss's kitten. MY boss's kitten, sorry let me say it again... MY BOSS'S KITTEN. There, let that get through your head.

"Ugh, she'll stretch out this way. She's fine!" I complain.

* * YOONGI POV * *

Walking in on something like this is crazy, but seeing Y/N gag and scream in pain around Taehyung's cock... Well, there's something you don't see everyday. Jimin was spanking and thrusting into Y/N's hole. I could tell she was in pain from how small she was, must've had a big impact on her. Jin was the only funny part about this, crossing his arms and staring down at boss's kitten getting ripped apart.

"Hey Namjoon, look at her tiny hole getting destroyed by my cock!" Jimin thrusted in faster, Y/N letting out mewls of pain and confusion. She was just a baby, didn't know what was going on! I pet her head as the others do their jobs. "I'm gonna stuff her up with all my cum! Gonna make her so pretty and pregnant." The others complimented the poor girl for her tiny pussy, and as much as I felt bad... it was kind of hot. It wasn't hot seeing her suffer, but seeing the boys make her suffer was hot. Taehyung let go of her and let her breathe, tears were streaming down her face as she bawled her eyes out. I hugged her tightly and shushed her, only to have Namjoon rip her away from me.

"My turn to rip her pussy apart!" Before Namjoon could finish his sentence I hear Y/N mewl and scream from the pace he was setting. I quickly pull her away from him, her breathing finally catching up to her.

"Let's both fuck her, Jimin, you, and I." I smirked looking down at her scared eyes. I gently placed her on top of me and slipped my cock into her ass hole. She screamed and cried, this alarmed me that this was her first anal! And I was taking it instead of our dirty boss! This is awesome! Namjoon slipped his big-enough-cock, her squeal pleasing our hunger for lust. Jimin slowly but roughly slipped his cock in the same hole Namjoon was in, her eyes widening in pure pain. "Wow, can you fit three cock in you?" I hug her from behind, hoping it'll detract her from the three cocks ripping and tearing her holes apart. "You're very very tight kitten!" She responds with a mewl making me giggle and chuckle. All of a sudden I hear the door open and all three of us stop our thrusts.

* * JUNGKOOK POV * *

I heard my baby girl whining and crying, so I walk through the door to see Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jimin all inside her at once. I widen my eyes seeing her bloody stretched out holes, panting and eyes full of anger I tear them apart from my baby.

"Are you okay Kitten?!?!?" I see her shake and whine in fear and confusion, I feel bad when she looks back at the boys and their bloody cocks. She shakes and trembles in my arms, god knows what I'm about to do to the 6 other men standing in front of me...

Ending Notes: No;

Started: 2/5/21

Finished: 2/7/21 (damn i work hard!)

#bts fanfiction jungkook #jungkook smut fanfiction

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vanchlo · 4 years

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The Assistant / Chapter Thirty One, “Timing”

Find all chapters to this story here!

Check out the character survey from Becky’s POV I did recently! :-)

Warnings: Very brief mention of IVs (needles)

Song Inspo: My My Love by Joshua Radin (Click to listen)

Sneaky Peeeeeeeeeky!

“A spark ignites on my cheek, almost like a tickle. And when I look over, his eyes are glued to me. The tip of his calloused finger brushes a ghost of a touch under my eye. “I neva knew ya hadda scar there,” he murmurs, running the tip of his finger over the oblong light brown shape.

“I-It’s not a scar,” I say quickly, but at the same time, at a loss for words. He’s so close his breath smelling of chamomile tea passes by me within a second. And God, those pouty strawberry lips are so decadent, and tempting. “It’s a birthmark. I usually cover it up with makeup, that’s probably why you’ve never seen it.” Finished, I turn my head back to the telly, his finger dropping from the barely one inch mark.

“Wha’? Why d’ya do that? ‘s lovely.” As much as I try to drown my thoughts in the scene unraveling before my eyes, I can’t. Because his words, and the tingling under my eye consume my thoughts. The devil and angel inside my head bounce up and down in their seats.”

“No. W-what are you doing here?” I stutter, unable to control my words. Or my thoughts. Or my emotions.

At the drop of my words, Harry’s face falls. His eyebrows. The budding smile on his lips. And the brightness in his eyes. But he masks it quickly. And it escapes my mind when he crosses the distance between us. His black slacks, teal geometric-patterned button down, and curls are a blur in the seconds that follow. Suddenly, his arms are around me and pulling me into him. With sleep still clinging to my mind, and unsure of what to do, I freeze.

“Please don’t tell me you left work to drive 3 hours to come to Madley,” I confess quietly into the damp shoulder of his black peacoat. Shivering, his fingers run trails up and down my back.

“Shuddup, I ‘ave a case t’morrow nearby in Wolverhampton . . . Jus’ lemme do sumthin’ nice fer ya,” he says, his soft words drifting over the top of my head.

“I-I’m sorry. I just woke up and you caught me off guard,” I apologize meekly, feeling myself relax. My arms wind around his waist and lace themselves together over his coat.

“‘s okay,” he hums. His hands pause and I feel them brush my hair away. “I know ya hadda rough night- well couple o’ days,” Harry murmurs, his lips brushing against my hair. My lungs still and I wait, wondering if he’ll kiss my head. But it doesn’t come, and I try to will away the disappointment beginning inside of me. I’ve become so accustomed to it that it doesn’t want to leave this time. Then it’s joined by the happy disbelief appearing wet in my eyes.

“Couldn’ stop thinkin’ ‘bout ya, an’ figured I had t’ come up ‘ere t’morow mornin’ anyways. Wha’s an extra night hurt?” The first few words do it for me, and there I am spewing tears all over his shoulder. They’re not a waterfall, but the emotions growing inside of me feel that way. And they’re here, because he is.

He holds me tighter against him, and I feel his cheek rest on my head. Holding on tight to his coat, I let myself and everything I’m feeling melt against him. “You don’t know what it means to me that you’re here,” I confess in a trembling voice interrupted by sniffling.

“I think I do do, ‘coz you were there fer me tha day o’ tha funeral when I needed a friend. An’ at tha hospital. Ya showed up fer me, Becks, an’ I wanted t’ do tha same fer ya,” Harry reveals softly from above me. My lips bend into a happy smile amongst the tears that come harder at his words. “I brought dinna, ‘cuz I knew ya prolly hadn’t eaten. ‘s luck that I found ya atta vendin’ machine.”

His precious laugh greets my ears as his fingers tickle up my back. The bunches of fabric leave my hands, and I step away to search for those green eyes. After a few seconds, I find them staring down at me. They’re blurry behind the tears, but soon his smiling face sharpens.

“No mo’ tears, ‘kay? Le’s go eat some dinna an’ find sumthin’ good on tha telly,” Harry whispers, running the pad of his thumb along my cheeks. Nodding, his hand envelopes mine and we go to find a sitting area.

The halls are deserted besides a few nurses checking in on patients. Familiar medical-sounding beeps sound throughout the hallway. After guiding the way for Harry as I wipe my cheeks, we soon find our dining table. Or rather a sofa with a little table.

“I hope fish an’ chips ‘s alright,” he says, doubt filling his words.

“Of course they are. Did you get them from Maggie’s over on Fifth?”

“Yeah, I think so. Li’l shop with photos coverin’ tha walls?” he questions as he unpacks the brown paper bag.

“Yep, that’s the one. They make the best fish and chips I’ve had. And I would know, because I grew up eating these ones my entire life.”

“Well I guess ya would know then,” Harry relents, shrugging his shoulders with a toothy smile.

Whispered ‘thank yous’ float between us as we pass each other food and napkins. With two cups of water from the cooler a few steps away, we dig in.

“No kiddin’, these are good. ‘s always tha family owned shops that make tha best ones, innit?” Harry mumbles with a mouth full of food. I reply with an ‘mmmhmm’, trying not to laugh at the crumbs speckling his chin.

The crispy, buttery cod melts on my tongue. With my free hand, I grab hold of the gray remote sitting on the table beside me.

“Hey, ‘s my turn t’ pick what we watch,” Harry whines, stealing the remote from me.

“Rude!” I retort, but any words I had left to say collapse into laughter. Licking his thumb, he peeks over at me. A sly grin stuck to his lips.

Shaking my head, I look away and pick up a chip from the paper tray in my hand. When my eyes return to him, a ketchup-covered chip sits in his hand. Meanwhile, his face is screwed up in concentration at the telly. I smile, and then notice his reflection in the dark window on the other side of him. Kicking his foot with my right, he turns to the left to look at me in confusion.

“Just pick something!” I tell him, my palm turning up to help me talk. His dark curls dance atop his head as it goes from side to side.

“Oh hush, you. Cantcha letta man think?” he quips before feeding the chip past his cherry lips.

“No, not when it takes you an hour to pick what to watch,” I reply, yanking it from his hands.

“Heeeey! I was jus’ gonna pick that episode o’ Friends!”

“Wait, you like Friends?!” I nearly yell, my head snapping to look at him.

“O’course! Who doesn’t? I grew up watchin’ that show with me mum an’ sista,” he answers. With those words, my heart does a somersault in my chest. Oh my fuck, I’m falling again. “Wha’? Do ya not like it?”

“No, I-I love it. I grew up watching it, too. It’s like my comfort show - I watch it when I’m happy, sad, mad, excited- you name it,” I reply slowly, engrossed in gathering ketchup onto my chip. When I hear his murmured ‘me too’ from a mouth full of food, the devil and angel inside of me go crazy. For once, they seem to root for the same team.

“Favourite characta?” his words greet the air effortlessly. He licks the salt and grease from his thumb, and I suddenly regret looking up. The things you do to me, Styles.

“On the count of 3?” I ask, and his chestnut ringlets bounce with a nod.

“1 . . . 2 . . . 3.”

“Phoebe!” we both say in unison, sending us into fits of giggles.

“There’s nuthin’ betta than her on dat show. She’s hilarious, plays guitar, ‘s a surrogate fer her bloody brotha, an’ ‘s gorgeous,” Harry explains, and I’m following with every word. And with each one, I feel the butterflies in my tummy flutter again. For possibly the tenth time already tonight.

“All of the great jokes and catchphrases from the show are from her: Regina Phalange, Smelly Cat, Princess Consuela Banana Hammock, ‘I don’t even have a pla’, Gladys the framed doll, and that stupid taxi. She’s blunt and so funny, but she’s so sweet and would do anything for her friends,” I continue, watching him nod emphatically as he picks up another chip.

“Couldn’ ‘ave said it betta meself. Oh I love dis episode where they’re stuck at tha beach house. Poor Phoebs findin’ out tha truth ‘bout her mum dat way, tho’,” Harry comments, his mouth falling into a delighted and then sad O. My eyes follow his to the screen of the telly where our attention is held for the next twenty minutes.

My shoes only stop squeaking when I stop in front of the garbage bin. After tossing the greasy paper bag, I rub a pump of hand sanitizer into my hands. I wince at the awful sounds my shoes make as I try to walk quietly down the tiled hallway. The snoring greets my ears before I see him, but when I do, I smile. With careful steps, I pluck my backpack from the couch before leaving the room.

“He still sleepin’?” Harry asks, looking up from the Friends marathon from the telly. We scored!

“Yep,” I answer, plopping down onto the sofa beside him.

“Good,” he answers, slumping down further into the gray cushions. My backpack drops with a thud to the floor after I got what I needed. “What’re ya doin’? ‘s eleven-thirty, love. Tha’s no time t’ be doin’ homework.”

“I know, but I need to submit an assignment before I forget. It’s due at midnight,” I answer, seeing his nod out of the corner of my eye.

My laptop wakes with its usual jingle, and I watch my browser load. The audience laughter fills my ears at a humorous line from Chandler. Surprise, surprise. The maroon and navy blue colors of my uni’s website appear in front of me. Within a few moments, I’m on the web page for my course.

“Wha’s tha assignment?” Harry inquires, his eyes never leaving the telly. A laugh creases his cheeks, making me smile. But I’m not very sad I missed what’s so funny, because he makes up for it.

“Um, it’s an essay about Thomas Cromwell and his theories and stuff,” I reply, opening the page for assignments.

“Ah, I see they ‘aven’t changed coursework much from my day. Cromwell ‘s bloody obvious when ya start talkin’ ‘bout British law.”

“I know, it’s like the professor didn’t even try when drafting this assignment,” I comment with a small titter. Relief washes over me when I get a message saying my submission was successful. And something else too from being able to talk to him about law so easily. Something akin to how a hot chocolate makes you feel on a winter’s day.

I glance up and find Harry losing it with laughter. There’s a fleeting temptation to ask him to clue me in. But a laugh tingles on my lips when I find what he’s laughing at. Monica’s crying as she holds onto Chandler’s arm, an ocean scene in the background.

“Can’ believe Joey actually peed on Monica.” The words leave Harry’s mouth in between chuckles rather sloppily.

“He was just trying to help!” I comment, unable to stop laughing either.

“But it doesn’t even help! They say it makes it worse even,” he laughs, rubbing his forehead.

Shaking my head, my eyes fall to my laptop screen. After a few clicks, lines of text cloud my eyes. My eyes roll into the back of my head at their appearance. I find it nearly impossible to hold back a groan.

“What’re you gripin’ ‘bout ova here?” Harry questions with teasing in his tone.

“I have to read the entire case of Haughton v. Smith for a test, and it’s so confusing. I mean, working with you brushed me up on a lot of legal mumbo jumbo. But still, a lot of it doesn’t make sense to me,” I huff, my chin falling into the palm of my hand.

“Alright, lemme see what part yer at,” he says in a quiet voice. I try to ignore the regret budding inside of me at what I said about working at his firm. And how it makes me feel, and probably him, too. I don’t know why I ever bring it up, because sometimes it feels like when somebody else brings up the ex-boyfriend, or something. The sofa cushion dips as he closes the space between us. The angel and demon inside of me erupt into synonymous cheers when his arm goes around me.

“God, did you forget your glasses or something, Grandpa?” my question sputters from my lips in a cackle, watching him squint at the screen.

“Oh shuddup, an’ I mean it,” Harry quips, looking away for a moment. When I see the reason why, instead of a laugh consuming my thoughts, something else does. For some fucking reason, my heart warms at the sight of him unfolding a pair of mottled brown Pantos glasses. He tucks the brown case into the inside of his blazer, his peacoat on a chair. “Ya ya, laugh all ya want at me an’ me readin’ glasses.”

But when he looks down at me with them settled on his nose, I don’t laugh. “Why aren’t ya laughin’ anymo’, hmm?” he questions.

“I think they look really nice on you. They make you look handsome and sophisticated,” I tell him slowly, and it’s undeniable the pink that pinches his cheeks.

“Well ‘s ‘bout time fer dat t’ happen, only took me twenty-nine years,” he jokes, bringing a smile to my lips. My head goes from side to side as I close my eyes, my cheeks bunching from happiness painting my lips. Yeah, it’s about time for a lot of things right about now. “Alrigh’, lemme look what part yer at fer real now.”

I nod, trying to get comfortable on the sofa. Pitching my head back, I feel it bump into his arm. Nevermind my fucked neck, I return my eyes to the screen to try and forget that his arm is around me. But they immediately refuse and slowly trail to Harry, his face mere inches away from mine.

Okay, no, stop thinking about his lips and what they could do, I tell the demon inside of my head.

Becky, you could. You so know you could do it.

Shut up! He’s just helping me with my homework, that’s all this is.

Oh yeah? And when are you going to let yourself think about the real reason he’s here, huh?

I can’t do that right now.

Yes, you can! Maybe if you think about it, you’ll realize how good of an idea it would be to let yourself kiss him. I’m sure he’s thinking about it too.

Just stop!

His thumb and forefinger knead his bottom lip. It bunches together in little waves as his eyes flit across the screen. Whiskers the shade of his curls are scattered across his face. They’re dense atop his upper lip and around his chin. And God, I can’t stop thinking about them. Wanting to touch them. Feel them on my face- okay stop it, Becky.

“Well yer mostly at tha end, so wha’ doesn’t make sense t’ ya?” Harry finally says, turning his head ever so slightly to look at me.

“I know, but I feel like I don’t know what I just read. And the verdict is contradicting to me,” I answer with a shrug of my shoulders.

“Well maybe it’d make more sense t’ ya if ya weren’t lookin’ at it at almos’ midnigh’, love.”

“Yeah, well it’s kind of the only time I have lately with everything. I’m afraid to email my prof again saying I need an extension when it’s due tomorrow. I’ve needed a lot of them lately. I just wanna get it done,” I respond quietly, looking to the telly awkwardly. It’s always hard when the truth comes out, and the emotions that hang on to it.

A spark ignites on my cheek, almost like a tickle. And when I look over, his eyes are glued to me. The tip of his calloused finger brushes a ghost of a touch under my left eye. “I neva knew ya hadda scar there,” he murmurs, running the tip of his finger over the oblong light brown shape.

“Kids used to make fun of it when I was little. They’d call it a worm under my eye, because of its shape. It used to be more pronounced and bigger when I was little, but it’s still pretty noticeable,” I answer, adding in an eye roll that he laughs at.

“Aww, poor Becks. But if it counts, I don’ think it looks like a worm. ‘s cute on you,” he adds seriously, pinching my cheek. That makes me look over at him, and I already know that I’m blushing.

A small ‘thanks’ leaves my lips before my eyes dip to my laptop. Close to a minute of silence grows between us before he breaks it. “‘Kay, so Haughton vs. Smith found that ya can’t commit tha crime o’ handlin’ stolen goods, if tha goods they’re talkin’ ‘bout weren’t actually stolen. ‘s an important case t’ know, cuz it was ‘ventually ovaturned by tha Criminal Attempts Act o’ ‘81. Ya’ll neva be able t’ forget tha connection between tha two, issa given. Ya don’ need t’ worry ‘bout that law now tho’, they basically mean tha same thing.”

“Thanks for explaining it, I hope it’s enough to help me pass the test on it,” I reply, crossing my arms over my chest stubbornly.

“Open tha test, an’ ‘ll help ya with it.”

The second my eyes land on Joey’s body covered in sand on the telly, they whip back to Harry. “Really, you’d help me?”

“‘Course I would. Tha’s what ‘m here fer. An’ it wouldn’t hurt t’ see if I still got it.”

“You’ve been a lawyer for years, and this is pre-law, so of course you do. And not to mention, ranked as one of the best in London,” I reply smiling, clicking open a new tab. I suspect how my words will make him feel, because they fill me with the same emotions. Pride. Happiness. Astonishment. And more pride.

“Well, I do me best,” Harry titters proudly. A cocky hum leaves his lips as he brushes off his chest. A laugh sputters from my lips that I can’t contain. “Heeeey, don’ be laughin’ at me.”

“Sorry, I just can’t control myself when you start dropping dad jokes,” I respond nonchalantly, clicking on the tab labeled ‘Assessments.’

“Just pull tha bloody test up an’ le’s get it ova with,” he huffs, amusement still lacing through his words.

“Awww, is it past your bedtime already?” I pout, turning my eyes to him. His lips smush together and I hear the smallest of squeaks get past them. “You know you like my grandpa jokes, don’t lie.”

“Shuddup, li’l one, an’ open tha goddamn test already,” he huffs. If anybody else heard him, they’d think he was mad at me. But even as my eyes cast over the column of tests from this course, I know different. I can hear it in his voice - the joking, the molasses, the affectionate teasing, and the friendship.

Wow, nice choice of words there, Ms. Denial.

Shut up, devil.

“I am not little!” I retort in a high voice, making my two tabs appear as two windows on my screen. Side by side. Cheating time!

“Becks, yer like 5’5, if that.”

“No, I’m not! I’m 5’6, you liar!”

“Ya, cuz that one lousy inch really does a whole lot, doesn’t it?” Harry counters, his voice melting into a goofy one. I respond to it with a hearty laugh that is soon accompanied by his. “Yer still a li’l one t’ me, love.”

“Fine, Grandpa Harry.”

The annoying sound of a laugh track pricks at my ears. Blinking hard, the room around me is blurry. But after a groggy minute of blinking, it begins to sharpen. I don’t remember the lights getting turned off, but the telly screen burns my eyes. Rubbing them, I moan from tiredness. Dropping my arm, I feel it hit something. Looking down, I’m confused. When I lift my head from whatever it was resting on, I find what I was laying on. And well, what was also laying on me. Still is. Her face scrunches adorably before relaxing, nuzzling her head against my shoulder once more.

Becks.

After combing my hair off of my forehead, the lock screen of my phone wakes me up a little more. Especially when I see that it reads 1:18 am. Fuck, I need to get to my hotel and go to bed. I have my case tomorrow. But when I hear a noise and find the culprit, all of those thoughts wash away. An incoherent sound runs off of her lips, ones that are so close to me. Fuck, again. But when my eyes scan the rest of my body, I realize that she’s all over me. Well, almost. Her right hand rests on my chest as she leans against the back of the sofa. But her pretty little head of dark hair is laying on my shoulder. My arm is around her, holding her close to me. I can feel her other arm tickling my side.

Memories float to the surface, and suddenly I’m back at the hospital in London. In December. A phone call woke me from my slumber beside her on the sofa. The both of us curled up on opposite sides. Sleep clinging to my eyes and begging to me to return to it. Her shoulders rising with every soft snore, but it was the most daintiest one I’d ever heard. It felt like my heart was being squeezed tighter with every move I made to leave her. When I draped the second blanket over her. And how much it hurt to move the hair off of her face. To press a kiss to her unknowing head. But nothing compared to the anguish I felt grow with every step I put between us.

Blinking hard, the dark room materializes around me again. Her precious snores welcome my return to the moment. A smile brings my lips upwards as I watch a crease grow between her eyebrows. She’s too goddamn adorable. And that’s why I came, isn’t it? Because no matter how hard I try, I can’t resist her. I can’t say no to Becky. When she called me crying and a mess worrying about her dad, I didn’t know what I was doing until I was putting the town of Madley into my GPS. I guess The Beatles were right with that one song, and plenty of others. She’s really got a hold on me. And before I could begin to stop myself, her skin is like velvet under my thumb. I rub the crease away with the pad of it, and suddenly my head dips. My lips barely brush her hair when she groans below me.

“Harry?” she murmurs, lifting her head from my shoulder.

“Hi, sleepyhead.”

She yawns, moving away to look around sleepily. But soon she returns back to my arms, cozying up to me once more. And I couldn’t be more thankful, or conflicted. The latter word drills into my mind as I rub a hand down her back, sleep trying to coax me back in, too.

“We fell asleep,” she mumbles, her honey voice coated in that very word. Fuck, does it make me feel things. Things that I’d much rather not.

“Yeah, ‘s one in tha mornin’.”

“Shitttt,” she sighs, sitting up fast. Her growing locks pour over her shoulders covered by a crewneck jumper. Faded pictures of balls from different sports are scattered across the heather gray fabric. Like something my dad wore when I was a tot. “You have your case tomorrow.”

“‘m fine, I already dropped me stuff off at tha hotel an’ got me key,” I tell her, missing the warmth of her against me. And I miss the fact in those words alone of what I’m missing. Her in my arms. “But ya should prolly get sum sleep, too. Seems like ya’ve been missin’ it lately.”

“I’m okay, just lots of homework,” Becky says, running her long fingers through her wavy hair.

“‘d offa me hotel room, but ‘s half an hour ‘way in Wolverhampton. An’ there’s only tha one bed,” I tell her, unsure of why. I blame it on the sleepy brain.

“Thanks, but I’m okay. I’ll just sleep on the couch in his room. It’s not too bad once you get used to it,” she assures me. Her arms crack as she stretches them toward the ceiling. I can’t help myself when the baggy jumper rides up, exposing the slightest of her milky white tummy. Fuck. But just like that, it’s gone in a flash. If only my feelings worked that way.

It’s like she has some sixth sense that I’m thinking about her, because her eyes cast over to me. It’s hard to make out their ocean blue in this dark, but I know they’re there. I can picture them if I need to, because I do it all the time - trying to make myself remember what they look like. The exact shade. The speckles of darker blue amongst the color.

“Yer welcome,” I return. The tired smile I get in return melts my insides like butter. But that’s how I feel when I’m around her, and that’s how much of a hold she’s got on me.

Shocks of electricity dance across the back of my hand. I don’t need to look down to know her hand is on top of mine. And how it’s making me go crazy. She’s only a few inches away. I could do it. Before I stop myself, I begin to lean in, and she watches me do it. But with only a few seconds left, we jump apart at the sound of a ringtone.

Embarrassment covers me like a dark cloud, among other nasty emotions. My head falls, hiding the heat rising to my cheeks. Pulling out my phone to distract myself, it doesn’t do that great of a job as I hear her talk to somebody on the phone. Dammit, I was so close. With a hand in my hair, I scroll through emails. Deleting some and saving others.

“Sorry, that was Robbie. Just checking in, since I forgot to update him, I guess,” Becky tells me, lifting my head with her voice.

My head only goes up and down, avoiding eye contact. Because I can’t muster it after what just happened, or what didn’t.

“‘s late, ya should get sum rest,” I announce, getting to my feet. Picking up my coat, I slip it on before I dare to look at her.

She smiles shyly at me, sleep hanging around her eyes. Even rubbing her nose with the sleeve of her jumper is precious. And her legs jittering in her faded blue jeans. Vans the shade of her favorite color donning her feet.

“Yeah, you too,” is all she has to say.

Suddenly, I don’t know what to do. For a mere second, I entertain the thought of trying again. But fuck it, she’s so far away right now, figuratively and literally. I can catch a hint of her scent sticking to me, and it makes me sad to realize.

“Go get sum sleep, ‘kay?” Are the only words I can think of as I walk up to her and pat her arm.

“Yeah, you too, Harry. Careful driving.”

“Thanks, Becks, I will. Sweet dreams, love,” I mutter, looking at her over my shoulder.

And I keep walking, and leave her behind. Regrets coursing through my ears, and emotions tugging at my seams. The tiredness coating my every thought and action, only make it all the worse. I’m not sure if I want to wake up more for the car drive to the hotel, because then it will all feel even more real. And discouraging.

“Harry?” stopping in my tracks, I hear her call my name. Spinning around, I feel her before I see her. Her arms surround around my waist and her head comes to lay against my chest. All within seconds. “Thank you . . . for coming.”

A pain sounds in my chest when I hear the emotion in her voice. And it takes all of me to not echo it, because I know I could. And that I would. Instead I say, “Yer welcome, Becks,” and I do at least one thing I wanted to do tonight. Dipping my head, I smooth down her hair and press my lips to her hair for more than a few seconds.

The sweet smell of orange blossom greets me, and my smile is havoced by pain. Her warm breaths tickle the skin at my neck as my hands lace together at the small of her back. Her arms squeeze me around the middle before releasing, and she lets go of me. I think about trying again, but the thought is fleeting when she begins to walk away from me.

And I let her do it. Once again.

The burbling of the running water fills my ears. Well, besides the sound of the football match. Surprise, surprise. And the next sound. His cheering. It makes me smile as I wipe my hands with a paper towel.

“What’s the score now?” I ask, walking back into the room. His eyes don’t go to me at the question, instead they remain on the screen.

“Six-two. It doesn’t look too good for ‘em,” my dad replies snarkily, a devilish glint in his eyes. But it’s there, and that’s all that matters. It’s what makes the smile stick to my face.

“Don’t let your food get cold,” I say, bending over to dig into my backpack.

“I’m done eating. You can have the rest, Ree,” he replies just as I feel the smooth handle I’m searching for.

“I’m okay, thanks. I was probably going to check out the special in the cafe.”

“Oh so only I have to eat the hospital food?” my dad whines, pouting at me when I look at him.

With a laugh, I remark, “I’m eating their food in the cafe too, you dork.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Sorry, chemo brain,” he replies, tapping a finger against his head. A striped green hat keeping it warm. His arm returns to the white blanket pulled up to his waist. Light shines in his eyes and his arms lift into the air when they make yet another goal.

Whoops and hollers leave his chapped lips. But this morning, they’re pinker. And so is his skin. If only in the slightest, I notice them. Running the brush through my knotted hair, I yawn as I watch him. A patterned hospital gown covers his upper half, with the sleeves just coming to above the IVs in his left arm. Fluids and meds. The antibiotics. Yippee.

But the thoughts are mulled over when I look to his plate sitting on the moveable tray beside him. It was scrambled eggs, toast, applesauce, and milk this morning. And he ate nearly half of it, even if it took about half an hour. But I want to blame part of that on the football match his eyes are stuck to.

“I’m going to see if I can find your doctor. I had a question,” I tell him, dropping my hairbrush back into my backpack.

“Ree, don’t worry about it. He’ll come by later,” my dad insists, but I stand from my chair regardless of his answer.

“It’s fine. I need to stretch my legs anyways.”

He hums a reply I can’t decode, but I hear his teasing about blocking the telly when I walk by. Over my shoulder, he flashes me a small smile before returning to yelling lazily at the referees. Nurses and doctors pass me, going to and from rooms to the nearby nurse’s station. Tucking a strand of wet hair behind my ear, I search for the shock of white hair of my dad’s doctor.

But no such luck.

As I approach the nurse’s station, sounds of beeping, call lights, and murmuring voices fill the air. But another sound stands out from the rest. And I hear my name, or well my last name. It takes me a second to locate where it’s coming from, but when I do there’s a flutter in my chest. And I know I’m in trouble, or maybe that I’m just realizing it now after all of this time.

But I don’t save him right away, and instead I observe. Confusion sews his eyebrows together over those misty green eyes. One lone curl tickles his forehead, breaking free from his damp hair. His black peacoat is draped over his arm clad in a warm violet blazer. A dusty rose button down peeks out from its collar, and I smile. I don’t even know why. But as the seconds tick by watching him talk to the nurse, I think I know why.

“Looking for me, Styles?” I pipe up, stepping forward with my hands hidden away in my hoodie.

Harry’s eyes fall from the nurse and pan over to me. A lazy smile works its way onto his face quickly, only interrupted to thank the nurse.

“Mornin’, sleepyhead,” he murmurs, turning to walk towards me.

“What are you doing here? You have your case today, you said,” I respond, playing with the sleeve of my black hoodie. The cracked decal of Robbie’s old band covers the front.

“Came t’ bring ya out t’ brekky. Me case doesn’t start ‘til tha aftanoon, bug,” he responds with half of a smile, pinching my arm affectionately. And there’s that nickname, again, I think as my insides turn to mush. “Well jus’ down t’ tha cafe if tha’s alright. I saw sumthin’ ‘bout biscuits ‘n gravy, an’ sumthin’ smelled mighty delicious when I came in.”

“That sounds great,” I say, a smile inching its way up my lips. The wet ends of my hair knock against each other, and my chin. “I’ll just let my dad know,” I tell him, turning around to walk away.

But after only a few steps, a sudden thought brings me to halt. It wills my feet to turn around and look at Harry. “Would you like to meet him?” I ask tentatively in a meek voice. “He’s doing a little better this morning, but I think that’s thanks to the Arsenal match on the telly.”

With what appears to be a shaky smile, he replies, “‘d love t’. Hope ‘s not me Manchester United boys playin’ ‘gainst ‘em.”

Waving a hand towards me, he closes the distance between us. His leather boots squeak from the last bits of melting April snow. It’s only a few moments before I peek my head into his room, and low and behold, he’s still transfixed by the match.

Rapping my knuckle against the door, I get his attention before saying, “Hey, can I steal you away from your precious game for a few? There’s a friend of mine I’d like you to meet.”

“Yeah, sure,” he responds, adjusting his blankets before the telly’s volume falls. Over my shoulder, I shoot Harry an encouraging smile. He returns it, but I can see the nerves showing through.

Pushing open the door fully, I walk in and he follows from behind.

“Dad, this is Harry Styles. My uh, former boss I’ve told you about,” I fumble for words, giving a magician-like wave to him. Well, the right words. “He stopped by last night and brought me dinner. He has a case today in Wolverhampton, and we’re going to get breakfast downstairs before.”

A weary smile curls at the corners of my dad’s lips. Nodding, his dusty pink lips part, “Ah, so this is the fella you were with until all hours last night,” he jests, pulling nervous laughter into the air. “Yes, it’s about time we met. I’ve heard a lot about you, son. Thanks for everything you’ve done for Becky, and for your well wishes. It’s meant a whole damn lot to me, and I know for her too.”

Okay, dad, let’s not board the emotional bus yet. Or maybe, ever.

Happy laughs float around the room as Harry steps forward, rubbing hand sanitizer into his hands. “‘s a pleasure t’ meet ya as well, sir,” he rasps, reaching out to shake my dad’s hand firmly.

“Call me Chuck, Harry. I’m not that old yet, although sometimes it feels that way,” my dad jokes, widening the smiles on all of our faces.

“Yes, ‘course, Chuck. I’ve also heard loads ‘bout ya, all good things, so no worries. Ya’ve been in me prayers an’ thoughts ova tha last 7 months. Sure raised a great daughter, ya should know.”

A permanent smile warms my cheeks as I shyly look over to Harry. He meets my eyes and smiles back at me. Winking, he shove his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Thank you, son. That’s mighty good to hear, although I’m not too sure about that son of mine sometimes,” he laughs, soon getting a scoff from me.

“Oh I mean Robbie, too. I’ve only met tha bloke once or twice, but I was impressed. Certainly since I was surprised t’ find out Becky hadda twin,” Harry comments, his eyes burning a hole into my cheek.

“Yes, I think I’ve heard that story. Their mother and I were pretty surprised to find there was two, also,” he chuckles. “But Ree likes to do that sometimes.”

Shaking my head, I look away and to the Spring sunshine. It seeps in through the cracks in between the window shades. Their soft laughs fill my ears before Harry’s voice does again.

“Yeah she’s a spitfire, alright,” he comments, and finally I meet his smirking eyes before they return to my dad. “But ‘m glad t’ hear yer doin’ a bit betta. Hopefully they can get a good handle on dis soon, an’ you lot can go home.”

“Thank you. We hope so too,” my dad nods, running his thumb along the buttons of the tv remote. “I truly appreciate you taking the time to be here with Becky . . I know it means more than words to her.”

Looking away to the floor, his words find the chink in my armor. I feel the lump rise in my throat along with memories of last night. Luckily, the tears stay away and I get away with it.

“‘Course, ‘m glad I was able t’ come an’ be with her. Dunno if she told ya, but she was there fer me when my grandad was in tha hospital befo’ he passed. An’ well, I know how much it means t’ ‘ave sumbody there,” Harry murmurs, almost giving a reason for the tears to make an appearance. But they don’t, and I’m repeating ‘thank yous’ inside of my head.

“I’m pretty proud of my little Rebecca Ann, and it only grows more every day,” my dad comments, flitting his eyes over to me. His words make my cheeks tingle with a new blush and because I know another pair are on me, too.

“Yeah, she makes it ratha easy,” Harry agrees softly, pulling my attention to him. The gentlest smile sits atop his lips, and a sad sweetness twinkles in his eyes.

“Well, we’ll let you get back to your match. We’re going to grab breakfast before everybody else gets the same idea,” I pipe in, unsure of when and how to sever the moment. But the look in Harry’s eyes does something to me, and I don’t know what to do with it.

We exchange short goodbyes before I’m following Harry out of the room. The rising volume of the football announcers voices send us on our way.

“Rebecca Ann, huh?” Harry smiles beside me, the nurse’s station in our rearview mirrors.

“Go ahead and make jokes about it. It doesn’t even sound like my name, I don’t know. I’ve only ever went by that for forms, when I got in trouble, or like on the first day of school and graduation. And the Ann is just my middle name, I don’t have a two parter,” I explain hurriedly, surprising myself when I don’t hear one of his delightful giggles. Tearing my eyes away from the poster at the end of the hallway, I look to him. And he isn’t laughing, which confuses me.

“There’s no jokes t’ be had. I think ‘s pretty, yer name. Figured ya were a Rebecca, but wasn’t sure. Nor did I know yer middle was Ann. Tha’s my mum’s name, ‘ve always loved it,” he tells me, coming to a stop in front of the gunmetal colored doors of the lift. The sickeningly sweet look on his face sends the butterflies in my tummy to flight. Again.

“Oh thanks,” I almost blurt, pressing the button to go down. But then as we step into the welcoming lift, more come to me. “It was my grandmother’s name. It always made me feel closer to her, like I always had a piece of her with me.”

“Tha’s nice. ‘ve always liked it when parents carry on family names like dat. It makes me think ‘d like t’ do tha same with me own kids one day,” Harry continues as I watch the doors shut, cutting us off from the rest of the world. If only for a few minutes. But still.

“Me too.”

“So nobody ever calls ya Becca?” Harry inquires, catching my attention.

“Eh, not really. Maybe Skye sometimes, and my grandma Ann did, but not much anymore.”

“Hmm maybe ‘ll hafta use it then,” he quips, but then he wears a confused smile he pulled out of thin air. “Eh I dunno, actually. Ya’ll always be me Becks,” he finishes, making my heart do a dance. And fueling the angel and demon having a party inside of my head.

“Yeah, I agree. Anything else would sound weird.”

“Ya look like ‘im, ya know. Tha eyes, tha hair, and tha shape o’ yer face - bloody spitting image ya are. ‘Specially Robbie,” Harry acknowledges.

“We get that a lot, but thanks, I like to hear it. Sometimes I can’t see it, though,” I recall. “Which parent do you look like?”

“Um, dunno. I get comments ‘bout lookin’ like both o’ me parents. I guess I mostly ‘ave people say I look like me dad with sum o’ my mum’s features. Which sounds wild.”

“Yeah, I can relate with people saying I look like my dad. It’s like, oh thanks for saying I look like a boy,” I laugh. Turning to look at him on my left, a small one sputters from his smiling cherry lips.

“I know, ‘s weird.”

“I can see it, though. How people think you look like him,” I tell him. When I watch his lips settle into a silent, straight line, I feel instant regret. “I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?”

“No, ‘s okay. Jus’ hard hearin’ people say ya look like sumbody ya don’ like.”

A small ‘oh’ passes over my lips before I can stop it. My eyes leave him and go to the changing red number above my head. Words bubble up inside of me, and I tell them to stop. But then I can’t.

“I think I know how you feel,” I murmur, daring to look over at him, her face flashing in my mind. His far away eyes lift from the floor and pan over to me.

I try not to lose myself in their infinity of green, but it’s worthless. And soon I am, and thoughts of last night leak from my memories.

I know it’s at the back of his mind too. That almost kiss. The one he tried to initiate, and the one I want so bad. Five months ago, I don’t know if I would’ve. But now in this moment and in this elevator, all alone with him, I couldn’t want something more.

Or somebody.

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Got My Number (Branjie) - Ashley

AN: The first night out after returning home for Easter break seems promising for Brooke. However, things take a turn when she drinks a little too much and bumps into her ex-girlfriend, Vanessa. (Normal text is present day and italics is the night they met)

Hello again! It seems that self isolation has brought me back to the world of fanfic to help me cope and I have a lot to catch up. Oh how I’ve missed everyone. Hope you enjoy some of my shitty writing. Sending multitudes of gratitude to Meggie for beta-ing. Love Ashley xoxo

“This game does not work when there’s only three of us.” Brooke finished off her drink, a crafty mixture of vodka, some blue alcopop and lemonade, before flicking the card in her best friend’s face.

“It’s not Nina’s fault we lost half of our group,” Yvie retaliated, never afraid to breach the most awkward and painful topics that others wouldn’t dare to mention.

Most wouldn’t have noticed the crack in Brooke’s face, for it only lasted a second, but it was still there nonetheless; big, gaping and ready to break backs.

“Wow-wow.” Nina raised her hands, her motherly nature taking centre stage. “I will not have any of this bickering on our first night out back home.”

“I’ve missed winding you two up.” Brooke grinned and held a hand out to each girl - grateful that they were still here for her when she returned home for Easter break, grateful that they had given her the kick up the arse she needed to go out and have fun, grateful for the support they had given her when she lost the crazy little flame that kept her candle lit.

“Reckon you’ll pull tonight then, Brooke?” Yvie nudged her friend with her shoulder, only to underestimate her strength and the amount her friend had drunk so far, sending Brooke toppling back onto the floor in a fit of giggles.

“I haven’t pulled since year 13 so I highly doubt it,” Brooke brushed her friend off, thinking of how much she used to love flirting and being free, of how quickly that had changed.

An all-knowing silence filled the air, everyone remembering the night that Brooke and Vanjie first got together.

Brooke poured herself another glass of the blue concoction - only this time without any lemonade.

“She doesn’t need to pull.” Nina raised a glass. “We can have fun as the three of us!”

“As long as all of us actually get in.” Yvie pointed an acrylic nail towards the blonde, who was starting to neck her drink as if she only had moments to live.

“I’m fine.” Brooke brushed off in the most unconvincing manner - the only logic in her brain being that the more she drank and the faster she did it the easier it would be to stop thinking about Vanjie for just one night.

Oh, how wrong that girl was.

***

Brooke could hear the clipping of her heels on the pavement as she rushed down towards the club, too sober to justify the five minute Uber journey. Probably too sober to be leaving in the first place after she had spent the hour she had to pre-drink removing and redoing her eyeliner until it was perfect without so much as tasting a sip of alcohol.

Nevertheless, she was ready to party, begging her beloved best friends to buy her a pitcher as she hurried to meet them. Ready to dance and forget all about her impending A-Levels - getting as many drinks for horny spice boys as she could simply through tossing her long hair over one shoulder and giving them the classic flirty Brooke wave.

Maybe she’d go home with one, maybe she wouldn’t.

About to tell Nina to make it two pitchers instead of one, she was stopped in her tracks by the sight of a shorty and sulky Latina talking to herself on the curb of the road.

Brooke didn’t know what it was that made her stop.

Maybe it was the tears in the girl’s eyes that she clung to despite gravity fighting for them to fall, maybe it was the frustration in her grizzly voice, maybe it was the way her red dress complimented her skin tone as if it were picked from a colour wheel just for her.

Maybe it was all of those things combined.

“Are you alright?” Brooke placed a tentative hand on the girls back.

“Brooke Lynn?” The girl looked up, drawing her cigarette away from her mouth as she took in the glamazonian blonde giant who towered above her. Sensing Brooke’s confusion she spoke again: “My friends are all in your year at sixth form: Silky, Akeria…”

“Oh.” A light dinged in Brooke’s head. “You’re the girl who got kicked out in the first week of term for-”

“Yes, that’s me.” The girl scrunched her face in frustration towards Brooke which made her want to giggle. “And I’m back there now, bitch, so don’t even.”

“Sorry, I’ll leave you be.” Brooke remembered her friends and the big jug of Purple Rain that had her name on it.

“Wait,” the girl called, her voice cracking with a plea of desperation, the sassy tone from before quickly dropped into the drain next to her along with the stub of her cigarette.

Brooke stopped in her tracks yet again. “Yeah?”

“Can you help me find my phone?”

***

Vanessa’s pulse began to beat in time with the music as she moved closer and closer towards the speaker, sacrificing the ringing of death she’d hear the next morning to go to speak to her girls.

Never the most articulate in school, Vanessa hadn’t expected to fall in love with University life the way she had this year. From the shopping trips to the bar crawls she had thrown herself into the experience headfirst - pushing her home and the girl she left behind as far away as she could by immersing herself in every activity, club, and night out she could partake in.

It was safe to say that this coping mechanism did not work when she was back at home; the walls around her holding a thousand or more memories of sloppy kisses and drunk dancing - closing in on her more and more till she was almost slapped across the face with the fact that her Nicholas Sparks romance had been cut short and never finished, the pages recycled into a much more lonely tale.

There was the spot where Brooke had pushed a rugby player almost clean off his feet for falling into Vanessa.

The sofa they sat on when glass slipped into her pump and Brooke had to bandage her up with blue roll and piggyback her all the way home.

The DJ who was sick to death of Vanessa requesting the first song she and Brooke had ever danced to every single Friday until he added into his queue automatically without her having to ask.

“Imma go for a smoke.” She motioned to the door - breaking her new year’s resolution that she’d managed to abide by for three whole months.

Scanning the crowd she quickly spotted a half-cute boy pulling a bag of baccy from his coat pocket.

Bingo.

The old Vanjie never got with strangers on nights out, never settled for someone she didn’t feel that spark with - you know, the one from all the teen romance movies. She was a romantic at heart.

That started to change after she broke up with Brooke; if the girl she loved more than anything in the world wasn’t going to give her The Notebook then nobody was.

She found herself sleeping with more people at Uni - the type of people who called her beautiful but wouldn’t make eye contact in the library the following week, but she didn’t even care, she wanted to be more like Brooke was: more carefree, more independent, taking a shard from the ice queen’s castle.

But it was never the same.

As much as the thought made her want to shove her own head in a blender at how cringe she was, Vanessa had learnt the difference between fucking and making love.

Before she knew it the boy was rolling the paper for her, her mouth autopiloting her conversation, the feeling of his arm around her simply a feeling - not warm, not cold, not uncomfortable, not loving.

Brooke would have probably told her off right now, making some sort of shady comment about how her voice didn’t need to get any deeper and she didn’t need to take any more years of her life, kissing her forehead after to let her know it was only in jest.

She told herself that those days were long gone. That the Brooke who worried about her, teased her and loved her was overshadowed by the Brooke who didn’t know how to be in a relationship.

The day they broke up popped into her body, a bitter taste making her skin crawl. The three

unanswered calls it had taken for her girlfriend to finally answer. The short blunt replies she received. The flirty comments left on Brooke’s photos by half of the netball team. The even flirtier replies Brooke would respond with.

“Sorry, Vanj, I’m just really hungover,” she remembered Brooke saying, the first time she’d heard her voice for a while. The words piercing her skin like a needle when she realised that her girlfriend had forgotten their anniversary, the presents she had sent clearly living with the porters instead of Brooke.

The final straw.

She remembered being shocked at herself when she said that she couldn’t do it anymore. But the words slipped out in anger and she was too stubborn to take them back.

She remembered the heavy sound of Brooke’s breathing when she hung up the phone - deleting her number and taking away every chance that she had to fight for her.

The sound of her defeated voice rang in her ear, only it took Vanessa a second to realise it wasn’t just in her memory.

***

“Are you sure she said she was in here?” Brooke gave Vanessa a pointed look as they stood on the outskirts of the dance floor, starting at the masses of people before them.

“She said she had my phone here and she had a blue top on,” Vanessa repeated, part of her finding entertainment in the way she was irritating the older girl.

“And you didn’t think to ask her name or anything else before she stopped answering your calls?”

“Sorry, mami.” Vanessa shrugged as she watched a layer of blush form on Brooke’s cheeks at her nickname. “We can ask the bouncer to do a shout out?”

Before she knew it Brooke had turned and began to dive her way through the crowd reaching back to hold Vanessa’s hand.

It could have been the dark fruits or her affinity for romance and fate acting up but Vanessa could have sworn their hands slotted together like lock and key.

She watched as Brooke took command of their path, pushing aside anyone who fell in Vanessa’s way before asking the DJ if he could make an announcement.

No luck.

Just as they were about to make their way back through the crowd, Vanessa heard the first beats of a familiar tune and squealed with excitement.

“This is my song! We have to dance!”

“What?” Brooke looked flabbergasted at the girl who had seemed to forget how upset she was at losing her phone and friends within five seconds of a pop song.

“Dance,” Vanessa told her, a command not a question.

Screaming the words she allowed the crowd to envelop Brooke and herself, watching a half-smile form on the other girls face at her tone-deaf screeching.

“This is horrendous,” Brooke spoke into Vanessa’s ear - the feel of her breath heightening every sense.

“You love it,” Vanessa responded, a form of confidence washing over her body telling her to put her arms around the blonde’s waist and move closer, dancing as two halves of one body, the pair of them their own entity.

“I’m sorry I ruined your night,” Vanessa half-shouted as the song ended.

“You haven’t,” Brooke responded without thought. “Why don’t we get pizza next door and try to ring again once the club shuts? I’m sure she’ll look at the phone then.”

“That sounds like heaven.”

***

“No!” Brooke tried to swat Nina’s hand away. “We need to go back in and have fun.”

“The bouncers told me that if I didn’t take you home then they would. C’mon Brooke, we can Uber it.”

“I’m not going.” Brooke sat herself down on one of the benches, almost getting her arm burned by the girl next to her.

“Well, you have to, it’s not up to me.” Nina wasn’t even mad at the way she had to baby her friend, knowing they would have a good laugh about it for the rest of the Easter holidays and maybe even a while after that.

“Fine.” Brooke pursed her lips and stood back up. “But you’re not coming with me, I want you to go in there and get yourself a shag. I know you fancy Bob’s sister. Do it for me, Nina, I’m living through you!”

“I’m coming with you, just let me find Yvie.”

“Nooooooo.”

At that moment a familiar voice snapped Brooke’s eyes into a clearer vision.

There she was. Her devil in a leopard print jumpsuit.

“I’ll look after her.” Vanessa placed a friendly hand on Nina’s arm, missing the way her friendship group had been torn apart since their breakup. Regretting the way she cut off every and any link to the girl she was in love with.

“Oh hi.” Nina smiled awkwardly, pausing before asking Vanessa if she was sure.

“You’re not real.” Brooke opened her mouth at the girl before closing it again. “Your Uni shuts a week later. You can’t trick me, I Googled it.”

That’s when Brooke saw the smile.

The cheeky grin that showed off almost every single tooth Vanessa owned. The smile she would wake up to that told her that everything in the world would be just fine. Nothing in the world made her feel happier than that smile - she didn’t know why the sight of it made tears start to roll down her face but it did.

“Strikes.” Vanessa started to wipe Brooke’s tears away as though she were a paper doll, Brooke unable to read the emotion on her face. “Your Mam’s gonna kill you if you go home like this. Let’s get some food in you, yeah?”

***

“I remember seeing you at a house party before, Silky’s birthday,” Vanessa started after swallowing the world’s biggest mouthful of pepperoni pizza and garlic sauce, a tiny bit sticking to her lips.

Brooke wiped it off by instinct, not stopping to question why she felt so close to a girl she had only just met.

“Is that so?” Brooke asked, assuming that the girl was chatting drunk shit like she often did when she wanted to impress someone.

“Aha,” Vanjie nodded, “You were wearing this white lacy dress and I remember thinking you looked like a ballerina. And then you were sick in the kitchen sink and the bendy girl got annoyed at you but I remember thinking that she wasn’t doing a good job at holding your hair back and I could have done better.”

Brooke placed the slice of pizza she was about to bite into back into the box, amazed at how the ditzy girl had managed to remember her so well.

“Not my finest hour.” Brooke laughed.

“Tonight hasn’t been mine.” The girl laughed back, her brain slipping into a more sober state.

Her laugh sounded like a car alarm. Brooke wanted to put it in a jar and have it wake her up on lazy mornings.

“I’m sure you can repay me at some point.” Brooke smiled - Vanessa’s grin an infectious curse that you couldn’t help but surrender to.

“Bitch, I just bought you half of this pizza!”

“I meant in other ways.”

Normally Brooke would blame it on the drink. The longing to have someone’s body, the longing to hold them, even the longing to simply spend time with them. But right then she was stone cold and wanted nothing more than to spend the next day, the day after then and every day that followed listening to Vanessa chat shit and tease her.

“I taste of garlic,” Vanessa blurted out to the girl, her no-filter mouth spilling out the first panic that came to her mind at the thought of kissing the beautiful blonde creature in front of her.

“I mean, so do I.” Brooke laughed and moved closer to the girl, forgetting about the world around them and feeling her soft cheek against her palm.

Before she was snapped back to reality by a phone call. The phone call she had waited all night for that she now wished had never come.

“Cockblock.” Vanessa laughed before grabbing Brooke’s phone and aggressively interrogating the girl on the other end.

***

“Feeling better?” Vanessa asked her ex-girlfriend/first love/girl she was certainly still in love with as she waited for her to swallow her mouthful of pizza, surprised at how easily she had fallen back into being with her.

“A little,” Brooke responded, not meeting her eyes properly.

“You want me to take you back now?” Vanessa asked, figuring that sitting with her was the last thing Brooke wanted to do now, whether she’d bought her food or not.

“Not yet.” Brooke took a large swig from the Diet Coke Vanessa had bought her, finally meeting her eyes. “I wanna chat about David.”

Vanessa felt a lilt of panic rise in her body.

Had Brooke found a new boyfriend?

She shouldn’t be jealous - she broke up with her, she had slept around. But the thought of someone else running their hands through Brooke’s hair and planting her sloppy kisses made some form of heat rise up through her chest into her throat.

“David?” she managed to choke out - the hardest two syllables she’d ever had to conjure.

“Yeah, David. Shona dumped him!” Brooke slurred a little, turning to face Vanessa for the first time since they sat down in the shop.

“You hate Corrie.” Vanessa started to laugh at the thought of Brooke spending however long watching the soap. “You used to say it was a load of utter shite - the bane of your Friday night!”

“I do.” Brooke nodded in agreement. “But it makes me think of you.”

Something about the thought of her ex-girlfriend sitting down three nights a week to watch a show she despised just because it reminded her of their time together managed to warm and break Vanessa’s heart simultaneously.

“Well.” Vanessa looked at her, really looked at her. “I’m sad David and Shona aren’t together anymore. Even though he was a dick to her and didn’t really treat her right, I wish she’d given him more of a chance to work at it instead of running scared.”

“You’re right, he was a dick.” Brooke looked back, her almost grey eyes showing a maturity that Vanessa hadn’t seen during their relationship. “Maybe when I’m sober we can talk about how much he still loves her. But how he knows now that that’s not everything, he knows he needs to appreciate her. I know I need to appreciate you.”

And Vanessa knew that it wasn’t perfect. She knew that both of them would have to try, that The Notebook had its own ups and downs to get to the good bit. She knew there was more talking to be done, more apologies to be given on both of their behalfs. But right then she wanted to forget about that and simply kiss the girl she loved and missed.

In the movies, the big romantic moment always happened somewhere beautiful. Cady kissed Aaron in the middle of the dancefloor with that stupid crown on her head. Noah kissed Ali in the rain next to a swan filled lake. Cher kissed Josh in the perfect centre of that ornate staircase.

Vanessa wouldn’t have given up their tiny bench in a greasy takeaway table for any of that because Brooke’s lips simply felt like home.

“Ugh.” She grimaced away after, looking away from Brooke.

“Oh, erm, sorry. I thought… ” Brooke responded, a panicked look crossing her face.

“Garlic.” Vanessa put a hand to her mouth and grinned, a sense of warmth coming to her at the thought of being able to wind Brooke up again just like she used to, watching her face change when she realised Vanessa’s joke and swatted her arm.

“You little bitch. I actually believed you there.” Brooke laughed before pulling Vanessa in for one more kiss regardless. A kiss that she’d later think about as the second-best kiss of her life.

“Let’s get you in a taxi.” Vanessa read the looks of the staff behind the counter and grabbed Brooke’s hand.

“Are we gonna talk in the morning?” Brooke asked hopefully, scared that drunken words may have turned into regret on Vanessa’s behalf.

“You’ve got my number.”

***

“So, thanks again for helping me find this.” Vanessa looked down at her phone.

Three minutes till her Uber arrived.

“It’s fine.” Brooke brushed her off. “I probably would have had a shit night in the club anyway. At least I got some pizza out of it.”

“Yeah.” Vanessa laughed, letting an awkward silence linger. “Two minutes.”

“Oh,” Brooke said looking at the phone then back at Vanessa, a train of thought clearly chugging through her brain that was too fast for Vanessa to capture.

“Fuck it.”

She threw her arm around the back of Brooke’s head in one fell swoop, letting her other hand caress her cheek as they kissed.

Brooke was taken aback at first, but soon Vanessa felt her hand on the curve of her back and felt the girl’s body almost melt into her own.

“Oh shit.” Vanessa heard the phone ring and looked next to her to see her Uber waiting. “Cockblocked again.”

Brooke laughed as Vanessa squeezed her hand and started to make her way towards the car. “I’ll text you in the morning?” she shouted after the girl who had just given her the best kiss of her life, more of a needy question than a statement.

“You’ve got my number,” Vanessa winked before closing the door and blowing a kiss to Brooke, thinking about how the story of her night would make the best teen romance movie.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #angst #lesbian au #british au #ashley #submission #got my number

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