#and I hope whoever talks shit about him drops their phone in a pot of boiling pasta water | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

frenchbreads-writing · 3 years

Note

If you're not too busy with requests, could I ask for a Enji Todoroki x male reader where Enji adds on to the reader's bad day and he makes up for it somehow? Love your work 😁

Hi y’all it’s been a minute, sorry this took so long I’ve been h*ckin busy lately so I hope this can make up for it a bit<3

I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Todoroki Enji x Male Reader

Words: 2.5k (2,548)

Warning(s): Suggestive themes at the end

Requests: Open

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Waking up, you gently wriggled out of Enji’s arms to get ready for your day of patrol. You quietly got dressed in your hero uniform and packed yours and Enji’s lunch.

You kissed Enji on the forehead before leaving the house, walking to your agency.

The day was nice, the sun was still rising and the light that shone over the horizon reflected beautifully off of shop windows.

There was also a chilling breeze that made you glad you wore extra layers underneath your costume.

The day was beautiful and you had a good feeling for the day ahead of you.

And that good feeling lasted about an hour.

Getting to the agency you were barely able to put your stuff in your locker before you were approached by a sidekick and ushered back out of the building being handed your pager which was buzzing nonstop.

A villain was wrecking a part of the city and you had the means to aid in capturing him.

After that, you were called again and again.

You could barely make it a block before getting a buzz in your pocket.

It was noon and you practically sprinted back to the agency for your lunch break.

You slumped down next to your locker and held your bag.

You couldn’t wait to eat the lunch that Fuyumi had made for you.

You opened your bag and saw your bento box was missing.

It took a moment for the confusion to set in after that you dug around and looking into your locker just to make sure.

You were sure you packed it.

You always triple checked before you left the house and you made sure to place it at the top of your bag this morning, so it guaranteed that it would be the first thing you saw when you opened your pack.

You sighed and closed your bag, hoping whoever took your food would enjoy what Fuyumi had prepared.

A growl from your stomach reminded you that you had a limited time to eat and you had already wasted a lot of time trying to make back to the building in time.

So you stood up and opted to just get a snack from a nearby vending machine.

Just as you finished your snack yet another buzz came from your pocket.

This was going to be a long few hours.

Constantly being pulled in several different directions now with civilians calling out to you in the street for your help you were run ragged.

Now you were sitting in the empty break room getting a much-needed moment of respite from your labor.

Pulling out your phone you thumbed through your contacts before pressing Enji’s number and calling him.

It rang a few times before Enji’s voice came from the other side.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Firefly! How’s it going?”

“(Y/n)? I haven’t heard from you all day are you okay?”

You chuckled.

“Yeah I’m good it’s just been really busy today.”

Even though you tried to hide it, Enji could still hear the tiredness seeping into your voice.

“You could have called and I would’ve come in.”

“Ah, no, today’s your day off I could handle it.”

He opened his mouth to say something when a voice interrupted from your end.

“U-um pardon the intrusion Mr.(H/N) but two sidekicks are physically fighting in the locker rooms and you’re the only hero here right now.”

You let out a sigh.

“Hey, I have to go now, love you.”

Enji didn’t get to respond before the line clicked and the call ended.

He already knew that your agency was being slammed with calls the entire day and if seeing you all day on the news meant anything, it was that you were taking the brunt of it all.

Enji looked down at his phone to see a message from you.

“I’ll be home later tonight to make dinner <3”

He decided that he was going to be a good husband and make dinner.

After all, you did it all the time so how hard can it be?

It was a disaster.

He usually had Fuyumi and more recently you to prepare his meals for him.

He was internally panicking when the sound of the front door slamming shut made him jump.

“Enji, I’m home.”

‘Shit shit shit.’

He didn’t know what to do.

The closer your footsteps got the more he panicked.

“Hey, what’s that—“

You dropped the bags you were holding.

The kitchen was a mess.

He had managed to burn a pot of rice, some meat on the stove were charred a pot of noodles somehow were also burning even though they had been in the water.

Enji expected you to yell at him and scold him for being an idiot.

But instead, you quietly walked over and ushered him out of the way, turning off the flame, and simply dumping all of the unusable food into the trash.

He felt guilty you haven’t even changed out of your hero uniform and you looked so exhausted yet here you are cleaning up his mess as he just stood there.

When the kitchen was left with no trace of Enji’s cooking disaster you wiped your brow and sighed.

“I’ll start dinner when I get out of the shower.”

You walked upstairs without another word leaving Enji alone in the kitchen.

He felt like an idiot.

Instead of helping you feel better he just made it worse.

He looked down at the bags you dropped on the floor.

He stepped closer and kneeled down, opening them revealed that they were full of ingredients for Enji’s favorite kuzumochi.

You came home from a rough day and we’re going to do something to make him happy?

You were the one who needed to be happy not him.

He placed the bags softly on the counter feeling dread in his chest.

After your shower you proceeded to make dinner, now the two of you sat silently at the dinner table.

Enji didn’t know what to say. He already knew how your day went and judging from your expression you didn’t feel like talking.

So he continued to eat glancing at you from time to time.

“I’m finished, I’m going to bed now.”

You stood up and started gathering your dishes.

Enji jumped up.

“I’ll do the dishes.”

You paused and looked at him. The look in his eye told you that he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

“Okay, goodnight.”

He watched you once again walk away dragging your feet as you went.

He cleaned up the area and washed the dishes before he followed you upstairs.

When he made it to the room you were already fast asleep.

He climbed into bed and held you close.

The next day, you woke up sore but pretty rested. Which was pretty suspicious.

You stretched your stiff limbs until you heard the satisfying crack.

Rolling over, you landed on Enji’s side of the bed.

It was cold.

Of course, he had patrol today.

Speaking of hero duties you looked over at the bedside clock and gasped.

It was 10:30 am.

You jumped up from the bed but your foot got caught on the blanket which sent you sprawling out on the floor.

Cursing, you jumped up and rushed to the restroom and rushed through your morning routine, skipping steps as you went.

You rushed out of the room with your hero costume halfway on and ran down the stairs but halted when you heard something from the kitchen.

Enji should be at his agency and Fuyumi didn’t say anything about coming over.

So you peeked around the corner to see Enji standing at the stove, staring very intently at some eggs cooking on the stove, lips in a pout, and a YouTube tutorial on pause on his phone next to him.

He was also wearing a pink apron that you bought for him that he said he would “Rather die than have to wear.”

You couldn’t help the snort that came out.

Enji turned his head to see you with your phone out and snapping a photo.

He growled but didn’t stop you.

“What’s all this Enji? Also, why aren’t you at the agency?”

He didn’t turn around as he answered you.

“I called in and took another day off. I also did the same for you so you can change out of your costume now.”

You stood there confused.

“Not that I’m not grateful but why did you do that?”

His brow twitched.

“You over-exerted yourself yesterday so it wouldn’t be practical to do that again.”

You went to retort but Enji cut you off.

“Even if you say that you’re fine—“ he narrowed his eyes at you. “—I know better.”

You closed your mouth.

“Now change out of your hero suit or you’re not getting any.”

You wanted to help Enji with finishing the food but he placed his entire hand over your face to silence you.

He ordered you to sit at the table and you refused.

Enji leaned down and whispered in a raspy voice to change and sit.

Now, here you were sitting at the table in your pajamas blushing with a pout.

He walked in and placed a plate in front of you with a hash brown, eggs, and bacon.

He stood there and watched you expectantly.

“It looks good.”

You picked up a fork and took a small piece putting it in your mouth and chewing.

Enji sighed in relief when your face lit up.

“It’s really good Enji!”

You took a larger bite and Enji served himself.

After breakfast, he helped you with chores around the house that he usually wouldn’t do.

You had to monitor him and show him how to do some stuff but he caught on quickly and soon enough he shooed you away and finished everything up himself.

At lunchtime, he helped you prepare the food but he wasn’t allowed near the stove at all.

He was fine with that.

He watched as the day progressed you began to relax more and more.

The crease in your brow disappeared and the tension in your shoulders lessened.

When all of the chores were done, the two of you went out to pick up more stuff for dinner. When you passed by stuff in shops that you liked Enji insisted on buying it.

Even if you refused Enji just said that if you wanted it. Get it.

When you hesitated he just proceeded to grab whatever you were looking at and some other stuff you’ve been eyeing and brought it to the counter and just bought it all.

“Enji, You don’t have to spend money on me!”

He looked at you as he placed the bag in your hand.

“But I want to.”

For the rest of the store trip, he bought anything you were interested in.

What was supposed to be a quick grocery trip turned into a shopping spree.

You knew Enji felt bad for what happened last night and you weren’t mad or anything but you knew he wouldn’t forgive himself if he didn’t do anything to make it up to you.

Now, the two of you were in bed, bags of stuff on the floor, surrounded by a whole bunch of soft pillows, and blankets. Enji sat behind you massaging your shoulders while watching your favorite show and eating some snacks.

You snuggled closer Enji pressing your back into his chest.

He stopped massaging and wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing the nape of your neck.

You giggled and turned around, leaned in, and pressed a kiss to his lips before turning back around and continuing to watch the show.

Enji pressed his face into the top of your head smelling the shampoo that you always used.

It was calming and seeing you enjoy yourself as you watched the tv made his guilt from last night go away.

Both of you are usually really busy, so days like this were rare.

“Hey, Enji?”

He lifted his head off of you and hummed.

“You know, if you still feel like making it up to me—“ you turned around to face him. “—I have an idea of what you could do.”

His eyes widened and he sat up straight, listening.

“Anything.”

Enji watched as you stood up from the bed and walk over to one of the bags on the floor.

You rummaged around and took something out holding it behind your back as you stood up.

“You said anything right?”

He nervously nodded wondering what you were planning.

You held up what was in your hands for him to see.

Enji choked on his saliva.

You held up a maid outfit.

His flames roared as his face contorted.

“What in the world is /that/?”

He said through gritted teeth.

You smirked.

“I think you know exactly what this is.”

“I am /not/ wearing that.”

You crossed your arms and pouted at him.

“But you said you would do anything.”

Enji silently cursed himself.

He did say that he would and seeing you pout so cutely he couldn’t resist.

He growled and stood up snatching the outfit and bag from your hands and stomped towards the bathroom.

“I love you!”

He grumbled as he opened the door.

“Be quiet.”

You grinned and sat on the bed.

This was gonna be great.

It’s been 30 minutes since he entered the bathroom.

Around the 15 minute mark, you flopped onto your back.

The sound of the bathroom opening made you perk up.

You let out an exaggerated sigh and sat up on your elbows.

“Finally Enji, what took you so lo—“ When you sat up, your jaw dropped.

Enji stood in the doorway, arms crossed, the maid outfit was nearly bursting at the seams.

The cloth over his chest was stretched taut. Going lower you see his thighs bulged through the thin fabric of the kitty thigh-highs he wore.

But what really caught your eye was the way his too short frilly skirt barely covered anything.

Enji swallowed the lump in his throat as your hungry gaze raked over him.

You motioned him over with your finger.

He walked until he stood right in front of you giving you the perfect view of the lace panties that barely contained what was hidden underneath.

You licked your lips and reached up wrapping your hands around his waist and pulling him on your lap.

The bed dipped from the weight of both of you on the edge.

He rested his weight on his knees as to not crush you and placed his hands on your shoulders to brace himself.

“You look even better than I imagined firefly.”

He looked away face burning brighter.

“Tch, are you happy now?”

You hummed.

“Very.”

Your hand went lower making him shiver.

But he yelped when the sting of your hand coming down on his ass with a loud smack.

He growled at you but you just gave him a sweet smile.

You began massaging his ass gently making him whimper.

“Y-you’re enjoying this too much.”

You chuckled.

“Well, the fun has only just begun.”

Enji shuddered at the look in your eyes and bit his lip.

This was going to be a long night.

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#frenchbread's writing #endeavor x male reader #endeavor x reader #todoroki enji x male reader #todoroki enji x reader #todoroki enji #endeavor #x male reader #male!reader #male reader #bnha x male reader #bnha x reader #bnha #x reader #boku no hero academia #mha x reader #mha x male reader #mha #my hero academia

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novelconcepts · 3 years

Note

Jamie & Dani short prompt- Online Dating au meeting online and being from bad past relationship. Thank u

This is probably a bad idea. It is, isn’t it? Almost certainly.

Why is she here?

Dani Clayton has been playing this particular set of thoughts--bad idea, terrible idea, why would you do this?--on repeat for three days. Ever since setting up that dating profile. Ever since realizing there isn’t much use in setting up a dating profile if you’re not going to use it.

Oh, it’s all fun and games, building the thing. Find a photo that accentuates all the best parts of your face--Dani, after an hour of careful consideration, wound up going with one that accentuated her hair, more than anything, but she suspects the same idea counts. Then, the profile. What do you like? Teaching, long walks, new experiences, bad coffee. What don’t you like?

Men, she’d thought, and snorted aloud into her wine before settling on: Deep water, accordion music, expectations, being called Danielle.

A little more flourish, tipsy keystrokes, a casually-framed short-version of her life. Perfect. And then...well, then you hit the publish button, don’t you? You decide, for better or worse, to jump off this diving board and see just how far you can stand to swim before the energy gives out on you.

The faces appearing before her hadn’t been bad, certainly. Pretty, most of them. Interesting, a few. Still, she hadn’t swiped right on any--once or twice, because she’d forgotten which way meant yes please, but mostly because no one seemed quite...right. Which, she’d thought, was silly. The whole point of an app like this is to cast as many nets as possible and see what comes up. The whole point is to have fun.

But every time she’d hovered over a promising image, a woman who likes dogs, or plays the violin, or goes rock-climbing in her spare time, she’d thought of him. Eddie. Who had taken one yes to a single date, and tried to make a whole life with her out of it.

Eddie, who had taken her two decades to pull away from.

What if the women here were the same? Not Eddie, exactly, but--presumptive. What if they believed a swipe-right was as good as a marriage proposal? What if she got bound up in conversation, and then a date, and then a relationship with someone else who just didn’t fit right?

Left. Left. Left.

And then: the mistake.

She hadn’t meant to swipe right. Exactly. She hadn’t planned, maybe is the better way of putting it, on swiping right. She’d only wanted to look at the woman’s profile a little longer. Only wanted to inspect the facets this woman had put out on display with almost resigned simplicity.

Some people, Dani had by now realized, wrote poetry and paragraphs to describe themselves.

Jamie Taylor had bullet points.

“Gardener. English. Likes: Plants. Stories. Tea. Dislikes: Bullshit.”

The end. That had been quite literally the sum of it. Gardener. English. No bullshit.

But the picture, somehow, Dani hadn’t been able to look away from. Not because of carefully-arranged lighting, not because of a curated model-clean image--but because the woman appeared to have posted the photo almost under duress. It came in profile, as though someone else had done the job, her head turned toward the camera as if interrupted. Her hands were buried in a flower pot. Her clothes were simple--a tank top, a silver chain resting against the jut of collarbones, a pair of worn-looking jeans with holes in the knees. Her eyes--some fascinating color Dani couldn’t quite place--looked somewhere between amused and irritated.

She looked real.

Stupid, Dani thinks now--because that was probably the idea, wasn’t it? This woman, Jamie, had planned to look exactly this way. Real. Vexed at the idea of putting herself out there. Reluctantly available.

It was a ploy, certainly--but one that seems to be working, because not only did Dani accidentally-not-accidentally swipe right, she found herself texting the woman. For hours. She’d expected much less, had figured this Jamie person would be as brief in text as she had been in bio, but...

Jamie had talked to her. Willingly. Teasingly, with more humor than truth, maybe, but with no sign at all that she was sick of Dani’s questions, bad jokes, nervous assessment that I really don’t do this, I honestly don’t get it.

I don’t, either, Jamie had replied, and that had felt like enough of a reason to keep testing the waters. Enough of a reason to keep the conversation going back and forth, back and forth, until nearly two in the morning.

Shit, she’d said. I need to be at work in four hours.

Shame, Jamie had replied, her tone already searingly familiar over text. Own your own business, make your own hours. Far wiser approach.

I’ll make a note of it for when I found an elementary school, Dani had replied, laughing. She hadn’t said she’d already been in bed for an hour, the phone resting on the pillow beside her head so she wouldn’t miss the buzz of a new message. It had seemed perfectly reasonable at the time, with wine-warmed blood and the happy haze of good conversation. Jamie made her laugh. Jamie put her at ease. Jamie might not have been real, but she felt real, and that was good.

Better than anything she’d felt in years, if she was honest with herself.

Still, when the next day had come and gone with no message, she’d thought, Fair enough. Jamie had been good virtual company for one night. It was more than she’d expected to get out of this app.

Far more than she’d expected, particularly when Thursday night rolled around and her phone buzzed.

Teacher, yeah? No school on Saturday?

Correct, Dani had replied, as amused by the out-of-left-field text as she was irritated with how her stomach had flipped over upon receiving it. You have figured out the complexity of the American school system.

I am a genius, Jamie sent back, followed quickly by: Drinks tomorrow night?

Drinks. A thing that people do. A thing that adult people do for date reasons.

She isn’t real, she’d thought, even as her thumb was punching back: How’s 8? Miller’s?

A mistake. Definitely a mistake. Because the app had been a lark, and the conversation had been too easy, and the fact that she can’t quite pick out the colors in Jamie’s eyes from a single photo is making her crazier than she’d like to admit.

A mistake, saying yes. A mistake, suggesting the local pub-like establishment around the corner, whose beer-and-burger specials had kept her fed on too many evenings spent working late. A mistake, because once this goes south--as it’s absolutely bound to, as everything Eddie-shaped always has--she’s going to lose her favorite hangout in the deal, too.

And yet: here she is. Standing at the door, wondering if the outfit chosen for the evening festivities--tight jeans, pink blouse, hoop earrings--is too much or not nearly enough.

What am I doing here?

Maybe, she thinks with mingled alarm and hope, she won’t even have showed up. Maybe it’s all part of the ruse: look approachable, look human and normal, look a little too beautiful in the most grounded way possible--then, cheerfully, invite a woman to drinks and just don’t show. A fun story for whoever comes next. Can you believe she thought I’d want to meet her after one night of texting?

“Dani?”

English, Dani thinks with a sudden rush of heat. Right. Somehow, she hadn’t quite been prepared for the accent, which--coming out of this woman, draped with languid ease at a table--is truly a little more than Dani thinks she can handle just now. The accent, combined with the mess of curls dragged back from her face, and a dress sense that manages to be both casual and deeply attractive at the same time, is...

“Jamie,” she says, her voice a little lower, a little more hoarse, than is truly necessary. The woman pushes up from her seat, a small-framed figure in a black button-down, suspenders, ripped jeans. She’s pressing a hand toward Dani, offering a firm shake as though they are business partners, not an off-the-cuff bad idea of a date. “You look--”

“Never been here before,” Jamie says, almost apologetically. She gestures for Dani to sit before dropping back down in a sprawl that implies exactly the opposite of what her mouth is insisting. “Wasn’t sure about the, ah, dress code.”

“You--you did fine,” Dani tells her, wishing suddenly she’d gone for a dress. Or a different human body altogether. She feels too tightly-strung, too anxious for the easy smile on Jamie’s lips. “Um. You’re very. In person.”

“Very,” Jamie repeats, a hint of uncertainty in her voice. “Is very American for wish I’d gone left, after all?”

“No. No. Absolutely not. That.” Bit too forceful, she suspects, judging by the smile spreading into a grin. “No, it’s just--your picture didn’t--tell me you’d be so...”

“Clean?” Jamie suggests innocently. She raises her hands, wiggling her fingers in a small wave. “Scrub up fine, when I need to. Seemed to call for it.”

“And you...sure did answer,” Dani says stupidly. “The. Call, I mean. I’m sorry, I really don’t do this often.”

Something seems to soften in Jamie, her smile less teasing as she leans across the table. “Hey, no worries here. Same person you were talking to the other night.”

Dani nods, embarrassed, and flags down a server. Drinks ordered, she draws in a deep breath.

“I mean, I haven’t done this in years. Or. Ever, I guess.”

“A first date?” Jamie asks. When Dani doesn’t answer, she adds in a knowing tone, “A date with a woman?”

“Both,” Dani says honestly. “My last relationship was--well, I mean, we were engaged--”

Jamie whistles under her breath, reaching up to scratch her head. “Blimey. What happened?”

“He’s...him.” It’s too much to go into on a first date, too much to explain, even though talking to Jamie over text had been so dangerously easy. “My best friend growing up, but that was...growing up.”

Jamie nods thoughtfully, tilting her chin in thanks when the server deposits two full pint glasses and a basket of fries on the table. “Rough time, sounds like. I can relate. My last relationship also did not go well.”

“Was he also a man who thought you’d be all too happy to quit your job and take care of a bunch of babies?” Dani asks, perhaps a little too bitterly for the occasion. Jamie flashes another grin, sipping her drink.

“She was a woman who thought I’d be all too happy to take the fall when she got busted for possession.”

Dani gapes. “Oh. Oh--I didn’t know--I’m so--”

Jamie shrugs. “She wasn’t wrong. I was nineteen, and deeply stupid. Live and learn, as the poets say.”

“Which poets?” Dani asks, smiling a little. Jamie’s brow furrows.

“John...Lennon, possibly? Hard to say. Anyway, relationships are a chore and a half, but the greatest people in the world tell me thirty is too old to play musical bedframes, so. Here we are.”

No bullshit, thinks Dani approvingly. For what little she’d put into her profile, Jamie evidently hadn’t been lying about that.

“You haven’t been in a relationship since you were nineteen?”

“In my mind, I was still in the relationship at twenty-four, when they let me out. She didn’t agree. Found out she’d been married two years, by then.” Something darkens in Jamie’s eyes for a moment. She sighs. “Like I said. Not my finest. But I am, as they say, a shining beacon of reform these days.”

“Now, when you say they,” Dani teases, grinning. Jamie nods decisively.

“John Lennon. Definitively.”

There it is, thinks Dani, watching Jamie pop a fry into her mouth. There, the easy roll of conversation from the other night. As though they’ve known each other forever. As though two people who have thus far failed irrevocably at relationships make a perfect match.

Easy, she thinks. Don’t go wild, now.

“So,” she says, when the comfortable silence between them has grown a bit too comfortable for the setting, “who are the greatest people in the world? The ones who tell you thirty is too old for...did you say musical bedframes?”

Jamie laughs. The ring of it curls gently around Dani’s head like a soft hand, a sound she’ll find herself replaying later with a skipping heart.

“Not many willing to put up with a grump of my caliber, but Hannah and Owen fight the good fight. So long as I at least pretend to try.”

“Let me guess. They set up the account for you?”

Jamie makes a sort of gesture in the air with the hand not holding her glass. “Threatened to bury me in puns and children, respectively, if I kept putting it off. Owen’s still grumpy about the photo choice.”

“I liked it,” Dani says without thinking. Jamie raises an eyebrow.

“Well, you did swipe as much. Mind if I ask why?”

Walked into this one. Still, she doesn’t mind as much as she probably should, not with the genuine curiosity in Jamie’s eyes. “You looked--don’t laugh.”

“No promises,” Jamie says, but with the gentle tone of one who knows exactly how much to tease before it’ll hurt. The idea warms Dani in a way she’s not quite ready to look at yet.

“You looked real,” Dani says. “Like you weren’t going to play games, or waste anyone’s time. Like you just wanted to be happy in peace.”

“That is,” Jamie says, holding out a fry for Dani to take, “sort of the idea, yeah.”

There’s an almost puzzled cast to her smile, like she didn’t entirely expect this answer, and is pleased by it at the same time. That same sense from the photo sweeps over Dani now--that this woman is authentic, even if she’s not always shiny, that she’s kind even if not entirely clean. That she doesn’t have any interest in muddled expectation or living a comfortable lie.

“And me?” Dani asks. She doesn’t entirely mean to--but she’s sure, in asking, that Jamie will answer. Jamie is unlike anyone else she’s ever met, the first person she’s ever known to meet each question head-on.

“Honestly?”

Dani nods. Jamie seems to consider it, turning it over in her head as she twists a fry between her fingers like a cigarette.

“All of it.”

“That’s,” Dani begins to laugh, “that’s not--”

“No,” Jamie says, and she isn’t smiling, exactly. Her eyes have a sort of shine Dani likes very much, but there is no hint of teasing in them now. “Really. All of it. You’re...very pretty, and that’s--but the way you described yourself. Like you didn’t care to be anyone in particular. You like new experiences, and bad coffee. You hate being called Danielle. I...I wanted to know why.”

“It’s not my name,” Dani says simply. Jamie gives a brief laugh, her hand moving across the table to lightly brush Dani’s fingertips.

“I wanted to know why all of it. Why do you like bad coffee--”

“It’s the only kind I know how to make,” Dani says automatically. “Just sort of leaned into it.”

“--and teaching--”

“I want to make a difference,” Dani says.

“--and where you most like to go on those long walks--”

“Anywhere I can breathe,” Dani says. Her fingers are hesitant, tracing the tips of Jamie’s. There’s something electric about this, about barely touching, about barely knowing someone and still wanting to give them neatly-packaged secrets shaped like the mundane.

Jamie is smiling. “See, that. I like that. All of it.”

It’s nothing, Dani thinks reflexively. A collection of details. A sparse approximation of a life. Eddie knows all of this, and then some, and never matched up to knowing her.

But this woman, leaning across the table with one hand outstretched, looks so different. Watches her with steady interest. Is listening to every word Dani says, though the bar is growing crowded around them, and soon, conversation will become a task instead of a gift.

“Would you,” Dani says, feeling certain that some mistakes are not as bad as they seem, “like to take one of those walks?”

“Tonight?”

“Yeah. Tonight.” Emboldened by the smile, by the curl falling into Jamie’s eyes, by the knowledge that she still can’t quite make out what color those eyes are, Dani takes her hand. It’s so easy, she thinks she could do it even without looking. “Right now.”

No bullshit, she thinks. No expectations. Just Jamie looking at her like she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing. Dani can’t blame her. This isn’t at all what she’d thought she was getting, walking in tonight.

But there’s something about it--something about the feeling that she’s been here before, or should be here forever, or will always find her way back to a woman who looks at her just like this--that almost makes her feel brave. Almost makes her feel wonderful. She rises from the table, laying cash beneath her half-empty glass, and feels a pleasant jolt in her chest when Jamie follows without another word.

If this a mistake, she thinks as they step out into the brisk evening air, it’s one she’s hungry to make.

#fanfiction #ficlet #the haunting of bly manor #dani x jamie #damie #okay I liked this one way more than planned #it's sort of nice doing a modern AU under a million words long

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svnflowervol666 · 4 years

Text

Paper Peonies (70′s crime boss!Harry x fem!Reader)

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: violence, death, other than that she’s squeaky clean! (nervous laughter)

Author’s Note: Yes, this is inspired by that one part in Tiger King and no, I don’t want to talk about it. I’ve had this scenario stuck in my head for a while (and by a while I mean March aka I am slow as hell to get shit done but I digress), and that combined with my obsession with the show Good Girls is where this fic blossomed. This is obviously set up to have multiple parts, so I hope this is enough to draw you in for what happens between Harry and Y/N after this! Take care and TPWK.

April 22, 1977 ~ New York City

She had always been suspicious of what Harry did for a living. His clothes were nice, the lapels of whatever color suit he’d decided to wear that day were always pressed with the upmost attention to detail and she’d never once seen even the tiniest scuff on his loafers. The chocolate brown curls on top of his head, no matter how dishevelled they appeared to be, always looked intentionally messy as if each wild strand had its own position to uphold. He never missed a nail appointment, and Y/N knew this because she always smelled the faintest hint of acetone trail behind him after his cologne with notes of sweet tobacco and ginger each time he entered the flower shop where he worked. Everything about his presence led her to believe that Harry was important man, but she hadn’t realized just how influential he was until tonight.

Harry visited her once a week. Every Wednesday for the past six months at precisely one o’clock in the afternoon, the wind chime attached to the door at the store entrance would announce his arrival. He always ordered a custom bouquet, the most expensive option in their catalogue, and always insisted that Y/N be the one to make it. She had creative authority over which flowers went where, which colors to use - “Whatever your pretty little heart desires,” as he would tell her as he smirks behind his amber tinted sunglasses. He always tipped, no matter how many times she told him this was a flower shop and that she didn’t work for tips, and he always plucked the prettiest, freshest flower out of the bouquet and handed it back to Y/N. He'd drop the flower into the display vase at the register if she refused the gesture, and other times he’d tuck the stem right behind her ear, caressing her cheek in the softest manner to intentionally fluster her. Harry knew she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, as he’d come to know her just as well through the small talk they made during each one of his visits, which is why it amused him so much to see this girl, kind and short-tempered, freeze up at the slightest touch of his fingers on her skin.

Y/N knew he was a man with a routine, which is why she grew inherently worried when one o’clock rolled around and Harry had yet to show his face in the flower shop. She wasn’t sure why she even cared so much; he was only a customer. Sure, he was easy on the eyes and always flirted with her and it was just about the only form of male interraction she’d come across throughout the entire time that she’d known him, but that was all he was - a customer. So, to busy herself and her thoughts, she’d scrubbed the countertops a few more times than necessary and paid far too much attention to the arrangement of pots and vases for the rest of her shift.

It had all happened so suddenly.

At first, she had been giving the shop its final sweep before closing. The gentle singing of the wind chime made Y/N curse under her breath. We close in ten minutes, why the fuck are you here? But her irritation soon turned to relief when her eyes met his - Harry’s. He graciously apologized for being late, though he had no reason to. She didn’t even ask him what she wanted, only going immediately to work on the bouquet she’d been planning out all day in her head for the next time she saw him.

One minute, she was chatting him up and playfully giving him a hard time as she always does, and the next, she heard the unmistakable sound of gun shots and she was being shoved underneath the cash register by Harry and told to “Stay there, and don’t fucking move until I come get you.”

She isn’t sure, but she thinks she’s went into shock because she can barely see and although she can hear glass breaking and the strangled voices of two men going head to head, but it all rings faint and distant in her ears. Her knees tuck impossibly close to her shoulders as she hunches underneath the counter in imminent fear that whatever or whoever is out there creating an ungodly amount of damage is coming for her next and out of all places, her unproductive, measly life would come to abrupt halt in a fucking flower shop of all places.

It could have been five minutes, it could have been hours, but there’s a lingering gun shot proceeded by a harsh thud that she somehow hears through the ringing in her ears and she can sense that the quarell had ended. She scurries backward into the tan wood when she hears footsteps approaching her, too scared to even look up because she’s convinced that she’s next.

“Y/N...Y/N? Y/N!” she comes to when she realizes that it’s Harry shaking her wearily by the shoulders.

“Where’s the phone?”

There’s caked blood around his ringed knuckles, a thin trail of crimson liquid running down his temple and his cheekbone rears an ugly cut that’ll certainly take weeks to heal, but he’s seemingly unharmed aside from the few casualties on his face.

“What?” she asks, still in a daze and utterly confused as to why he’s asking a question like that at a time like this.

“Tell me where the phone is.”

His voice is stern and if she’s being honest, it scares the shit out of her because if Harry is still alive and well, she’s not so sure that the other guy is.

“O-over by the broom closet.”

“I’ll be back in a second. Whatever you do, stay here and do not look over the counter,” is all he says before disappearing from her view.

She tries her hardest, she really does, not to eavesdrop on the conversation Harry is having with whoever is on the other line of the phone. He’s speaking in whispers and so low that it’s almost undetectable, but she hears bits and pieces.

“The flower shop on Main Street...It’s fine, I just need yeh t’ bring the boys here now...Yeh, there was someone else here but I’m taking care of it.”

That last bit is enough to send bone-chilling shiver down her spine. It kicked her fight or flight response into full gear, which has her scrambling to her feet ready to book it out of the shop to the nearest payphone so she could call the police. After all, shouldn’t she regardless? Given that a shootout just happened in the lobby of her fucking workplace. She moves to stand up, but a jarring sight over the counter she’d been hiding under stopped her.

A pool of blood, the most she’s ever seen, surrounded a limp body whose face was battered to the point of being unrecognizable laid on the ground in front of her. Her breath catches in her throat and she actually feels like she’s suffocating.

Harry did this. And all she could do was collapse right back on the ground where she had been hiding.

“Are yeh alright?”

His eyes are full of sympathy and a bit of regret when he returns, and hers are filled with frightful tears that Harry will hate himself for for the rest of his life knowing that he was the reason for.

“I, uh... I think so,” she’s able to squeeze out in between waves of panic.

“Good,” Harry says sternly, “Now, come on. I’ll take yeh home.”

If Harry was “taking care of it,” it being her, there was no way in hell she was spending more than another second alone with Harry.

“Who is that?” her voice is quiet but firm, and it’s what makes Harry realize that she hadn’t listened to him and had definitely peeked over the counter when he wasn’t looking.

He sighs in displeasure, eyes flicking towards the dead body in the lobby of the store and then back to Y/N.

“No one yeh need t’ worry about. It’s taken care of. Now please, just let me drive yeh home so I know you’re safe.”

“No offense, Harry,” she began, “But there is no fucking way I am getting into a car with you.”

“Y/N, just-” is all he can get out before she makes a beeline for the front door and is running as far away from Harry as she possibly can.

She makes it about two blocks down the now empty streets before her lungs give up on her. In times like these, she wishes she exercised more. Just as she’s catching her breath against the door of a closed bodega, begging and praying that Harry had lost track of her, she feels headlights coming up on her backside in the distance.

“Y/N!” It’s Harry, yelling at her from the driver’s side of a maroon Mustang.

“Just get in the car and I’ll explain everything.”

Not a fucking chance, buddy she thinks to herself. She gives him her sassiest side glare before resuming her fast-paced walk down the street.

It doesn’t deter Harry from creeping along the street to match her speed.

“Y/N,” he pleads.

“Fuck off, psycho” she mutters under her breath, but it’s still loud enough for Harry to hear.

“It’s 1977, Y/N! Do yeh know how many serial killers are on the loose right now? Get in the fucking car!”

He’s getting ansty now. Not only by her persistance to get away from him, but because of the fact that he knows whenever he looses sight of her, she’s going straight to the police and everything he’s built for himself will come crashing down on him. He never thought that his sweet, hot-headed Y/N would be his downfall.

“Why?” Y/N stopped abruptly and spun around on her heels to face him.

“So you can get rid of your witness? I’m good. Blow my brains right here out on the sidewalk, please. I’d prefer a junkie to keep my corpse company over the maggots in whatever hole in the Bronx you planned on throwing me in.”

“Christ, you’re impossible.”

Harry didn’t even bother saying that under his breath.

“Here,” he starts, reaching for the button on the glove compartment.

Using the dull, yellow street lights and infinitely glowing neon signs in the store-fronts of the buildings around her, she can see that he’s pulled out a pistol. It causes her to jump back a few steps, as if she hadn’t just politely asked him to kill her on the sidewalk in the first place.

“Fuck, sorry. Didn’t mean t’ scare yeh.”

Well it’s a little too fucking late for that.

He quickly unloads the cylinder and the clanking of bullets hitting his seat fills her ears. With a flick of his wrist, he presents the handle to her.

“Yeh can point it at me the whole drive. Please, just let me take yeh home so I know you’re alright.”

He seemed earnest and sincere, but based on everything that had happened to her in this short amount of time, she had come to realize that there is more than meets the eye when it comes to Harry.

However, in her brief stint on Earth, she’s decided that everything that’s happened to her thus far had been for a reason (as cliche as that seemed), and her gut was telling her trust him. After all, he had shielded her from the rainfall of bullets that more or less decimated the flower shop just minutes before.

She say anything, only yanking the gun from Harry’s grip and slamming his door shut.

“The brownstones in Bed-Stuy,” is all she tells him.

“Jesus, Y/N. We’re all the way in Chelsea. Couldn’t find a closer place to work? That’s a scary train ride home at night. Surprised yeh haven’t been kidnapped yet.”

“You know, you really shouldn’t say shit like that considering this is the first time I’ve spent longer than ten minutes with you and I’m sitting in your car.”

Harry sighs under his breath, cursing himself for freaking her out for the umpteenth time tonight.

He notices her struggling to load the bullets into the cylinder.

“Do yeh need hel-”

“I live alone in Brooklyn. I know how to fucking use a gun,” she snarls as the firing pin finally clicks into place.

“Alright,” Harry mumbles.

She shifts in the plush, leather seat, one elbow leaning out the open window as the other is tucked into her side so she can point the barrel of the gun right at Harry’s side.

“Okay, start talking.”

Rolling his eyes, he bangs the back of his head against the head-rest. He winces as soon as his scalp makes contact with the seat, momentarilly forgetting he’d gotten it slammed against the linoleum during the brawl in the flower shop.

“What do yeh’ want t’ know?”

“For starters, what the fuck happened at the flower shop?”

Harry feels like he’s sighed precisely nine hundred and thirty-one times tonight, but he’s somehow able to squeeze out another one before answering Y/N’s question.

“Did yeh ever meet the guy that lived above the shop?”

“Mr. Perry? He’s harmless. Why? Is that who was on the floor?”

Her sould hurt momentarily for the middle-aged man that she ocassionally crossed paths with when she’d open up the store in the mornings. He was never quite sociable, but he always tipped his hat to her when he saw her. Her boss had told her once that he always kept to himself, so she was never surprised that he never struck up a conversation with her.

““S not exactly harmless, Y/N,” Harry corrected her.

“We did...business together a few times. Found out he tried t’ cross me. Word must’ve got around tha’ I was looking for him, so I’m assuming when he saw my car outside the shop, he figured he’d take his chance t’ get rid of me.”

“What kind of business?” she deadpanned.

Harry hesitated.

“...Business,” he repeated.

The hammer of the gun locks into place, making Harry flinch and realize that he really fucked up by giving Y/N that gun.

“What kind of business?” she asks again, this time with a loaded weapon at her disposal.

“There’s...money involved. Lots of it.”

“So it’s illegal?”

“Most definitely.”

“Fine,” she decides that she probably doesn’t want to know anyway and moves on to her next question.

“You’ve been checking up on him this whole time? That’s why you come into the flower shop?”

Harry nods hesitantly, fingers gripping impossibly harder into the steering wheel.

She scoffs, laughing almost.

“So you don’t actually bring all of those flowers to your mother then? It was all just a ruse to keep your ducks in a row?”

Y/N isn’t sure why, but her heart broke over the notion that Harry didn’t come to the flower shop every week just to see her. Even though she acted like he annoyed her most of the time, she really was quite fond of him. I mean, anyone that’s seem the man would say the same. She never expected their relationship to flourish past light conversations about what flowers are blooming, but knowing he never actually cared was a different kind of disappointment.

“No,” Harry is quick to discount her assumption and he’s looking as serious as she’s seen him all night.

“I do give them t’ my mum.”

There’s a pregnant pause before he starts talking again.

“She died when I was ten. The cemetery’s only a few blocks away from the shop.”

Y/N feels like shit for pushing him, so she flips the safety clip on the side of the gun and allows it to fall limp in her crossed legs.

“Sorry.”

Harry’s sucks his lips into his mouth and shrugs his shoulders, letting her know that at least he knew she meant well.

“Okay,” Y/N draws out, her anxieties that Harry is going to take a detour to the nearest boat dock and throw her into the disgustingly unsanitary water in the dead of night rapidly dwindling away.

“Let’s say you do drop me off at my apartment. What’s stopping me from running to the police the second I get out of this car and telling them everything that I saw?”

Harry laughs sarcastically, readjusting the rearview mirror.

“Well, for starters, your fingerprints are on the murder weapon.”

“Fuck!” Y/N yells, kicking the gun out of her lap and letting it clank to the floorboard.

It was almost soothing. He knew it was only her reaction to realizing she could be held accountable for his crimes if anyone ever did find out about what happened, but the fact that she didn’t reach for the gun after that moment made him think that she trusted him in come capacity.

“And if that wasn’t enough t’ convince yeh, he was trying to start a human trafficking ring. Call me old-fashioned, but I don’t really think someone like that deserves to roam the streets. Think the world is far better off without him, don’t you?”

Okay, maybe Harry had a point.

When she hadn’t said anything in a while, letting only the sound of the wind fill the space of the car, Harry turned to look at her. Though she had unhesitantly cocked a loaded gun at aimed it directly at his face just moments ago, he couldn’t help but take his eyes off of the road and let them wander around her features.

She really was beautiful. The way her hair was blowing with the speed of his car and how the each street post they passed glowed around her sillhouette like a halo was stirring something inside of him.

He had went into the flower shop for the first time, he was genuinely in search for flowers to place on his mother’s grave. He’d expected to be greeted by a frail, elderly woman with shaky hands behind the counter, not Y/N. She was stubborn and he could see the fire behind her eyes and with everything in him, he couldn’t place his feelings for her. Was it akin to a grade-school crush on the cute girl he sat beside on the bus? Was it sexual tension that was begging to be unleashed so he could really show her what he was capable of beyond the flirtatious touches and salacious smirks? Or was it something else?

“Think we’re here,” Harry broke the long stream of silence as the car rolled to a halt outside of her apartment building.

“Oh,” was all Y/N said, almost saddened by the fact that their interraction was reaching its end.

“I’d really appreciate it if yeh didn’t go t’ the police. I won’t stop yeh, but if yeh do this f’ me, I promise I won’t let anything bad happen t’ yeh anymore.”

His eyes looked sorrowful, like he had an inkling that she would snitch and help take him down. But there was another part of him that believed she wouldn’t.

“I won’t,” she whispered quietly.

Her fingers lingered on the wooden-coated handle as she turned to him.

“Why are you doing this?”

“This as in...?” he quirked his brow at her.

“Helping me. You could’ve easily just killed me in the shop to spare you the trouble, but you didn’t.”

A small smile broke out on Harry’s face, the corners of his perfectly-pink mouth turning up just slightly.

“Didn’t think I could make it more obvious, but...I like yeh. I care about yeh. Care about what happens t’ yeh. You’re a sweet girl. Yeh didn’t deserve t’ see all that.”

Y/N nodded, eyes zeroed in on the discarded gun and loose bullets that had been rattling on the floorboard the entire drive to her apartment.

“Thank you,” she whispered, almost undetectable but Harry heard her.

With this information on hand, she no longer believed Harry meant ill with anything he had done. Even murdering the man that lived in the studio above where she worked.

He cared about her. He cared about what happened to her. And that’s why she was still here.

As she reluctantly removed herself from the passenger seat and closed the door to the mustang that must have cost a year’s worth of her rent, she pivoted and leaned on the still-open car window.

“You know,” she started, her iconic, I’m-not-even-joking-in-the-slightest expression that Harry had come to know (and love) reared its head.

“You’re paying for all of the shit you broke. Those pots are expensive and the owner’s gonna blow a fucking gasket when she comes in to do payroll tomorrow.”

This earned a genuine laugh from Harry, loaded with more than she understood at the moment, but would eventually learn more about.

“It’ll look brand new in there come morning. Swear it,” he placed his hand over his heart for good measure.

“Goodnight, Harry,” she spoke softly, her lips mimicking the smile that was plastered on his.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

As someone that had witnessed and was now an accomplice in a brutal murder that took place where she worked, Y/N called in sick the next day. Her undeniable PTSD had made her violently ill with even the thought of going near the entirety of Manhattan. But alas, she had bills to pay and forced herself into the flower shop on Friday.

The second her coworkers heard the windchimes and realized it was her that had entered, they were quick to bombard her with what she had missed while she was out.

She was too busy being completely stunned by the sight in front of her.

The store was spotless. It looked exactly as it had the before “the incident.” No broken glass, no missing pots, no blood stains on the floor, and no body. It was as if Harry had never even stepped foot in the shop to begin with.

“Your guy came by looking for you. Left you a card.”

“Harry?” she asked, “Can’t be. He only comes on Wednesday’s.”

She momentarily mourned the brunette. Would he ever come back at all now that his “friend” was most likely chopped up into dozens of pieces and burried in a dump somewhere that no one would ever find?

“Real tall? Curly hair? Always wears those yellow sunglasses? Huge flirt with the mustang?”

Yep, that was him.

“It’s in the office,” her coworker added before going back to her task of sweeping up wilted petals from the ground.

“He’s a charmer, ya know?” she added.

“Seemed worried when I told him you were sick. It was kinda cute, actually.”

She was too shaken up to give her the embarrassed reaction that she knew she was waiting for, walking with purpose towards the back of the store where the office was.

Sure enough, in a beige envelope sealed with melted wax and her name written on the front in perfect cursive, was a letter. With shaking hands, she freed the expensive-feeling paper from the confines of the envelope and lifted it closer to her face so she could read it.

Thank you for not saying anything.

Thank you for trusting me.

I meant what I said about protecting you.

If there’s anything I can ever do for you, please don’t hesitate to reach out.

x, H.

p.s. Those pink pots were a bitch to replace. Tell your boss to stop buying product in fucking New Jersey.

And finally, written in jet black ink at the bottom of the stationary in Harry’s handwriting, was an address.

She knew she’d been there before, as the street name was notorious for being home to New York’s most bustling night clubs and dive bars, but she couldn’t quite place it. It wasn’t until she’d asked her friend about it later that night over their Friday night pizza-and-beer tradition that she realized where the address would take her.

A strip club?

#harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #crime boss!Harry

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maybedefinitely404 · 4 years

Text

Day 4: Anxceit

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 4: There is a trail of color only you can see that marks out where your soulmate has been.

Content warning: parental death from heart attack (none of the sides), homophobia, religious themes regarding said homophobia, concert, minor sensory overload (Virgil is technically autistic but it’s not explicit).

Word count: 3.3k

The last thing Janus Natter had ever wanted to do was return to his hometown.

It only held bad memories that stemmed from living in a small town, of homophobia and school bullies and dirty looks from neighbours. Granted, he’d never actually been kicked out of his home after coming out, but word spread like a wildfire and the people in his neighborhood weren’t the most open minded. His mom didn’t talk to him; she blamed herself, and there were all too many nights he walked past her room and heard her praying and crying for the repentance of her baby boy.

So the moment he turned eighteen, he was out of there. Waved goodbye to the woman who stiffened every time he tried to hug her and moved halfway across the country, starting a new life for himself in a rundown apartment and a minimum wage intern job and not regretting it for a second. Everything seemed better for a while. A promotion followed a couple years after, and his apartment was upgraded to one that actually had a separate kitchen and dining room so he wasn’t eating on the counter anymore. Until he got a call from one of his aunts at three am, four days after Christmas.

Obviously, he cried when his mom died. He broke down as soon as he hung up the phone, sitting on the edge of his bed and letting the news slowly integrate into his system. Sure, they hadn’t had the best relationship, but she’d been a great mom up until he admitted the truth that drove a wedge between them. And he’d never really blamed her, knowing his own internal homophobia would only be heightened in her. But it still hurt that she hadn’t reached out whatsoever when she was put into the hospital after the first heart attack. Maybe he would have been there when the second one hit and been able to save her. Or at least say goodbye.

The funeral was rough. None of his family bothered to talk to him, and the one little cousin that ran up to give him a hug was swiftly pulled away. Not like he was expecting much else, but c’mon. It’s not infectious. At least no one commented on him crying again.

He was on the first flight back out, and after a couple days off work to recenter himself, things seemed to back to normal. It wasn’t as if any part of his daily routine was disturbed. He wasn’t missing any motherly catch up calls, no little packages, no life advice, that he’d never gotten before, so it was almost easy to pretend that nothing had changed. Until he got another call.

This time it was his uncle, calling in the middle of his work day, to tell him that he needed to come back home and clear out his mom’s house. He was reluctant at first. Why couldn’t someone else do it? What was so important that he had to do it? But the family seemed determined to distance themselves from the house as much as possible, and when his uncle insisted that “we’re all still in mourning, Janus,” as if to imply he wasn’t upset at the death of his own mother, he hung up the phone with a curt agreement to come back as soon as possible. He later got a text that stated the house was going to be put on the market in the coming week, so he needed to get there soon.

That’s what led to him exiting a cab three days later in front of his childhood home, suitcase in hand, with a disgruntled expression. The house was much less threatening than it had always seemed when he lived there, unassuming and indistinguishable from the other houses on the block, but the memories of lonely nights of crying himself to sleep and craving a hug from his mother were at the forefront of his mind. You’re never going to get another hug from her. He quickly snapped out of it before the tears could rise, thanking the cab driver and walking up to the front door.

His mother had taken his key when he left, claiming it was to give to a neighbour to water her flowers when she went on a cruise or something equally far fetched, but Janus figured she just wouldn’t want to be surprised by him visiting. This was, afterall, the first time she’d been free from his disappointing presence in years. Luckily, they’d always kept a spare under the plant by the door, now wilted and crusty and dropping leaves when he leaned it over, hand slapping the concrete underneath.

Nothing.

He picked it up off the ground entirely, sweeping the ground directly under it and then scanning the surrounding area with growing irritation. Had someone taken it after the funeral? How the hell did they expect him to get into the house? Oh yeah, come clean the house but we’re gonna take the key! Fuckers.

A loud crash from behind the door startled him enough to drop the plant, the ceramic pot smashing on the stairs. Whoops. Another sound from inside, something that sounded like a chair scraping on the tiled kitchen floor, and Janus realized with mounting horror that the front door was open a crack. His family had all claimed to not be able to even come near the place, so… Fantastic. Someone had broken into a death house and he was going to have to deal with it.

The wise choice would have been to call the police.

So Janus pushed the door open and walked in, ignoring the sudden flurry of memories in favor of following the source of the noise.

“Hello?” Yeah, smart, Janus, that always works in the horror movies!

Another scrape in the steadily approaching kitchen, accompanied by muffled swearing. As an almost last thought, Janus picked up the first small object he could feel on the entry table, acknowledging its heft and hoping it would be a suitable weapon without taking his eyes from the hall. Here goes nothing.

Then, in a move to top all stupidity, he turned into the room in a whirl, hoisting the weapon above his head, ready to beat down on whoever was rifling through his dead mother’s drawers. Only to freeze.

“Remus?”

“Janus, what the fuck!” The statement was said with a surprising amount of glee. Remus was the only person he knew who could turn swears into something joyful.

Janus turned his gaze to the floor and the chair Remus was standing on, surrounded by a pile of glass shards. It looked to be the remnants of the entire glass collection, if the amount was anything to go by. Remus gave another shuffle of his chair, the loud shriek sounding again, as he tried to scooch closer without stepping on the shards in his bare feet.

“Why are you holding a banana?”

It took him a solid second to process Remus’ question before he looked down at his own hand, his fingers curled around the metal banana from the decorative fruit bowl in the entry.

“No reason. Why are you in my house, destroying my dinnerware?”

“Help me not step in glass and I’ll tell you.”

Finding a broom was easy; it was still in the same place it always had been before he left. Cleaning the glass took longer, what with Remus’ flurry of questions and Janus’ focus between answering him, sweeping, and not whacking Remus on the head with the broom handle. Apparently it didn’t take long for him to become annoying again.

Still, the grinning man had been the one and only reason he’d had trouble saying goodbye to the town, the only person who still gladly befriended him after coming out. He hated to admit how much he’d missed him.

When the floor was clear, Remus hesitantly stepped down off the chair, wiggling his toes on the ground.

“Why did you take your shoes off when you came in? It’s not like anyone’s gonna be pissed if you track mud in anymore.”

“I didn’t wear any.”

“Of course you didn’t.”

Remus shared a softer look with him, the manic smile drooping, “Hey, I’m sorry about your mom. That’s rough.”

“Yeah,” Was Janus’ incredibly eloquent response. He shook his head, and Remus accepted the subject change with no questions, “So why are you here?”

“Well, I heard you were coming to clear the place out eventually, so I thought I’d get here early and start. Help you out.”

“And…”

“... And snoop around a little bit.”

“There it is.”

“Not like, bad stuff! Just… I don’t know. Deep, dark, family secrets.”

Janus sighed, taking in the kitchen for the first time since entering. “The biggest secret this family tries to hide is me.”

“Dark.”

“Mmhm.” He gasped as two arms suddenly wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him into the most physical contact he’d had in… years.

“Welcome back, Natter.”

“Yeah, well,” He cleared his throat of voice cracks before continuing, “I only got two days off work. So I’m not staying long. I somehow need to completely clear this place out in 48 hours,” He ran a hand down his face, pulling away from the hug reluctantly, “You wouldn’t actually be interested in helping, would you?”

It was more of a statement than a question, but Remus ignored it completely. “You’re only here two days? Inconceivable!”

“You’ve been watching Princess Bride again.”

“We gotta hang out!” The pleading expression on Remus’ face was almost enough to sell him on the idea.

“Weren’t you listening? I literally don’t have the time.”

“I’m going to a concert tonight in Brookton. Come with me!” Remus continued as if he hadn’t spoken, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Just one night, Jan. Pleeeease? I’ll even come here and help you the rest of the time.”

With an affectionate snort, he shook his head, “As fun as that sounds, I’m broke.”

“I can get you in.”

“You’re not paying for me.”

“Who said anything about paying?”

Janus raised an eyebrow, though it was more like how a parent would scold a child than surprise. They’d always gotten into trouble together as kids, and this was just… a level up, in a way. Not that he condoned it.

“I know one of the security guards. He’s one of my hookups, and he happens to owe me a favor or two.”

Wait. “You’re gay?”

“Shit, I didn’t tell you?!” Remus shrieked, grabbing Janus’ hand and dragging him to the front door, key waving in his face, “I’ll tell you all about it on the way. C’mon, it’s an hour drive.”

Well, looks like he didn’t have a say in it. And he’d be lying if he claimed he hadn’t missed hanging out with his old best friend… or just a friend at all, really.

“Fine, but you’re stopping by your place to grab shoes!”

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

It wasn’t a small venue by any means. It wasn’t Beyonce big, but enough to know that if he lost track of Remus, he’d be fucked. In his rush out the door so soon after a morning of traveling, he’d forgotten his charger and his phone was conveniently dead. Janus kept a careful eye on Remus, following the bob of his neon green and black jacket through the crowd and only distantly wondering what band they were actually about to see. The gremlin kept pushing through, ignoring the annoyed shouts of people he shoved, leaving Janus to hastily apologize each time as he followed in his wake.

When Remus slowed just for a moment, stretching on his tiptoes to find a good spot over the sea of heads, Janus lunged forward and grabbed his sleeve. The taller man raised an eyebrow.

“As fun as it would be to get lost, I’m not in the mood.”

“Ah,” Remus’ eyes settled on a spot near the stage, one that Janus couldn’t see being a head shorter than him, “Good timing. Hang on tight.”

And hang on he did, because Remus fully embodied the physicality of a snow plow and plunged back into the crowd with new ferocity. Janus just closed his eyes and blindly let himself be led, letting the bubbling breathiness of a laugh escape his mouth. It had been too long since he’d just been able to have fun like this, without the threat of work and bills in his peripheral. The chatter was deafening in the best way possible, drowning out his worried thoughts, and the flashing lights that were still visible through his closed eyelids was invigorating. The promise for more elated him.

When Remus finally stopped, Janus didn’t get the memo on time and ran into his back full force. He grunted and opened his eyes, focused on his throbbing nose, before realizing how close to the stage they really were. The taller man was staring down at him, grinning maniacally, seemingly impressed with their placement as well.

Then a flash to the side caught his attention, and his throat went dry.

“Remus, look me in the eye and tell me you see that.”

His eyebrows scrunched in confusion before he followed Janus’ line of sight, seeing nothing but the dense crowd. “See what?”

“The light, the light trail…” Janus inhaled sharply through his nose, grip on the other’s sleeve tightening, “It’s my soulmate. He’s here somewhere.”

“Your soulmate? Seriously?”

“Yeah, I…”

“Well, fuck! You’re welcome, eh, Natter? I told you you should have come!” He gave Janus’ arm a light punch, smile widening. “Go find him!”

Janus seemed hesitant, eyes flickering between Remus and the deep purple light trail, weaving between the people and heading towards the back of the venue. “How will I find you again after?”

“That’s a problem for future you. Go, you idiot!”

“Okay, okay! I’m going! Just don’t leave without me!”

He was off before he could hear Remus’ answer, ducking under raised arms and trying his hardest to follow the quickly dissolving trail. Now that he had his eye on it, it had decided that it was time to disappear, and he was quickly losing sight of it.

No, scratch that, it was definitely getting brighter now. And more concrete around the edges, instead of fading out. Was he close? He weaved past another small group of people, eyes following the purple line until-

There.

Holy shit.

He was stunning, that was the first thing Janus noticed. The purple trail stopped at him, covering him with a faint lilac aura before fading completely, content with it’s work. At first he thought the slight tint to the other’s hair was left over from the soulmark, before the lights switched and he realized, no, his hair was dyed purple. The most eye catching thing, though, besides his makeup, was the bulky pair of… were those headphones on his ears? At a concert? Granted, it hadn’t started yet, but still.

Apparently he was standing in one place for too long amongst the constantly moving hoard of people, and his stillness got the attention of the boy in front of him. He gasped sharply when they made eye contact, shocked from what Janus assumed to be the soulmark that probably surrounded him. And then he started hyperventilating. Bad.

“Shit! Okay, hey, calm down, okay? It’s fine-”

He was cut off by a loud riff of an electric guitar, almost immediately drowned out by the screaming fans that surged forward like a tidal wave. The boy in front of him curled in on himself, hands pressing into the headphones around his ears in an attempt to drown out the noise. Despite his more cautionary side, Janus reached forward and took his arm, guiding him gently towards the door.

“Let’s go outside and talk, alright?”

Maybe following a stranger outside alone wasn’t the smartest idea but… Virgil had seen the soul mark, a gentle yellow glow around this man that quickly dissipated, leaving behind a man sharing an equally shocked look on his face. So that had to mean he wasn’t totally bad, right? Either he was his soulmate or some kind of guardian angel, and neither of those were necessarily bad options.

As soon as they stepped outside the main arena, it was as if the tight band around Virgil’s chest loosened. Not gone completely, but enough that he could catch his breath. He reached up and pulled his ear defenders off his head, relieved that the quiet was enough that he didn’t need them anymore. They were definitely a life saver, but sometimes the way they muffled noise was indescribably uncomfortable as well.

The man noticed his immediate relief, letting go of his guiding arm and slowing his pace so Virgil could walk beside him.

“I’m Janus.”

“Virgil.”

In a blur, they ended up outside the venue, sitting on the curb directly outside the main doors. Virgil was fiddling with his ear muffs, eyes trained on the inky darkness surrounding them. Besides the dull resounding of the bass echoing from inside and steady stream of traffic just out of their view, it was reasonably quiet.

“So, you live in Brookton?” Janus finally broke the comfortable silence, leaning back on his hands.

“Yeah. Not for long, though.”

“Oh?”

“Planning to get out soon. Don’t know where, don’t know how. But I’m not much of a ‘small town’ guy.”

“Brookton counts as a small town?”

Virgil hummed, finally placing the head gear down beside him and closing his eyes, breathing in the smell of fast food from the variety of food trucks around the area. It was a strange cacophony of oil and salt, oddly enticing even if just the scent was enough for his skin to break out.

“What about you? From around here?”

“Sort of?” He explained his story in as few words as possible, flying over his mom’s general unacceptance and her death, and the fact that he had to clean out her house in two days. “Less than that now, I guess. One and a half. It’s gonna be hell.” His head fell into his hands, fingers rubbing at the temples as if to soothe the headache he was expecting.

Virgil was a good listener, nodding along to the right parts and avoiding those stupid sympathetic looks he was so tired of. It was a nice relief to actually feel listened to, not pitied.

“My parents are kind of similar. It doesn’t feel like I have much to complain about, though, because… I mean, they didn’t kick me out. Don’t openly hate on me. But it still sucks. They don’t even acknowledge me half the time.”

“Exactly! And then you see people who have it worse, and it makes you feel like a piece of shit for feeling upset!”

“Good match, universe.” Virgil flopped onto his back, purple hair splayed out on the concrete. “It’s the subtle homophobia for me.”

“Ah, you’re a ‘meme person’.”

“Sucks for you, you’re stuck with me now.”

“I’ll manage,” Janus joined him on the ground, suddenly disgusted that he was still in the same outfit that he’d flown in today. He hated the smell of plane, and he must reek of it. But Virgil didn’t seem to mind his general disheveled appearance as he made an abstract comment about the moon being full today, and how that generally meant bad things. Janus made the mistake of asking him what he meant, which turned into a full blown lecture on mythology and cryptids, one that Virgil didn’t have the capability to control. It made him smile though, seeing the emo so utterly delighted to explain it, and he realized with a start that he was going to get to enjoy this man for the rest of his life. Two people who could talk, matched with a person who loved to listen equally as much. Virgil had been right. Good match, universe.

#virgil definitely comes over and helps him clean the house the next day #but i wanted to leave it here #lywrites #tsshipmonth2020 #soulmate september #soulmateseptember #ts soulmate au #janus sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #anxceit #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction

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weasleypogues · 4 years

Text

caught (j.b.r)

so thankfully someone pointed out to me that i completely misread a request and mixed it up so here is a sistermaybank x john b!! im so sorry to whoever requested it but i hope u enjoy this one!!

i kinda got a little carried away and made this very long so bear with me

master list.

having jj maybank as your older brother came with everything you would expect. you did crazy shit with no repercussions or care. but there were other times where you would balance each other out because, at one point, someone had to use their senses and be the rational sibling. you two shared so much in your life that it was difficult to even think of doing things without him by your side.

however, one of those things you did without him was to date his best friend, john b. but hey, it’s not like you and john b weren’t friends initially either. when jj and john b first became friends, you weened yourself right in like the annoying little sister because you admired your brother and were basically attached at the hip. you liked the idea of having your own personal bodyguards but that didn’t mean that you couldn’t rock someone’s shit when you got the chance. but most of the time you preferred love not war, unlike jj.

when you and john b first got together, it felt like walking on eggshells. you’d tread lightly and watch your words carefully around jj and the rest of the pogues. yes, you trusted kie and pope with your lives, but it wasn’t fair to make them carry around that secret for the sake of your relationship. you weren’t sure why you kept it a secret from jj. i mean if he chose john b to be his best friend, that had to mean that jj found john b’s qualities and loyalty worthwhile and admirable.

what you wouldn’t admit to john b, and barely wanted to admit to yourself was a different reason to not tell jj. because jj wasn’t the only person you were keeping this a secret from. you wouldn’t dare tell your father that you were dating someone. because someway, somehow, he would make that the reason to stir the pot to you, jj, or both. you would hate yourself if you were the reason for another bruise on your or jj’s body. so, altogether you decided it was best to keep it a secret to prevent anyone from getting hurt.

it was a saturday morning when you woke up to a text from john b, you smiled to yourself at the mere thought of him. meet me at the chateau in an hour. you quickly hopped out of bed and went to pack a bag for the day. as you weaved through empty beer bottles and random trash on the floor, you tiptoed to not wake your father up. you peaked quietly into jj’s room and saw he was passed out as well, taking a mental note to leave him a post-it or send him a text to wake up to to let him know you were going to be gone when he woke up.

after brushing your teeth and throwing on a bathing suit and a pair of shorts, all you needed was your phone and a water bottle from the fridge. treading lightly on the creaky floors, you began to walk towards the kitchen until you heard footsteps from behind you. your hands got sweaty and your heart sunk into your stomach.

“where you goin’ this early in the morning?” you father said to you in a husky and slurred voice.

“just out with a friend on their boat for the day.” you responded with a slight smile to play it nonchalantly. if your father saw anything but a content look on your face, you knew he would pick apart your emotions and facial expression if you didn’t act like everything was a-okay.

“who’s this friend?” your father interrogated, with an unpleased look on his face. you soon came to realize that no matter how normal you acted, he would still be the same old jerk no matter what. “is it a friend that left this in your room a couple of days ago? because i sure as hell know this don’t belong to you.”

you saw his hand lift up a dirty and slightly faded black bandana, wrapped around his knuckles. fuck.

“oh my friend gave it to me one day actually-” you responded quickly and nervously. it felt like your body went numb because you knew that there was no way in hell that this situation would end well.

“don’t lie to me, (y/n)!” your father yelled, with a look on his face that you knew too well but it would still leave you frozen in fear. it seemed a lot of the time that jj was the one to fight back because jj could take punches here and there and put on a front for everybody. you weren’t gifted with easily putting on a facade like he was so you would try your absolute hardest to extend the argument long enough that eventually your father would just knock out from the alcohol and that would be the end of it.

“what the hell is going on?” jj walked out of his room with a tank top and shorts on, rubbing his eyes to get adjusted to the extreme sunlight in the living room.

“is this yours, boy?!” your father raised the bandana higher and his face got redder as his eyes pierced themselves into jj’s path. jj quickly shook his head. he has no idea why his father brought this up to him but jj had no other reason to lie about it not being john b’s because yet again, no one knew of what was happening between you and john b.

“it’s john b’s.” jj answered, almost like a cadet to a colonel, following orders and meaning no disprespect. although jj wanted to disrespect his father to the end of the world for everything he put you two through. however, once those words came out of jj’s mouth you knew everything from here on out would be completely downhill.

“it was in your sisters room actually.” you didn’t dare look around at jj. you could only handle one glare at a time from this family. although, you were surprised to hear jj back you up.

“dad, she can do what she wants.” jj responded, with no emotion to not set him off. however, whatever anyone responded with was going to stir the pot.

“don’t talk back to me, you little shit!” you father huskily shouted at your brother. he took a couple steps towards jj and you knew this was going to get physical. you allowed the tears to well up in your eyes for the millionth time if your life because of him.

you quickly whipped around and your blurry vision made it hard to see who was throwing what punches. it wasn’t until one loud thud to the ground was when you realize that jj had knocked your father out and looked up at you, blood dripping from his lip and nose.

“let’s get out of here.” jj blankly stated and you nodded quickly as you ran to get your backpack and phone and basically booked it, trailing behind jj’s footsteps. you figured that his feet were taking him to the exact place that john b had told you to meet him: the chateau. you weren’t sure if this was the best idea or the worst. jj used the chateau as his safe space after things would get bad with your dad but you weren’t sure if that was the case this time or he was on a mission to find out why john b’s bandana was found in your room.

you anxiously picked at your cuticles with your hands to your sides, nervous to hear the first word that would be spoken between you two. but you knew it had to come eventually but you didn’t know if you had the guts to be the first one.

“explain to me why the bandana was in your room.” jj asked, his voice softer than you expected but when you looked slightly up at him, his jaw was clenched and his eyes stayed darted in front of him as you two continued to walk.

“i don’t know how you want me to answer this.” you responded, with your head slightly down because if jj looked over at you, you couldn’t look him in the eyes after he took a beating because your dad decided to snoop in your room.

you weren’t sure how long you were walking and how long the pauses were in between each thing spoken but you ended up at john b’s house in no time. your eyes glanced up as you saw your boyfriend hop down his front steps and give you two a smile before his faced dropped seeing 1. your terrified face, 2. jj’s bruised and bloody face, and 3. the fact that he only invited his girlfriend over so why was his best friend here looking like he was going to rock his shit?

“uhh, hey guys...” john b greeted, unsure how to approach the situation. when his eyes flickered to yours for a split second, you just gave him wide eyes back because you too were unsure about how to even begin.

“are you dating my fucking sister?” jj asked, shoving john b slightly. john b stumbled behind as his jaw slightly dropped and he put his hands up in defense. this was your cue to go and try to break it up.

“no man! i mean yes but like we can explain!” john b responded, seemingly coming up with the worst responses ever when confronted with something like this. you weened your way to stand in between them.

“yes jj, we are dating! can you let us explain?” you practically yelled because you knew if you spoke in a normal tone, that anything you say would not get through to him because of the blood pounding in his ears from adrenaline. and because he would probably ignore you regardless.

“no! there’s nothing to explain. this is clearly a secret you two fucking kept from me for how long? a month? two months? more? jesus christ if it’s any more i’m punching your teeth in, john b.” jj exclaimed, as his jaw clenched even harder and the veins on his forhead became more prominent.

“just two months! okay?! can we all calm down and talk about this like regular people?” you slightly pushed jj, not letting him get any closer to john b. you were always afraid of this outcome but you never pictured it being like this. “you can’t just go around hitting people when things don’t go your way! just pull a ‘dad’ while your at it and beat the shit out of your best friend.”

“don’t bring dad into this (y/n).” jj said through clenched teeth, although his face softened at the idea of you comparing him to your father. it was jj’s fear to resemble any quality that your father had and to hear that come out of his little sisters mouth hurt him.

“look i didn’t mean it like you were dad. but clearly it doesn’t work when you both think violence is the answer. so can we just sit down and we’ll explain everything to you?” you asked, your voice softening as you threw your hands to the side in defeat. jj took a deep breath in before flickering his eyes between you and john b. he just nodded in silence and he lead the way to john b’s front porch and sat on the couch. jj simply waved his hand in the air, prompting you two to explain.

you took a deep breath and let everything spill. you and john b had kept the secret from him because you were scared of how he was going to react. you two basically kept it a secret from everyone to spare them any stress. and you spilled to the both of them that you were keeping it a major secret because if somehow, someway, word got back to your father that you were dating someone, he would lose his shit.

“look, me and john b didn’t plan for this to be the way you found out. and i didn’t plan for this to be the way that dad found out. and if i could go back i’d tell you immediately to save you from what happened back there. but i can’t. just know that i love you and john b. you’re my brother for fuck’s sake. your feelings matter the world to me but i also wanted to take myself into perspective and make myself happy. we aren’t doing this to punish you whatsoever, i did it because i can’t see myself dating anyone else.”

and with that you grabbed john b’s hand and rubbed your thumb back and forth on the back of his while he squeezed yours in response. jj lifted his hat and ran his fingers through his hair with his free ones and let out a deep breath he had been holding in.

“i really love your sister, man. i would die than let anything hurt her and would beat myself up if i was the one who did. i couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.” john b said, with the most sincere tone. a long, deafening silence followed and you felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest.

“look...you guys are going to have to let me get used to this. i know you guys’ve been together for a while but ease it up in front of me, this is all just like super weird for me right now. i guess i should be happy that it’s john b and not some douchebag kook.” jj responded, rubbing his hand over his face because he felt overwhelmed. “and as for dad, i’m sorry it went that way. but next time there’s a secret like this, you can tell me. i’m blood for fucks sake.”

you gave your older brother a small smile and nod before getting up and taking a couple steps towards him. your approach quickly prompted him up and you pulled him in for a hug.

“not too much pda in front of me also. and i’m keeping a hawks eye watch on you, john b. thin ice, brother, thin ice.” jj said, pointing his two fingers to his eyes and that pointing them at john b. you laughed and slightly shoved jj.

“gotcha, bro.” john b responded chuckling and than gave jj a bro shake.

“soo... boat day?” you spoke up sheepishly, hoping to start the day fresh as you gave puppy-dog eyes to your brother and boyfriend.

“you call kie, i’ll call pope and then we’ll head out.” jj answered as you excitedly pulled out your phone to call kie. as you placed the ringing phone up to your ear you felt a kiss on the top of your head and an arm snake around your waist.

“at least it’s out of the way now.” john b whispered to you, as you nodded and looked up at him before kissing him.

#john b imagines #john b #john b routledge #john b x reader #john b routledge x #john b routledge x you #john b x yn #john b writing #obx writing #obx writings #obx imagines #obx x reader #obx #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #pope heyward #pope heyward imagines #kiara carrera #kiara imagines

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tsipasce · 4 years

Text

Same Difference, ch.03

A/N: so two cute idiots walk into a tea shop...

Chapters: 01 | 02 | 04

AO3 | Fanfic

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shiiiiiiit. She thought as she shakily sipped the tea she had just made. It had been an hour or so since she escaped, and the gravity of the situation once again settled on Nanami’s shoulders. She realized just what it meant to have left her purse in his car. If it had just been her phone and cards, she could go and replace them, but what really concerned her was her I.D. If there was any sensitive information he was after, he was certainly going to find it on there. “He knows my address…” she realized aloud.

No amount of SleepyTime tea would be able to fix this. I’m doomed...

It was getting late in the day and without any of her cards or phones, she was stranded in her apartment, waiting for the worst. However, she did have some old pots and pans lying around. It’s not the strongest metal, but it’ll at least make a lot of noise if they’re broken and give me time to escape if shit hits the fan. She broke down the metal objects and reformed them into a considerable amount of deadbolt locks on her front door and windows. As she went to check how things looked outside, she saw it: It’s that same damn car.

Nanami immediately shut her blinds and had a mini freak-out. Why in the world did I think they wouldn’t follow me? Fmllll.

Freaking out wasn’t helping, so she decided to refocus and calm herself by planning and researching her would-be opponent. If he decided to make good on his last threat, she at least needed to know who she was up against. She pulled out her laptop and remembered she was able to check her phone notifications through it. There were no notifications and for the first time she was glad her inbox was so dry. Clearing her mind, she tried to remember details that would tell her who she was up against.

“Overhaul”. That’s what the driver seemed to call him. Is that his villian name? Nanami figured it was worth a shot, assuming she’d probably find some petty criminal’s rap sheet. Though if she was being honest with herself, he was much more intimidating than your average delinquent. She pulled up Boogle and searched the name. She unfortunately got her answer.

… You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

It was then that all of the hints she had missed before came crashing down as she saw the words “yakuza” and “Hassakai” plastered on her screen. She had to be the unluckiest woman alive, she was thoroughly convinced of that now.

After taking a personal moment to scream into one of the throw pillows on her sofa, Nanami decided to press onward in the hopes of finding out about his quirk. He hadn’t been able to use it yesterday, but she was sure he would try again if given the chance. This piece of information was much harder to find, but not impossible. A couple gruesome articles later and she found what she was looking for. The article read “ His quirk is suspected to involve the disassembly and reassembly of anything that he touches at a molecular structural level upon touching the target with his bare hands.”

She reread, and then reread it again. And again. This is impossible. “That’s my quirk.” Though she had to keep it a secret most of her life, she suddenly felt almost angry that someone else had it, that he had it. She hid her powers, always being careful to understate her quirk, then here comes this asshole using it without a care in the world. The more she thought about it, the more she began to question whether she was angrier at him for owning it, or at herself for rejecting it. Before she could make the existential breakthrough, the Dr. Nanami Watanabe part of her brain brought up the obvious question, rousing her from her thoughts:

“How in the world do two people that aren’t related have the exact same quirk? Has that ever even happened before? What does this even mean?” she had to ask herself aloud. I have to talk to him, she realized, grimacing at the thought.

It would be incredibly dangerous given who he is, but as it stood, he had all her information—probably more considering his connections—and she couldn’t talk to anyone else about it and risk getting them involved. Besides, for whatever reason, he wasn’t able to use it on me the last time. Maybe it was just a fluke, but I have to at least try and find out. Considering this, his behavior (well, some of it) began to make sense. If she were a yakuza boss and found out someone else was walking around with your very specific, and possibly very destructive quirk, she’d probably want to have a talk with them too.

Cautiously looking out the window, the car was still there. It was a long shot, but she hoped they had her phone in front of them so she could send a civil invitation to meet from a distance. She reopened the phone messenger on her laptop and began to type. Nanami had written a lot of serious messages in her life, but this one definitely took the cake.

After rewriting it a couple times she settled on a riveting, final draft:

Dear Overhaul,

I know who you are. Let’s chat.

*send*

Looking at the message, she commented dryly “I should’ve just dropped out of med school and become a writer. Great work, Nanami *facepalm*”. After a message like that, she was sure he’d think she was an idiot and she wouldn’t blame him one bit. He may not respond, but at least she can say she tried. If he agrees, then there’s a slight chance we could come to an understanding and he won’t merc me on sight. Maybe.

Just as doubt was about to rear its ugly head, three dots appeared.

Nanami’s eyes were glued to the screen in anticipation while her ears were still straining to hear if there was any commotion outside her door. The dots disappear.

“Tomorrow at 8AM.” The text read. She wasn’t sure if it was the man himself, but it didn’t matter. Death threats or not, she didn’t wake up that early on a Sunday for anyone but the Lord himself.

“No can do. Tomorrow, noon, at Matcha Mastery” She replied. If anything went down, she at least wanted to get one last fix from her favorite shop.

The three dots appeared and reappeared at least 4 times. Whoever was responding was being careful about what they wrote.

“Fine.”

Or not..

And just like that, she had a date with the devil for tea.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Sleeping was near-impossible that night. Though she had set a time and place, there was also little stopping him from sending in a couple of his “colleagues” to make a preemptive strike. Thankfully, the night went by without incident, the mysterious car having only left at daybreak. After checking her locks one more time, Nanami set an alarm for 11:00 AM and passed out.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The alarm blared and she woke up with a start, the anxiety from the day before bubbling up to the surface. After going through her usual routine, she went to her closet and stared blankly. She had never been more confused as to what to wear, it was a meeting with a class B villain, after all. Do I wear a sensible pantsuit or a dramatic gown with a fur coat made of dalmatian puppies? Thinking it best to be as inconspicuous as possible, she went for a third option: her favorite sleeveless black turtleneck, some high-rise jeans with a black leather belt and black leather boots. Putting her hair into her signature ponytail, she checked her watch, “11:45, just enough time to walk there.”

Though she’d made this walk a hundred times, today it felt excruciatingly long. She’d say it was like marching to her own execution, but thought it best not to speak something with such a high probability into existence. Five minutes later and she had arrived.

There were only a few other people in the small shop, but she thought it best to sit upstairs in one of the private rooms. She put in her order and headed upstairs to wait and mentally prepare. Enough privacy where they won’t be able to hear our conversation, but public enough that I can call for help if things go south, she plotted internally. Just then, her order was called, and she headed down the stairs. As she took the last step she heard someone else come in and looked towards the door to see him there. He hadn’t noticed her yet and went to order. For a moment, she observed him from afar. He wasn’t wearing his signature mask or jacket, but donned a simple black mask, button-down shirt and slacks with a gray tie instead. She was surprised at how different he looked. Speaking of surprises, he was actually being very courteous to the staff, What a stark contrast to the guy that threw me in the back of a car yesterday… She commented inwardly. Nanami was so focused on her thoughts she didn’t realize that her stare was being returned. She quickly snapped out of it and looked away, feeling a tinge of embarrassment lightly stain her cheeks. He subtly raised an eyebrow, but his expression stayed otherwise the same.

Not wanting to lose her air of confidence so quickly, Nanami poised herself and walked confidently over, reaching past him to get her order, his eyes never leaving her. Without a word, she turned on her heel, returned to the private room upstairs and waited, her heart racing after having been that close. A few minutes later she heard someone walking up the stairs and braced herself for the encounter. Overhaul calmly walked into the small room, sat across from her, and stared. It seemed as if neither of them knew how to start the conversation which she found surprisingly comforting at first, but then she remembered why they were there in the first place.

They sat in that heavy, awkward silence for what felt like an eternity, neither one of them breaking eye contact. Nanami usually wouldn't be this hostile right off the bat, but after their encounter yesterday, she made an exception. His gaze was intense and still borderline homicidal as he studied her, but she knew she couldn't afford to show signs of weakness and look away. While focusing so intently on his eyes, she could swear she saw a tinge of curiosity. Hm. I can work with that. Truces have been made on less, right? She convinced herself, deciding it was time to put a knife to the growing tension. "Alright, let's chat." she began confidently. His eye twitched ever so slightly at this and she could tell he was still contemplating less pleasant, nonverbal forms of communication. "Why were you following me yesterday?" "No. That isn't how this is going to work. I'm questioning you." He replied sternly, almost cutting her off. "You can think that, but I'd like to remind you what happened the last time you tried to corner me with questions. How's your stomach feeling, by the way?" Nanami asked innocently, though her face was smug. At this she could see his face shift to a look of disbelief, then quickly regress to anger and a bit of embarrassment. She could tell he wasn't used to being talked to like this. She was skating on thin ice, but she'd be lying if she said she didn't enjoy watching him react. The silence continued and Nanami sipped her tea, raising her brows at him expectantly. Not being able to use his quirk to shift the balance, he came to terms with the fact that he'd have to answer her at some point. "On Friday you were snooping around Hassakai territory, accosted one of my subordinates. Then you proceeded to destroy construction site materials. It's not odd that I would have to investigate such a suspicious character." He stated matter-of-factly as he crossed his arms over his chest, sure of himself. Nanami looked around dramatically, gesturing, “Am I in the Twilight zone? That's not at all what happened. I didn't accost anyone or destroy anything, I saved him by--" she abruptly stopped, thinking it best not to confirm what he may or may not know about her quirk. Or is it “our” quirk? Gross. She then continued " I saved your subordinate and I get thanked by almost being kidnapped? Make it make sense." "If that's true, then explain how you did it. In detail." He replied, but it sounded too much like a dare. She knew what he wanted to hear but was afraid of the consequences if he got his answer. Overhaul decided to take the initiative and provoke a demonstration out of her, since the explanation was taking too long for his liking. After glancing around to ensure they were alone, he took a napkin, and wiped down her mug. Nanami was watching him intently now. He began removing his glove and she reflexively flinched at the movement, remembering the threats from yesterday. He noticed and moved slightly slower, before removing it completely. He then took her mug, examining it.

A germaphobe who has to touch things to activate his quirk, huh? No wonder he's so grumpy. Nanami thought.

Just as she was about to ask what he was doing, he raised the mug between them and disassembled it, the particles now in free fall. Before Nanami thought, she reacted, placing her hand beneath the soon-to-be mess, catching and reassembling the particles at they fell. She looked at the now intact mug and realized she had done exactly what he wanted. Crap. She hesitantly lifted her gaze to meet his and saw a hint of... wonder? Is he happy about this? She wondered, but the rest of his expression was that of suspicion. "Explain." He commanded in a low voice. She knew it was too late now. No amount of strategy would get her out of this explanation. "I.. I researched you—I mean your quirk— last night, and well… it's the same as mine. Exactly the same." She added the last part clearing her throat, now looking down, her mind going a mile a minute at the declaration. He paused a beat before responding. "It truly is a virus." He said with disgust. Say what now? Nanami had a couple of ideas as to how he'd react, but this was not one of them. "Pardon?" "Quirks. They are the virus of this generation." He continued. Still puzzled, but curious, Nanami prodded, "You mean, literally or in some philosophical, villain-y way?" "Both. Everyone has ascribed to the label of either hero or villain, intoxicated by their own delusions of grandeur. All because they've been given powers by a virus derived from rats. It's filthy." "No, no, no," Nanami mentally switched gears to become Dr. Watanabe, " while I agree hero and villain complexes can be dangerous in equal measure, and they might be a ‘moral virus', quirks are not biologically viruses. They're hereditary mutations," she stated confidently. "Well, you don't look like one of my relatives." He replied plainly, sizing her up. They both knew he had a point. " I.. I can't explain that. But it's widely known that quirks are hereditary." " Known or theorized?" " Science doesn't work that way. Even things we're almost 100% sure of are still sometimes considered theory. Doesn't make it any less true." "One, I know how science works. And two, it also doesn't make it 100% true. You can't ignore data just because it contradicts your beliefs." At this Nanami thought for a moment before deciding they needed to refocus and come to terms on a truce. "Well. What now? I can't have you tailing and threatening me with abduction." "And I can't have someone with my quirk walking around, ready to be weaponized by my enemies…How can you assure me you won't be a problem?" Is he throwing me a bone? "Look, I'm a semi-law-abiding citizen just trying to live a relatively quiet life, and I have no hero license. I haven’t the reason nor the means to cause trouble." "You already have. Yesterday I was...” He cleared his throat, “…unable to execute my quirk." Geez that sounded like it hurt to say… Nanami thought. He continued, "However, you were able to utilize yours against me. There is an imbalance and it must be rectified." "But I have no idea how that happened. It was a fluke!"

" You can't be sure of that." He stated, and she knew he was right. Just as she was afraid of coming the negotiations would come to an impasse, he continued, "But I can. Let me study you." Her eyes shot open wide at that suggestion, " And lock me away in whatever yakuza hideout cell you've probably already constructed for me? No, thank you." "So you're not the least bit curious as to why something you claim is hereditary behaves like a virus? Why you were unaffected by overhaul yesterday?" "You were going to disassemble me??" Nanami asked in disbelief, though her professional and personal curiosity were indeed piqued at the prospect of researching their shared quirk. He looked confused and answered as though she was the weird one," Of course. I was going to overhaul your arms and then return them to you once I knew the threat had been neutralized." " You were going to ‘return my arms’? How considerate of you." She said sarcastically. "But still, the answer is no." "So you're not curious?" He pushed, knowing the answer. "No. I mean yes! But I'm not going to become a lab rat." Just then, an epiphany struck her. It would be a long shot, but it was her best shot at a truce and to get her questions answered. She had to at least try.

"But I would be willing to become a lab

partner,

" she said, raising her eyebrows, hoping he would accept the proposition.

"Excuse me?"

"Well, we could work together to figure this out. We’re both looking for answers so our goal would be the same, I’m a whole ass doctor, and I can tell by how you remove your gloves you at least know basic lab practices. All you have to do is guarantee you won't harm me or anyone I associate with. I should be able to go about my life without worrying about what you might do to me... Do we have a deal?"

He paused thoughtfully, and she could tell he was genuinely considering the proposal. He looked her in the eye, searching for any signs of deception until he finally spoke, "Under one condition," She was both relieved he was going to accept and afraid of what he could possibly ask of her. " You must work in my lab under my supervision. I will also monitor you and your communications."

"Yes to your lab. No to monitoring." Nanami shot back without hesitation.

He looked vexed, and countered, "You must never speak of our arrangement, and we will have mutually agreed upon check-ins."

"... Deal."

" Good."

Nanami knew better than to offer her hand to a germaphobe and instead opted to start their partnership out on the right foot. She gracefully rose, casually brushed off her pants and walked around to his side of the table. Looking at him seriously now, she began " If we're going to be partners, let's do this properly," she then bowed as she would to any new colleague, " I look forward to working with you, Mr. Overhaul."

He was silent, and Nanami was getting nervous, not knowing how he would respond. He stared at her a beat. She couldn’t see it, but he was pleasantly stunned. Recognizing her consideration, he rose in a similar fashion and returned her gesture, "And I you, Dr. Watanabe."

#same difference #bnha fanfic #bnha #mha fanfic #mha overhaul #overhaul #chisaki kai #kai chisaki #shie hassaikai #mha chisaki #overhaul fanfiction #fanfiction #oc #mha oc #overhaul x oc

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years

Note

75 for Indruck!! and either nsfw or sfw is chill

I went with SFW! 75 “I’m an insomniac who calls my best friend at 3am except I misdial on my landline and I tell you all about my nightmare before letting you talk and now I’m mortified but you don’t hang up

CW: mentions of pot and of death

Indrid awakens in a panic, flailing and falling onto the floor. This is why he doesn’t have a bedframe; the routine falling hurts less from a half foot of drop.

“Ouch.” He says to the empty room, the white noise machine doing nothing to soothe his nerves. Maybe if he stays very still, the nightmares can’t find him.

No. That’s not how this works. Maybe he should see if anyone is awake. He just needs another voice, to know someone can hear him if he screams for help.

He grabs the nearest phone, which happens to be the landline that came with his little studio, and dials Barclay’s number.

“H’lo?”

“Hello, it’s, ah, it’s Indrid, I, I know it’s late, but I need to talk and you said I could call anytime so I am. I, it, it was the dream again. I’ve been staying up as late as can, not sleeping unless my body just sort of forces me too and I dropped off while drawing and it happened again, the one with the bridge this time, not the one with the car, and I, I fell, like I always do, but this time I, I didn’t, didn’t wake up when, when, when it happened. I’m sorry, just, please, can you talk with me awhile so I can remember I’m here?”

“Uhhhh, sure? But, uh, got a feelin’ you mighta mixed somethin up.”

Indrid’s fairly certain Barclay does not have a southern accent.

“Oh, oh god, I’m sorry, I dialed wrong didn’t I?”

“Guess so? Don’t know any fella named Indrid, and I’m guessin’ you don’t know anyone named Duck, it’s a nickname.”

“No, I don’t” he curls his legs to his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“S’okay. I was still up, been tryin to beat this level.”

“Why didn’t you hang up?”

“‘Cause you sounded real fuckin scared.”

He was. He still is, his heart a deer still running from long-outrun wolves.

“Are, uh, are you okay now?”

“I will be fine.”

“I mean, I ain’t a therapist or anythin’ like that but, uh, I can try to help somehow.”

“I’m afraid the only thing that may work is continuing to talk with me which, were I in your shoes, I would not want to do. Christ” he shivers, fumbles in the dark for his sweater, “I need a hug.”

“I can do that.”

“We’re on the phone.”

A small laugh, “no kiddin, here I thought we were at a Taco Bell. I was offerin’ to come over or, uh, wait, no, you better come here, think I might still be a little high so I shouldn’t drive.”

“Are you messing with me?”

“Nope. I live at 5547 Williamson, apartment 2B. Ring the buzzer and I’ll let you in.”

This is ridiculous, how does either of them know the other isn’t planning on wearing their skin as pajamas?

“I’ll see you there.”

The walk gives him time to second guess himself, then second guess that second guess, and so on until he reaches the three story building that clearly used to be one, family home. He rings the bell for 2B. No one will come down, Duck is probably asleep, or has realized how dangerous his suggestion is.

“Who is it?” The same drawl from the phone, now through the door.

“Indrid. From the phone.”

“Howdy, Indrid from the phone.” Duck opens the door, looking better than Indrid dared imagine. They’re about the same age, dark hair with fading streaks of blue falls about a round face, a stocky frame looks singularly nice to lay against.

“C’mon up. Tried callin’ you a little while ago to see if you wanted me to order food or somethin, but since you didn’t answer think we’re gonna have to settle for leftover pizza for now.”

“That’s, ah, that’s fine. And that was a landline I called from, hence the lack of response.”

“Jesus” Duck giggles, “you still got one of those?”

“The previous renter left a lot of things behind, and whoever is paying that telephone bill hasn’t stopped so far. Oh, thanks.” He steps through the door Duck holds open, finds a room much like his own; a messy studio full of the elements a single man needs to get by. A tiny T.V is linked up to an XBOX in the corner, and two hanging planters flourish by the windows.

“Still want that hug?” Duck opens his arms.

Indrid nods, stepping into them, his own arms locked by his sides in case Duck doesn’t want to be touched. The shorter man is warm, his arms solid and strong, one holding Indrid’s shoulder blades so the other can run up and down his back.

“You can hug back, I don’t mind.”

Indrid hugs his waist, “This isn’t weird to you?”

“Kinda? I dunno, I give damn good hugs and I don’t like seein’ people scared or hurtin, and you seem to need someone to be a little gentle with you. So, what the fuck, may as well hug you; knew I wasn’t gonna feel right if I hung up without offerin’. Besides, that dream sounded fuckin’ awful.”

“It is, its’ that way every time. So is the other one, and the one after that.” Indrid curls inward, as if he could somehow squeeze his nearly six foot frame to fit snugly under Duck’s chin, “I, they aren’t just dreams, either. I have what you call very bad luck with death. My mother died in a car accident when I was seven, with me in the backseat. My father died in a freak bridge collapse, again with me only barely surviving. Then my best friend drowned when we were swimming.” He shudders, images flooding back, “the dreams make me see it over and over in strange, altered versions, versions where I die, and they say you’re supposed to wake up before you die in a dream but tonight I didn’t, I felt my dream self die and I, I, I woke up so frightened.” he gasps, cringes to find tears slipping from under his glasses.

“Hey, hey it’s okay man, here” Duck sits them down on the bed, Indrid now clinging to him, “don’t worry, ain’t lettin go, you can keep talkin if you need.”

“I get so scared sometimes, like I’m an omen of doom and anyone who comes near me will die. And I know that’s ridiculous because the majority of people who’ve been close to me are still alive, but nights like this I wake up and watch the door and the windows because it feels like death is following me, waiting to grab me, and I’ll die frightened and alone and not be found for days until someone, one of the few who still cares for me, wonders why they haven’t heard from me and, andandand-” it’s sobs now, awkward and painful each time they push out of his chest.

“Shhhhh” Duck pats his hair and Indrid wiggles closer, hoping his whine communicates the desperate hope he’ll do that again, touch him like he matters. What it does is knock them over, bed squishy under them.

“Hush, hush now, ain’t nothin like that gonna happen. No more talk of shadows, partly because I only sobered up like ten minutes ago and talkin about seein the grim reaper in the corner don’t play nice with that.”

‘“I, I’m s-sorry-”

“Hey, hey I was teasin’, tryin’ to see if I could make you laugh at me a little” Duck strokes his cheek with his thumb, voice warm as a summer morning and soothing as moonlight, “besides, even if somethin’ scary did show, you got the ‘hero of Kepler’ to protect you.”

“The, the what of what now?”

“Kepler’s the tiny town I grew up in. Both my folks were real respected and shit, dad was former marines, everyone assumed I was gonna grow up and fight the good fight. Instead I disappointed ‘em all by wantin’ to look after trees all day.” He mutters, looks sad, and Indrid can’t bear the sight and so he mimics him, places a hand on his cheek and pets it gently.

“Trees do far more good, and need far more help nowadays.”

“Thanks, ‘Drid. Oop, sorry, just kinda slipped out.”

“Nono, I like it, I’ve never had a nickname before. Or, ah, never had a good one, that is.”

“Well, you do now, because I like you and I say so.” Duck pets his side, making his sweater ride up and exposing a tattoo.

“Oh shit, that’s so fuckin’ cool.”

“Thank you, I did the design myself. That’s, ahd, that’s what I’m doing in town. I’m apprenticing to be a tattoo artist.”

“So. fuckin. Cool.” Duck draws a finger along the moth design, Indrid squirming a little when he does. It feels nice; unfamiliar, but nice.

“You gotta tell me all about it.”

“Alright” Indrid sniffs and Duck, after flopping to the side of the bed and reaching beneath it, produces a tissue, “as long as you promise to tell me about those” he points to the row of succulents on the far wall.”

“Think I can handle that. Fuck, got cold in here.” He drags a blanket up over them and Indrid purrs at the warmth, snuggling up in his arms as Duck nuzzles his neck, “now, where were we…”

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

Indrid wakes up with his glasses smushed to his face, a thick blanket wrapped around him, and the smell of coffee tickling his nose. He yawns, sits up and gets his bearings well enough to not be startled when Duck speaks.

“Mornin, sleepyhead.”

“Good morning.”

“Didn’t seem like you had more nightmares last night.” Duck pours two mugs of coffee.

“I didn’t. Your, ah, your presence helped immensely.”

“Maybe my true callin’ is a teddy bear, good for snugglin and keepin monsters away.”

“Perhaps.” He pads over to the little kitchen to join him. Takes the sugar when offered and dumps a large amount into his cup.

“Hey, uh, this may be way off base, but, uh, I, uh, I feel like we really kinda clicked. Even accountin for the weird circumstances and the heightened emotions and shit. I coulda talked with you for days, and honestly the reason I kept holding you after that firs hug was because I felt so fuckin comfortable with you. Like you fit.”

“I felt the same.” Indrid stirs his coffee, unsure of how to ask for what he wants.

“If, uh, if you ain’t busy tonight, do you wanna go out? With me?”

“On a date?”

Duck suppresses a smile as he nods.

“I’d like that so much.”

“Hell yeah.’ Duck hugs him and this time he hugs back instantly, giggling when the shorter man kisses his cheek and whispers, “and if you feel like it, happy to be your teddy bear tomorrow night, too.”

#indruck #meet ugly #indrid cold/duck newton #prompt fills

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datleggy · 4 years

Note

A hazing you say, to you say, do tell us more please.

oh839ruef it is 6am and im still drunk from the nite before so forgive this mess but u asked for it >:]

TK hasn’t been sleeping well at all; just a bunch of restless nights in a row, all of these thoughts keeping him awake.

Thoughts of his ex boyfriend—almost fiance’—thoughts of his father’s diagnosis—what would he do without him in his life?—and of course, those pesky little thoughts called addiction, which never really leave his subconscious, not even on the good days…

He ends up falling asleep in one of the trucks when he’s supposed to be cleaning, but God, he can’t help himself, he’s exhausted and the cushions are so warm and inviting.

Only minutes later Judd and Marjan come across TK, who’s sleeping soundly, (for the first time in over a week, though they wouldn’t know that) instead of doing his work, and the conniving begins!

They call Paul and the probie over.

“This is team building,” Judd tells Paul, when he asks, not for the first time, if they really think this is the best idea. “A little hazing never hurt nobody.”

Marjan, who’s grinning from ear to ear, agrees wholeheartedly. “Yeah, c’mon! Hurry up with the hose probie!”

One moment TKs resting peacefully and the next he’s being forcibly dragged out of the rig, giant arms wrapped around him so tight it’s impossible for a half awake TK to wiggle his way out of them.

“Wakey wakey sleepy head!”

He barely has time to react when he’s suddenly being hosed, the water pressure enough to fully wake him. Coughing now and struggling against whoever is holding him still, TK only manages to break free when another set of strong hands grab hold of his shoulders and pull him away from the harsh spray of water hitting his face and chest.

“That’s enough, you guys tryna’ drown him?” Paul shakes his head, grimacing as he looks down at the kid in his arms. TK is soaked through and through.

TK coughs into the crook of his arm, gasping for air. When he finally looks up at the rest of the crew, Judd is expecting some kind of animosity, but what they get instead, is a mischievous grin, “You guys know payback’s a bitch, right?”

Matteo instantly drops the dripping hose like it’s on fire and tries to defend his actions. “They made me do it!”

Marjan huffs, putting away the phone she’d been using to record the whole thing up until now, glaring at the probie. “Scaredy cat.” then she turns around and points the finger at Judd, grinning. “Anyway, it was all his idea.”

Judd raises a brow at her, acting betrayed. “No loyalty, huh?”

Paul pats TKs wet shoulder and sighs, “I tried to stop them, if that’s any consolation.”

TK coughs again, rubbing at his chest, “I mean, a little warning woulda’ been nice.”

Paul raises his hands, “Hey man, you might be canoodling with a cop, but I’m no snitch.”

TK is less than thrilled by all the teasing ‘Oooh’s’ and ‘Aaah’s’ that follow Paul’s comment. “Yeah yeah,” TK’s cut off by another cough. And then another, and another. And after a few more coughs TK realizes he can’t stop, his chest tight, and fuck.

He remembers being six and suffering from asthma up until the age of ten, maybe.

But it’s been over a decade now since his last attack, this can’t be that, can it?

“Hey man, you alright?” Judd reaches for TK, a hand on his shoulder, brows knitted in concern.

TK continues his coughing fit, but manages to shake his head no. The air around him feels thin and his chest is starting to hurt.

Judd blinks, “Shit, you’re not pullin’ my leg, are ya’?” He looks to Matteo, who’s standing there looking about as petrified as he feels at the moment, “Something’s wrong, get Captain Blake, quick!” he orders.

Probie wastes no time, practically tripping over his own two feet in his haste.

Paul helps Judd get TK into a sitting position on the floor, guiding him with gentle but firm hands. “TK, look at me, just shake your head yes or no, do you have asthma?”

TK gasps for air between his bouts of coughing, he shakes his head no but realizes that’s not completely true, “When,” he pauses to cough, wincing and clutching at his chest, “When I was little.” he admits.

Marjan curses. “I’m gonna’ get Cap.” She’s not sure what that’s gonna’ do—she doubts Owen has a spare inhaler from when his kid had asthma over ten years ago, handy on him—but she’s seen the way the two interact, if nothing else, the older mans’ presence will help TK feel a bit less panicked.

Both Captains get there at almost the same time, one after the other, both bending at the knee to get face to face with the young firefighter.

Owen doesn’t have to ask what’s wrong, when he sees his son, because the scene is all too familiar, though it’s been years since the last time it happened. “It’s an asthma attack.” he tells Blake, “He hasn’t had one since he was ten.”

Blake nods, already digging into her kit for a rescue inhaler. “TK, open up, I need you to take two puffs, breathe in slowly for five seconds and try to hold your breath for ten, it’ll help the medicine get into your lungs, can you do that for me?”

TK nods anxiously, letting her press down on the inhaler. He tries to do as he’s told but ends up coughing up the puffs before they can be fully absorbed. “S-sorry.” he can’t catch his breath and the wheezing is only getting worse.

“It’s ok, you’re gonna’ be ok, let’s try it again.” Blake helps him a second time, with Captain Strand now behind TK, rubbing up and down his back encouragingly. “Ready? Slow breath TK, slow breath, c’mon.”

This time TK is able to hold his breath long enough that he can feel the albuterol taking effect on his lungs. Dizzy with relief and beyond exhausted by the exertion, TK nearly falls backwards.

Thankfully Owen is there to catch him, wrapping his arms around the kid carefully and breathing out his own sigh of relief. “Jesus TK.” That’s another gray hair for the books.

TK pats the arm around him, “I’m good.” he assures his dad, though it comes out breathy and short. But he is fine now, just tired, and frankly, embarrassed about having an asthma attack of all things, in front of the entire crew. He tries to get up on his own two feet but the moment he’s standing upright another dizzy spell hits him and if not for Judd who steps in to support him, he’d have ended up right back down on the floor again. “Thanks.”

Judd looks down at him, guilt etched onto his features. “Don’t thank me, Christ kid, I’m the reason all this happened. Shit.”

“What did happen?” Owen asks, looking like a disappointed dad as he stares at his team, all of whom are looking down in shame.

TK rolls his eyes, though it’s hard to act like it was no big deal when he’s still holding onto Judd like a day old calf who just can’t seem to get his legs under him yet. “Dad, it was nothing, it’s not their fault, I—” he doesn’t want to admit the truth. That it’s all the nights of little to no sleep for over a week now that exasperated his asthma, and that the hazing thing only helped push it that little bit over the edge.

“It was my fault.” Judd cuts in, seeing the look of conflict on TK’s face. “I thought a little hazing wouldn’t hurt, but it was stupid as hell and childish and it nearly got TK killed.” he turns to the younger man in his arms. “I’m so sorry man, that was reckless—”

Marjan interrupts, squeezing TK’s shoulder from the side. “It wasn’t just Judd, I ran with it too, I’m sorry TK.”

Paul and Matteo take responsibility too, gathering around TK to apologize.

Though the Captain is grateful that the crew are seemingly handling this among themselves, he still feels the need to say something. “Hazing is for college fraternities and has no place in the work place, and I hope this is the first and last time we need to have this conversation, do I make myself clear?”

This is followed by a chorus of guilty little “Yes Captain”’s.

Hours later, when everything has calmed down and most everyone is in their own bunk, getting ready for bed, TK finds himself in the kitchen, making himself a pot of coffee.

Paul joins him as he’s about to take his first sip. “Nuh uh.” Paul snatches the cup away and pours it down the drain. “That is not what you need.”

TK would be offended if he had the energy, but as it is, he’s just too tired. All that comes out is a faint, “Hey, that was mine.” and it comes out whiny.

“I’m making you some tea.”

TK huffs. “I wanted coffee.”

Paul clears his throat, already boiling the water. “You know…if you ever need to talk, we’re all here for you.”

TK looks away, biting his bottom lip. “I’m fine.”

“If you say so. I just think you need reminding that it’s ok not to be fine sometimes, and it’s even more ok to talk to someone about it, even if all the other person can offer is an ear to listen.” he goes about preparing the tea, throwing in a spoonful of honey for good measure.

TK takes the warm mug, grumbling about his coffee all the while. After a few sips he looks up at Paul, who’s sitting on the stool with his own cup of tea. “I um, it’s not a big thing, I just haven’t really been sleeping. It’s just…” he knows his dad hasn’t told too many people about his cancer yet, and he doesn’t want to go spilling the beans. “It’s a lot on my mind lately, that’s all. And then last week my ex sent me this stupid text telling me I still had some clothes at his place, if I wanted to go pick them up—what the hell am I supposed to say to that? It’s been over three months, why now?”

Paul shakes his head, sipping his tea. “That asshole.”

TK lets out a surprised laugh at the amount of righteous anger in Paul’s voice on his behalf. “Right?!”

They spend a good hour just talking—mostly shit about his ex, and then shit about some of Paul’s exes, and then about life in general—and before he knows it, TK’s downed his entire cup of tea and his head is laying on his arms on the countertop, and his eyelids are so heavy he can barely keep them open.

He hears voices above him, but they’re quiet voices, “Hey big guy, wanna’ help me get him to bed?”

“Yeah, I got sleepin’ beauty.” he can’t mistake that Texan drawl for anyone else but Judd, and soon he feels himself being lifted into a pair of strong arms, and he knows he should be embarrassed to be carried off like this, but he’s too tired to really care and Judd’s surprisingly gentle.

He’s laid to bed and for the first time in a long time, he sleeps soundly throughout the night.

#ask #anon #911 lonestar #fic #this was inspired by a string of awesome TK has asthma fics i read the other day iyuwrfhiuebgkdfj

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luxurylives · 4 years

Text

Missing Pieces Part 5

Pairing: No pairing

Book(s): Ride or Die: A Bad Boy Romance

Word Count: 3,736

Rating: T (Mild language)

Summary: Logan and Vanessa flee the law firm as a chase ensues.

Author’s Note: I intended for part four to be the final part during the last Ride or Die Appreciation Week, but I decided to go ahead and arrange a multipart finale. Pixelberry Studios owns the characters. The De la Cruz couple is from High School Story (I made up the first names). Thank you so much to those who read!

Tagging: @liam-rhys @desireepow-1986 @brightpinkpeppercorn @rodappreciationweek @mfackenthal @leelee10898 @choicesarehard @client-327

“…and it appears that is it”.

Logan exhaled as he looked up at Duke who began putting the will away.

“Listen, I can let your cousins know you were here— “.

Logan shook his head and rose from his seat. “No it’s fine, thank you”.

“I almost forgot to mention that Teresa set up separate trusts for each of you”.

“Trusts?”

“Yes, and she declared Hilary Williams as the Successor Trustee”.

“Wow…how much did she leave me?”

“One-thousand, you’ll receive the funds on your twenty-seventh birthday”.

A moment of silence swept through the office; Logan sat trying to make sense of the situation. Perhaps he could ask Duke for help? After all, he was a lawyer, and most importantly, he knew his grandmother.

Before Logan could speak, Duke glanced at his watch and cursed under his breath. “I don’t mean to rush you, but I have to catch an early flight tomorrow morning”.

“Um...thank you” Logan extended his hand to Duke who gave him a firm shake.

“Take care of yourself Logan”.

Logan waved goodbye and stepped out into the hallway. As he began walking towards the elevator, he froze at the sound of thundering footsteps and screaming.

“Is anyone here!? Duke! Where are you?!”

Logan turned to see a short, slender woman running in his direction, waving her hands frantically. “Duke!”

Duke emerged from his office with a bewildered look on his face. “Vivian, what is it?”

“There are masked men in the building with guns!”

Logan froze and stared at the woman as she ran towards Duke.

“Guns? What are you talking about?”

“I forgot my keys and was heading back up to get them…and...and THAT is when I saw them! Poking around! There is a body in the stairwell!”

“Here get in my office, I’ll call 911” Duke quickly ushered her inside and pulled out his phone.

As soon as Duke’s back was turned, Logan sprinted towards the stairwell, praying Vanessa didn’t leave.

Vanessa ran down the hallway trying office after office and closet after closet hoping to find an unlocked door. The footsteps behind her had faded, meaning she lost them. Suddenly she came to an office that was unlocked and immediately jerked the door open. Once she was inside, she dropped to the floor and crawled underneath the nearest desk.

“My phone…my phone” she frantically whispered to herself. Her hands were shaking and beads of sweat formed on her forehead. As she fumbled to call 911, she noticed the battery life was extremely low.

Suddenly, the door opened, and heavy footsteps began to pace around the office, slowly they inched closer to the desk.

Oh god no…Please, please no… she thought.

“¡Oye! ¿Qué estás haciendo?”

Against her better judgment, Vanessa peaked from underneath the desk. The masked figure turned towards the doorway to face whoever was on the other side.

“Pensé que la niña estaba aquí”.

Vanessa bit her lip, the only words she understood were niña and aquí.

“No pierdas el tiempo con ella, encuentra a Logan. Él es el que Javier quiere”.

Vanessa slowly glanced at her phone, the screen was dim, and the battery percentage had declined tremendously.

“Si encuentras a la chica, deshazte de ella. ¡Ahora vámonos!”

As soon as they left, Vanessa crept out from under the desk and slowly stood up. How could she have been so stupid to trust Logan? More importantly, how was she going to get herself out of this situation? After taking a deep breath, she silently stepped into the hallway.

Logan crept down the stairs of the stairwell and briefly checked over his shoulder. Vanessa told him she would wait downstairs, but did she make it the lobby? Or did she completely ditch him? He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, now was not the time to panic.

Eventually, he reached a landing but froze, in front of him was a body surrounded in a pool of blood. “Shit…”.

Before he could react, the door flew open, and the color drained from his face. However, he relaxed once he realized who was standing in front of him. “Vanessa, we have to get out of here”.

“If you think I am going anywhere else with you, then you are mistaken,” she answered coldly.

Logan glanced over her shoulder to see two masked figures emerge from around the corner, further down the hall. Time appeared to stand still as one of them raised a gun and the other reached for their own.

“Duck!” Logan shouted.

BAM

Vanessa dropped to the floor and Logan reeled back into the stairwell.

BAM

With his back against the wall, Logan began moving towards the stairs but froze when a hand reached for his feet.

“You bastard! You were about to leave me!”

Logan instantly helped her up and they began running down the stairs with the gunmen hot on their heels.

BAM

They ducked once more as they continued down the stairs.

BAM

“Where is the parking garage?!”

“I think it’s this floor!?” Vanessa threw open a random door and began digging in her purse for the keys.

For a split second, both of them breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the empty garage, their shoes pounding against the concrete.

“Hurry up!” Logan shouted as he looked over his shoulder.

The gunmen burst through the door now joined by a third, Logan cursed underneath his breath.

“Oh my god! Where are they?!” Vanessa rummaged through her purse ruthlessly.

“Vanessa, come on!”

Something sharp pricked her finger, Vanessa pulled out the car keys and frantically pushed the alarm button.

ERNT-ERNT-ERNT-ERNT

“There!” Vanessa pointed towards the car and darted towards the driver’s seat.

“Hell no! I’m driving!”

Before she could protest, Logan was on her side and snatched the keys out of her hand. Vanessa looked over to see the gunmen retreating to their vehicle, her blood ran cold at the sound of police sirens blaring in a distance.

Once Logan was inside, he started up the car, and Vanessa climbed in after him. As soon as the engine came alive, they pulled out of the parking spot and sped towards the exit.

As he tore through the streets, Logan's thoughts drifted back to the Mercy Park Crew and each job they did together. If there was a way to go back in time, he knew he would do it in a heartbeat especially if he could be reunited with Ellie. This life was becoming too much for him, something told him to go back to Detroit, but he didn’t he stayed in California thinking it may blow over.

“Watch where you are going!” Vanessa screamed.

Logan snapped out of his thoughts as he blared through a red light and multiple car horns echoed around him. A few other cars swerved out of the way narrowly missing each other.

“You need to focus! Do you even know where you are going?!”

Logan turned to Vanessa, she stared back at him, eyes filled with rage. “Now would be a good time to explain yourself!”

“Even if I did, you probably wouldn’t believe me” he answered coldly.

“I just want the truth dammit!”

An eerie silence swept through the car as Logan turned to face her. “For starters, my name isn’t Marco”.

Vanessa rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Skip to the part about the illegal street racing and Mercy Park Crew! What was this trip really about?”

Logan sighed and quickly ran through most of the jobs he and the crew did together, who was in the crew, what happened with Brent, how Ellie came into the picture, the night he took Ellie to prom, and what happened the night they brought down the Brotherhood.

“So throughout all of this, it did not occur to you one of your previous…’ quests’ would come back to bite you in the ass?!”.

Logan sighed as the buildings whizzed by, luckily, they were getting closer to being out of the city.

“Well, something tells me that you know who was chasing us, care to enlighten me?”

Suddenly, police sirens echoed in the distance. Logan bit his lip as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

“It’s your bartender friend and whoever he is involved with!”

Logan turned to face Vanessa with a bewildered look on his face. “Javier!?”

“Look out!”

Logan turned to see a black SUV pull up on their side, the windows rolled down to reveal guns aimed at their car.

“Hold on!”

BAM

Logan jerked the car around a corner, thinking it was a street, only to see it wasn’t.

“You are not on the road!”

BAM BAM

“Don’t you think I know that?!”

Both of them turned towards each other, with a fearful look. The police sirens were growing closer…but they had no idea which direction they were coming from.

Logan slammed on the horn as pedestrians ran out of the way and tables, chairs, potted plants, carts, and trash bins sprang up and over the car. The SUV trailed behind in hot pursuit inching closer and closer.

BAM BAM

“You’ve been to Boston before! How the hell do we get out of here!?”

Vanessa’s heart raced as she looked out the windows, trying to place her surroundings. Were they in Willow Creek? West End? South End? Hyde Park? Dorchester?

“Vanessa!”

BAM

Vanessa came to her senses at the sound of another gunshot and pointed up ahead. “I don’t remember this neighborhood…I think it’s Rivermont?! Turn right up ahead and keep going straight and make a left! The highway should be up ahead…I think…”

Logan winced but he didn’t have time to question her, all of the months he spent tearing through the Los Angeles streets with the Mercy Park Crew took control. With fierce precision, he veered right and sent the sedan gliding down a narrow one-way street, people cleared the way screaming and shouting.

“Okay turn��”.

Logan ignored her and veered left through another narrow street which eventually widened, and to his relief, the highway was in a distance.

Vanessa tightened her seatbelt and whirled around to see if they were in the clear, luckily the only thing behind them was debris of whatever they sped through.

Logan sped into oncoming traffic, causing a few vehicles to halt and blow their horns. Within minutes they were on the highway. Once he felt the coast was clear, he exhaled and relaxed into his seat.

That evening they made it back to the bed and breakfast in Birchport. As soon as Logan parked the car in the back, he and Vanessa trudged up to their room.

“You two look exhausted!”

They turned to see Cesar and Althea behind the front desk, smiling cheerfully.

“Yeah...we had a very long day” Vanessa answered. “We’re going to head up and get some sleep…”.

“Before you go, we had someone check-in and they were our one-hundredth guest since we took over from Eleanor Harlenay!”

Logan inched closer to the stairs and briefly exchanged a knowing look with Vanessa.

“Oh congratulations, look we— “.

“And we would love it if you joined us for dinner tonight! Cesar is going to barbeque, and I’ll be making lumpias! I don’t expect you to go back out after the day you’ve had but it would mean a lot for both of you to be there”.

“Can we have some to think about it?” Vanessa asked innocently.

“Sure but don’t think too long, the grill will be fired up soon!” Cesar replied enthusiastically.

Logan and Vanessa returned a smile before they continued up the stairs toward their room. Once they were inside and the door was closed, Vanessa angrily threw her purse on the couch.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?!”

Logan anxiously paced the room, uncertain of what to do.

“Logan!”

Logan whirled around to face Vanessa. “Dammit, I am trying to think” he hissed.

“What the hell are we supposed to do?! We cannot stay here after what just happened!”

Logan paced the room once more and ran his hands through his hair.

“I mean my grandparent’s car is damaged, and the police are probably looking for both of us…”

Logan took a deep breath and collapsed in a nearby chair.

“Come on! You have to have some kind of idea!?”

Logan took a deep breath as he reached for his phone and unlocked the screen. He stared at the picture he and Ellie took at prom, desperately wishing he could go back to that night.

Vanessa started to speak again but stopped, shouting wasn’t going to solve anything. Instead, she folded her arms and leaned against the wall.

“Look, I’m sorry I lied to you”.

Vanessa turned towards him; a tear slid down her cheek. “You know I started to have feelings for you, I trusted you, I confided in you…”.

Logan looked up from the screen and sighed. “Vanessa, Ellie and I— “.

“No I get it, I’m not her. I have to ask, was having sex with me that night an attempt to forget about her?”

Logan silently rubbed his forehead and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry”.

Vanessa shook her head as she crossed the room towards the window, she looked down to see Cesar warmly greeting someone with a complicated handshake.

“I’m sorry but you and I…it can’t happen. Ellie means too much for me and I made a promise that I would return to her”.

Vanessa turned to face him, after a moment she shook her head. “Fine, but you cannot carry on like this”.

“Look, I do not want to get into this right now. What do you know about Javier?”

“Chelsea called me earlier, but my phone died,” Vanessa said and took a seat on the couch.

Logan rose from his chair and started to walk towards his bag sitting in the corner. “Do you need my charger?”

“I have one” Vanessa turned her purse upside down, allowing the contents to spill onto the coffee table.

Once her phone was plugged in, they sat on the couch and watched Chelsea’s messages flood the notification bar.

“Sixteen messages and four voicemails?”

They exchanged a tense look before Vanessa tapped the voicemail notification.

“You have four unheard messages. First unheard message”.

BEEEP

“Vanessa, where are you?! Logan is not to be trusted! Call me as soon as you get this okay?”

After listening to the prompts, she went on to the next message.

“Second unheard message”.

BEEEP

“Okay so I went by the Lilac Palm again and I saw Javier and the manager talking to some guys...it looked sketchy, you need to call me!”

Before Vanessa played the next one, Logan placed his hand on her wrist. “Hold on, what do the texts say?” Logan asked.

“Shouldn’t we listen to the voicemails?”

“Let’s look at the texts”.

Vanessa shrugged and proceeded to open them. “Okay, so Chelsea says she spoke to Ingrid and Ellie knows some guy named Colt…”.

“Teppei’s son”.

“Teppei is the guy who died after that one job, right?”

Logan shook his head, to this day, the sight of Teppei’s car going up in flames haunted him.

Vanessa reached over and rubbed his back before she continued. “Chelsea said she found something at Javier’s place, something about a 2008 67 Komoda?”.

“Komoda…?” Logan bit his lip as his voice trailed off. Where did he hear that before?

“I’m pretty sure it’s some fancy car...were you guys going to steal it or something?”

Logan rubbed his chin and shook his head. “I’m trying to remember but…nothing is coming to mind”.

“Let’s just play the rest of the voicemails” Vanessa closed out the messages and tapped the icon.

“Vanessa you need to call me, Ingrid talked to Brent and all three of us managed to find Ellie and speak to her. We tried to convince her to take us to the garage, but she didn’t, instead, we met at the beach— “.

Bzzzz bzzzzzzz Bzzzz bzzzzzzz

“It’s my phone,” Logan said. “Hello?”

“Hey, we need to talk”.

Logan covered the phone with his hand and turned towards Vanessa. “It’s Ellie”.

“Put her on speaker,” Vanessa said as she closed out the message from Chelsea.

Logan stared at Vanessa for a moment but did as he was told, at this point there was no use in hiding anything.

“Ellie, I’m with Vanessa Kingsley…she’s sitting next to me”.

Ellie was silent but then let out a troubled sigh. “Yeah, I met her friend Chelsea McIntyre today…both of you are in Boston…together”.

Logan winced at the tone of her voice; it was full of suspicion with a hint of anger. “Look it’s not— “.

“We can talk about it later, what is going on?”

Logan quickly updated her on everything that had happened since they left California to the car chase earlier.

“Oh my god…” Ellie’s said as her voice trailed off. “…so Javier is probably— “.

“Look, any information you have would be helpful right now” Vanessa interjected harshly.

Before Ellie responded, she took a deep breath. “Right, Ximena and Toby are here too, I’m putting you on speaker”.

“Hey! I haven’t heard from you in forever!” Toby called out cheerfully.

“Uh Toby, we spoke to him earlier…” Ximena said.

“I miss you guys,” Logan said. “But right now we need to focus, does anyone remember Teppei mentioning Javier? I’m starting to wonder if that is his real name…” Logan replied.

“I’m pretty sure it’s an alias” Ximena sighed.

“Well whether it is or not…Chelsea told me that she found pictures of your car at Javier’s place. Along with pictures of Mona’s Yottsume Halberdier and a gun…she mostly asked questions about what we knew,” Ellie said.

“Yeah, but we don’t know anything, and I even went back to the garage but there is nothing left since it burned down” Toby chimed in.

Ximena let out a sigh before speaking. “The only person who may know something is Colt”.

“And none of us have seen or heard from him since we split up…” Logan said.

“Well…I did see him at a salsa club one night in Las Mente” Toby said.

Vanessa and Logan shared a bewildered look. “Toby, when did you see him there!?” Logan shouted.

“I think it was a couple of weeks ago…or maybe three weeks ago…why?”

“Me, Vanessa, Chelsea, and Javier went to that club”.

“You know Chelsea and Javier left pretty quickly that night, I thought it was the alcohol and how handsy they were, but now I wonder…” Vanessa’s voice trailed off as she met Logan’s eyes.

“Maybe Colt was also there that night and Javier saw him?” Logan said.

“And to save face he knew he had to leave, and Chelsea was his cover”.

“Okay but that doesn’t explain why Javier is after us? Does anyone know where Mona is?” Ximena chimed in.

Ellie sighed and spoke up. “Look, I think Toby and I should go to this club to see if Colt will be there and if he is, corner him and find out what is going on and Ximena could go to the Lilac Palm for a stakeout”.

“Ellie wait— “.

“Logan, I don’t want to hear it, based on what you are telling me I think I know what Colt is trying to do”.

Logan stared down at the phone with a confused look on his face, the tone in her voice sent a chill down his spine. “What are you talking about?”

Ellie took a deep breath before she responded. “Before we split up…Colt told me that he would ‘law low for a while…but then I’ll rebuild the garage. Rebuild the crew’ and he said, ‘the other part knows this life isn’t over for me’”.

“And when did he say this to you?”

“It was the night the FBI took Jason Shaw away; Colt came to see me, and we had a moment— “.

“A moment?” Logan inquired as his tone elevated.

“Oh boy…” Toby chimed.

“Why are you raising your voice? You are over a hundred miles away with some girl you met at a bar, how do you think I feel?!”

“Ellie, listen to me, I—”.

Vanessa immediately, cut him off. “Are you being serious right now?! Minutes ago we were chased through downtown Boston with bullets flying at us and you’re worried if something is going on between us?”

“I don’t like your tone Vanessa, then again after meeting Chelsea today, I am not surprised. It’s like that saying, ‘birds of a feather flock together’”.

“Can we focus…please?” Ximena groaned.

“I’m sorry but didn’t you make a deal with a dirty cop and rat out your friends?” Vanessa fired back.

“I’m sorry but didn’t your dad didn’t make some ‘bad investments’ that caused hundreds of people to lose their jobs?”

Vanessa bit her lip and took a deep breath, to this day her father’s misdeeds haunted her.

“And do not get me started on what I read in Taffeta Weekly about your social-climbing, bottle-hugging mother— “.

“At least I have a mom” Vanessa hissed.

“You know what Vanessa!? You are so lucky I am over a hundred miles away! Or else I—”.

“Alright, that is enough!” Logan shouted.

Vanessa threw up her hands as she got up from the couch and stormed to the other side of the room.

“We can sit around and have a therapy session later, right now we need to focus; I agree with Ellie, going to that club is our best shot to getting to the bottom of this” Ximena said.

“I’m game,” Toby said. “So we’ll head out tonight and touch base later?”

“Sounds good,” Logan said.

An uncomfortable silence descended upon the group before Ellie spoke. “Alright…talk soon”.

Before Logan could respond, she hung up the phone. Over a hundred thoughts began to swirl through his mind, Logan swiftly rose from the couch and rushed over to Vanessa.

“Vanessa,” he said coldly.

Vanessa took a deep breath and turned towards him, directly meeting the fury in his eyes.

“Don’t you ever speak to Ellie that way”.

“She said—”.

Logan took another step forward, forcing Vanessa to recede against the wall. “Do not speak to Ellie that way…ever”.

Vanessa shook her head slowly. “Okay”.

Logan turned on his heel and headed for the bedroom. Once he was inside, he slammed the door behind him and collapsed on the bed.

#rodaw #choices fanfic #ride or die: a bad boy romance #choices fanfiction #ride or die #choices rod #choices stories you play

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kingsuckjin · 5 years

Text

Teach Me (pt.2 of 3)

Pairing: teacher!Jin x reader

Warnings: angst, smut, world wide big dick and big dick kink, f masturbation a little I guess, some dirty talk

Synopsis: Your reputation was no secret in school even before you hit eighteen and nineteen. You were trouble and everyone knew it, you weren't about to ease up with the final few months left either, you were going to go full force. You wanted one good last big stunt to pull before the end of the year, your last year. Only one thing could top the things you've done, you were going to have sex with the hottest teacher in your school.

Words: 3.6k

Prev // next

↪my masterlist

You sent Jimin a quick text to let him know not to wait for you after school. He was curious of course, and you promised to give him the details later. But, that was mostly just to buy some time to figure out what to tell him about Mr. Kim.

You hung out in the bathroom for a while after your last class, waiting for forty five minutes now for everyone to start clearing out of the school.

Your brain couldn't stop replaying what happened at lunch over and over. Your hands shook as you sat locked in the bathroom stall.

What was it about Mr.Kim that made you feel like this?

You listened hard until you could only hear silence coming from the halls outside, signaling it was safe to leave. You had already ditched your backpack in your locker to avoid worrying about dragging it along, you probably wouldn't need it anyway, you probably wouldn't be doing homework.

Very few people were still left, but those that lingered made you nervous. You knew you probably shouldn't be seen leaving with him.

You pulled out your phone once again to look busy as you stood outside the door to the parking lot, shifting anxiously from leg to leg.

"Come along, y/n" Mr. Kim’s voice got your attention and you looked up to see him walking past You scurried along behind him like a puppy after its owner.

You got into the passenger's seat as he started the car.

"Sorry about that, I couldn't make it too obvious to anyone staying behind that we were leaving together." He said as he started his car.

"Understandable." You replied while buckling in.

"So, what do you like to eat? We probably shouldn’t eat inside anywhere together, you know,in case someone sees us. But maybe we could eat in my car or… we could have pizza at my house... or I can make us something?" He asked sounding awkward.

Even though you were hungry you felt like rolling your eyes at this man talking about eating again.

"Whatever is fine." You sighed.

"Really? You're going to make me decide?"

He glanced away from the road to look at you for a moment stifling a playful smile. You felt more comfortable with him in this setting even though him being even this close to you made your heart flutter.

"What's wrong with you deciding? You're the driver and I really don't care." You shrugged.

"No, no, no. I know how this goes, I'm twenty six, I've had girlfriends before and-"

"Could've fooled me." You voice dripped with sarcasm as you cut his sentence off.

"First of all," he began, still being playful with you "I use to get all the ladies with this handsome face, I use to do everything you did. I smoked pot on the school roof, had sex in janitor's closets and skipped class. I was even held back a grade just like you were."

"Wait, how'd you know I was held back a grade?" You were shocked at him knowing this detail about you.

"Because I'm your teacher and I can read your school records? We teachers know everything you students have done."

"That explains why they all treat me like shit."

He went quiet a moment before he spoke

"I'm sorry."

You looked over at his pretty face as he drove.

"Why should you be? You don't treat me like that, you never have."

"Only because I know people change, people learn and they grow. I did."

You said nothing, you only thought about what he said. You had told him you wanted to change but that was a huge lie, you liked the way you were and didn't see a reason to change.

"Let's have pizza at your house." You decided, at least there you two could probably have sex, because right now you really just wanted to rip that white dress shirt right off him.

"Sounds good. My apartment is kind of messy though. I have a roommate, he's not home right now, but he leaves his music stuff everywhere."

"I don't mind, my room is messy too." You really didn't care about how his apartment looked.

He pulled up at a pretty nice complex and led you to his apartment, as he did all you could do was check him out from behind.

Stepping inside was different than you had originally expected, it was nice, not as messy as he made it seem. Sure there were a few empty cups and plates on the coffee table that he picked up and carried off to the kitchen in a hurry, but it wasn't bad.

"Just have a seat and get comfortable. I'll order pizza, any preferences?" He called from the kitchen before coming back with his phone in his hand.

"None, all pizza is good."

He looked up from his phone and smiled at your reply, but didn’t explain why as he came to sit with you.

The tv was eventually switched on and that gave you two a distraction for a while. You weren't really watching though, You couldn’t focus and were feeling nervous while sitting thigh to thigh with him, wondering who was going to make the first move. You were getting bored, and wanted to do something about it.

"Hey, let me pay you back for earlier." Your heart beat hard as you spoke.

His head turned to face you and his eyebrows raised at your offer.

"You don't need to pay me back, but we could do something until the food gets here if you want." He leaned in closer and you closed the distance between you as an answer.

He started kissing you softly just like he had earlier. But you sped it up by adding tongue, and in no time you laid back on the sofa and pulled him on top of you.

You were so hungry for him again and you could feel he was too as he began grinding his clothed hips from where they were between your legs.Your panties were soaked as he rubbed his erection into your clit.

You pushed your hips up into his in response as you kissed him sloppily with teeth gnashing together every once in awhile.

You finally had him how you wanted him and the speed you wanted him at. Hands were under his now untucked dress shirt and sliding up the smooth, warm skin of his back.

His lips made their way to your sensitive neck and began to suck at it, a loud moan tumbled from your mouth. You felt and heard him laugh into your skin.

"That's the loudest you've been, even counting earlier."

"Well earlier we were in your classroom so I couldn't be loud." You replied before moaning as he gave the side of your neck another suck.

"Aww how thoughtful of you to control your moans so we wouldn't get caught." He joked and you scoffed, but it was cut short by him going back in on your neck.

Just as he reached down and pulled the end of your dress up over your chest so you could feel each other skin to skin, there was a knock at the door.

Jin was quick to get off of you and get up. He stood a minute at the door before answering it rolling his eyes at you giggling at the impressive sized tent in his pants.

"Just a moment." He called to whoever was knocking until his erection subsided

Of course it was the pizza delivery person, and of course he wanted to eat instead of continuing your previous activities.

You had one slice and waited for him in annoyance as he ate until he noticed you watching him and asked you what was wrong, you shrugged in reply.

He finished his fourth slice of pizza with a sigh before taking you by the arm and scooting you closer to him.

He looked at you with his head tilted and puppy dog eyes.

"Why are you so impatient? Do you have to be home soon?"

"I don't ever have to be home, I'm nineteen." You muttered.

"See? We have time. Nice and slow, remember?"

"I don't want slow." You whined and he went quiet for a few moments, pausing to think.

"Alright then." He stood from the sofa and made a gesture of his hand for you to follow him, you complied.

He led you back to his room and you only had a second to look at the light blue walls and many shelves of Mario figurines before he was pushing you back on his bed and yanking your dress off over your head.

He was unbuttoning his shirt with fury as you stared up at him from the bed.

"If this is what you want and how you want it, I'm going to give it to you." Once his dress shirt came off his pants came off fast after that. Once down to his underwear like you were, he crawled into his bed with you.

"So impatient...” he huffed as his fingers hooked around the sides of your underwear and roughly yanked them off.

Was he mad at you? It seemed like he was, but you had a feeling this was about to lead to some rough sex- which you were hoping for.

He threw off his boxers and reached over to rummage through a drawer in his bedside table but you were too busy taking off your bra to really notice his actions.

"Can we at least kiss again or something? I can't just-" you yanked him down to you by the shoulders and smashed your lips to his.

He kissed you back fiercely as he reached down between the both of you and pushed two fingers into you.

You gasped at the sudden and unexpected feeling, his fingers weren't what you wanted though. He pumped his fingers in and out of you a few times before adding a third finger.

You let out a long moan at the feeling of his fingers stretching you out, but you needed him and you were losing what little patience you had left.

"What are you doing? Can we please just fuck?!" You complained.

"I'm doing you a favor. I have to at least get you-"

"Just fuck me!" You yelled, he once again sighed while ceasing his movements and pulling his fingers out of you entirely.

"Sure, yes, fine." He had the condom in hand again and as he sat up to open it you saw how big he was and your mouth slightly dropped.

"You're-you're-" you stuttered.

"I told you. It's kind of embarrassing to be honest." He rolled the condom over his monster dick.

"That’s so hot, seriously." You marveled at it as you felt yourself squeeze around nothing at the sight. He reached back into the drawer and pulled out a bottle of lube which he squirted into his hand and stroked his sheathed cock with before settling himself at your entrance.

He came down over once more and began to guide himself into you. You felt a slight burning of him stretching your walls, but you loved it. You loved how he pressed inside of you in all the right places.

"Fuck you're tight." He groaned.

"Or you're just massive." You replied already out of breath from him pushing into you. "Who cares, fuck me."

He did as you asked and began to move his hips, letting them slam into you hard.

You let out a small squeak as he kept the rhythm slow but pounding.

"What? You said you wanted it like this, what's wrong, the tough girl can’t take it?" He mocked you.

"I am-" you gasped as he slammed into you hard again "I am taking it."

"Barely." He thrusted again "just ask me to ease up and I will."

"Harder." You panted.

He picked up your legs and put them over his shoulders and buried himself inside of you.

"Oh fuck." You moaned as his hips picked up speed, it was all you could say over and over again as he dared to all but rip you apart with his cock.

"Touch yourself." He demanded and your hand went right down to your clit to begin rubbing circles. Your orgasms flooded through you almost instantaneously.

He sucked in a pleasured breath through his teeth at your walls pulsing around him, but he didn't come. Instead, after he knew you were done with your high, he stopped for a moment.

"Fuck I almost came." He was short of breath and already covered in a thin layer of sweat from how hard he had been working.

"Why didn't you?" You wondered out loud.

"Because it's my turn to do things my way." He replied dropping your knees from over his shoulders. He came down over top of you so the both of you were skin to skin and pulled his blankets around you both.

His lips went to yours just as softly and sweetly as the first time you kissed earlier.

He pushed his hips into yours slow and hard and looked into your eyes a moment after breaking off the kiss.

You were gasping for breath against the slow roll of his hips and pubic bone stimulating your clit.

"See?" He let out a shaky breath "Is nice and slow so bad?" He didn't give you time to answer before his lips went to your neck where they kissed at the same suffocating, burning, slow pace as his hips. You were all whines and groans at this point.

You were well aware that this wasn't just fucking, this was something more, it seemed to have a layer to it that him pounding at you just didn't have, it had intamacy.

"I actually like you." He whispered and tingles ran through you as he let out a short moan after. Your head was so fogged, so high on this feeling of whatever this was and your last orgasm.

"I like you too." You whispered back, bringing your hands up to his back to just touch more of him.

"Come with me, please." He lifted his face away from your neck to look at your face, somehow managing to grind even deeper into you. "I'm so close, come for me." A hand slid under your head and tangled in your hair which he gave a slight pull. You came completely undone one more time.

"Ahh ahhhhh" he moaned through his labored breathing. As you clenched around him and whined you could feel him spilling deep inside of you through the condom. You had never came with someone before, but God it felt so good.

He closed his eyes as his hips tapered off to a stop and let out a long sigh. He was shaking, and you now realized you were too.

He didn't delay in rolling off of you and disposing of the condom in the small trash can near the bed.

You were left in just as much shock as you had been earlier that day. Once again leaving yourself wondering: “what the hell was that?!” Whatever had just happened between the both of you, you knew it was more than what it seemed, it was more than just sex, and for some reason it scared you. Why was it so good? Why was that the best sex you had ever had?

"Wow, shit, I really just fucked my teacher." Left your gobsmacked lips in the quiet room.

You heard another sigh come from him.

"Please don't remind me that I'm your teacher."

"But you are, Mr.K." you were thinking about it all but questioning why it didn't feel weird to you.

"Y/n, do you even know my name? My real name?"

"Uhh Mr.Kim? I don't know, you never bothered to tell me over the course of just today when we started fucking." You snapped defensively.

"I guess you're right." He paused a moment and took a breath from where he lay beside you in bed "It's Seokjin, or Jin, mostly just Jin."

You looked at the wall behind you just above the headboard where all his figurines were cluttered together in no particular order.

"How about I just call you loser for having all of those." You joked and pointed to the shelf, he actually let out a laugh. "You said you had girlfriends before, how?"

You felt him elbow your arm as he laughed at your teasing, probably embarrassed.

"Most girls are too busy looking at my nice face or my… well, you really didn't seem to mind them a few minutes ago."

"It's kind of cute." You admitted what you were really thinking about them, you said what you really thought for once.

"Are they?" He rolled and put his arm around your torso and pulled you into him. Suddenly you couldn't help but feel like you were suffocating, like his arm around you was a prison.

"No, I was lying to make you feel better about them." You joked again but you felt your light hearted facade begin to fall apart the longer he held you. A moment passed of thinking about what you should say to signal you were about to make your exit . You were confused, you didn't know why any of this was necessary. Why did he want to be affectionate with you after the physical part was over? It felt silly to you, like you were some boring married couple and the feelings it brought you ate at you. It's not that you didn't want to fall asleep in his arms, you could've if it weren't for that nagging feeling telling you to get away from this foreign ritual.

"I have to get home."

He peeled his arm off of your skin.

"You have work and I have school tomorrow." You made an excuse.

"Oh. Yeah, you're right… are you okay though? Did I do something?" His head lifted from the pillow to look at you, but you didn't look back at him.

"No…" it really wasn’t anything he did, but your answer sounded totally unconvincing even to your ears. You got back up and began getting dressed, hoping he would just take your word for it and drop the subject.

"Then why do I feel like I did something wrong?" He sat up in bed and watched you with a look of confusion on his handsome features.

"You really didn't, I just want to go home, okay?" You felt a little annoyed at his prying.

"Do you regret it? You did bring up the whole teacher thing. Is that what it is? If so I'm sorry-"

"No!" You finally turned around to look at him now only in your underwear with your dress clutched in your hand. "I don't give a shit if you're my teacher, that part doesn't matter. Why can't I just leave if I say I want to leave?!"

"You can! I will take you home I just want to make sure you're alright- and you're just going off on me for no reason!" He argued back as he too left the bed to get dressed. "I just wish you'd tell me what's wrong so I can fix it!"

"There's nothing to fix, Mr.K, I just want to leave! Why do you need an explanation?!" He was now on your last nerve as you yanked your dress back on over your head.

"Let's just stop this, lets stop yelling, okay? And for the love of God please stop calling me that!" His tone still seemed a little angry.

"Well you're still upset just because I was asking to leave, and you were yelling too."

"I never said I wasn't yelling too! I said we as in the both of us, we both need to stop yelling!"

"You're yelling right now!" He was driving you insane.

He took a moment to quietly finish dressing before he approached you.

"Why don't you just stay? If your parents don't care and… you have all of those on your neck… I just… tomorrow I can drop-"

"No, I'm really tired and honestly it's kind of shitty that you're basically not allowing me to leave." You snapped.

He didn't say another word as he put his shoes on and grabbed his keys.

The car ride was silent other than you giving him directions to your house.

When he pulled up in front of your house he finally spoke, his voice full of guilt.

"I'm sorry. It was wrong of me to-"

"Give me your number." You cut him off and handed him your phone you had been holding in your hands.

He looked confused for a moment but took it and put in his number anyway and handed it back to you.

"Listen y/n, I actually do like you and I don't want to mess this up and-"

"It's alright Jin. It's cool." You assured him. Truthfully you did feel a bit bad about your outburst. "Lunch tomorrow?"

"You don't need to come in to do the tests tomorrow, I'll just-" he reached for his neck to rub at it nervously "I'll just put them all down as a passing grade. If that's what this is about then…"

"Wait. Really? You will?" You were surprised that he was offering after all of this.

"Yeah." He said quietly and looked down at his lap.

He was cute, you had to admit it.

You leaned over in your seat and gave him a kiss on the cheek. When you pulled away he turned to look at you, a smile flickered across his lips but was smothered out fast.

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

He gave you a small nod and with that you got out of his car.

Tagging: @snakeuuuuuuu

#Kim Seokjin #jin #seokjin smut #seokjin #jin smut #seokjin fluff #jin fluff #seokjin x reader #jin x reader #teacher jin x reader #teacher!Jin x reader #teacher seokjin x reader #bts fic #bts smut #bts fluff

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delectablyalicee · 4 years

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Nick Jonas’s New Assistant (Part 4)

Part One Part Two Part Three

You get a call one day, someone asking you to fill a personal assistant job. They give you little information as to who for, but when you found out, things get a little more interesting.

Note: This chapter takes place after you have already been working for Nick for 6 months, I wanted to jump ahead a little bit to move things along. I hope you all like it!

I fall down onto the huge, soft bed in front of me. Landing onto my back as I check the time. 3:34 am. The mattress moves a bit with the addition of another body beside me. Nick. His head is turned to see the time displayed across my phone screen.

"fuck, is it really that late?" He asks, the smell of alcohol hitting me as he speaks.

I probably smell the same. We went to an album release party tonight for one of Nick's friends, and we both had a few more drinks than expecting.

"It looks to be" I said, clicking my phone off and laying it down on the bed in between us.

This isn't the first time I've found myself in Nick's bed this late at night. I've been working for him for 6 months now, and things have gone so surprisingly well. We really work well together, having the perfect connection to really make sure this works. Over the 6 months we have grown pretty close, since we spend almost every single day together, but it is still a professional relationship. Nick is amazing, and handsome is an understatement, but this job is important to me, and I would never want to do anything to mess that up. So, despite getting close with him I need to make sure to keep it as professional as I can, but its hard, its really really hard. He's just so fucking charming! It also doesn't help that we've spent many a late night together, really getting to know each other. We've had so many 3am talks just about anything and everything. I really feel like I know him..like he knows me but every time things start to take a turn past professional I squash it. I don't want to but I need to. It's so hard every time I do, almost seeing the disappointment painted on Nick's face when I leave after the talks we have instead of staying like he asks, or telling him to stop his flirting comments. It pains me just as much as I think it pains him, but I can't let it get personal. I just can't.

This late night is like most others, except this time we are both drunk so are talk gets personal. I love personal talks with him. He just has so many amazing things to say, the way he thinks about some things is just surprising.. in a good way. It feels like we've been talking forever and I can barely keep my eyes open, but I don't want it to end...

"What time is it?" I ask Nick, sleep dripping from my words.

I feel him move a bit to click my phone on, it still being between us. "5"

My eyes open wide when I hear what he says. "Are you joking? Holy shit I have to go." I say as I sit myself up on the bed and going to slide myself off but I am stopped by a gentle hand grabbing my wrist, I look to see Nick.

"Don't go (y/n).. Just stay this once.."

His words send a shiver down my spine, I want to stay so bad, but I can't. I know I can't and he knows I can't, but the way he said that made me almost break. I want nothing more than to lay myself back down in this bed and let him wrap is arms around me and just pull me into his chest and keep me safe and warm and never let me go, but.. I can't. So I shake my head.

"Nick, don't do that to me.. you know I can't stay.. I'm sorry" I say as my feet hit the ground. Gathering up all my things and sliding out the door without saying another word.

In the morning I say my typical hello to George as he picks me up from my apartment, same as every morning. I'm dragging my feet a little this morning, not only being hungover but just simply tired since I really only slept for about 2 hours. George and I make our small talk on the way to Nick's house, checking the agenda for today. It's not too bad, thankfully. 9:30am meeting with Paul to go over scheduling add on's and changes. This is really a meeting for me, but Nick likes to be there so he at least kinda knows what going on. I move my eyes up to look at the time, 8:45. Running right on time. I continue to look at the schedule, lunch is open, we'll play that by ear. 6:30 dinner with the head of a local L.A. magazine to talk doing a spread, and lastly 9:00 Joe's birthday party. Fuck. I completely forgot about Joe's birthday. I hadn't gotten the chance to meet him yet, as he's been about on tour but Nick warned me how big this party was gonna be, which was him, in short, telling me to take the "company card" and get something nice to wear and a present to bring. Fuck, fuck, fuck I totally forgot. I take a deep breath, its okay I'll go over lunch and get what I need...hopefully.

When we reach Nick's house I say a goodbye and a thank you to George and head on inside. Starting the coffee pot up right away as usual and calling out Nick's name. Sometimes he surprises me with being awake, but usually he's still sound asleep. So, like usual I make my way up to Nick's room, knocking once before swinging the door open as I call out his name again.

"Niiiickkkk wakey-wak---"

You're cut off by the view of a girl, completely naked laying beside him in bed. He his covered by the blanket from the waste down but only her lower legs are being covered. I immediately lift my hands to cover my eyes in shock, my heart dropping. He had to have called her right after I left.. I know I shouldn't be this hurt by that but I am. I know he hooks up with girls, I mean why wouldn't he? Especially after I always shoot down his advances, plus he's single and famous and so, so attractive, but over the past 6 months he's always made sure the girls were gone before I got here. I think he knows it hurts me, but maybe he's just done trying to hide it, but I really didn't think after last night he would let me find him like this..

"Oh..I...I am so sorry I did not expect.."

You stammer out, but are cut off again, this time by Nicks voice.

"(y/n)? Shit! I'm sorry I didn't.. shit I'll be right down" He says, you can hear the regret and embarrassment ringing from every word that leaves his mouth.

I just stepped back and quickly shut the door. I dropped my hand from my eyes and took a small breathe.. why is this hurting me so bad? Ugh, I need to suck it up. I can't be with him anyway, he has every right to be with whoever he wants. With that I made my way downstairs and poured my coffee, as usual. Taking a seat at the breakfast bar and pretending to look over the schedule in my phone, but really I'm trying to listen to what is happening upstairs. I can't hear much, just muffled voices and then finally, the door to his bedroom opening. I hear Soft, delicate foot steps heading down the stairs, not Nicks. I can't see the girl since my back is to the stairs but I finally catch site of her as she passes in front of me to head out the front door. Her hair was disheveled and her clothes looked to be thrown on, fuck I hate this. I need to get myself out of his thing I have with him. I do everything I can to not egg on my feelings but I just can't help it, but its time. I need to stop this, now. I'm pulled out of my thoughts with the ding of my phone. Its a text from Nick

"Getting in the shower, be down soon...I'm sorry"

I ignore his sorry and type back quickly. "Paul will be here at 9:30 for the meeting." I take a deep breathe as I hit send. I can't let this get to me. I have a job to do.

#nickjonas #nickjonasxreader #nick Jonas x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction #fallinginlove #love #fluff #jonas #jonasbrothers #Jonas brothers #Joe jonas #Kevin jonas #Frankie jonas

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im-that-bitch-still-that-bitch · 4 years

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A Place to Recover~s.b.

a/n: this is the first thing I’ve ever written on here, so I hope people like it! I just couldn’t get this idea for a story out of my head and had to write it. more parts to come... and it starts at the end of the first season with an alternate ending to the whole heading exploding thing

Part I-Homecoming: the prequel

The peaceful guitar melody of “Kiss me” by Sixpence None the Richer hummed softly out of Erin Brennan’s iPhone speaker as she put the finishing touches on her makeup for the homecoming dance. As she pulled loose strands of hair out of her half-up ponytail and laced up her converse, she couldn’t help but notice her hands shaking. Her best friend’s words earlier that week echoed in her ears,

“You just can’t wear heels. No guy wants to dance with a girl who’s taller than him.”

Erin didn’t want to give off a “girl who wears converse with a dress to be quirky” vibe, but she despised ballet flats, so what else was there?

She straightened up and looked into her full-length mirror at her lanky body in the pale pink slip dress she’d bought at a thrift store a week ago. The only thought racing through her mind was how stupid she felt, but that feeling always seemed to come with getting dressed up for Erin. She felt like an imposter.

“Do you really think you can convince people you’re pretty?”

As her dark brown eyes met her own in the mirror, she noticed a single tear threatening to slip out of her perfectly curled lashes, “Fuck.”

She had promised herself she wouldn’t smoke or drink at all before the dance because of the homecoming debacle of 2018 when not one, but three of her friends she showed got kicked out and suspended for being drunk, but as soon as that little tear began threatening to fall, she caught it on her index finger and climbed out onto her roof with a joint in hand.

As she felt the joint burn down to a tiny nub and the heat in it growing closer to her fingers, she let it fall onto the wet grass of her backyard and climbed back in through her window. Her timing was opportune because just as she latched the window closed, her sister barged into her room,

“Erin, we’ve been calling you for like ten minutes. Mom wants pictures,” Clare said, running out of breath.

“Yeah, I’m coming. Sorry, I didn’t hear you over my music.” She was in the clear luckily.

But as she strolled towards her bedroom door to follow in Clare’s lead, Clare stayed put. She whipped around and sniffed Erin’s shoulder. “You might want to put on some perfume,” she turned back and walked another two paces before turning to Erin once more to taunt, “Pothead!”

Erin laughed and spritzed perfume on her dress, then walked out the door. Mrs. Brennan squinted at her phone while snapping pictures of Erin with her best friend Kate, claiming she would only take “one more,” once every two minutes.

“We’re leaving mooom,” Erin called as she opened the passenger seat to Kate’s Mercedes Benz. The two had been best friends since middle school, making quite the dorky duo when they were both in puberty’s punishing grasp. When high school started, Kate blossomed into the perfect picture of a conventionally attractive woman, earning her lots of popularity. In a way, she dragged Erin to her new friend group. They were less than welcoming seeing as Erin was a bit offbeat, but they knew Kate was too stubborn to leave her other half behind.

The two girls stepped into the gym and admired the golden glow of fairy lights hung from the ceiling. They spotted their friends immediately, and the bubbly girls ran to them and insisted on hitting the photo booth. Of course, they all immediately came up with about a dozen different combinations of girls they wanted in a photo, none of which included Erin.

“I can hold everyone’s purses,” Erin spoke shyly. The girls all jumped on the idea, piling their clutches in their arms. Erin would get annoyed, but this was high school for her; catering to her so-called friends’ interests and needs because if they dropped her, where would she go, anyway?

Feeling more confident than ever due to her high, Erin marched up to the DJ booth, “What is going on with this set list?” The boy behind the booth shrugged indignantly, clearly not looking to cater to this girl’s music taste. The two argued for nearly five minutes.

“Listen, if you don’t wanna play Twin Peaks, then at least just go for a crowd favorite to play it safe.”

A voice spoke up from next to her, “Twin Peaks, huh? Not bad. I just came over here to figure out what the hell’s going on with this set list.” Stanley Barber stood beside Erin with his arms folded, staring the DJ down.

“Oh, hey Stan,” Erin said, then turned to the DJ, “Listen, man. I’m just trying to help. Do what you wanna do.” And with that, she was off.

Stanley watched the girl walk away, sort of amazed that she knew his name, but then again, that was the popular people’s job; knowing everyone. She had actually first caught his attention in his debate class, when she’s known for sparring with Bradley Lewis. Two weeks prior, they’d had quite the nasty exchange:

“I just think people should be less harsh on men with all this ‘Me Too’ crap.”

“If you think that you’re part of the problem. The behaviors these men are getting in trouble for are toxic, and they were normalized in a toxic society.”

“Maybe you think that way, but not everyone’s a crazy feminist bitch,” he spat.

Erin scrunched her nose with distaste, “Call me a crazy bitch again, Lewis, it really gets me hot and bothered.” Of course, the inevitable came, “ooh’s” and gasps from their classmates and a day in detention for the two debaters.

It was days like that when the distinction between Erin and her friends became clear. She was stubborn as hell and refused to try to please people like Bradley Lewis. Stan respected her for it, but what did the local pot dealer’s respect mean? Nothing.

The rest of the night went as usual. The group of girls all danced together, squealing with excitement when their song came on. Erin was (thankfully) able to find a boy from the hockey team to dance with for the slow dance who was pretty nice, wandering hands aside.

The trouble came when it was time to announce homecoming queen and king. “All right ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention? Stop right there, please. It is my privilege to introduce your homecoming king and queen, Jeff Butters and Julie Frasheski!” Erin and her friends all cheered extra loud, as Julie had shown up with them. Jeff Butters began his less than graceful speech, only to be interrupted by none other than Erin’s infamous debate opponent.

The boy jerked around on stage, trying to avoid the principal’s grasp, “I would like to take this moment to talk about something very important that affects everyone here. Sydney Novak. Hey, Sydney! Give a wave so everybody can see you.”

Erin felt her jaw clenching with anger, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t at least a bit thankful Brad hadn’t chosen her as the subject of this odd callout speech, as they were sworn enemies.

He continued, “You see, what a lot of people don’t know about Sydney here… she is one hell of a writer.” The boy pulled a notebook out of his Letterman jacket pocket, and the tension in the room skyrocketed. “You know, it’s funny, because everyone is so fast to call me an asshole, but while I was downstairs banging Jenny Tuffield at Ricky’s, guess what Sydney was doing upstairs.”

Erin racked her mind trying to remember which party Ricky has hosted. The memories of playing beer pong with Julie, Becca, and Kate came flooding back into her mind. Becca puked in the bushes at the end of the night, and a football player had asked Erin for her “hot friend’s number,” which happened a lot.

“She was kissing my girlfriend,” Bradley spat into the mic. Erin anxiously chewed her lip, trying to think of something, anything, to do to stop whatever Brad was attempting. She didn’t know Syd, but she knew that getting made fun of by Bradley Lewis was no walk in the park, and no one deserves to be outed against their will.

The boy drew closer and closer to Syd, continuing his monologue of hatred, full of homophobic slurs, of course. As he continued to rib on the girl, even getting into her family life, Stanley Barber marched out of the crowd, gentlemanly as always, “Hey, man. Leave her alone.” His heroic gesture was cut short by Brad swinging a right hook punch right across his cheek.

Erin grew more and more anxious. She hadn’t even noticed that she had been cowering backwards until she felt her back hit the wall. She gasped and turned around. She scanned the room, seeing that everyone’s eyes were on Brad. Another key thing that she observed was the fire alarm right next to her shoulder. Her mind raced at the speed of light: “If Brad is exposing whoever he doesn’t like, then I’m next… Falsely pulling a fire alarm is a federal offense… What if I tackled him…. He’d beat the shit out of me.” Her thoughts began to overlap and get more jumbled, when she felt impulsivity take over her body as she yanked on the fire alarm. The sprinklers turned on, and a chorus of whines and shrieks came from the students who were currently getting soaked.

Erin’s chest began to rise and fall more quickly with every anxious breath. She stood frozen in place watching everyone flee the scene. After the main crowds scattered, she saw Dina and Syd each hooking an arm under Stan’s armpits and carrying him out of the gym. In a moment of bravery, Erin asked if they needed help and ran to the three. Syd and Dina accepted thankfully as Erin picked up the boy’s ankles and began to walk backwards, “Let me know if I’m about to bump into something, okay?”

The three finally reached Stan’s car and laid him down in the back seat. Just as Erin caught her breath, she heard tires screeching and saw Kate’s Mercedes Benz whipping out of the school parking lot with a drenched Julie and Becca in the back. “Shit,” she muttered.

“I-is something wrong?” Dina asked.

“Um… yeah, my ride sort of just left.”

“Oh well, I’m sure Stan can drive you home when he wakes up,” Dina said with a friendly, but clearly shaken smile.

“If he wakes up,” Syd added with a blank look in her eyes.

“SYD, don’t say that!” Dina yelped.

Sydney spoke up, looking at Erin, “Could you give us some privacy for a minute?”

Erin looked around awkwardly, “Uh, yeah. I’ll just… walk to the other side of the parking lot.” As she kicked the pebbles on the ground and watched Dina and Syd in a heated argument, she began to regret staying to help them. She probably could’ve gone home with Kate if she had rushed out like everyone else, but she was with two near strangers nursing another near stranger who was unconscious while the remaining teacher chaperones walked the perimeter of the school trying to see if there was an actual fire.

Erin was pulled out of her thoughts by Syd yelling (which she had never heard the girl do before), “Holy shit, he’s up.”

Erin began to jog back over to them, reading their facial expressions to see if they were done with their chat. Dina looked down at Stan intently, “Hey, buddy. What’s the last thing you remember?”

Stan furrowed his brows for a moment then sputtered out, “Brad… son of a bitch… how did I get out here?”

#fic #ianowt #stanley barber #sydney novak #dina #brad #i am not ok with this netflix #fanfiction #writing

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caughtindeadlights · 4 years

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Chapter 3: Who Are You Gonna Call?

Summary: Eddie isn’t enjoying living in his new apartment one bit. He calls Stan about his situation. Richie decides to come out from the shadows.

Word count: 1,675

Author’s note: Before reading this chapter, I just want to thank everybody who has been reading the series so far. I haven’t received so much love for any fanfic I’ve written before in the past. I thank you all again and hope you all continue to enjoy this series. Also, if you have noticed, the title of this chapter is a nod to the Ghostbusters. Without further ado, here’s chapter 3! :D

Eddie isn’t the type of person to wrong anybody. For most of his life, he had been the goody two shoes. Always striving for the best grades and having to meet a strict curfew every night for most of his life. It didn’t make sense to him for some ghost or spirit to be messing with him in his new apartment. What could he have done in a past life to deserve this type of treatment?

For the past four days, the brunette has been witnessing a bunch of strange paranormal occurrences. Heck, was there really a ghost messing with him? There could be a possibility there wasn’t. But how could one explain seeing his name being written on his bathroom mirror after he was done taking a hot shower? Or that one time his desk’s contents have been messed up, not in their usual place? What about that one time the tv turn on by itself and a bunch of channels kept popping up on the screen? And how could he forget that time his favorite chips were gone? All of these instances drove Eddie mad and to add to that, exhausted from this fiasco.

Eddie had just finished cleaning the “ghost’s” mess or whoever the hell that had been doing these annoying shenanigans. He crashed onto the couch and ran a hand through his brunette hair. He wasn’t going to lie about how surreal it felt to be away from his mom. That was the most satisfying thing about getting your own place. To be away and independent from your parents. But the only glaring issue about having his own place is that stupid ghost thing roaming around his place. His place that he’s renting out with his hard-earned money! He would continue to think about all of this, but his eyes started to flutter shut. The sweet sensation of sleep filling his whole body. Maybe that’s what he needed. A well-deserved nap after reorganizing his place. But within a few minutes of his peaceful slumber, he was interrupted by the sound of pots banging on each other.

Eddie had jolted awake from the abrupt loud noise and covered his ears. Another thing to add on his list of things he hated about getting his own place was having neighbors. And his neighbors kept complaining about the loud noises coming from Eddie’s apartment. He wished he could make the noises stop, but he couldn’t do anything because no matter what he tried, the ghost would figure out something new to start another mess.

“Shit. This has got to fucking stop.” Eddie muttered under his breath. He’s drawing the line now. The brunette couldn’t take another shenanigan of this ghost any longer. Eddie grabbed the phone that was on the wall and dialed his neat freak best friend. At this point, the banging of the pots had stopped thankfully.

He heard the familiar voice of his best friend pick up from the other line. “Hello, Eddie? What’s up?”

“Hey, Stan. I have a problem.” Eddie glumly stated.

“Already? What is it?”

“I think there’s a ghost in my apartment.” The confession was very embarrassing on Eddie’s part. He heard Stan choking on a drink.

“Woah, are you okay, Stan?” His embarrassment faded into concern.

Stan coughed a little. “Yeah, I’m still alive. You said what now?”

“I think there’s a ghost in my apartment,” Eddie repeated what he said earlier.

“Are you sure about that? Maybe you’ve been hearing things? Oh my god! Have you been doing drugs?”

“What?! No way!” Eddie rebutted. “I would never and you would know that, Stan!”

“I was kidding about that last part, but are you really serious?”

“Yes, I’m 100% sure.” Irritation dripped from his tone. “How could you explain my tv turning on in the middle of the night?”

“Well, what do you want me to do? Call the ghostbusters?”

“Stan, no!” Eddie cringed at his best friend’s suggestion. He sure was taking the news well. “I’m serious. Is there anything I can do to make this ghost go away?”

“Well, you could call an exorcist or maybe use an ouija board. Aside from that, I can’t think of anything else.”

“An ouija board? I am not putting my hand on one of those things!”

“Well, you seem to be kind of stuck, Eddie. Have you tried talking to the ghost for once?”

“Uh, no I haven’t actually.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Eddie?!”

“Hey, you never know if this ghost is dangerous or going to haunt me! You wouldn’t want your best friend to be possessed, right?”

Stan sighed from the other end of the line. “You’re right, but try talking to the spirit okay? It’s the least you can do.”

“Okay, I will. Thanks, Stan.”

“Don’t try to die, okay?”

“Oh, shut it.” Eddie hung up after hearing a bit of laughter from the other end of the line.

He sat back down on the couch and sighed. This was such a stupid idea, but what other options did he have? Here goes nothing he thought.

“Whoever is out there that has been messing up my place for the past few days, show yourself.”

He was greeted with silence for a few seconds. Eddie had started to grow angry. Was it really all in his head? But before he could dwell on the thought any longer, he felt someone’s breath near his ear.

“Boo homie!”

Eddie jumped from his couch and pulled a pillow to defend himself. He reluctantly turned to face the faint figure. “W-what are you?”

“A ghost, duh! Haven’t you heard of Casper? I’m like him, but your worst nightmare.” Richie wore a shit-eating grin. So he has been right. There had been a ghost messing with him for the past few days. He directly looked into the ghost’s eyes. Eddie hated to admit it, but he looked quite attractive for a ghost.

As if the ghost read his mind, he said, “Like what you see, Eds?”

Eddie cringed at the nickname, but blurted out a couple of questions towards the undead figure, “First of all, how do you know my name? And secondly, what’s your name?”

“I’ve been watching you for a while, silly. Ever since you moved in I’ve given you a housewarming treat. How did you like it so far?” Richie smugly replied.

Eddie was starting to grow angry at the ghost’s behavior. “Well, you gave me a shitty housewarming treat.”

Richie gasped at Eddie’s reply, putting a hand on where his heart should’ve been. “You broke my dead heart, Eds.”

“Can you quit calling me that, you piece of shit?! Last time I remembered you didn’t answer my second question!”

“Oh, where are my manners?” The ghost facepalmed himself. “The name’s Richie Tozier or you can call me Trashmouth. I react to both.” The ghost winked and held out his transparent hand.

Richie Tozier, huh? A fitting name for an annoying person. Eddie had chosen to not shake the ghost��s hand in light of his crude behavior. “Okay, Richie. Tell me, are you ever going to stop trashing my place?”

“Oh my god! I love the sound of my name on your lips, Eds. I wish I could touch myself now.”

“What the fuck?” When Richie meant trashmouth, he really meant it. “If you were here alive I would strangle the hell out of you.”

“Maybe you could spank me instead? Make me a good boy would ya, Eds?” Richie wiggled his eyebrows.

“You’re the worst roommate ever! I cannot imagine what your previous roommate must’ve felt like.”

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t had a roommate in like forever.” Richie nonchalantly said. “Until you came.” He bopped him on the nose. Richie’s response caught Eddie slightly off guard, but he’ll dwell on that thought later.

“Well, what can I do to make you stop messing with my place? I can’t afford to keep cleaning up your mess. I have an education and social life.”

“Hmm, let me give you a blowjob.”

Eddie swore he almost vomited at the ghost’s suggestion. “Ew, gross! First of all, you can’t just assume someone’s sexuality!”

“I’m kidding! Kidding!” Richie’s lighthearted tone dropped. “But do you like men?”

“Yeah, I do. But you aren’t a man and certainly not my type.”

“Ouch. I am definitely a man. You just haven’t seen my little buddy. You wanna see it?” Richie hooked his fingers on the waistband of his jeans, almost going to tug them down.

“Nuh-uh. Nope! Not at all!” Eddie quickly responded to Richie’s comment about his ‘buddy’. He would never want to see his buddy at all. “Ain’t happening anytime at all. Anyways, stay on topic.”

“You’ll warm up to me eventually, babe.” Richie meekly smiled. “All you have to do is treat me like an ordinary roommate and I won’t trash your place.”

Was he fucking around with him? Eddie thought that had been way too easy of a deal. Surely, there had to be a catch, right?

“Seriously?” Eddie asked in disbelief. “How can I tell if you’re telling the truth?”

“Oh, I certainly am, Eds!” Richie laid down on the couch. “I almost forgot. I want to get to know you a little more.”

And there was the catch he was expecting. Eddie didn’t like the idea of getting to know Richie. He would rather just have both of them live their separate lives in peace. But judging from Richie’s personality, it would be hard for that to actually happen.

“Now come over here and tell me your life.” Richie patted the empty spot on the couch. Eddie for sure didn’t like what was going to happen next. “I don’t have all day.”

“You’re a ghost, for christ’s sake. You do have all day asshole.” Eddie plopped onto the empty spot of the couch and leaned onto the armrest. He took a peek at Richie’s transparent face to see an eager expression as if he was a puppy. He was surely not going to enjoy this at all.

#reddie #reddie fanfiction #reddie fanfic #reddie writing #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #richie x eddie #eddie x richie #it #it 2019 #it fanfiction #my writing #writeblr #fanfiction #byahh

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reddieandgoodnight · 5 years

Note

44 WITH REDDIE??!!¿¡

Sorry for the wait on this, anon! Hope you enjoy! :)

44. I’m your new neighbour and I got locked out, help!

Richie was not having a good day. Between waking up with a splitting headache, being late for work, and getting screamed at when a customer’s order wasn’t right, the only thing he wanted to do was sleep. Which he couldn’t because he had homework.

So instead of crashing face-first into his bed, Richie found himself sitting on his and Bill’s couch, nursing a cup of coffee and staring down at a math problem that seemed to be mocking him. He’d never struggled with math before — even if he clowned around in his classes, most of the subjects came easily to him. But now, with cramming work and sleep around a college schedule, even his brains felt like they were failing him.

His head throbbed, that headache still holding on from this morning. He rubbed at his temples, trying to wake himself up.

The doorbell rang.

Richie startled at the sound, nearly knocking his coffee over as he rose to his feet, cursing whoever decided to bother him at this particular moment.

But when he opened the door, all his complaints went out the window.

Because there, standing right in front of him, was the cutest boy Richie had ever seen.

“Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you,” the boy said, looking up at Richie with big brown eyes that matched the warm shade of the freckles smattered across his cheeks. “I, uh — I’m your new neighbor.”

“Oh?” Richie said faintly.

The boy wore an NYU sweatshirt, so Richie figured he was a fellow student. And if those shorts and long legs were anything to go by, maybe he was a runner, too.

The term “legs for days” flashed through Richie’s mind, and he felt himself flushing a little.

“I’m Eddie Kaspbrak,” the boy said. “Uh, I just moved into the apartment next to you, and I managed to lock myself out.” Eddie laughed, rolling his eyes at himself. “Stupid I know.”

“I — do you need to use the phone?” Richie asked, sounding a little strangled. “Do you want to wait here?” Maybe forever?

Eddie smiled with lips that were far too rosy not be scandalous.

“Yeah, if I could use your phone, I can call my roommate,” he said.

“Oh, sure,” Richie said. “I’m Richie. Tozier. Richie Tozier.”

“Hi, Richie Tozier,” Eddie said, and his smile would have made Richie swoon right then and there if not for Richie holding onto the doorframe.

“Uh, yeah, come inside,” Richie said, letting Eddie in. “Sorry about the mess.”

Eddie laughed again, and Richie’s heart swelled. “You should see the mess in my house right now. Moving is not a friend to cleanliness.”

Richie grinned. “True enough.”

“You go to NYU, too?” Eddie asked, pointing at the homework Richie had abandoned on the couch.

“Yeah. Music major. You?”

“Psych major.”

“Really?” Richie said. “Are you an athlete too? I mean, your legs —”

Richie’s mind caught up to his mouth, and he froze mid-sentence.

He knows I was looking at his legs. Fuck fuck fuckkity fuck FUCK —!

If Eddie knew Richie was having an internal crisis, he gave no sign, simply nodding. “I’m on the track team.”

“That’s…awesome,” Richie said lamely, pushing away his untoward thoughts about his new acquaintance.

Eddie smirked, and Richie wondered if maybe he did know what was going through Richie’s head. “So…your phone?”

“Oh, r-right! It’s right there.”

Richie pointed to where the phone hung on the wall next to the kitchen. While Eddie made a call, Richie fluttered around the living room, picking up the all the food wrappers and shoving them inside the empty pizza box that had been sitting on the table, all while trying not to overhear Eddie’s murmured conversation with someone named Mike

(who the fuck is Mike?)

and also trying very hard not to stare at Eddie’s ass, which looked really…nice…in those shorts.

Dear god, he probably thinks I’m some weird perv.

He giggled a little hysterically to himself.

He was definitely going to hell.

“Thanks, Mike. See you soon,” Eddie said before hanging up the phone and turning back to Richie. “My roommate,” he explained. “He’s going to unlock the door for me as soon as he can take a break from work. Probably in an hour.”

“Oh,” Richie said, trying to sound nonchalant as he put the trash into the wastebasket. A pause. “Is he your boyfriend?”

Eddie blinked, caught off guard, and then laughed. “No, definitely not. Just friends,” he said. “What about you?”

“Me?”

“Are you dating anyone?”

Richie wondered how it was possible to scream on the inside while keeping a straight face. “No, I’m not seeing anyone. Right now. Uh. At this moment.”

Eddie giggled a little. Richie thought it was the prettiest sound in the history of the world. “Me either.” He ran a hand through his tousled hair, which looked soft under the light.

Richie wanted to touch it.

“Well, since you’re waiting, would you like a cup of coffee?” Richie asked.

“Are you sure?” Eddie asked, toying with the hem of his sweatshirt. “I don’t want to impose —”

“You’re not,” Richie interrupted. He cleared his throat. “Really, you’re not at all.”

“Well, if you’re sure…then coffee sounds nice,” Eddie said, smiling up at Richie. “Thanks.”

At Richie’s beckoning, Eddie followed him into the kitchen, taking a seat at the table and watching quietly as Richie pulled a couple of slightly chipped mugs out of the cupboard and poured coffee into both, glad he still had some leftover from the pot he’d brewed earlier.

“How do you take it? Milk? Sugar?” Richie asked.

“No, this is fine,” Eddie murmured, accepting the mug Richie handed to him. “Thank you.”

Richie plopped into the chair across from Eddie, watching as he blew on the hot coffee before taking a sip.

“So, you drink it black, huh?”

“Like my soul,” Eddie joked.

“Pretty sure your soul is as pristine as you.” Richie hurried and took a gulp of his coffee, burning himself in the process. He wasn’t sure what it was about Eddie that was making him say stupid shit like this. He’d always had a motor mouth, it was true, but he usually at least had some control these days.

Eddie gave him a warm look that had Richie’s face flushing.

The next hour passed far too quickly for Richie’s liking as he and Eddie talked about their classes, their career hopes, their hometowns, and whatever else passed through their heads. Richie was a little taken aback at how easy it was to talk to Eddie. Talking was never hard for Richie — at least not on the surface level. But this — this was something new, something more special.

And Eddie, for his part, seemed just as enthralled, hands cupped around his mug and gazing at Richie like he really wanted to know this new neighbor of his.

By the time Mike knocked on the door, Richie and Eddie were giggling over some of Richie’s childhood stories — ones no one else knew about except for Bill.

“Hey, I’m Mike. Thanks for helping Eddie,” Mike, a tall boy with a wide smile, said when Richie answered the door.

“No problem at all. I’m Richie.”

Mike shook Richie’s hand. “I keep telling Eddie to wear his key on a chain or something, but he never listens to me.” He sighed good-naturedly as Eddie smacked his shoulder. To Eddie: “The door is unlocked; if you get locked out again, you’re on your own.”

“I’ll be fine,” Eddie muttered, glancing at Richie. “Thanks, Mike.”

“All right, well, I’m heading back to work,” Mike said. “Thanks again, Richie.” With a wave, he ambled down the steps toward the parking lot.

“Um, thank you again,” Eddie said, gazing up at Richie from under his lashes.

Richie’s heart squeezed at the sight. Goddamn, Eddie was pretty. Like, really pretty. Looked like a fucking angel dropped on his doorstep. Smelled like one, too — some faint mix of mint and cinnamon.

Richie wondered if he tasted like it, too.

“Sure,” Richie said faintly, realizing he should probably say something.

Eddie seemed to be hesitating over something. “I don’t usually do this,” he said softly.

Before Richie could ask him what he meant, Eddie jumped up on his tiptoes and pressed a gentle kiss to Richie’s mouth. Richie’s brain shut down in that moment outside of registering the softness of Eddie’s lips and the fact that they did indeed taste like mint and cinnamon, woven with something else faint and sweet.

Eddie stepped back, leaving Richie staring at him with utterly confused adoration.

“Sorry,” Eddie said, twisting his hands in his sweatshirt, something Richie was already realizing Eddie did when he felt nervous. “I shouldn’t have—"

“I think I love you,” Richie interrupted, sighing, which made Eddie laugh.

“Um, are you doing anything Friday?” Eddie asked, smiling. He was blushing, making his freckles stand out like little stars.

Richie wanted to kiss them all. Maybe Eddie would let him.

“Not anymore,” Richie said. “Gotta have my first hot date with you.”

“You mean second.”

Richie cocked his head to the side. “Second?”

Eddie gestured to the kitchen behind them, where their empty coffee mugs sat on the table.

“I’m counting this as our first.”

Richie was pretty sure an angel really had landed on his doorstep. An angel who didn’t protest when Richie kissed him, only smiling sweetly.

#reddie #reddie fic #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #ash writes

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fishfingersandjellybabies · 5 years

Text

Just a Little TLC - fic

For @whatatime30! Thank you sooooo much for donating! Their reward request was a fic with a sick Dick and Damian taking care of him, stoic to fluffy.

Characters: Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne, some Tim Summary: Dick was not sick. Really. He was fine. Fine! A/N: Damian stays for a week. He gets a few sniffles and Dick goes ALL OUT about it, but just to be annoying. Tim texts frequently to check up on Dick, just like Dick expected him to. Damian acts like he’s a winner because he thought of coming to check on Dick/escaping the manor for a few days first. Tim blatantly says he’s the winner because now Damian isn’t there to stand over his shoulder at the computer all the damn time. Dick just loves his family.

He was dying.

Not really, but being dramatic felt like a good way to feel better. At least a little bit anyway.

He sniffed and looked at his nightstand, where the tissues were. It was only three feet away, but he didn’t know if he had the strength to reach that far, or even roll over.

Curse the common cold. Or the flu. Or whatever really simple illness he had.

And it was. It was just some fatigue, clogged nose, sore throat, a mix of coughing and sneezing. He wasn’t dying, of course not. Just felt like absolute shit.

He forewent the tissues. Just used the sheets he was wrapped up in. They’d need washed eventually anyway. Twisted to cough into his pillow. Let out an annoyed groan as his body ached.

This sucked.

He sniffed as his phone buzzed under his back, and he grumbled as he feebly reached for it. It was a text from Tim, something about a case, or a movie or…Dick didn’t know. He couldn’t focus. So just sent a smiley emoji and hoped that worked.

He didn’t mention he was sick. Couldn’t, his family counted on him. As Nightwing, as a big brother. The family was already stretched thin enough, they didn’t need to worry about him, or have him down for the count.

So he reached for the cough medicine. Because drug-induced naps were great.

He heard his phone buzz again as he drifted off, but didn’t pay any mind. It probably wasn’t important anyway. Just Tim asking about that movie or whatever again…

He awoke with a jerk, feeling that sudden panic of being late for something. He grimaced as he rolled towards the nightstand to look at the clock.

Five hours. He’d been asleep for five, almost six, hours. Which, his mind supplied after a moment, wasn’t a problem. He had off work today, and the sun was only just now setting.

And sleep was good for illness. Rest, that was the best medicine for something like this.

So he sighed, flopping back down. He couldn’t breathe out his nose, and his throat hurt every time he inhaled through his mouth. His eyes felt crusty, and the soreness of his muscles made him feel like he was one hundred years old.

But that was no excuse. The sun was only now going down, he had another four hours or so until he wanted to start a patrol around the city. So maybe another swig of cough meds, another long nap, and then preemptive painkillers while he suited up for Nightwing’s night on the town.

He tried to sniff through his nose, and it ended in a quick coughing fit. He sighed as it ended, absently picking up his phone, vaguely remembering that it had buzzed earlier.

Another text from Tim, as he’d thought, but it wasn’t just an absent question or remark like he’d assumed.

You feeling okay?

Dick cursed to himself, trying to blink the lingering sleep from his eyes. Tim had texted him five hours ago, and Dick never answered. Worse, he glanced up at their previous exchange, the one where Dick responded with an emoji, and saw that what he’d responded to was: There’s been another murder that matches the serial killer’s style. That’s the fifth victim this month, right?

Who knew what Tim thought. He tended to overreact sometimes, after all. Did he think Dick was drunk? Under duress? Kidnapped?

Was Tim on his way over? He hoped not; if Tim saw him in this pitiful state, he’d not only tell Bruce and Alfred, but baby him. Ask him if he was okay every few seconds. Take time out of his own busy life to take care of his sad older brother. And Dick didn’t want that. He didn’t want to be a burden to Tim, or anyone else in the family.

It was just a cold. He was fine. Really.

Still, he quickly tried to respond, hopefully before Tim had jumped into any kind of action.

Fine! Sorry, totally passed out for a bit. Been an exhausting few days. See you on patrol? We can talk about your case then!

Dick hit send, and the message was immediately put on read. Ten seconds later, his phone informed him that Tim was typing back.

Damian changed his mind?

Dick squinted and tilted his head to the side. Damian?

Dick lifted his fingers to type back – What do you mean did Damian change his mind? – when there was the sudden metallic clash of pans from within his apartment.

Despite the utter misery he was drowning in, Dick dropped the phone and jumped from his bed, muscles ready to fight as he quickly ducked into the hall, and headed towards the noise.

The clanking of pans continued without a worry, like whoever broke into his apartment didn’t care if they were caught. And as Dick crept closer, he heard the running of water, and…the click of his stove?

When he peeked around the corner and into the kitchen, Dick almost laughed out loud at his own caution. Because it wasn’t a burglar in his home. Or even an assassin.

It was his baby brother.

(His baby brother who didn’t have a key to his place, he was almost positive.)

Still, he relaxed his shoulders and stepped around the wall. Gave a long sniff without a thought.

“Damian?”

His voice was croaky and thin, but he hoped it wasn’t too obvious to the boy currently holding a ladle, and standing on his tip-toes to stare into a pot on the stove.

Damian turned at the sound, but he immediately scowled at Dick.

“You should be resting, Grayson.” He scolded.

“What are you doing here?” Dick asked, walking into the kitchen. “And what are you doing, period?”

“When you didn’t answer Drake’s text, I came to investigate.” Damian said simply. “When I found you surrounded by your own snot and tissues, I contacted Father and told him you would need the night off, and that I would take the night off as well to take care of you.”

Dick smiled at that. God, this kid.

“How’d you know I was texting Tim?”

“I was watching him respond to you.” Damian shrugged, then glanced up. “He was hogging the computer and wouldn’t let me use it, so I stood behind him waiting for him to vacate.”

Dick laughed, a nasally sound, and ruffled Damian’ hair. “I’m fine, Damian. I appreciate it, but you don’t need to take care of me.”

“It’s either me or Pennyworth, and you know how strict he is about us recovering from an illness.” Damian shrugged.

“I’m not sick.” Dick tried, but knew when Damian looked up at him that it was already a losing battle. “Really!”

“You are.” Damian sighed, like an exasperated mother. Then glanced up with a smirk that was all Bruce. “…You’re the one who taught me we don’t need to suffer alone. Or were you just being a hypocrite?”

Dick opened his mouth to argue, but…well. Damian did have him there.

“…You little brat.” He shook his head, but wrapped his arm around Damian’s back and squeezed at Damian’s shoulder in a small hug.

“I’d apologize if I meant it.” Damian hummed, stirring the pot.

Dick smiled, and went to kiss Damian’s head, but thought better of it. It was bad enough he was sick, the last thing anyone needed was for him to spread the virus.

“Sorry I took you off patrol.” Dick mumbled. Damian shrugged.

“Gotham has been quiet lately.” Damian said nonchalantly. “And Father is being frustrating, so. A break from it is…not a bad thing.”

“Frustrating?” Dick echoed. “Anything you want to talk about?”

“No.” Damian said truthfully, in a way that made Dick feel he truly didn’t need to worry about it. “He’s been frustrating everyone. One of those situations of being too close for too long or whatever. So I’m happy to be here. Really.”

And that…made Dick’s heart do a little flip or two.

“…Fine. I’ll let you take care of me then, I guess.” He snorted, though the gesture hurt with how clogged his nose was. He shivered at the sensation, and glanced back to the pot that Damian had been slowly stirring. “…So what are you making?”

“Soup.”

Dick blinked. “…Do you know how?”

Damian paused. Twisted his lips and glanced away. “…No.”

Silence.

“But Drake said he’s going to send me a recipe.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and glared at it. “Eventually.”

“You’re cute.” Dick laughed. Gave Damian another quick squeeze. “…Thanks for being here, kiddo.”

“Of course.” Damian replied simply. “Now go lay back down before I break your kneecaps and force you to.”

“Ah, yes. There’s the tender loving care I need.” Dick cackled, but the laughs turned into coughs. Damian stared expectantly up, and Dick released him, waving it off. “I’m going, I’m going…”

He didn’t return to his bedroom, instead choosing to flop onto the nearby couch. As he settled, he heard Damian give a grunt of approval, before setting back to his task of making some sort of soup.

And Dick found himself dozing off even without another dose of cough medicine. Lulled to sleep instead by the feeling of safety, comfort and love.

When he woke, the skies outside were dark, and there was a tray on the coffee table in front of him. Soup, a cup of tea, both still hot and steaming, the bottle of cough medicine and his cell phone.

A warm blanket was across his shoulders too. One he knew he didn’t own. One that smelled distinctly of the manor.

Damian sat in the loveseat next to the couch, reading a book. There was a bowl in front of him too, but it was empty.

He shifted, letting Damian know he was conscious, and quietly asked, “How long are you going to stay?”

Damian didn’t look up, just turned the page. “For as long as you need me to.”

Dick smiled, chalked up the tears in his eyes to his cold, and slowly sat up to eat the soup his little brother had made for him.

#dick grayson #Damian Wayne

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