Kiss Me Baby One More Time [ Britney Spears x Reader ]

Chapter 3: Preparation

Author: Fran

A heavy excitement filled the air as you walked into your house, gingerly making your way up the stairs and into your bedroom. Your mother was at work, and your dad left to buy milk but never came back, so you didn't really bother saying hello to an empty house with no one else inside except for your deaf and blind fuck of a grandpa who you caught a glimpse of itching his buttcheeks under his pants while you were on your way to your room.

Upon entering the room, it smelled of instant ramen seasoning and a pungent stench of leftover rotten eggs from the amount of piled-up fart bombs you've dropped over the years, barely ever opening the window to let fresh air in. You sat on your pink RESPAWN RSP- 110 recyclable ergonomically designed racing style with footrest gamer girl chair. Muffled crackling sounds were heard as your ass made itself comfortable on top of the tiny, dried-up crumbs of the chips that have been sitting on your chair for the past two weeks. You dragged your chair across the floor and closer to your desk so you could take a look at yourself in the reflective surface of the mirror tainted with greasy fingerprints and dust on top of each other.

Although you were living like a pig, rolling around in your own filth every day after school, a shower early on every morning could really wash away all of your problems: in this case, the dried-up crumbs off your hair and the smell of rotten ass farts off your clothes. So, that's what you were planning to start off with before making your way to Britney's. Or at least it was the plan until you heard your grandpa call for you from the first floor, with his breathy old man voice as he struggled to speak through his asthma. God, you just wished he'd choke on his own spit and fall dead at this point. Like, damn, God really forgot this man was still alive at 98.

You opened your bedroom door and made your way downstairs, a visible frown sitting upon your face, but it's not like the old man would see it anyway. His glasses sat atop the living room sofa as he spoke to you in that same breathy, withered-up voice from before.

"Could... y-you...—" He coughed loudly, which was followed by another cough, and then another over and over until he had to put his bony disease-ridden fingers on your shoulder, digging his unkempt fingernails into your skin while he coughed, breathlessly holding on to you. You flinched in disgust but kept calm as you waited — the sooner you could get this over with, the sooner you'd be at Britney's.

After a few more minutes, he finally stopped and cleared his through, his floppy, scrawny skin wrinkling to his movement. "Could... you... go down at... the store... and get your grandpa... some tissues?" He finally finished his sentence that felt awfully long coming from a slow talker like him.

Fuck! Really? He couldn't have asked at a better time? You really didn't have time for this, Britney strictly told you to be there by seven, and you didn't want to be late. Who knows what she could be capable of if you were to turn up one minute late? Everyone at school knew not to piss off Britney, bitch. But never mind that, what did this old and wrinkly bag of dicks need tissues for anyway? Did he still fap at this age?

You decided not to question it any further. The longer you stood there and thought about the situation, the longer it would take you to get ready in time to go to Britney's. You hurriedly took the money the old man handed to you and rushed your way to the store.

The cold winter air filled your lungs and sent shivers down your spine, but thankfully the fast-paced jogging was helping you keep your body temperature in check. The store wasn't too far from your house, but it was still a good five minutes away, and right now, every second mattered. You rummaged your hand in your pocket and pulled out your phone to take a look at the time, and it was already 6:15. You hurried your step even more and made it to the store faster than expected, but upon entering, you felt your soul get fucked up by 69 black dudes at once. The lines of people shopping and waiting for their turns at the cash registers seemed to never end.

You slapped yourself out of that train of thought and hurried to the aisle with tissues, grabbing one of the random brands sitting on the shelves. You quickly made your way back to the entrance where the cash registers were. Your eyes sparkled in excitement when you saw the line was clear for a few seconds, so if you made it in time, you could finish before the others. But as you hurried back, you saw some kid already making his way there holding two whole bags full of candy and snacks, and your heart dropped. If that fucker made it there before you, that little shit would take ages to finish.

Panic soon set in, and you broke off in a cold sweat, unable to move in a moment as precious as this. You had to think of something... Your eyes scanned the area as you noticed everyone minding their own business. You averted your gaze to your left and saw a shampoo bottle sitting on the shelves, and without thinking twice, you grabbed it and huffed, throwing it with pinpoint precision after six years of constant Call Of Duty grinds. It hit the kid on the head, and he fell down as his bags flew in the air and spilled snacks all over the floor.

You whistled away innocently as you gingerly made your way to the cashier, handing the money over to her in exchange for the tissue box. While she scanned the item, you eyed around the store and saw that none of the shoppers or employers suspected anything of you as they helped out the kid lying on the floor.

After that incident, you hurried out of the store and back home, throwing the tissues at your grandpa's head on the way while he was seen sleeping on the sofa, while gushy yellow spit slipped from his mouth. Once you entered your own personal hog house for the second time today, you looked at the clock, and it was already 6:37. You threw your phone on your ketchup-stained bedsheets and started undressing while making your way to the bathroom, throwing clothes and undergarments all over the place.

Once you walked in the shower room and turned on the hot water, the lovely warm feeling of the water droplets massaging your back trickled down every inch of your smelly body, making your muscles finally relax for once. But you didn't have time to relax for more than five minutes because there was no time. You quickly washed your hair, running your fingers through the thin strands. They were so thin, yet you'd never be able to snap them unless you straight up cut them.

You jumped out of the shower and to your room, where crumbs of food, hair, and dust already started sticking to your feet as you walked around looking for clothes, or at least any clean clothes whatsoever to wear. You finally found something you thought was cute? Nothing that would shake Britney's standards, but it was enough, so you didn't look like you were wearing your grandma's clothes from the 70s.

You put on the clothes and fixed up your long wavy hair to the best of your abilities.

It was never your strong suit when it came to make-up, but you decided to do something plain and simple, just to cover up any blemishes. Going overboard meant fucking up, and you didn't wanna take that chance, not with the bit of time you had to make your ugly middle-class ass presentable to a goddess herself.

Finally, you grabbed your bag and then your phone, and you were out of the house by 7:01.

Wait—

7:01?!?!?