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bonky-n-steeb · 3 years

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𝐵𝑅𝐸𝐴𝑇𝐻𝐸

𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝙾𝙽𝙴

𝘿𝘼𝙍𝙆!𝘽𝙐𝘾𝙆𝙔 𝘽𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙀𝙎 𝙭 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍 | 𝙈𝙊𝘽!𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙑𝙀 𝙍𝙊𝙂𝙀𝙍𝙎 𝙓 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍

𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬: Your life is as good as it gets. The perfect husband, the perfect daughter, the perfect job. But what you are unaware is that your husband is a deadly assassin and your long-lost friend, now a fearsome mob boss is hell bent on getting you back. But what you don’t know can't hurt you, right?

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦: psychological disorder, PTSD, domestic abuse, yandere, obsession, violence, cursing. If you find any of this triggering please DNI. Also inform me if I left something out.

ᴛʜɪs ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇᴛᴀ ʀᴇᴀᴅ, sᴏ ᴀʟʟ ᴍɪsᴛᴀᴋᴇs ᴀʀᴇ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ

Oh, lawd! i have to post everything again! Send me all your energy. If you wanna be tagged, just inform me!

Also, I’ll be changing the story by a little, (or by a lot, idk) from my previous version.

You were feeling like John Travolta from the music video of Stayin’ Alive. Vibing to your own rhythm, living your own freedom. Attending college miles away from your hometown, you were the captain of your ship. Though you loved your parents more than anything, you were glad for the freedom granted upon you.

Your Freshmen year had just begun and you had already made a few friends. But what you didn’t want to accept just yet was your crush on one of them, Bucky. With his steely blue eyes and boyish charm, even a goddess might fall for him, and you were just a mortal. You were simply happy with being friends as you believed he would never like you and well, a little crush never hurt nobody.

Completing your shift in a local bookstore, just outside the campus, you were walking back, lost in your own thoughts. What caught your attention was a group of howling high schoolers; from the look of it, they were barely a year to two younger than you. A group of tall and popular kids were bullying a skinny, helpless dude; ufff the usual cliché you thought to yourself. What you failed to notice though was his bleeding nose.

You were a kind soul, always helping others, but you were no fool. All alone in an unknown town, you weren't going to confront the burly teens who were twice your own size. After giggling and cracking some stupid jokes on the poor dude trying to impress a girl, they left him and that’s when you noticed all the blood. You quickly crossed the road and walked towards him. He seemed smaller than he was as he was crouching down and trying to rub all the blood.

“Hey! Pinch your nose, don’t disturb it by rubbing.” you said while bending down. “Uhh, okay... thanks!” he looked at you with big doe eyes and you were utterly mesmerized by the blue oceans he had for his eyes. “Do you.. Do you need something else kid? Where do you live?” you asked giving him a candy and your water bottle. “I’m no kid!” he exclaimed and you flinched.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. You are helping me and here I am shouting at you.” You could clearly see remorse in his eyes and you wondered why would someone hurt him? “yeah, yeah.. It's Okay... now have this candy, the sugar will help you feel better.” you said with a soft smile. “thank you so much... and by the way I live two streets across. I mean I can go by myself, I'm a grown-up.. But...” he trailed off and you helped him get up.

“I’m Steve” he tried his best to smile and you followed by sharing your own name. And with that his chatter train began, he explained that he was just trying to help another girl getting bullied, when the bullies decided to change their target and chase Steve instead.

“you should wear your own mask first and then help others wear theirs.” you quipped and instantly bit your tongue. “Hmm, what?” he asked genuinely curious. “what I meant is that you did what is correct and very brave, but sometimes you gotta think for yourself too. But these are just my thoughts.” you shrugged. “I’ll remember that.” he said with a genuine expression. And after a million thank yous he finally went in his house. By the size of his house, he seemed rich and you wondered maybe this wasn't that cliché.

☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎

The next day, you were walking back the same road, when you thought of Steve. He really was a kind and sweet person. This world needed more of people like him. And just then you saw him smiling brightly and waving at you, his nose bandaged. He had a huge box in his hand.

“Heyyyyy! Thank you for helping me yesterday. So I just... kinda got this as a ... a token of appreciation. I considered you might like donuts, so I got you this.” He said rubbing his nape. His cheeks had become so red he looked like a ripe tomato. “well, if you haven’t already given me diabetes by saying so many thank yous, after eating sooo many donuts I’ll surely get it.” At that you both chuckled and the atmosphere became lighter. As you picked a donut, he looked at you with such admiration you thought you would melt then and there.

Suddenly with a stern expression you asked “what if it’s drugged?” His eyes widened and he stuttered, “I... I would never do that ...” he looked down and you thought he might cry. “hey waittt.. don’t get so sad.. I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry. I was just joking. I have this really bad habit of saying things when I shouldn’t. God I just ruined everything.” You just made a mental note not to joke around him, he seemed to be quite emotional. Though it was going to be difficult to tame your tongue. “don’t be. I just take things too literally.... anyway let’s have some donuts what say?” He said with such shine in his eyes you wondered whether he was sad just a moment before.

You both walked up to your university campus, munching on donuts. You both shared things about yourselves. You told him how you were passionate in becoming a doctor. He on the other hand talked about his struggles in studying. “will you help me? You are so smart and bright, will you help me study if I have a doubt or something?” he asked giving his big doe eyes.

You weren’t going to agree at first, you had just met him a day ago. But after looking in those calm blue pools of his eyes you agreed. Seeing the joy on his face, you wondered whether he just won an Oscar.

What you didn’t know was that Steve had already fallen in love with you, yes love, he was convinced that you were the one for him, his one true love. Not a moment had he been able to think of anything but you since he had met you. You were everything he needed and wanted and much more. He was simply desperate to spend more time with you.

☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎

It had been around six months since you met Steve. Over the time you two had turned out to be best friends. While Steve had fallen even more in love with you, you had fallen hopelessly in love with bucky. While you always told bucky about Steve and vice versa, you never confessed to Steve about your love for Bucky, thus furthermore increasing his hopes. You desperately wished to make Steve and Bucky meet. They were two important people in your life and you more than anything wished that they got together well.

Today was the day when you decided to arrange a small meet and greet at the park where you and Steve met every day. You and Bucky walked together towards the tree where you usually sat with Steve waiting there for you. You knew both would like each other, but somewhere deep within your gut you were getting a not-so good feeling about this.

Steve’s eyes lit up seeing you but as they turned to Bucky, it felt as if all the energy had been sucked out of him. You didn’t like that one bit. “Bucky!?” Steve exclaimed in half disappointment and half fear. “You both... you both know each other?” you ask bewildered. You tried chuckling to lighten the mood but by the looks of it they were sworn enemies, but you prayed that you were wrong. “yeah, we know each other a little too well... Uh... We were good friends once.” Steve quietly admitted.

All this time Bucky had his jaw clenched, dragging in a deep breath he began. “I knew it! I knew it would be you, you little fucker! You want to have everything don’t you? Goddammit! I had this feeling it was you but I thought it was too much of a coincidence, but no. fate had to be so cruel.” you were shocked to see Bucky's sudden outburst. You wondered what conspired between the two, as either hadn’t ever mentioned the other.

You were snapped out of your thoughts with Bucky calling your name. “let’s go. I don’t want to see him even for a minute more and neither do you.” Bucky started pulling your hand but you stopped him “Bucky no. I guess you have some misunderstanding; Steve is a good person. And you don’t get to tell me who to talk to and who to not.”

Suddenly Bucky turned back to Steve, anger written all over his face. “You didn’t tell her, huh, did you? Don’t worry I'll tell her. Steve is the son of Joseph Rogers and he is the freaking Don Corleone of this area. Do you know how my father died? Steve’s father had him killed just because unknowingly he provided shelter to his father’s fugitive. Steve just pretends to be a caring, emotional person but he is a snake behind that mask, so is everyone in his family.” towards the end Bucky was in tears and you were in utter shock. Now that you tried to remember, Steve never really did tell you much about his family. And the fact that Steve wasn’t denying any single allegation made you want to puke your guts out.

“You have taken too much from me. But not this. Not her. Not the woman I love more than anything.” Bucky said it out loud in the heat of the moment. You were too dumbstruck to even blink. Did Bucky just confess that he loved you?

Bucky turned to you and held your arm with such softness you wondered if he was just now screaming his lungs out at Steve. “I know I can't tell you who to be with, and I promise I never will in the future, but trust me you want to be caught up with him or his family. And still, if you choose him, well then, I can’t be with you.”

You knew you had to make a choice then and there, there was no going back, and you chose Bucky.

#chris evans #sebastian stan #mcu #marvel #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #mob!steve #dark!bucky #mob!steve x reader #dark!bucky x reader

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everlarkficexchange · 3 years

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On the Other Side of the Fence

Prompt 13: Katniss is “just one of the guys” and the only girl in school who’s never been asked for a date by any of these guys. One day she’s “discovered” by a modeling agency and whisked to the Capital. She returns 3-months later with a new look, new found confidence, and cash. How will Peeta deal with the new Katniss and all the attention she gets from everyone? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Author: @jhsgf82

Rated: T

Word Count: 5,713

Author Note: In-Panem AU, no games. The class distinctions between Seam and Merchant are still there but aren’t quite as prominent, so Seam and Merchant sometimes hang out together; although, some folks do still have prejudices. Also, Mr. Everdeen is alive! So, this became more about the childhood love story between Katniss and Peeta than the modeling, at least this part, but I hope you still enjoy my take on this prompt. This will be a Part 1 of 2, and it will be posted on A03 under my account as well as on the EFE A03 collection page. Edit by @mrspeetamellark. Thank you, thank you! I love the fan casts for older K and P!

P.S. I’ve been listening to Ruelle’s “I Get to Love You” quite a bit while writing this, and it’s giving me major Everlark feels, particularly for this story, so let’s call it the theme song for this fic.

Part I

Peeta’s POV “Wait up, Katniss!” Peeta chased after Katniss as fast as his skinny twelve-year-old legs could carry him.

But Katniss Everdeen was like a bird, free-spirited and not to be caged, and when she set her mind to something, more than likely, she was going to do it.

Peeta loved that about her.

Today, Katniss had gotten it into her pretty head to climb to the top of the apple tree in his backyard. When she’d found out his mother wouldn’t be home, she’d thought it’d be the best time.

They played in secret, for Peeta’s mother had clearly expressed her dislike and distrust of Seam kids, plenty of times. Merchant Circle kids and Seam kids didn’t usually interact, but Peeta had no problem with those from the Seam, and he especially loved being around Katniss. He didn’t see the big deal, honestly. So what if they lived on the outskirts of town? So what if they didn’t have as much money‒Peeta was used to eating stale bread and leftovers, anyway. Not to mention, Katniss and her father’s squirrels had made many a dinner for his family. He wondered if his mother knew where they came from, for it was always his father or him who did the trading.

Peeta didn’t get to see Katniss as often as he would like‒he was almost always stuck at the bakery, and rarely unsupervised‒but times with her were his favorite times. Sometimes they were alone, which he preferred, but other times, they hung out with her small group, consisting of Thom, Gale, and occasionally, her sister, Primrose.

As if his life (or hers) depended on it, Peeta raced to catch up to Katniss. She was already three or four branches up when he made it to the tree. Unfortunately, he was running so fast that he didn’t stop quick enough, and…Thwap! He smacked his head against a low branch.

“Peeta!” gasped Katniss from her perch. “You okay?!”

“Fine!” he called up. He rubbed his forehead, feeling like a complete idiot. It smarted a bit, but his pride was far more wounded.

As if preparing her, Peeta shouted, “I’m coming up!” And then he reached out for the lowest, sturdiest-looking branch he could find. He wasn’t quite sure how this would work. He’d never climbed a tree before, and it looked tough. Katniss was small and nimble, but he was bulkier. He wasn’t completely uncoordinated, but he was much better at lifting things than doing anything requiring agility or balance. Even so, he had to try. And so, he found his footing and pushed himself up.

Turned out, his upper body strength (from lifting sacks of flour) came in handy in getting him up the tree. But there were two problems: One, his footing. And two, the relatively young apple tree wasn’t quite liking his size, and some of the thinner branches were bending under his weight.

“You’re almost there, Peeta,” urged Katniss, and all he could see was her encouraging smile. He reached out to take her hand for a boost but felt his shoe slipping against the bark. And then, his body weight and that thing called gravity were pulling him downward…

“Peeta!” shrieked Katniss as she reached out desperately for his hand.

But in those few seconds, Peeta knew he couldn’t grab hold. Katniss may be strong for her size, but she was tiny, definitely not strong enough to hold him up. If he did grasp her hand, he would surely drag her down with him, and he would never put her in danger.

Peeta dropped to the ground, left foot first, a sharp, white-hot pain shooting up his leg on impact. He groaned and fell flat on his back, his head smacking hard against the ground.

Katniss was down the tree in a heartbeat, kneeling beside him. A bright light silhouetted her; she looked like an angel. Was he dead? Or dying maybe? If so, hers was the last face he wanted to see…

“Peeta! Peeta! Peeta, are you okay?” cried Katniss. She was touching his shoulder and chest only as if she was afraid to go near his leg.

He murmured something and reached out to try and touch her, but his head was spinning and his vision was blurring.

Amidst the excruciating pain and confusion, he heard her muttering, “Oh no, oh no, what do I do?!” And then, she started to cry.

No, no, no. This was no good, at all. He couldn’t deal with Katniss crying. He probably had a broken leg; he didn’t need a broken heart, also.

“Don’t…” He attempted to reach for her again, and this time, he felt her take his hand in both of hers and rest it against her face, her tears wetting it. There was a persistent ringing in his ears, and then he passed out.

While he was unconscious, Peeta dreamed of Katniss‒of the first time they met. They were five years old.

Katniss’s father brought her by the bakery to trade, and while their dads were talking, he played with her. At first, she was shy, only peering out at him from behind her father’s legs, but he managed to convince her to come out.

She wore a red plaid dress, and her hair was in two braids. He’d seen her earlier that day in school‒his father had pointed her out to him and told him how he’d wanted to marry her mother but she’d run off with a coal miner (this coal miner, with the singing voice that made bird’s stop to listen)‒and he’d heard her sing. Her voice was every bit as lovely as they said her father’s was.

Once he got her to come out, they talked a little and ended up chasing one another around the bakery. Of course, his mother wasn’t home that day.

In retrospect, Peeta had been a goner for Katniss from the start, completely mesmerized by her singing voice and her beautiful gray eyes, which he got a closer look at in the bakery. Then there was her smile, which she didn’t give freely, but when she did, it was so worth the wait. She didn’t talk much, but he’d been able to get her to laugh that day in the bakery, and the noise, much like her singing, was music to his ears. Oh, and her braids‒he’d always been really fascinated by her braids.

Before she left the bakery, Peeta couldn’t help leaning forward and smacking his lips against Katniss’s, just to see what it would be like. He’d seen people kiss before, even his parents, though not often. It was weird when his mom and dad did it, but he liked it better than when they yelled at each other.

To his surprise, kissing Katniss wasn’t bad or weird. He liked it. And he wanted to try it again, someday.

After the kiss, Katniss’s cheeks were reddened, and she turned away from him, dashing back behind her father. He was so afraid he’d done the wrong thing and that she’d hate him forever, but when they went to leave, she smiled and waved at him.

Peeta came to with a start, jerking around and whimpering as he clutched at his throbbing leg. He realized he was in his bed, though he didn’t know how he’d gotten there. Also, he wasn’t alone‒Mrs. Everdeen was at his side.

“Peeta, honey, lie still. I have to set your leg,” Katniss’s mother spoke in her soft, doctor-like voice. She was a healer. He assumed Katniss must have gotten a couple of boys or a man, maybe her dad or his, to carry him to his room after his fall.

But where was Katniss? And was his dad here?

Before he could look around for them, Mrs. Everdeen told him she was going to give him some medicine to take away his pain. She injected him with something, morphling, he heard her say, and instantly, he felt his entire body relaxing. He looked over, then, to see Katniss entering his room and approaching his bedside, followed by her father. Her arms were folded, and her forehead was all scrunched up like how it got when she was really worried. Her eyes were puffy, too, and her cheeks were stained with tears; she’d definitely been crying.

Peeta raised his head and tried to smile and say something reassuring. “Kat…it’s…o-” But his words trailed off as a strange, dizzy feeling overtook him, and his head dropped back onto his pillow. Katniss came over and took a seat next to him, slipping her small hand into his.

This is nice, he thought.

But the euphoric feeling was quickly broken by his mother’s loud voice as she barged into his room. Uh oh.

His mother discovering the Everdeens in their home was bad news. She basically hated all the rest of them as much or more than Katniss, especially Katniss’s mother. Maybe it was because his dad used to love her?

“What’s this?! What have you done, you stupid creature?!” his mother screeched at Katniss.

Peeta’s eyes shot to his best friend who immediately dropped his hand. He saw the look on her face; her cheeks had gone reddish, and her eyes were filling with tears, which she was clearly fighting back. She looked scared, upset, and angry.

Just another reason for him to hate his mother.

“Katni…” Peeta tried to say her name, to comfort her, but his words caught in his scratchy throat.

He tried again, but he was cut off.

“Listen here,” Mr. Everdeen’s voice boomed, loud and clear, “you will not speak of my daughter that way! I won’t allow it. My wife has been kind enough to help your son, so show some respect to my family.”

That should shut his mother up, Peeta imagined. Mr. Everdeen might be a friendly, quiet man most of the time, but he could be intimidating. So, Peeta didn’t expect his mother would say another word.

Mr. Everdeen placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Honey, fix up Peeta, then we’ll be on our way,” he said softly.

Peeta’s mother was silent after that; in fact, he thought she might have left the room. But he was in and out of consciousness, and next thing he knew, it was dark, and he was waking up in his bed with only his father beside him.

Groggily, Peeta asked, “Where’s Katniss?”

“She’s at her house, son,” his father replied, tucking his covers nearly up to his chin. “You should get some rest.” And with that, he was left alone in the darkness.

Peeta recalled his brothers stopping in briefly, and then his mother. He imagined she only cared about him being injured because it might hinder his work at the bakery. He was sure she’d still give him plenty to do, though. What did she care if he was in pain doing it?

His mother was mainly condescending, railing on him for being so stupid, which he expected and accepted, but what really made his blood boil was when she set in on Katniss.

“That’s why you don’t play with Seam children,” she chided, casting him a dark look. “They’re wild heathens with no regard for rules or safety.”

They’re kids, Mother‒just like me. They just want to play and have fun. They don’t want anyone to get hurt.

What his mother said next lanced his heart. “I forbid you to see that girl anymore.”

Peeta squeezed his fists beneath the covers. She really cared nothing for him, did she? Of course, if his mother didn’t care that he had a broken leg, why would she care if forbidding him from seeing Katniss ripped his heart out?

But it didn’t matter. There was no way he was going to stop seeing Katniss; nothing his mother, or anyone, could say or do would ever stop him.

Katniss snuck into his room later that night. She must have climbed the tree next to his window and crawled through. She was next to his bed rousing him before he even realized what was happening.

At her touch, Peeta woke. “Katniss, what are you doing here?” he hissed, trying to sit up.

She held out her hand as if to stop him. “I brought these for you, from my mother,” said she, handing him a small package. “Medicine for the pain and a salve for the inflammation. Instructions are inside.”

“Thanks.”

It sounded like the delivery came from her mother, and he didn’t think Katniss would have taken the items on her own without permission‒mainly because she probably wouldn’t have known what to take or what to do‒but he doubted she had permission to be here this late. He glanced at the clock. It was nearly 11 PM.

“Are you okay?” she asked, fidgeting with her fingers.

“Yes.”

“Does it hurt?”

“A little.”

“I’m so sorry.” He could see her eyes glistening in the moonlight. Was she going to cry again?

“It’s not your fault, and hey, it probably earned me some time off at the bakery. So, thanks.”

Most likely, he wouldn’t get any time off, though. Or, if he did, it wouldn’t be much. His mother would probably have him back to work as soon as he could move, but Katniss didn’t need to know that. He tapped her playfully on the nose, and she laughed a little.

“Katniss, thanks for bringing the medicine, but you better go. I don’t want you to get in trouble.” Peeta sighed. He didn’t actually want to send her away; he wanted her to stay with him, forever.

Rather than listening to him, though, she did the exact opposite‒she pulled back the covers and climbed into bed with him.

Wow. Were wishes being fulfilled tonight?

Okay, so, Peeta had just discovered the absolute best medicine for any of his ailments‒having Katniss Everdeen in his arms.

“Am I hurting your leg?” she asked as she tentatively snuggled in closer.

“Not a bit.” He smiled. “That’s my good leg.”

“You sure? I could move.”

“Don’t you dare move,” he said, wrapping his arms completely around her and holding her in place. He kissed the top of her head. For a moment, he wondered if he shouldn’t have done that. They had only shared that one kiss when they were 5, and it had never been brought up since. She probably didn’t think anything about kissing him, anyway.

“Okay, good,” she said, shutting her eyes and resting her head and a hand on his chest.

He looked down at her. She looked so peaceful and seemed close to falling asleep, but he shouldn’t let that happen. If his mother found Katniss here in the morning, in his bed, they were both toast!

But it was too nice having her here, and he wanted to enjoy it for a little while longer. He took the chance to play with her braid, like he’d always wanted to, and she let him. It had just become his new favorite thing to do. Katniss always wore her hair this way, except for a couple of times when she had it down, and Peeta loved her braid. But he was also kind of curious to run his fingers through her hair while it was down. He imagined it would be so soft and silky.

“Peeta,” he heard her murmur just when he thought she was asleep.

“Yeah?”

“Your mother…she hates me.”

“No.”

“Don’t lie, Peeta.”

“Okay, maybe she does. But, remember, she’s not too fond of me, either.”

Peeta felt Katniss shake her head against him, and he gave a small chuckle. It was so sad, it was funny, in a way.

He looked down into her face; she wore a sad expression. “Heyy,” he soothed, stroking her back lightly. “Hey, Katniss, listen. I don’t care. Don’t give another thought to what my mother said, because it’s not true. Nothing she says means anything to me or matters, at all. You’re wonderful and amazing, and it wasn’t your fault I got hurt, and nothing anyone says or does will ever change the way I fee-think about you.”

How did he feel about her? He didn’t quite know the exact word for it, but whatever it was, it was pretty strong. Like right now, he could feel his heart beating wildly like it was trying to escape his chest. She always made him feel this way, as if his heart might run away or explode into tiny pieces.

Katniss softly sighed. “Okay, Peeta. If you don’t care, I don’t care, either.”

“Good.” He stroked her hair once, twice, three times.

They remained curled up together until just before dawn, and then Katniss slipped away. Right away, he felt the loss. Despite the discomfort in his leg and the fact that he barely slept, for he was either watching Katniss or the clock (in fear they might sleep too long and be discovered), Peeta had never known such a peaceful, wonderful night.

It took nearly two months for the leg to heal, and it did earn him some time off bakery duty, but as expected, his mother had him back to work soon, doing what he could while hobbling around on crutches.

On the bright side, Katniss visited him almost every night, sneaking into his room and into his bed, saying she was checking to make sure he was okay. Peeta got used to having her there, and he enjoyed it, yet he was surprised they were never caught.

Once he was healed, much to Peeta’s disappointment, Katniss stopped coming by; although, it might have had something to do with him suggesting she should stop. He hadn’t wanted her to stop, and he hoped it hadn’t hurt her feelings; he was simply worried they’d be caught and his mother would say more terrible things to her. He didn’t care if she said terrible things to him, but he never wanted Katniss to be called a name again or be made to feel bad, by anyone.

After that, Peeta had to be sneakier about seeing Katniss, and he did see her less. Seemed like, after he healed, his mother gave him extra work at the bakery, in theory, to make up for the time he’d missed. But no matter how much work she gave him or how often she warned him against having anything to do with the ‘little dirtbags’ (one of the kinder nicknames she attributed to the Seam children), nothing‒not even President Snow, himself‒could keep him from Katniss.

He did worry, though, about his mother trying to cause harm to Katniss and her family. She was surely spreading the incident around, making it sound like it was Katniss’s fault‒as if she’d bullied him up that tree then pushed him out or something. She was probably trying to gain sympathy from the townsfolk and hurt the Everdeens’ business, but Peeta assumed everyone would continue to buy Katniss and her father’s game. It was too good. And if not, they would be fine because her dad had his job in the mines.

Even so, Peeta sometimes hated the way things were. Sometimes, he even considered running away from home, off to the Seam or even beyond the fence and into the woods, with Katniss. On the other side of the fence, they could be together everyday and live happily without anyone’s interference.

It was a nice dream.

—–

The next summer, Katniss announced to Peeta that she was going to teach him to swim, and she showed him her father’s lake for the very first time.

“You ready?” she asked excitedly. She was dressed in a t-shirt and shorts, he in just shorts.

He stared deep into her eyes, then nodded. “Yes.”

They waded out further into the lake until it was up past his shoulders and came to her chin. She went behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, and forget drowning, Peeta thought he would die right then and there, over this.

See, he’d been having…different sorts of feelings about Katniss lately, in the last couple of months… He cared so much for her, as always, but he’d also been thinking more and more about things like: kissing her, touching her, and feeling her pressed against him. He wished she’d sneak into his bed again, but he was also kind of afraid he wouldn’t keep his hands to himself if she did. He knew he would never hurt or mistreat Katniss, but sometimes, it was tough to think straight around her, and sometimes his body seemed to have a mind of its own.

It was frustrating.

Right now, Katniss was hugging him, and it felt nice. No, not hugging–supporting him in the water. But it felt like a hug, and he didn’t get them often, his father being so busy, and his mother, well, not being the hugging type.

Katniss’s hands briefly ran up his stomach, to his chest, and back down. It made Peeta shiver, and his breath hitched. And he had to wonder, did she get the kind of feelings he did, too?

“You okay?” she asked. He could feel her bangs brushing his bare back, tickling his skin a little, but in a way he really liked.

He tried to answer coolly, but it came out as a choked “Y-yes.”

“Okay.” Katniss shifted a little, instructing him to dunk his head and practice holding his breath. “I’ll hold onto you.”

“You won’t let go?” he asked. More so, he wanted the reassurance of having her there, because she emboldened him and made him feel safe, even if she was much smaller than him.

“Never, Peeta,” she assured. He smiled and rested his hands atop hers.

“Okay, I’m ready.” And with that, he dipped his head under the water.

Katniss was a good teacher, even if he was kind of a bumbling idiot when it came to the water. He’d never survive in D4. Not like he’d ever have any reason to go there. But they had fun, swimming around and splashing one another. Peeta even picked her up and tossed her in a couple of times, and she came right back at him, latching onto his shoulders and dunking him or wrapping her legs around his waist and climbing his back.

Peeta got better at staying underwater, and he took to swimming around her and tickling her beneath the waves‒in innocent places, of course, like her feet or her sides. One time, though, the water caused her shirt to billow up and he accidentally slid his hand across the bare skin of her stomach. It was so flat and smooth; it felt nice. For a split second, his hand took over before his mind could have any say in the manner, and he squeezed her side a little. Katniss sucked in a sharp breath and reared back. And instantly, she was throwing out her arms and kicking her legs to put some distance between them.

“Katniss, I’m sorry! Di-did I hurt you?”

She shook her head rapidly, but she could barely look at him.

Again, Peeta apologized while slowly moving toward her.

“It’s okay.” She swallowed. “I’m just…ticklish there.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Things were a little weird after that, and Katniss kind of kept her distance from him, despite Peeta apologizing quite a few more times. She finally told him to just forget about it.

But Peeta didn’t want to forget. He wished he could touch her anytime he felt like it, and that she would want that, too.

After their swimming lesson at the lake, Peeta started having dreams about Katniss, embarrassing ones. More embarrassing, still, was the way his body reacted to the dreams, even in his sleep. It was a bit upsetting, and she would be mortified if she knew. But he couldn’t seem to help himself. And it occurred almost every night. Peeta considered talking to his father about it, but that would be weird, and talking to his older brothers would be even weirder. But they were actually helpful in a way. Hearing them talk, he came to understand that it was normal to feel what he was feeling.

Those feelings continued‒oh, did they continue!‒and Peeta started to notice other girls, too, but none of them left any kind of lasting impression on him as Katniss did.

Was it normal for a boy to be so obsessed with a single girl his entire life?

—–

Eventually, Peeta decided he needed a distraction from Katniss, and so, he joined the wrestling team at 15. His older brother wrestled, and he’d always thought that was pretty neat.

Turned out, he was really good at it, even came in second in the school, only to his brother.

The wrestling built up Peeta’s body and his popularity. Although he’d always been stronger than most boys his age, due to working in the bakery, he developed, growing broader and stronger but remaining lean in the waist. He made more friends, and girls were starting to pay attention to him. Save for one‒the girl he’d noticed all along. Unfortunately, Katniss still treated him like her pal, and even worse, she was spending less time with him and more time with Gale Hawthorne…

Peeta didn’t like it.

But he supposed he couldn’t blame her; between wrestling and the bakery, he’d had next to no time for her.

Or, maybe Katniss was finally figuring out that he didn’t belong in her world. Not because she was a Seam girl and he was from town, but because, he didn’t seem to fit in with her and her friends. For instance, he wasn’t good at the same kinds of things as they were. It didn’t matter to Peeta, but maybe it mattered to her.

Regardless, if she would allow it, he would remain by her side, for always. Whether they were doing something he was good at or not, whether they were going someplace dangerous or unpleasant, no matter what, wherever she went, he wanted to go, too.

But over the next year, things began to shift between them. Peeta’s popularity in school only seemed to push Katniss away, and whenever he tried to remedy the situation, she either ignored him or flat-out made up an excuse. It was a crushing blow each time she did.

One day, a girl asked Peeta to go to the slag heap with her. He knew what that meant, of course, and he actually considered it, if only to give himself the chance to feel something for someone other than Katniss. But in the end, he just couldn’t go through with it, and he told her no. She was pretty, but if her name wasn’t Katniss Everdeen, then Peeta Mellark simply wasn’t interested.

That was the day it hit him‒he loved Katniss Everdeen. No, not just loved her; he was in love with her.

Maybe he should tell her how he felt.

But how could he? She would never reciprocate‒she didn’t think of him that way‒and he didn’t think he could take the rejection. Best to leave things the way they were because having Katniss as his friend was much better than not having her at all…

—–

Katniss’s POV (Age 16)

Several days later…

“So, where’ve you been lately, Peeta?” asked Gale. “Been wondering where the other half of Peetnip’s been.”

“Actually, we prefer Everlark,” said Peeta with a grin.

Katniss hugged her legs to her chest, blushing over the combining of hers and Peeta’s names, even though she knew it didn’t mean anything. Gale was just fooling around, and Peeta was playing along.

“Yeah, so what gives?” barked Gale. “You too good to hang out with us all of a sudden?”

“No, not at all, I-” Peeta glanced over at her. “I’ve just been really busy with wrestling.”

And his new friends…

And that girl…

Katniss was sure she wasn’t coming close to hiding the disdain on her face. Of course, she’d heard about that pretty girl asking Peeta to the slag heap. And it had hurt way more than it should have; she’d actually felt like a part of her died inside that day.

Katniss wasn’t sure why, but lately, she’d been thinking about Peeta a lot. About old times. When he fell out of the tree; when they slept in the same bed; that summer at the lake…

How had things changed so much between them, and somehow, not at all? Part of Katniss wanted so badly for things to always stay the same, but another part of her kind of wished that things could be…different between Peeta and her.

She shook off her thoughts and turned her attention back on Gale.

He was looking as skeptical as her over Peeta’s excuse. Not for the same reason, probably. It was because Peeta was a merchant’s son. And that meant Gale was always paranoid that Peeta was only pretending to be their friend for some ulterior motive not yet revealed, or that he’d ditch them all at the first opportunity. Honestly, Katniss was surprised Gale had even accepted Peeta into their circle in the first place. But, as with her (and everyone), it had taken him some time.

“Seriously, man, it takes up almost all of my free time. And then there’s my…” Peeta stopped short.

“Your mother,” Gale finished for him.

“Yeah.” Peeta looked to Katniss then, probably because he knew it was a sore subject for her. Katniss glanced away.

Peeta’s mother. As much as Katniss disliked her, Peeta still seemed to care about what she thought, even if he said he didn’t.

Not that she could blame him. Angering his mother was dangerous, and she wanted him to be safe. Simply associating with her, as Peeta was doing now, could earn him a beating. And Katniss felt constant guilt over it. He shouldn’t be here now; she should tell him to stop coming, once and for all. But she just…

“Katniss, who’s that man leering at you?” Gale’s voice broke Katniss’s train of thought.

“Leering?” She blinked several times in succession. No guys ‘leered’ at her. Guys barely even knew she existed, aside from her small group‒and they didn’t exactly think of her as a ‘girl.’ She was just one of the guys; she’d never even been asked on a date. Not that she’d want to go on one…except maybe with…

Shaking off the ridiculous notion, Katniss shielded her eyes from the sun and looked over. Gale was right; the man was actually staring at her. He was an older man, wearing dark, fancy clothing and gold eyeshadow. He definitely wasn’t from around here.

“I don’t know.” Katniss shrugged. “Never seen him before in my life. And he’s not leering.”

“Nah, I think he is,” Gale smirked. “He’s looking pretty hard at you, Catnip.”

Katniss’s cheeks flushed. It felt so strange and uncomfortable having a man, any man, look at her that way as if he was evaluating her…

“Well, all I know is, he can’t be from District 12,” remarked Gale. “Look at those fancy clothes.”

Her old hunting partner had read her mind, and instinctively, Katniss looked back at Peeta for his take on the matter. Peeta didn’t even seem to notice her; he was focused on the man, and he seemed none too happy about the situation.

The man with the gold eyeshadow came over then, and he introduced himself to Katniss. His name was Cinna, and he was from the Capitol.

The Capitol. What could a man from the Capitol possibly want with her?

“I’m sorry to stare, but let me explain,” said Cinna. “I’m a stylist in the Capitol, and I’ve been searching for the perfect girl to model a new line of clothing I’m designing.”

Yeah? And what does that have to do with me?

He was going to have to spell this one out for her.

“I think you’re it.” At his words, Katniss’s eyes widened. She glanced back at her group, the entire lot seeming as thunderstruck as her. “Miss…?” He extended his hand.

“Katniss Everdeen.” She accepted his hand and shook it.

“Katniss, what a lovely name. May I call you Katniss?”

Numbly, she nodded.

“Well, Katniss, you’re just what I’ve been looking for. That skin, those eyes…I could do wonders with your unique look.”

Katniss blinked several times, opening her mouth and closing it like a fish out of water.

“No offense,” she finally managed to say, “but I think you have the wrong girl. As you can see,” she motioned in presentation of her dirty clothing and disheveled hair, “I’m no model.”

Cinna grinned. “Not yet, you aren’t, but that’s where I come in.”

Katniss couldn’t understand it. What was this man thinking? People from the Capitol were known for their exotic tastes, but this was a bit much. So what if he thought she had nice skin and eyes? Couldn’t he find plenty of other girls with far better skin (that wasn’t caked in dirt and the faintest hint of coal dust) and with much more alluring eyes. A unique look? Well, the Capitol was full of people like that, wasn’t it?

“There must be better choices than me in the Capitol,” she spoke her thoughts aloud.

“Yes, well, I want a girl who’s real,” explained Cinna. “An ordinary girl. One of the people. From the districts, not some fashion icon from the Capitol. I’ve worked with plenty of those, and they’ve left me…wanting.”

Katniss stared blankly at the man before her.

“Just think about, Katniss,” he said, taking her hand and patting it gently. “It would only be for about three months, and it would pay a lot of money.”

Money? Her eyes lit up at the magic word. Now that the mine was temporarily shut down after that accident, her family could certainly use the money, but a model?! She couldn’t be a model. And the thought of leaving behind her family and Peeta…well, she didn’t like it one bit.

Katniss glanced back at her blue-eyed boy with the bread, who seemed perturbed and maybe a little sad. Their eyes met, and pleadingly, she stared into his, hoping for a silent answer. What do I do?

#jhsgf82 #567inpanem #prompt 13 #Springtime edition 2021 #submission

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peachbear88 · 3 years

Text

Tale as Old as Time (Pt 2)

A/N: Part 2! We're getting there people!

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

The metal gates swing open with a rusty whine.

Your eyes snap open and you grab your chamber pot, and club the figure over the head.

"Ow!" The figure exclaims, falling over.

You brandish the pot as menacingly as possible, given the awkward angle.

"Who are you?" You demand, your voice cracking. He rubs the growing lump on his head.

"You hit hard madmoiselle," He responds, ignoring your question. Another set of footsteps, heavier ones echo off the stone tower. You gulp, as the figure arrives to reveal a skinny but tall man wearing what appears to be a gold pendant.

"Don't scare the poor girl Pietro. In fact, you shouldn't even be letting the prisoner out!" The man chided. The blond boy (supposedly) named Pietro laughed, ruffling his hair. He zooms over to where the man is, leaving a faint blue mist behind him.

"What's wrong doc? Scared what'll happen when my sister finds out?" He teases and the doctor shoves him away, wrapping his floating red cloak tighter around him.

"Oh shut up." Pietro turns back to you.

"So. You're the new prisoner." He looks you up and down. You drop the pot and it hits the floor with a loud clang, making him flinch.

"Yep, that's me. Come to kill me at last?" You question, raising your arms as if to embrace death. He bursts into laughter, slapping the tall man on the shoulder.

"Oh man! Strange, did you hear that? She thinks we're going to kill her!" He keeps laughing while the man named Strange rolls his eyes, muttering something about stupid kids.

"So... You're not going to kill me?" You inquire hopefully. Pietro's laughter dies off as he wipes tears from his eyes.

"Kill you? When you could be the one to break the curse? I think not." He shakes his head as if you were the foolish one before thrusting his hand out. "After you."

You walk down the stairs hesitantly, the bright walls of the hallways a stark contrast to your dim cell.

After a few moments, you can't take it anymore, your curiosity getting the best of you.

"What was that you said about a curse?" Pietro instantly pales, shoving you rather forcefully along the hallway.

"Did I say curse? I meant uh-" He stutters, his eyes frantically scanning the area for an excuse. "I mean purse!" He waves the bag in front of your face. "Break the purse!"

You stare at him.

"Break the purse." You repeat skeptically. Strange pushes you along, seemingly in a hurry.

"Oh look! We've arrived at our destination." He pushes the grand golden doors open and your jaw drops. A beautiful, extravagant bedroom lays behind the doors, the ceiling arching up and curving into a golden dome.

"Wow..." You gasp, twirling around in the room.

"Mistress wanted you to have the finest." Strange replies, bowing low. You snort.

"That girl from earlier?" You look him up and down. "No offence but you look more like you should be her master." He opens his mouth to reply but Pietro cuts him off, shoving him out of the room.

"Well, we'll let you get settled! We hope you'll join us for dinner!" With one last shove, the two disappear from the doorway, leaving you to your own devices.

The moment the door slams shut behind them, you scan the room, your eyes landing on the silken sheets adorning the mattress. You make quick work of it, tearing it into long, thin strips.

"Okay. I can work with this."

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

A small knock sounds out and you frantically shove the long strip of cloth away.

"Come in!" You call out and a menacing looking woman comes in, followed by a boy around the age of 15, wearing a red and blue costume with what appears to be a spider on it. You gape at the odd duo.

"Is that... A spider?" You murmur and the boy bounds into action, sticking his arm out for you to shake.

"Hi! My name's Peter. Peter Parker." You smile at his bubbly demeanor.

"Y/N." The woman's eyes never leave you, examining you. You shrink under her gaze.

"Right! This is Ms Natasha Romanoff. She may look really scary but she's actually a massive softie." Peter whispers confidentially and Natasha smacks him on the head. You laugh at their familial dynamic.

"It's a pleasure to meet you sweetie," She curtseys and you smile. "Please ignore this dumb child." She gestures to Peter.

"Hey!" He exclaims indignantly. You giggle.

"Well, we came to welcome you to our humble abode. Cup of tea?" She proffers and you smile, accepting it. The scent is heavenly, the right amount of sweetness and bitterness. "I find that a perfect cup of tea is just what we all need when it gets rough."

You smile weakly.

"Thank you. Why are you being so nice to me?" Natasha sighs, watching Peter swing around your room, little webs coming from his wrists.

"Well dear, we're all prisoners here as well. Might as well make the best of it." She shrugs and ushers Peter out of the room, leaving you deep in thought.

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

Steve sighs, his feet in Sam's lap, warming his frozen fingers by the fire. The noise of the pub does little to raise his spirits.

"How could she possibly reject me? The most handsome man in the village!" He sighs again while Sam massages his feet. Sam throws the feet off his lap.

"Gosh it disturbs me to see you Steve,"

"Looking so down in the dumps."

"Every guy here'd love to me you Steve!"

"Even when taking your lumps." He cries, massaging Steve's ears.

"There's no man in town as admired as you,"

"You're everyone's favorite guy."

"Everyone's awed and inspired by you,"

"And it's not very hard to see why."

He drops a few coins into the bar musicians hand.

"No one's slick as Rogers,"

"No one's quick as Rogers,"

"No one's neck's as incredibly thick as Rogers!' He exclaims, twisting the neck of a rather large man rather violently, a large crack echoing around the pub.

"For there's no man in town half as manly."

"Perfect, a pure paragon!" The fair girls pipe up from behind Sam. He hops onto the bar, sitting in between 3 very drunk men.

"You can ask any Tom, Dick or Stanley,"

"And they'll tell you whose team they'd prefer to be on..." He slaps them on the back of their heads, giving them a pointed stare until they catch on.

"Who plays..."

"Darts like Rogers!'

"Who breaks..."

"Hearts like Rogers!"

"Who's much more than the sum of his parts like Rogers!"

Steve warms up to the attention, flashing a debonair smile at everyone.

"As a specimen, yes, I'm intimidating!"

"My what a guy, that Rogers!" The people cry, raising their mugs and splatters beer everywhere.

"I needed encouragement,"

"Thank you, Sam." He exclaims, slapping Sam on the shoulders.

"Well there's no one as easy to bolster as you!" He wraps Steve in a tight embrace for a bit too long.

"Too much?"

"Yep." They disentangle their limbs from each other.

"No one the fights like Rogers,"

"Douses lights like Rogers." To emphasize their point, Steve licks both his hands and slaps them onto the candles, extinguishing them with a satisfying hiss.

"In a wrestling match, nobody bites like Rogers!" Sam pulls his shirt up to reveal a deep bite on his abdomen. A few people squeal.

"When I hunt, I sneak up with my quiver,"

"And beasts of the field say a prayer."

"First I carefully aim for the liver,"

"Then I shoot from behind."

"Is that fair?" Sam pipes up.

"I don't care."

"No one hits like Rogers,"

"Matches wits like Rogers,"

"In a spitting match, nobody spits like Rogers!"

"I'm especially good at expectorating!" He throws his head back and hocks up a good chunk of spit which lands in the pot Sam is holding.

"Ten points for Rogers!"

"When I was a lad, I ate four dozen eggs,"

"Every morning to help me get large." He grabs nearby woman by the waist and lifts her onto his right arm. The fair girls swoon.

"And now that I'm grown, I eat five dozen eggs,"

"So I'm roughly the size of a barge!" He slowly grabs Sam and lifts him onto his left arm, making the crowd gasp.

Steve drops them both and jumps onto the long table, tap dancing with the two other ladies. Sam grabs decorative swords and tosses them to a few men while Steve keeps dancing. They jump onto the table, brandishing their swords menacingly. The ladies jump out of the way as Steve draws his own sword. He clubs one over the head, spinning around and pretends to stab another dramatically. With a large flourish, he raises the sword to mimic the mural of himself on the wall behind him.

"Who has brains like Rogers?"

"Entertains like Rogers?" Sam belts out but Steve pushes him aside.

"Who can make up these endless refrains like Rogers?" Steve bellows, raising his arms.

"I use antlers in all of my decorating."

"Say it again!"

"Who's a man among men?"

"Who's the super success?"

"Don't you know? Can't you guess?"

"Ask his fans and his five hangers-on."

"There's just one guy in town,"

"Who's got all of it down..."

"And his name's S-T- Uh... I believe it's a D after?" Sam begins tentatively as Steve glares at him. "It just occurred to me that I'm illiterate, and I've never actually had to spell it out loud before..."

"Steve Rogers!"

The crowd bursts into a final round of applause, settling down as they dive deep into the hazy fumes of alcohol again.

"Ah, thank you Sam! I don't know what I'd do without you." Steve exclaims, plopping back down into his cushioned armchair. "How is it no woman has picked you up yet?"

"Well, I've been told I'm clingy but I don't really get it." Sam mutters obliviously, his arms draped around Steve's shoulders. Steve nods awkwardly.

A loud bang echoes into the pub and Tony comes rushing in, disheveled.

"You must help me! She's got Y/N! Please, you must help!" He cries, falling to his knees. Steve stays back while Sam rushes forwards.

"Tony, calm yourself. Who's got Y/N?" He asks soothingly.

When Tony looks back up, fear shines through his glassy eyes.

"The witch."

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

Taglist: @username23345 @musicinourlips @gingerbreadcookieforlife @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @ima-gi--na-tion @nicole-rayleigh-hot @olsensnpm @peabrain112 @yeetus-thyself

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda fluff #wanda angst

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moshymosh · 3 years

Text

Remember me- A Night To Remember

When the love of your life suffers from a disease that affects their memory of their life with you, what do you do? Will you spend your last days with them, trying to get them to remember you? The life you had, or would you give up and let them forget you?

Summary- Dr. Spencer Reid felt his whole life change when Agent Y/n L/n joined the BAU. She came in like a cool summer breeze changing everything Spencer knew about love and his capacity to care for someone so much. Y/n came to the BAU with a tragic past, her only goal was to save lives and make the world a safer place for everyone. She meets a skinny shaggy haired doctor, which causes her whole life to change, much like Spencer, will she fall in love or will her tragic past or even her job prevent her?

Pairings- Dr. Spencer Reid x f!reader.

A/N- This is a notebook inspired story, this story will be told and wrote like a chapter book. So some of the endings will not always make sense. Also I don't claim go own Criminal Minds or the Notebook, this is solely for entertainment purposes and for enjoyment. Some of the lines are from the notebook movie, again I don't claim to own either fandom/tv show/ movie. I try to make Y/n as vague as possible so shes more inclusive so if there is any descriptive things that don’t apply to you feel free to ignore them. Also just putting this out there as the story progresses Maeve is still alive and well, she is a good friend of Spencer and Y/n’s. There will be graphic content and sexual scenes in later chapters, warnings will be added as they go. Also if you want to be tagged send me an as or comment here, also send requests I'm down for making little fics. I know this part is a little weird, but there will be a -A Night To Remember part 2

PS- Please don't post my fics anywhere without my documented consent, thanks -Karma (MoshyMosh)

Warnings- some mentions of guns, violence and some minor crime talk, the usual for criminal minds. (I’m bad at writing case talk, please don't hate me.)

Here's the dress I was using for inspiration. Also here are the roses. If the links don’t work, here’s a link to the inspo board on Pinterest.

Previous part | Next Part | Masterlist

Y/n walked into the bullpen a package clasped in her hands. Y/n saw JJ talking to Derek and glanced around, making sure Spencer wasn't around before she walked over to the pair. "JJ I need a favor, " Y/n said softly, holding out the newspaper-wrapped package. "Give it to Spencer when I'm- uh not around?"

JJ and Derek shared a small smile after JJ took the package from Y/n and watched her go over to her desk and begin to set her stuff down. Y/n tilted her head at the small bouquet of yellow red-tipped roses sitting on her desk. Y/n smiled softly and pulled the notecard from its holder. Her eyes were drawn from the notecard to the three bags of gummy bears behind the roses.

Y/n let out a giggle and shook her head with a small smile on her face. She then looked up to JJ with a look of confusion but brushed it aside and sat down as she began to pull the card from its envelope.

'Will you go to the FBI ball with me?-SR xx'

Y/n giggled and slid the notecard into her blazer pocket and grabbed one of the bags of gummy bears, opening it as she left the bullpen to go to Garcia's bat cave.

Spencer smiled as he saw Y/n's reaction to his gifts, turning back to Rossi and Hotch, as they all stood in Hotch's office. "I think she liked them." He said excitedly. "Thank you." Spencer said before he left Hotch's office.

JJ saw Spencer walking back to his desk. "Spence!" she called for him as she began to walk over to him, Derek trailing behind her.

Spencer turned and looked at JJ, confused, seeing the package in her hand. "Looks like pretty boys got a crush." Derek said with a chuckle, nudging Spencer's shoulder.

Spencer took the package from JJ, pulling the notecard from under the emerald green ribbon that was decorating the package. Spencer looked up at JJ and Derek, confused before he opened the envelope and pulled out the card to read its contents.

'I love Walt Whitman, you saw and remember how I like my coffee, here's my favorite book of poems. Remember them- F/I L/I x'

Spencer put the notecard down and went to untie the ribbon when he looked at his desk to set the ribbon down and saw a note on the back of the card.

'PS- you once told me a statistic on recycling and I took it to heart, hence the newspaper. It's recycled.'

Spencer chuckled and carefully unwrapped the newspaper so it can be reused before he pulled the book from the wrapper. Spencer opened the hardcover and saw the copyright page.

"A first edition?" Spencer asked in disbelief.

Y/n and Garcia walked back in the bullpen, Y/n looked over to Spencer and smiled at him before she popped a gummy bear into her mouth.

"Okay guys, the FBI ball is next Wednesday. We just got a case, let's meet and discuss." Hotch said from the second floor.

Y/n followed Penelope to the meeting room and found a seat as the others filed in after.

"Ok, guys this case is in our very own home." Garcia started talking, throughout the meeting Y/n and Spencer took turns glancing at each other.

"Ok L/n you're with me, we'll set up here. Reid and Morgan go check out the first crime scene. Rossi, JJ, and Prentiss go to the recent scene." Hotch said as he closed his file.

"Y/n." Hotch said once everyone left and they began to set up the evidence boards that they had wheeled into the room.

"Yes sir?" Y/n asked, looking over to Hotch as she finished putting up the final picture on one of the boards.

"Did you like Spencer's gifts?" he asked, handing her some more things to put on the board.

Y/n smiled to herself as she hung the things he handed to her, "Yes, I did. Though, I can't wrap my brain around what those yellow roses are supposed to symbolize. They have multiple meanings such as friendship and/or falling in love." she said as she turned around and placed her hands on the back of a nearby chair. "Does that mean his note is 'go to the ball with me as friends.' or 'go to the ball with me because I'm falling in love with you.'?"

Hotch chuckled and shook his head with a smile. "Don't overthink it like Reid did." he said

Y/n shook her head with a laugh before she smiled up at him. "I think just because you said that I'm going to do just that."

Their friendly banter was interrupted by Hotch's phone ringing. "Reid, what did you find out?" Hotch asked as he answered and put his phone on speaker, Y/n listened alongside Hotch to what Reid was telling them. Y/n looked over to the map on the board, mentally putting points on it.

"I think I know where the unsub's comfort zone is." she said, moving away from the chair she was leaning against and began putting the points she envisioned onto the map for the team.

"Reid, Morgan tell everyone to get back here." Hotch said before he turned and looked at what Y/n was doing as he hung up the phone.

After a few days if run around by the unsub they managed to track him down. Y/n went into the warehouse with her gun drawn as she led a few SWAT members in.

"Thomas McDonald!" Y/n shouted, her gun drawn on the man who was holding a knife to the throat of a girl he recently kidnapped. "Put the knife down, and let the girl go."

Soon the team came in and the unsub backed down. They quickly arrested the man and the victim was given medical treatment. Y/n took a deep breath when she stepped out of the warehouse, Y/n shook her head to shake loose her thoughts before she looked at the woman sitting on the back of the ambulance.

"Agent L/n?" a medic called over to her, she looked over to the source of the voice. "She wants to speak to you."

Y/n walked over to the woman and sat next to her. "You saved my life." the woman said, grasping Y/n's hands.

"It wasn't just me." Y/n said as she rubbed her thumbs over the back of the woman's hands, turning her head to nod towards the team. "They all helped." Y/n whispered to her. The woman hugged her tightly causing Y/n to gasp in shock. Y/n hugged the woman back and began rubbing her back in a comforting manner.

"Thank you so much." The woman said. Y/n continued to rub the woman's back, not knowing Spencer was watching her comfort the woman.

"L/n." Hotch called out to her, causing Spencer to look away, as Y/n looked back to Hotch. She excused herself from the woman's embrace and came to join the team, standing beside Spencer. "You did a really good job of defusing the situation, " Hotch said earnestly, causing Y/n to let out a small sigh of relief. "Let's head back to Quantico and debrief."

Y/n and the team headed back to Quantico and began to work on writing their reports. Y/n sighed and rubbed her eyes for what she felt was the thousandth time, everyone had finished and went home. Spencer looked over at Y/n who yawned and rolled her head, stretching out her neck.

Spencer stood and began to grab his things. "Y/n go home, it'll be there tomorrow." he said to her as he walked past her desk.

"Oh! Spencer, yes I'll go to the ball with you on Wednesday." Y/n said as she smiled at him. Spence smiled back at her and nodded his head before he turned and continued walking to the elevators, leaving Y/n behind in the empty office.

The sun rose on the Monday before the ball. Y/n groaned as she lifted her head from her desk as she heard her coworkers enter the bullpen, she rubbed her eyes sleepily as she turned her head in their direction.

"Y/n did you sleep here last night?" Penelope asked as she walked in beside Derek.

Y/n stretched and yawned as she looked around. "I uh- must've fallen asleep after I finished my report." Y/n said as she rubbed her eyes again. "I remember putting my report on Hotch's desk and sitting back down to gather my things and I fell asleep."

Spencer walked in behind JJ, carrying two to-go coffee cups, smiling at the sleepy Y/n at her desk. "You slept here." Spencer stated, walking over to her, holding out one of the cups to her.

"No, I just decided to wear yesterday's clothes and not brush my hair." Y/n said sarcastically before she took a sip of coffee.

"Ouch, Y/n's got bite in the morning." Derek said with a chuckled to which Y/n gave him a death glare. "Oof meow." he said, gesturing a clawing motion with his hand.

Hotch walked in with a chuckle overhearing their conversation. "L/n, JJ, Prentiss, and Garcia why don't you girls take the day, go do girl things." he said with a smile. "Just keep your phone on you."

JJ and Emily looked at each other in disbelief as Penelope squealed and did a happy dance. Y/n saluted with a sleepy look as she sipped her coffee again.

"Rossi, Reid, and Morgan, we all have tuxs to get for Wednesday." Hotch said. Spencer watched as Y/n gathered her things into her white messenger bag before she stood, slinging it onto her shoulder.

"Spencie, thank you so much for the lifeline this morning." Y/n said as she raised her cup in his direction.

"Y/n! Let's go, we've got dress shopping to do!" Penelope shouted from the door to the bullpen, causing Y/n to cringe at the loudness of her voice.

Y/n turned around and motioned her hand in a lowering gesture. "Penny sweetie, too loud." Y/n whispered as she walked over to her, and slung her arm around Penelope's shoulders after she switched her coffee cup to the other hand. "Let's go bitches." Y/n said with a laugh as they walked to the elevators, to go shopping.

Y/n sat in the dress shop, watching JJ, Emily and Penelope come in and out of the fitting rooms, trying on different dresses. Y/n turned her head as her eyes glanced go the burgundy she had her eyes on.

"Girl, go get it." JJ said as she watched Y/n, the dress she decided on, hanging over her arm.

Y/n looked back to JJ, biting her lip. "Should I?" she asked as she began playing with her fingers.

"Oh hell yes." Emily said adjusting the dress she was trying on in the mirror.

Y/n nodded her head in determination, before she stood and walked over to the display her dress was hanging on, flagging down an employee for help. Y/n waited by the dressing room as she watch the employee take the dress off the display for her to try on. Y/n walked behind the curtain after the employee handed it to her.

Y/n stood in front of the mirror inside the fitting room, as she ran her hands down the tulle bodice. She took a deep breath and turned to exit the small room.

"Oh my God!" All of the girls said when they saw Y/n in the dress. The burgundy tulle of the skirt flowed around her perfectly.

"Does it look ok?" Y/n asked softly as she adjusted the sleeves, turning around to look in the mirror behind her.

"Yes, you do." JJ said as she came up behind her, rubbing her shoulders affectionately. "Look if you do your hair up..." She said as she demonstrated showing Y/n what she meant.

Y/n bit her lip as she looked at her reflection as JJ held her hair up. Emily came up behind the pair and smiled, leaning over Y/n's opposite shoulder.

"You know I wasn't sure about you at first but I've changed my mind about you now." Emily said as she draped a necklace she saw on a display on Y/n's neck. "I saw this necklace and I thought it was perfect." she said as she looked up from the necklace on Y/n's chest to her reflection.

JJ stepped away from Y/n and Emily, and went to look for a necktie that matched the color of Y/n's dress for Spencer to wear. JJ dragged Penelope into the search after they both paid for their dresses and accessories. Y/n smiled at Emily when she stepped away. Y/n went back into the dressing room to change back into she came into the store in. Emily took the necklace she found for herself and the one she found for Y/n, along with her dress, and went to the register to pay for her items.

Emily waited for the girls by the door of the shop. Y/n stepped out of the dressing room, the dress she was getting, draped over her arm as she gathered her bag from the couch she was previously occupying. She went to the register to pay for her desk, smiling as the woman put her dress in a dress bag before she stood next to Emily by the door, waiting for Penelope and JJ.

Once all the girls were ready they walked out of the shop and out to their cars. "Hey girls, why don't you guys take your things home and then come back to my apartment for some drinks and take out?" Y/n asked when they all reached their cars that were parked near each other.

"You got a deal sister. I'll bring the wine." Penelope said giddily.

Emily chuckled and shook her head as she hung her dress in the back of her car. "I'll bring face masks." she said with a wink to Y/n.

"JJ, what are you bringing?" Y/n asked, watching the woman in question put her dress in her car.

"I'm bringing my love and support." JJ said as she opened her driver's side door, putting her purse inside of the vehicle. She turned to the girls, leaning back against the back door. "I will bring the steamy emotion-filled, romantic movies."

"Bring magic mike, please." Penelope said, giving JJ a pouty face.

Y/n laughed with a shake of her head as she watched the girls get into their cars and begin to leave. Y/n loaded her things into the back of her car, careful not to wrinkle her dress in its bag. As Y/n sat in her car about to leave the parking lot her thoughts turned to the roses she had Penelope take to her home while they were on the case.

She began to drive home, her thoughts now turning to think of what Spencer was doing.

#karmawrites #moshymosh's masterlist #mgg x reader #remember me #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine smut #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #matthew gray gubler x reader #moshymosh writes

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fanfics4all · 4 years

Text

Pink

Request: Yes / No Hey can you do a soulmate au the reader dyes her hair crazy colors a lot and Spencer ends up having that color if that makes sense thank you 🖤❤️ @iwannadue

Send me a request, please look here first! <3 Have a nice day/night

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1863

Warnings: talk of tourture

Y/N: Your Name

Y/L/N: Your Last Name

Prompt(s): If you dye your hair your soulmate’s changes too.

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK!

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Masterlist

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

When I was growing up I desperately wanted to dye my hair. My parents were completely against that idea, even though that was literally the only way to find your soulmate. So after college and I decided to be a bartender I dyed my hair for the first time. I picked pastel purple and waited to see if anyone I knew had the same hair color. Sadly, there was no one with my same color. Soon I got bored with purple and went with a scarlet red. Again no one coming in and out of the bar had my hair color. None of my friends had my hair color, no one did. Again I soon got bored with the color, I dyed it to dark blue. Once again, nothing. I kept getting bored of my hair color and changing it every month or two.

Spencer’s POV

My Mother told me about soulmates growing up and how you find them. If you or your soulmate dyes their hair, your hair changes as well. As much as I wanted to find my soulmate, I didn’t have a desire to change my hair color. It seems my soulmate didn’t either. That was until I woke up with purple hair. I was getting ready for work when I noticed it. I groaned knowing that I didn’t have time to get dye and change it back to normal. I walked into the office and sighed, I didn’t want to hear everyone say things about my new found hair color.

“Oh pretty boy! Looks like your soulmate got their hands on some color!” Morgan said as I sat at my desk.

“Just ignore it, please.” I said and he chuckled.

“A little hard to do that since you have purple hair.” He said and I sighed.

“I’m well aware.” I said and started work.

Over the next few months my soulmate kept changing their hair color. I had every color there could be! I was kind of annoyed by it, but at the same time it made me happy knowing that they were probably a fun loving and outgoing person. Currently I had pink hair and we were on our way to West Virginia and I was always embarrassed by having unnatural colored hair on the job. But if I changed it back to my normal color, my soulmate would just change it back to whatever color they wanted. My team had gotten used to it, but it was still annoying.

“Our unsub has been kidnapping female bartenders, keeping them for four days tourching them and then killing them by strangling them with a belt.” Hotch said. I noticed that they all had unnaturally colored hair.

“Did any of them find their soulmate?” I asked.

“No, they were all looking for said soulmate.” Garcia answered.

“What if this guy is posing as their soulmate?” JJ said.

“That would make sense, girls desperate to find their person. It would be easy to take advantage of.” Emily said.

“Doesn’t really give us any leads, just that we’re looking for a guy with unnaturally colored hair.

“It’s a start.” Hotch said.

Y/N’s POV

I now had pink hair and I was starting to lose hope that soulmate was here. I was working my shift and that’s when I saw him. He was tall, skinny, he was dressed perfect for the club I worked at, and the same pink as me on his head. He noticed me and smiled, walking up to me.

“It’s you.” He said and I smiled.

“It’s you.” I said back and he chuckled.

“So you’re the one that’s been changing my hair color like crazy.” He said and I nodded.

“That would be me.” I said taking a small bow.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Jason, what about you beautiful?” He asked.

“Y/N.” I said.

“Well Y/N, when do you get off?” He asked and I checked the time.

“Two hours left.” I answered.

“Well, how about I take you out and we get to know each other in two hours?” He asked and I smiled.

“It’s a date.” I said and he nodded.

“I’ll be back then.” He said and I nodded.

“See you then.” I said and went to go help a customer.

Spencer’s POV

We’ve been here for two days now and the unsub got another girl. Morgan and I were going to the bar she worked at to see if anyone that worked there saw anything. When we got there the manager greeted us.

“Y/N was working at that bar with Krysta, she can tell you more than I can.” He said and we nodded.

“Great, thank you.” I said and we made our way to Krysta.

“Krysta?” Morgan asked and we showed her our badges.

“Are you here about Y/N? Is she okay?” She asked worried.

“Can you tell us what you saw the night she went missing?” Morgan asked.

“Yeah sure, We were working like normal and Y/N had just recently dyed her hair a new color, she’s obsessed with finding her soulmate since she couldn’t dye her hair while she was living with her parents. Anyway, some guy walked up to the bar and he had the same pink as she did, actually looked like the pink you have. They talked for a bit, but I didn’t hear, she told me when they finished that she was going on a date with her soulmate after her shift.” She said and my heart sank.

“Do you have any pictures of her by any chance?” I asked before Morgan could say anything.

“Uh, yeah on my phone.” She said and pulled up a picture. Sure enough we had the same exact pink hair.

“What other colors has she had?” I asked. Krysta swiped through her phone and she had all the same hair colors at the same time I did, this couldn’t be a coincidence. I looked over at Morgan and he knew what I was thinking.

“Can you tell us what the guy looked like?” He asked.

“Actually, I can show you.” She answered and told us to follow her. We followed her to the cameras and she showed us a video of Y/N and the guy.

“Did you ever notice him before this night?” Morgan asked.

“Not that I can remember.” She answered.

“Excuse me, I heard you two are with the FBI?” A man said walking up to us.

“Aren’t you supposed to be cleaning, Mickey?” Krysta asked.

“Yeah, but I heard that the FBI was here investigating Y/N going missing.” Mickey said.

“What can you tell us?” I asked.

“That guy she was talking to the other night, I’ve seen him around here a few times. He was always watching her and he didn’t have the same color hair as Y/N until that night.” He said.

“So he was stalking her.” I said.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Krysta asked him.

“I wasn’t working that night, remember? If I knew then I would have said something!” He said.

“Right, sorry…” She said and he nodded.

“Alright, thanks for the information.” I said as Morgan called Garcia.

“Hey babygirl, we have some security footage here with the guys face, can you work your magic?” He asked.

“Alright, we’re on our way, thanks babygirl.” He said and hung up.

“We gotta go. Garcia found the guy, the team is meeting us there.” He said and we rushed out.

We got there as fast as we could and the team showed up soon after. If this girl was really my soulmate I was extremely worried. Hotch sent me, Morgan, and himself to the front, while JJ, Emily, and Rossi were sent around back. Morgan kicked down the door and we stormed in.

“FBI!” He shouted and we searched the house. We heard Y/N scream and we rushed to the back room. Morgan kicked down the door and there was Jason slicing her arm open.

“You’re too late.” He smirked and Morgan tackled him.

“We need an ambulance.” I said putting my gun away and rushed to Y/N. I wrapped my hand around her arm to try and stop the bleeding. Hotch was untying her and she looked up to me.

“Pink hair.” She whispered before her eyes shut.

“Keep your eyes open Y/N!” I begged, but she didn’t open them. The paramedics came in and took her away. Hotch nodded at me to go with them.

Y/N’s POV

I woke up slightly in pain and looked around the room. I was in the hospital? So that wasn’t just a horrible nightmare… I sat up in pain and a doctor walked in.

“Hello Miss. Y/L/N, do you know why you’re here?” He asked and I nodded.

“I was kidnapped and tortured.” I said and he nodded with a sad smile.

“Well you injuries were manageable, we were able to patch you up.” He said and I smiled.

“Thanks Doc.” I said.

“You will be able to leave in a few days, we just want to keep an eye on you to be safe.” He said and I nodded again.

“I understand.” I said.

“Well, I’m just here to run a few tests to be safe then I can send in the visitor you have.” He said and I looked at him confused.

“A visitor?” I asked and he nodded with a smile.

“Alright.” I said and he ran the tests. After he was done he sent in whoever was here to see me.

“Um, hello…” A small voice said and I looked over to see a man with the same pink hair as me. I gulped and shrunk into myself a bit.

“My name is Dr. Spencer Reid and I’m with the FBI.” He said walking in a little bit closer. I looked at him for a moment and then it hit me.

“You were the one that was trying to stop the bleeding!” I said, feeling relaxed around him now.

“That was me.” He said with a smile.

“Your hair is also pink.” I said and he nodded.

“Um I think that’s because I’m your soulmate…” He said and I stared at him.

“No offence, but after what I just went through I’m not gonna trust your word.” I said and he nodded.

“Your co-worker Krysta show me pictures of you with all your hair colors with dates.” He said.

“Alright?” I said and he bit his lip. He took out his phone and showed me some pictures of him with the same colors at the same time I did and my eyes widened.

“I-It really is you?” I asked with tears in my eyes.

“It is.” He smiled. I pulled out all the needles and wires that were poking me and rushed up to him, ignoring the pain.

“I’ve been looking for you for a long time.” I said and kissed him.

“This might not be the best time to say this, but can we agree on a normal color?” He asked.

“Lucky for you I’m not feeling pink anymore.” I said and kissed him again.

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs @schisbro87 @lover-of-books-and-teas @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches2 @genius2050 @drw0301bieber @softgamerking @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @pettyjayy @reidssmile @currentfangirl-futuremedexaminer @mggstyles @satans-0-spawn @emofairygay @thesoftestwarlock

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer x fem!reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds soulmate au #soulmate #soulmate au #fanfic #request

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hb-writes · 3 years

Text

Thank you? No one has ever said that to me before.

Inspired by my 100+ lovely followers, @love-me-a-good-prompt’s “THANK YOU IDEAS” prompt list, and those fun OC questions we tried out a few weeks ago when I wasn’t able to write a thing.

Summary: After having her wisdom teeth removed, Charlie Specter is brought to her brother’s office to recuperate. High on pain meds, she ends up doing a bit of stand up comedy in the bullpen and gives Mike a compliment he will never forget.

Featuring: Mike Ross, Rachel Zane, and Charlie Specter

-----

Mike first caught a glimpse of Charlie behind Rachel’s head, just sparing her a quick glance at first before realization hit him and he took in the whole scene--the suit jacket draped over her shoulders, the moccasin slippers, the puffy cheeks, and sleep ravaged hair, all of it up on a swivel chair in the bullpen for everyone to see.

“Shit,” Mike said, stopping Rachel mid-sentence and her eyes followed his.

“Aren’t you supposed to be looking after her?” Rachel said.

“She was asleep,” he answered. “Like completely out. I thought--”

“Well, she’s certainly not now.”

Mike was meant to be watching Charlie while Harvey was in a meeting and Donna was out getting lunch, and he had checked on her, twice already, actually. She’d been asleep both times, practically comatose, entirely immune to his poking or calling her name, but still breathing. He’d double checked on that.

Donna had told him Charlie would probably sleep until Harvey finished up for the day. The girl was strongly affected by pain killers, always had been. Yet despite Donna’s assurances, here Charlie was giving impressions to the associates.

“The only time succc--succck--suck-cess comes before work!” Charlie pointed at the nearest associate, Harold, the words slurring as they came through her lips. “Is in the dictionary. I worked all day and all night and walked up hill both ways to get to the office in the snow and rain so now I’m a big important law man with a corner office. And I dress better than everyone in this room. And no one can tell me what to do.”

She showed off the sleeves of the suit jacket before bowing dramatically, like a court jester before royalty.

Mike stepped out of his cubicle. “I should, uh--”

“Handle that?” Rachel suggested, eyebrows raised as she looked to the youngest Specter, a small smirk on her face.

“Yeah, I should go handle that,” Mike said, whispering ‘shit’ once again to himself as Charlie moved on to introducing an impersonation of Louis.

Mike moved across the bullpen, stopping in front of the girl on the swiveling chair and reaching out for her hand. “Charlie, you have to come down from there.”

A smile broke out on her face, the chair spinning a bit as she jolted excitedly. “Mike! Everyone, look! It’s Michael Ross. First year associate, olympic bicyclist, grammy’s boy, teddy bear collector, an--”

“Alright, that’s enough of--” Mike started, steadying the chair.

“Mike, I’m gonna do Louis next!”

“No, Charlie, c’mon,” he said. “Come down from there.”

“No, I’m--” Mike wasn’t sure how exactly, but he pulled her from the chair and into his arms in a swift move and Charlie immediately wrapped her arms around his neck, a pout on her face.

“But I was gonna talk about prunies and bran bars and cats and mudding and...” she mumbled, an exaggerated pout on her lips. “I had a whole thing planned.”

“That was planned?” Mike asked, eyebrow raised.

“Obviously, Michael,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Wait, no. I just came up with it. I’m very spontaneous, Mike. Very, very clever. The cleverest person in the building, probably.”

“I can see that.”

“Wanna know how I’d impersonate you?” Charlie cleared her throat and attempted to sit up straighter, forgetting she was in Mike’s grasp, forgetting that the only thing keeping her from falling to the floor was Mike’s arms under her knees and around her back.

“I’m Mike. Pew, pew, pew,” she said, shooting finger guns at him. “You’re stupider than me because you’re not as smart or cool and you don’t have any skinny little ties.”

Charlie laughed to herself. “Oh! Oh! And!” She cupped her hands over Mike’s ear. “And I’m in loOoOoOove with Rachel,” she whispered, giggles erupting from her lips in between the words.

Mike’s cheeks burned as Charlie continued to giggle in his arms.

“You’re high as a kite, Charlie.”

“No, I’m not! I’ve never even heard of drugs...or alcohol! Hugs not drugs, Michael.” She poked him in the cheek. “You should listen to that advice.”

“I’ll do that,” Mike answered. “Do you even remember taking pain killers?”

“I didn’t take any pain killers.‘I’m’ ‘very’ ‘sensitive’ ‘to’ ‘them’,” she answered, a deliberate pair of air quotes assigned to each of the words. “Wait, can I take some? A pretty doctor pulled my teeth out today.”

Mike sighed as he set her feet on the ground just inside of Harvey’s office.

“Let’s just get you back to sleep.”

Mike took the suit from her shoulders and tossed it over one of the arm chairs.

“But now I don’t look fancy.”

“Well, how about I give you this nice fancy blanket instead?” he suggested, holding it up.

Charlie smiled, snatching the blanket from Mike’s hands before running and jumping onto Harvey’s couch. Mike picked up the pillow that had fallen on the floor when she pounced and dropped it on the couch beside her.

“I think I’m a little tired,” Charlie said, lowering her head to the pillow. “Stand up is hard work, Mike. You should keep your day job.”

“Thanks for the advice,” Mike answered.

“Can you tuck me in?” Charlie asked. “Harvey always tucks me in.”

“Always?” Mike asked.

Charlie nodded as Mike pulled the blanket up under her chin and settled it around her.

“But it’s a secret. He thinks I’m asleep when he does it, but sometimes I’m not,” she whispered.

Mike nodded. “Do you need anything else?”

Charlie shook her head, snuggling further under the blanket as Mike sat in the armchair beside her. Charlie mumbled his name.

“Yeah?” Mike asked.

She was looking to the ceiling or at least she hadn’t bothered turning to look at him.

“Can I tell you another secret?”

“One more, then you should get some rest.”

“You have really pretty blue eyes,” she mumbled. “Pretty like a blue... colored... pencil.”

Mike snorted, shaking his head a moment. “Thank you? No one, uh, well...no one has ever said that to me before.”

“The prettiest of pretty blue colored pencils,” she continued. “Crayola ones, not Roseart. You’re like Crayola, like a...”

“Like a what?” Mike asked, leaning forward enough to see that Charlie had passed out mid-sentence.

Charlie’s birthday wasn’t for a little over a month yet, but Mike already had a plan for her gift. Sure, he’d end up with a few extra art supplies lying around, but the idea of Charlie unwrapping a package containing various shades of blue colored pencils was simply too good an opportunity to pass up.

Suits (Lines to Live By) Masterlist

#suits fanfic #suits fanfiction #suits usa #specter!sister #mike ross #harvey specter #charlie specter #lines to live by #rachel zane #louis litt #100 follower thank you

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farmlesbians · 8 months

Text

uh oh! call the doctor! skinny girl i see

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lluvguts · 3 years

Link

chapter one!🌻 🖤

word count: 4,695

pairing: reddie + stenbrough

warnings: there’s some mentions of family dysfunction and depression, so if you’re sensitive to those topics then you’ve been warned :)

it’s also unformatted (no italics) but the ao3 one has those if you like em

Richie wasn't expecting his thirteenth birthday to be anything special. The usual for the Tozier house was balloons and typically a dessert for breakfast. For his twelfth birthday Richie muscled through an ice cream sundae, so he was hoping that this time it'd be a cake. Or maybe waffles, he loved those. But when Richie dragged his sleepy feet down the carpeted staircase to the kitchen, all his doubts faded away as he was welcomed to the morning smells of a steaming griddle and Maggie, Richie's mother, softly humming a tune while she poured some water into the thick waffle batter. He was about to say something, maybe let out a little mumble of complaint that the sink water messed with the goodness of the waffles (but was stopped by how off her happy hum sounded, at least coming from her usual quiet) when his dad piped up.

"Hey! The birthday boy's up. How about some coffee, son?" Wentworth rose from where he was skimming over the Derry newspapers to give him a smelly, dad-cologne hug. Richie noticed the few doctor's papers Went had brushed under the usual mail before the hug, but didn't say anything.

"He's thirteen, Went. Hardly much of a man to need coffee in the morning," Richie heard his mother murmur absently through his dad's arms covering his ears.

Wentworth released Richie, who adjusted his askew glasses and worshipped the clear kitchen air, then ruffled Richie's already mussed head of black hair. "That's alright, Chee. We'll get her on our side soon enough."

Richie loved that his parents called him that. Chee. It wasn't dopey enough of a nickname for him to hate it, and being thirteen after all, Richie knew he was venturing into the realm where kids thought their parents were losers who were always out to get them. They don't suck a mouth of rocks, Richie thought. They made me waffles and didn't even ask if I wanted syrup and whipped cream on top. They knew I liked it.

"All of my other friends drink coffee," Richie said with his hands playfully crossed. He meant to say, if I had any friends, I'm sure they drink coffee. But he kept his mouth zipper shut.

"Strawberries, too?" Richie appeared at his mother's side and let his hand rest by the soft hem of her nightdress. Her face reflected in the kitchen window looked pinched and tired. Richie held in the bowling boll of worry that rolled into his gut, because even if his mother usually stayed in bed past ten in the morning, it was his birthday, after all. It was only okay with this one exception. Richie's mother hardly got enough sleep. Or rather, she slept often but was never fully rested. It was something to do with the depression conversation that Richie had overheard one night at the foot of the stairs when he should have been in bed. It was odd to him, but his mother simply couldn't get a few good chucks from the sun that shone through the blinds like he did. Maybe she was lonely. Does it get dead boring sitting at your desk, staring out a window that you wished maybe had a few more kids in front of it, or something to see other than the neighbors and all their baby's toys in the yard? Richie wasn't stupid. He knew they were "trying" (a fancy word he also picked up, which just meant they were having sex) for more kids, but just, couldn't? But...wasn't Richie enough? It was the question that kept him up at night, when the Superman clock by his bedside often read midnight, in brilliant red. They wanted a baby girl, they didn't want you. They have another kid and you're all alone now, Richie. It was the topic of discussion that went unsaid in the Tozier household, though to Richie it was the big fat elephant in the room. An elephant with enough weight to send him spiraling under the covers when he should be sleeping, heavy enough so that his sides heaved as the pillow drowned his sobs. An elephant that sat in every corner, even if it was Richie's birthday.

"Of course, baby," Richie's mother took her free hand and hugged the side of his face to her dress, then set the sliced strawberries on top of the whipped cream mountain. She took his plate with both hands and walked toward the table, so Richie steered around her just in time to sit down next to his dad before they broke into the familiar off-key Happy Birthday chorus.

"Was there anything you were hoping you'd get when you turned thirteen, Chee?" His dad asked once Richie had speared a few massive amounts of waffle into his mouth. Maggie smiled politely at her messy eater and then tried to wipe the dark circles from under her watery brown eyes. But things like that didn't just go away.

Richie slung his arm across his lips to catch the maple syrup he felt dripping down his chin then spoke in a careful voice. "I was, uh, hoping to get a bike?"

"And why would you want something like that? Walking to school is perfectly fine. Healthy, even," His dad fired back, but by the way he heard the telltale smile in his voice, Richie knew he was playing, too. Both his parents shared a knowing glance and then turned back to Richie.

"What? You mean, you're serious?" Richie nearly spilled a glob of whipped cream from his mouth. "You guys got me a bike?"

"Why don't you check the front porch, there's a mysterious package with your name on it," Wentworth said.

"Oh, let him finish his breakfast first," Maggie interjected but Richie was already racing out of the kitchen to the front door, his fork still gripped in one hand.

There, shining like a beacon among the weedy yard and creaky old porch furniture was a great lump covered in blue wrapping paper. Richie's favorite color. It was the color of the calm sea he'd seen as a toddler and blue raspberry slushies, the kind that stained your tongue neon blue and made all the hurtful words the bullies said not matter as much when you had a mouthful of sugar. Even that same royal blue of the empty baby's room next to Richie's. But he let those bowling pins stay in place for now. Richie bounded down the steps and didn't bother waiting for his parent's approval to tear through the wrapping paper. Hidden beneath the layers of paper was in fact a bike, but it wasn't one he'd ever seen before. If he had, the monster of a bike was bound to be from a pawn shop or something. The bike was old. With huge fading handles and a package carrier on the back. It even had one of those rubber horns clasped to one of the handles. Richie crouched down to stare at the wheels, where it looked as though his dad or maybe a less experienced man had tried ripping the cards once inserted between the spokes, and left a few wispy pieces of paper as a ghost of their presence. Even more odd, the word Silver was scrawled in a barely perceptible line across the slim body of the bike. Richie felt like he was touching the cool metal of the past, and loved every second spent staring at the bike when he heard his parents step out onto the porch in their house shoes. Richie turned his head and flashed an appreciative smile at the both of them.

"What do you think?" His mother held her hands firmly to her stomach, wringing them when Richie remained silent. "We found it over by Center Street. Some fellow, Denbrough something or other was giving it away, but I had to pay him at least something-"

"I love it!" Richie flung himself up to wrap his skinny arms around his mother equally skinny waist, then buried a string of thank-yous into her nightdress. He held her tightly and hoped his words were proof enough for her to believe it. He wasn't lying, he did like the bike. But he liked knowing he could race past the houses and cars, right to school. Right past awful Henry Bowers and Victor Criss.

"You're welcome," Wentworth and Maggie said with a high laugh. Well, his father laughed but his mother's didn't go past her lips, like maybe her mouth remembered how to be happy but the rest of her didn't.

"You're growing up, Richie. Thirteen now, but soon you'll be twenty and never even realize it...Then you'll be having kids of your own..." Maggie trailed off, no longer meeting her son's wide eyes.

"...Mom, you okay?"

His father butted in once more when he noticed Richie lingering far too long on Maggie's frown. "You wanna try it out? I'm sure you've got hardly any homework to do on a Saturday."

"Can I?" Richie asked his mother, who only replied with a nod. He sure did have an ass load of school work to do, but he didn't want his mother to worry over him even more.

"Don't be out too late, or I'll be sending the hounds on you, mister."

"Dad, we don't have any dogs, remember? Maybe I'll ask for a puppy for Christmas! How bout that, eh?" Richie laughed, but it died when he saw the pained, fragile look in his mother's eyes.

Went took Maggie by the shoulders and guided her into the house, where the sound of her short little cries escaped past the front door. Richie waited with his eyes shut till he couldn't hear the stifled sniffling to slip back into the house for his messenger bag in his bedroom then quietly shut the front door. He didn't want to be in the way, not after seeing how worked up she had gotten. He mounted the bike--Silver, or whatever name it was to the last kid that used it--and fastened the radio from his bag to the basket in front of him. A cool rhythm played out along the Derry streets as Richie pedaled (or tried to, as he'd only ridden one bike before maybe-Silver, when he was only five) toward his freedom. He had the whole day to himself, whether it be spent at Costello's for some candy in exchange for the loose pennies in his short pockets, or at the library for a new comic. Or, on a completely different note, on the burning asphalt because Richie had sped up too fast around a turn down Jackson with his head floating far above the clouds, leaving him jolting back awake and not nearly enough time to break. The bike swung him forward, angrily bucking like an untamed horse, and Richie slipped off the seat and into the sidewalk as the radio strung out another cheery, soulful tune. The sun-scorched mounds of rubble ground against his cheeks and Richie thinks for a second that maybe riding a bike (especially such a behemoth like this one) was such a good idea. His glasses flew off into a patch of dying grass a few feet in front of him, and when Richie found his bearings he realized he hadn't fallen along the sidewalk at all. In fact, there was no sidewalk. The road ended a mile or so back, and all that remained was a few rundown houses showcased by uneven edges of asphalt and sidelines of jagged gravel that cut into his bare knees and chin.

I knew I should have worn pants today, Richie thought as he scrambled over on his stomach for his glasses. He blinked up for a street sign, but there weren't any of those, either. The last one he'd remembered seeing was Neibolt Street, and the realization alone made his body shiver despite the throbbing heat from the scrapes and cuts. This was exactly where his mother might pray Richie wouldn't end up. The houses on Neibolt (if someone were to really call them homes) were scattered and obviously vacant, with boarded up windows and an overall stench of mildew rot that hung over each property. Richie righted his bike and switched off the radio, worried some hobo were to peek their grimy head out from a near window if they heard the music. The closest house loomed over him, it engulfed the entire street with its dark wood-rotted panels and what seemed to be a garden, perhaps in a happier time, but had gone straight to hell. The porch was barely visible through a twisting snarl of rosebushes, the only colorful thing about that wretched house as Richie could see. Those scarlet blooms called to him, and Richie couldn't help but take a tentative step with his battered sneakers up to the chipped picket fence, staring out into the dead quiet for a sign of life inside the house.

A flash of chestnut zoomed past one of the roses, and Richie stopped dead in his tracks. His hand was hovering above the unhinged gate for more movement, holding his breath. A bird must be caught in there. That dark brown softness hesitated behind the bush, then disappeared under the porch and what looked like into the caved in cellar. Oh my god. It's not a bird...that's someone's hair. It's a boy.

"Wait!" Richie called out, abandoning maybe-Silver at the corner but still had his messenger bag slung across his sweaty chest. He dove toward the rosebush, his head full of wonder as to why a kid would hang around a dump like this, and not the least bit concerned for his own safety as the thorns tugged on the soft flesh of his forearms and ankles. The boy had maneuvered through the sharp pieces of the broken porch to get to the cellar, and Richie whined despite himself at the pain as he crawled on his hands and bloody knees to the shattered entrance. It was beyond dark in there, but it seemed quiet and barren to Richie so he stuck one leg into the mouth of the cellar and jumped down. Nothing seemed new, as it all sounded so ancient and tomb-like as the dust from his fall settled, the leaves definitely weren't from this season and the glass wasn't sharp to the touch of his soles. They were worn into the decaying earth of the cellar floor, like they were used to being stepped on. Richie nearly tumbled into the boy when his feet connected with the spongy spring leaves and glass shards.

"Oh! Jeez, I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd be-" Richie started to say, but stopped himself short when what spare light flickered across the boy's face let Richie really get a good look at him. Though bathed in darkness and musty shadows, the boy looked young. Maybe thirteen, like he was. But what made Richie's heart speed up to an unsteady clang in his dry throat was the boy's face. His lips were parted, as if in awe, and as he did so a thin trickle of a black sticky something dribbled down his chin to his shirt collar. The boy only wiped it away, as if it were a pesky fly and nothing more. His fingers and hands were stained too, with that syrupy something. It couldn't be...blood? It's too dark to be blood, really. Unless it's so deep inside him that it's- God, stop it Rich.

Richie reached out a hand to the boy. "Jesus, are you alright? What're you doing down here?"

He couldn't really make out the words through the stream of blood or mucus passing through the boy's mouth, but he heard something along the lines of, "You can see me?" With this was the kid's hands recoiling from Richie, until he stumbled against the brickwork behind him.

"Um...Yes?" He blinked, still staring, completely fascinated by the way the boy didn't really care about his bloody speech impediment. "Say, what's that all over your mouth? Some costume?"

"I wish," The boy hiccupped, or let out some sort of wheezy intake of breath, and more blood coursed down his front. It reminded Richie of when Ron had cursed himself in Harry Potter and began to hurl mouthfuls of slugs. Except that was a fairytale and this was actually happening. He didn't just say that he casually throws up blood. Or black loogie stuff. He couldn't have.

"You mean that," Richie pointed to his stained lips, making him frown. "Happens all the time?" Richie gaped at him, and the other boy only looked away into the depths of the cellar with the lines of his cheeks dark in embarrassment.

"Don't act so surprised, if you'd been through what I- Oh, never mind," He turned back to Richie and wiped his mouth. "What're you doing down here? How did you even find me?"

Richie glanced at the chips of glass by his shoes, feeling stupid. "I fell off my bike. But I saw some idiot wandering into a haunted house and wanted to make sure they weren't going to get their guts unzipped." At the last of his words the boy's brows furrowed and he was glaring with pursed, blood-stained lips. Richie couldn't help the few extra words that often times were the garnish of his sentences. It just came out. His tongue usually betrayed him like that, and these little blips in his brain were the main cause for the teasing at school. Teasing was putting it lightly, though, Richie knew. He didn't come home with black eyes and a practiced lie to his mother for some teasing.

What'd ya say, trashmouth? How about I smash those buck teeth in for ya, faggot?

The boy considered this, his brown eyes softening in the dusty light. "Well, next time don't go chasing a stranger into someplace you don't know. And it isn't haunted."

"I'm only a stranger because you didn't ask for my name."

"And I still haven't," He spit back.

"It's Richie."

"Eddie."

Richie held his hands up in defeat. He wasn't exactly an expert in the making friends department, though he wished he was. God, he did. "C'mon. I just met you and you're already mad at me. Must be a world record or something."

"I'm not mad at you. You just shouldn't be here, Richie," Eddie interrupted himself with a wicked gasp and another gush of blood glistened along his already stained shirt. "It's not safe."

"And why not? Why did you ask me if I could see you? What, are you a ghost or something?" Richie asked playfully, but Eddie's face paled. Water shuddered with a groan through the pipes, somewhere above them, making Eddie jump slightly and then wince at the blood that was caked on Richie's knees and bare arms, as if seeing it for the first time. His next words were grave and demanding, and Richie didn't feel up to debate when such a small thirteen year old kid looked so terrified of some plumbing.

"You need to go," Eddie stated, but didn't try to push Richie away.

"What's the matter? Afraid you won't get any hot water in your shower tonight?" His traitorous mouth spat out.

"Go Richie! You need to get out of here!" Eddie's breath came in ragged pants, and with it more gross blood oozing like snot from between his chattering teeth. He really is scared shitless, Richie thought.

His feet wouldn't move, only lock up in the crazed moment he remembered the glass underneath his shoes and their cool, hard presence like an old knife against his toes. The water in the pipes reached a new height, and the noise stopped directly above them, where a resonant thud pounded across the ceiling and made a few scraps of paint tumble down. Richie felt the world settle around him too, maybe for the first time in the past few minutes, and that was when he felt the weight of his messenger bag grounding him to the earth.

"Here," Richie flipped open the front of his bag and handed Eddie an empty potato chip bag he'd left in there. He didn't know why he was handing him some week old trash, he just thought that it would help the boy's...problem. Eddie only blinked at him, incredulous, before snatching the bag with a shaky hand.

"So you don't ruin any more shirts," Richie explained, then mimed the action of throwing up into an invisible baggie. Eddie's face got that weird pinkish tinge again, and Richie thought the boy was going to say something, or maybe giggle just a bit, but the memory of the creaking and angry pipe sounds made his soft features fall.

"What're you still doing here? Go before it's too late!" Eddie waved his hands frantically at Richie, looking conflicted between shoving his skinny ass up and out of the cellar and perhaps curling into a ball. Maybe he can handle the loogie stuff better that way, Richie thought. He spun around and leapt for the small crag of windowpane left in the cellar, with just enough leverage to haul himself up and back underneath the porch of the house on Neibolt Street. As he half-crawled, half-staggered his way out from under the dry stench of the porch, he didn't hear any more groaning from the pipes. But if Richie stood by the rosebush and bent his head down toward the wooden skirt, he swore he heard Eddie's short sobs, much like his mother's. They were the type that didn't care if you had something to say. They raged through your lungs and out your throat with a little dash of tears to go with it. Except, among the hushed rustle of nearby rosebushes, Richie realized that Eddie's choked sobs were fearful. Like that raging something was attacking him instead.

He found maybe-Silver perched just where he'd left it, the only breeze of reality that allowed Richie to swing his stinging knees across the seat and pedal for home. Get out before it's too late, Eddie had said. Before what?

"What harrowing tales does Richie the Brave have for us tonight?" Wentworth asked. Richie sat across their little kitchen table, the one that collected hospital documents and angry-seeming papers with debt scrawled in red ink, and was shoveling mashed potatoes and burnt asparagus into his mouth. Richie's mother had went to bed early, her dinner going untouched next to Went's empty chair (which explained the over-cooked dinner but not the extra plate and silverware. Did he think she'd come down and inspect the house for fire once she smelled the burning chicken?). After the outburst from this morning, Richie guessed he was too scared to wake her to eat. Richie didn't blame him.

"Oh, not much," Richie began, and made a little mashed potato ski slope as he thought over what to say. He knew it were best to leave out the creepy house on Neibolt from his daring tales, but maybe adding a new character to the story wouldn't hurt anyone. "Went to the trainyard and accidentally busted up my knees. But I made a friend on the ride back home."

This was good, he knew. It wrapped up his fake story with enough packing peanuts that it passed as the real one, with his injuries all accounted for, and Richie even had the guts to tie a little ribbon around it and say he actually made a friend. It got Wentworth listening, which was the real bow on top. His dad grinned and pretended to pull wax from his ears.

"A friend? That's great, son. What's he like?"

Richie stared into the mess he'd made of his dinner. He wished his mother were downstairs too, just so maybe she'd smile at how great his day had gone. He missed her smile.

"His name's Eddie. I don't know much about him, we only talked for a few blocks before he had to turn back and see his ma, you know? But I think he's got some trouble breathing."

"Asthma?"

"Huh?" Richie looked up from his plate, sure his dad had just said ass mom.

"Maybe your little friend's got asthma, Chee."

Richie shrugged. "Maybe. But he's got it real bad. Coughing up blood and stuff." He didn't mean for the last part to trickle out, but like Eddie's weird blood fits he fell into, it just came out.

"Coughing up blood?"

"Yeah. Like motor oil," Richie bit his lip but still the words came. His dad only gaped at him, not looking the slightest bit convinced but all the same concerned.

"Do Eddie's parents know about this? That doesn't sound good, Richie."

The boy's name didn't sound right coming from his dad's mouth, and on top of that he used Richie, his full name. This was unfamiliar territory Richie had land-mined himself into. When was the last time his dad had called him by his real name? Or sounded as skeptical as he did now?

"You think I'm making it up, aren't you?" Richie asked, not knowing where this foreign anger had come from or why it decided to pump through his veins, white-hot energy straight to his brain. Wentworth's face faltered, but he gained some composure. For the first time Richie realized how tired and strained his dad's face looked. Not just his face, but his whole body. His shoulders were curved and hunched, as if pressed down by some invisible weight, circles tracing his brown eyes, a nervous twiddle of his index finger around his wedding ring. His dad looked exhausted, and old, and Richie wasn't sure what to make of that.

"I- Of course not, Chee. I'm just trying to get a better picture. You said your friend has asthma-"

"Can I be excused, dad? I'm not really hungry." Richie was super hungry, after all that had happened today, but wasn't liking the idea of having to conjure up more lies to string along his story. I should have just kept my goddamn mouth shut. He hardly knew why the hell Eddie was down in that disgusting well house, let alone his odd habit of throwing up blood. It all seemed too peculiar, but not fake enough for Richie to just shrug it off. It was real. He could smell those dead leaves in his nose, still feel the thorn pricks burrowing shallow nicks in his skin, the coppery stench of Eddie's body once only a few feet from him, making the stuffy cellar stink like old pennies. All because of Eddie. Eddie, with his pinched face and tiny arms. Eddie who was probably the same age as Richie was but still had a tender childlike orbit to him, even if it got swallowed up by the crippling fear he'd seen smash into those bright brown eyes-

"Richie? Are you okay?" His dad was leaning across the table now, his plate clean and pushed aside. Richie brushed his advancing hand away and gathered his own plate.

"Sorry, yeah. Dazed off for a bit." But Wentworth was still staring fixedly at him, like maybe he'd never believed a single thing uttered from Richie's trashcan of a mouth since he'd came home.

"Alright, well goodnight then. And happy birthday," His dad grabbed Richie's arm before he could run away (and Richie did his very best not to cry out as his dad's fingers squeezed the sore scratches) and brought him in for a side hug. He cringed out of the hug, but couldn't stop the broken-looking smile that stretched across his face. It showcased far too much teeth.

"Thanks, dad." Richie wrinkled his nose at how strained the conversation sounded, like neither really wanted to sit down and play house while their missing piece of the puzzle wasn't there to complete them. Richie just wanted to sleep away whatever had happened between him and his mother, but the Neibolt house tugged at his consciousness through his aching muscles and tiny scabs. And that equally striking pang of worry for whatever had Eddie trapped inside its walls.

#it movie #reddie #reddie fic #fanfic #it fanfic #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #soft #it 2017 #it fandom #it movies #it chapter 2 #gif isnt mine #pennywise #horror #stephen king #horror fanfic #ghosts

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effieduan · 3 years

Text

GIVE RIO JOB 🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪 | Rio & Effie

TIMING: Present

LOCATION: Vulpine Voltage Repairs

PARTIES: @3starsquinn & @effieduan

SUMMARY: Rio’s ability to afford groceries is called into question.

CONTENT: No Triggers!

Effie sat at the counter, tinkering with a giant black box. It was a monster, a dinosaur, and an absolute disgrace to modern computers. But Florence wanted it back in suitable working condition because it was “so simple”. Effie learned early on in this business that it was important to give the customer what they wanted -- even if she thought she could give them a better experience. Florence was elderly, and she could understand wanting things to stay the way they were. And truthfully, after Effie was done with this big old dinosaur, there wouldn’t be much to complain about other than its size and heavy weight -- that reminded her. She would have to schedule a drop off at Florence’s apartment. Watching the little old woman waddle in carrying that thing had almost given her a heart attack. She was working on replacing the cooling fan when she heard the door jingle as someone entered.

She would have preferred to be in the back sitting in her workshop, but that meant she would have to constantly be getting up from her work to come out front whenever a customer came. Annoying. She poked her head up over the harddrive to get a look at her customer. “Just a second,” she said, swiftly hopping off the stool, placing her tools on the counter, and grabbing her lime-green gloves. She looked at the boy. College student, most likely. “Can I help you?�� she asked. “Did something break?”

In a lot of ways, a shop like this should make Orion feel right at home. Ever since he was old enough, he practically lived on his computer if he wasn’t reading. Nowadays, he did a lot of his reading on the computer anyways, with the scribe archive coming along. It was slowly but surely growing, and Rio was starting to find it easier to find information through the database instead of skimming through the books like he always had to before. Of course, there were probably thousands of books still unaccounted for, but he had tried to prioritize to get some of the most common books translated first.

If his pastimes weren’t enough, then his old second major made a shop like this feel even more familiar. Computer science had always felt like more of a means to an end than an actual passion, but he had still picked up on a few things in the first two years before he had dropped it to focus on history and mythology. After all, the groundwork for the database had already been built thanks to Winston’s help. That was what Rio had wanted the degree for in the first place.

Now, Rio just needed work. Money wasn’t exactly tight. His parents had left behind a generous amount split between himself and Athena, and despite the size and grandeur of the home that he currently lived in, his living expenses were surprisingly cheap. Perks of only paying utilities he supposed. Still, a steady income wouldn’t hurt. And despite the change in majors, Rio still knew enough about technology that a place like this could be a potential job option. If they were hiring that was. “Hey there.” Rio gave a small wave when the woman behind the counter spoke to him and slid closer to the counter. His fingers began tapping against it rhythmically as he considered his words, “Nope. Nothing broken here. Not technology anyways” Rio rattled off, letting his words slowly fade as he realized this was not the best conversation starter, “I was actually just wondering if you knew if this place was hiring? I’m sort of looking for employment.”

Effie stared at Rio, mouth opening slightly in surprise. “... Employment…” Effie said slowly, as if she didn’t quite understand. Truth be told, she didn’t understand. She was quite clear that she was not looking for any other staff for her store, even if Eva told her she was being ridiculous because she would get so much more work done if she had someone watching the front counter while she sat and worked on orders in the back. And what did this boy mean by nothing broken - at least not technology. Was that a Gen Z thing? Was she so old that she was starting to call things gen z things? Was she going to rage war on middle parts and baggy jeans next? Effie had to shake herself out her head, reminding herself she was going to live long enough to see Gen Z 10.0, to stare at the boy. He was… Skinny. And polite enough. Effie’s snarky comment of why didn’t you check the website’s F.A.Q before coming in here died on her lips. “Uh -- “ Effie coughed. “I own this store,” she said. “My name is Effie Duan. And I’m not - I mean, I’m not really looking for employees.”

The woman, who turns out was the owner of the store, didn’t seem especially thrilled about the idea of Orion asking if she was hiring. Apparently, that wasn’t something she did a lot of. Or maybe at all. Rio had passed by the store on a few occasions, had only actually popped inside once or twice to check the place out, but he clearly remembered her face from each visit. Did she have any other employees, or was she running this place all by herself? “Oh! That’s awesome. Hi there. My name’s Rio. Technically it’s Orion, but nobody calls me that except my family.” Rio exclaimed, holding a hand out towards the woman as a means of introduction. He quickly backtracked to correct himself, “Er- well I guess my family used to call me that. Now nobody really does.” Well that was awkward. Definitely not the greatest first impression. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to bother you or anything.” Rio bit at his lip. Well there went another option. Was he cursed to live on his family’s money in that oversized home forever? Could that even be counted as a curse? “Do you uh- run this place all by yourself? Because that’s crazy impressive. How do you have time to do everything?”

Effie’s gaze shot down to the hand he outstretched to her as if it was going to bite her. She did not like contact, especially with humans. Well, especially with anyone. Still, that’s why she wore the gloves. They were the solution and the reason she could be around people. Effie quickly recovered and reached out to shake his hand, hoping he didn’t mind the feeling of rubber. “Orion,” she said. “Rio.” Only his family called him Orion -- had called him… Something flashed in Effie’s memory about the doctor and business owner that were brutally murdered, leaving behind their children. She didn’t remember the girl’s name, but she did remember Orion because it had been one of Eva’s favorite constellations growing up. Then again, Eva’s favorite constellation changed every week - maybe she just remembered Orion because she would get poked in the side with a stick shrieking and giggling. Now that was a reason Effie never wanted to have kids. Her demeanor softened though, realizing that this kid was on his own now. She felt that familiar, heavy feeling in her chest -- like whenever she looked at a frustrated old woman who just wanted her dinosaur hard drive fixed or a man that just wanted a stupid gaming system repaired because it meant a lot to his father. Effie cursed under her breath, straightening slightly. How hard must it have been to have your parents murdered and now had to provide for himself?

“You’re not a bother, Rio,” she said shortly. “It’s just - I mean, I do run this place by myself. It’s my store - my business, I mean. I’m open Monday through Friday, from 9-5 and then on Saturday’s from 9-12.” Officially, at least. More often than not, she was here, open late or early because it wasn’t like she did much. “So … Well…” Effie looked at Rio. God, could he afford groceries? He was so skinny! “What - What experience do you have?” she asked, lamely.

Orion tilted his head curiously as Effie repeated his name, followed by his nickname to him. “That’s me.” Rio responded quietly, trying to figure out what Effie was thinking about. Clearly something was processing. She was still looking up towards him, but she wasn’t meeting his gaze, instead staring past it. She must have been lost in her thoughts, the same way Rio did. “That sounds busy.” Rio agreed, listening to her hectic schedule. While RIo tried to keep himself busy too, none of his hobbies were exactly time sensitive besides his classes. She was bound to this schedule to run a business. Owning a business in general was way more stress than Rio thought he could handle. Being the sole employee was another thing entirely. She surprised him when she asked about his experience. Hadn’t she just said that they weren’t hiring? “Oh well uh-” Rio considered her question. Technically, he didn’t have much. Not officially. “Well I used to be a double major with computer science as one of those. I’m still a double major, just not computer science anymore. But I learned quite a bit in the first couple of years. I’m pretty decent when it comes to like coding and stuff.” Rio scratched at his neck nervously. It wasn’t like he could exactly show off the database he and Winston had built. Not without looking completely insane. “And I also worked as an assistant in my old job, taking calls and talking to people that came in. It uh- burnt down last year.”

Gears were churning in Effie’s mind as she stared at Rio. He certainly had a series of unfortunate events happen to him. Parents murdered and his job burnt down. Other than making sure some poor college kid could afford groceries, she would get her sisters off her back. It wasn’t only Eva that thought she worked too much. Not to mention if this kid could code, he was likely smart enough to learn how to fix phone screens and the like so she didn't have to waste time with those while she worked on her larger products. Not to mention, if she didn’t have to answer the phone or talk to people… Temptation was something Effie learned not to engage with a long time ago because it only led to disappointment and more self loathing than she could handle. What would she do about this kid’s safety? Make him wear gloves? “A couple of years in computer science is certainly better than nothing,” Effie said finally. “What do you study now?” That seemed like a decent question to ask. She could put him in a full rubber suit, though she wondered if that would be considered cruel and unusual punishment. It wasn’t like the feds would believe it was just her version of wrapping him in bubblewrap.

But how many incidents did she have in her shop? She was comfortable here in her shop and her apartment. Other than making the lights flash when frustrated, she never had done anything dangerous. The danger happened when she inevitably had to go outside. “Look, Rio,” Effie started. “I think -- Why don’t we try it out?” The words fell out of her mouth, surprising herself that she was going through with it. “Obviously, you’re a college student, and I don’t expect you to work all the hours my store is open. We can adjust to your schedule so you can have a healthy class life and social life as well as adequate free time to decompress.” Now she sounded like Eva, who frequently lectured her about what it was like to actually live. Not an option for her. She looked at Rio, before remembering something. “Oh, and I should… Probably check your references.”

#wickedswriting #para #para rio #rio

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