#anyway ya hello I am someone’s girlfriend and I feel very secure

[notveryshrugemoji]

yuck craig is my bf now lol

#ew i hate it but also 🥰 lmao #craig needs a tag #<is his tag lol #but anyway I am going to unpack this in therapy because I haven’t talked to fuckin anybody about this #i had to just send a text to any relevant person today that was on a *should probably know about this* level #like my sisters and friends and shit lmao #i was like *hey awkward 🤢 I have a bf now lol* #need to discuss with Michael why I don’t wanna talk about happy things with people #to be fair I don’t want to talk about unhappy feelings with anyone either #any big emotions are basically a big NO for me lol #i feel the most comfortable and *understood* with the people I’m choosing moving forward and he does that for me #he has a *you just have to tell me* rule #like you just need to tell me how you’re feeling and we can adjust things from there #anyway ya hello I am someone’s girlfriend and I feel very secure

[miss-tc-nova]

The Cat’s Meow - Jumin Han x Fem!Reader Pt 10

This is a slightly older chapter and kind of basic. 

Part 10: Confirmation

                It’s been a month since the Christmas incident and we’re going into February. I make a point to see Jumin less, to my inner hatred. I also have to make an active attempt at keeping any personal time with Jumin to a minimum. I’m sure he’s noticed but hasn’t pointed out my poorly imagined excuses yet. Still, my heart beats a little faster when I see his name pop up on my cell phone.

                I’m writing down the details of my client’s pet when Corine, my secretary, pokes her head into the room.

                “_____, you’ve got a call.”

                “Oh, okay. Put them on hold, I’ll be there in just a minute.”

                I quickly put down the rest of the details and place the cat in one of the kennels before heading to the front to take the call.

                “Dr. _____ speaking,” I answer.

                “Hello _____.”

                His smooth voice almost catches me off guard. “Hello Jumin. What’s up?”

                “Elizabeth the 3rd’s appointment is tomorrow,” he states bluntly.

                “Yeah, I know. And?”

                “Could you, perhaps, do it at my house?”

                It takes a moment for me to process the information. “I’m sorry, what?”

                “I really don’t want to take the risk of losing her again. You understand right?”

                I sigh, rubbing my eyes. “I don’t know, Jumin. That’s a lot of work. Especially if she needs shots.”

                “Please, _____.”

                I have a hard time resisting people with pets, despite my better judgment. “Fine, but it’s not going to be cheap.”

                “Deal.”

                “And it’s going to have to wait until I get off work tomorrow.”

                “That’s alright. I’ve got work in the morning anyways.”

                “Alright. I’ll text you my price tonight and see you tomorrow.”

                “Thank you, _____. You’re amazing.”

                “You bet I am.”

                “See you tomorrow.”

                “See ya.” I hang the phone up and let out the longest sigh. As sharp as she was, Corine catches that.

                “Problems in Loveland with the rich company heir?”

                I give her a small scowl. “We’re not dating. But I am making my first at-home appointment.”

                “What?”

                “Jumin asked me to do his cat’s appointment at his house.”

                “And you agreed?”

                “He agreed to pay more. Will you pull up Elizabeth the 3rd’s file so I know what I’ll need to take with me?”

                “Alright, hun.”

                “Thanks Corine.”

                As I walk away, I hear her laugh about the cat’s name just as everyone in the office always does.

                  I spend the whole day on my feet. If I’m not taking care of clients, I’m collecting and double checking the bag I’ll be taking to Jumin’s. It doesn’t help that I have to keep chasing away worries of the darker side of Jumin.

                The work day ends and I send Jumin a text as I leave the clinic. He answers rather quickly, confirming he’s waiting, so I change course to head to his place.

                “Welcome, Dr. _____,” the chief of security greets. “Mr. Han is waiting for you.”

                “Thank you,” I return, heading inside and ignoring the light feeling in my chest.

                Jumin is in the living room area with his cat on his lap. “Hello, _____.”

                “Hey Jumin.” I set my bag on the kitchen counter and start with laying out a sterile sheet and taping it down. “How’s your day been?”

                “Tiring. My father has a new girlfriend and wants me to pick up a business he started since he wants to spend some time with her.”

                “That sucks. You must be really busy then.”

                “How was your day?”

                “Pretty normal, other than a house call I have to do,” I retort with a bit of a smile. “Yeah. Other than that, pretty normal.”

                “Glad I could bring a bit of surprise to your life,” he says teasingly. The white cat seems perfectly content despite being placed on this new surface.

                “Just about anything with you involved is a surprise in my life,” I mumble.

                The man gives me a strange look. “What’s that mean?”

                “I mean, since I met you, things are definitely a bit more exciting,” I tell him, trying not to think about the night after the party. “The way we met was completely unconventional. The first time we hung out you spent a night in my waiting room while I dealt with an emergency. I planned a cat-themed birthday for a full-grown man. The paparazzi are constantly trying to get something on us. How is our relationship normal in any way, Jumin?”

                “Point taken.” The man strides further into the kitchen. “Would you like a drink?”

                I hesitate, a lump forming in my throat. “Thank you, but that wouldn’t be very professional of me while I’m working.”

                “Right. I forgot.” I didn’t think it was possible for a smile to make me happy and nervous at the same time. “Perhaps afterwards.”

                “Actually, I have to get home to take care of Mako,” I reply with the worst excuse.

                “Oh, of course. How is that strange little cat?”

                I do a routine checkup and give the cat a shot, which she wasn’t thrilled about, but forgives me pretty much instantly. As I’m cleaning up, the security guard comes in.

                “Mr. Han, your father has come to visit.” He glances at me. “Shall I’ll tell him you’re busy with a visitor?”

                Jumin glances at me and I speak up quickly. “Please, don’t let me interfere. I’m almost done here anyways.” In part, I’m thankful for a real excuse to get away from the alcohol.

                “No. He can wait.”

                I brush it off, “Jumin, I’m pretty much on my way out anyways.”

                With a strange expression, he turns back to his employee. “Send him in.”

                Moments later, an older man slightly resembling Jumin comes into the room. “Hello Jumin. I-” The man notices me. “Oh, I see you already have guests.”

                I interrupt, “Pay me no mind. I was just packing up.” As customary of polite strangers, I offer him my hand. “I’m Dr. _____ _____. I just came by to do a checkup on Elizabeth the 3rd.”

                “So you’re the vet that found my son’s cat and gave him a good scolding,” the man chuckles, shaking my hand.

                I rub my eyes with a sigh. “Yeah. That’s me.”

                “Well hopefully since then, he’s taken more precaution. He must be since you’re here.”

                “She’s in excellent health.” I turn to the son. “You’ll call my secretary tomorrow to settle the bill, right?”

                “Of course. I can’t ditch a bill if and expect to receive the same expert veterinary care next time,” he retorts. “Besides how could you ever doubt me?”

                I laugh. “Right. With all the money in the world, why would Jumin Han ever have a reason to skip out on a bill?”

                He beams. “Exactly.”

                “Alright. I’ll talk to you later, Jumin.” I look to the older man. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Han.”

                “Likewise, Dr. _____.”

                I give a brief wave and head for the exit. Just before the door completely clicks shut, I hear Jumin’s father speak again. Unable to help myself, I pause.

                “A smart woman,” he comments. “Beautiful too. A shame she has nothing else to offer a husband.” Instantly, a frown crosses my face.

                “You don’t know her,” growls Jumin.

                “I don’t need to. She’s clearly not fit for the corporate world. So I must insist that you cut back on providing the paparazzi evidence of your relationship.”

                “First of all, the paparazzi will turn anything into ‘evidence of a relationship.’ At the rate they’re going, I might as well be dating Assistant Kang. Second, I don’t care if they think we’re in a relationship because as far as I’m concerned, I’m going to marry that woman one day.”

                My heart stops and I nearly black out.

                “You what?!”

                “You heard me.”

                “Jumin, she’s not fit to be your wife! Let alone someone who could help you run the company! She brings nothing to the relationship!”

                “That’s enough!”

                “She can only bring your future down! The paparazzi will tear her apart, break her down until she can’t take it anymore! If you don’t grow up in our world, you can’t handle the stress! She’s far too different from you, Jumin! She doesn’t belong with you! She will ruin your life! And I will not let that girl bring down my company or my son!”

                At that point, I step away from the door and head for the elevator, the corporate leader’s words blaring through my head. I decline the security employee’s offer for a ride home and keep walking.

                Why do I care? Why does it bother me? He’s right after all. I can’t help Jumin, let alone in his career. We’re just too different. I don’t care what he thinks. We’re friends. We’re just friends. I don’t love, Jumin Han. I do not love him!

                Jumin’s threats of marriage replay in my head over and over until I just want to puke. I try for several hours to convince myself that I have never seen our relationship as anything more than friendship. I’ve been putting up barriers, more so lately, and trying to break it down so that there could be no doubt that we were only friends. But he’s been thwarting those efforts as if they meant nothing. The harder I push to remain just friends, the easier it seems for him to pull us towards a romantic relationship. However, it seems that there are more people that agree with me than I thought; important, powerful people. Probably no one could have struck down a relationship in my eyes like Jumin’s father. But now that I’m face with the fact that we really aren’t meant to be together, I almost want to take it all back.

                Furious and annoyed and somewhat heartbroken, I dress up to go out, making my way to my favorite bar to drink for the wrong reasons. 

#jumin han #jumin x reader #jumin han x mc #jumin han x reader #jumin x mc #mysme jumin #mystic messenger #mysme #fem!reader

[uhpeach]

oof personal rant about boy and relationship shit below the cut it’s way too long sorry

finally had a talk with boy last night... it started bc they are having a stoplight theme party tn where you wear green if ur single, yellow if it’s complicated, and red if ur taken and he was like “so what color are u thinking of wearing”... and i was like “green i guess bc im single”. but i said it as a joke.... and he was like... “oh well i was thinking yellow”. and i was like “ya me too i guess”... and he was like “ya idk i think most people will either be red or green so we’ll be some of the few yellow ppl which is kinda fun”. and i was like “ok. ya whatever cool”. and he was like “but i’ll wear whatever u want like if u want me to wear red i will”. and i was like “no. no pressure. yellow makes sense.” but then i was making sad girl face i guess and he was like “nooo stop with that face. you’re thinking about something what’s wrong” and then we like went innnnnn with like a convo about “us” or whatever the fuck.

anyways like the things he’s worried about when considering making us official is that he:

1. says he is an extremely jealous and controlling boyfriend? and he does not like who he is as a boyfriend so if he isnt technically a “boyfriend” he has no reason to get that way/can stop himself from being like that. which i like.... dont see at all. and like maybe he had a reason to be like that with his ex but honestly i dont do much or like get hit on so i see it as a non-issue honestly? like im too into him to like even need to be “controlled” like i genuinely want to do whatever he wants bc i just want to see him happy ? but then he said that when he sees me happy it makes him happy and when i keep crying like i have been it makes him really sad and scared that our relationship would be built on a bad foundation. and i see it as the opposite like in spite of what he has done and how he’s hurt me we’ve gotten past it and grown to know each other better and like each other a lot and im still here spending time with him so like idk we think about these things very differently i guess. 

2. he was thinking like soooo far in the future for some reason like... when i met him he was pursuing a finance degree in the business school but he like decided music was something he was really passionate about last year and since then he’s been like learning how to use like music production software and how to play piano since then. so he was saying like he doesn’t want me to see him as like a jobless bum loser when i could be with a guy has a secure upwardly mobile job making 60-70k right out of college while he’s like.... working as a DJ and practicing like music production stuff. and i was like..... what r u talking about like i don’t need you to support me? and if ur worried about how i’ll see you like i just want to see you happy i would rather see that than someone complaining about how much they hate their job and life every day bc like.... idk when you l*ve someone all you really want is to see them happy. and then i told him how i have bragged about him to people who like wish they could change majors about how he’s actually doing something he’s interested in rather than sticking with business school which he hatesss. 

(he started crying sometime during point two into point three)

3. he was worried about not being able to give me the level of attention ur supposed to give someone ur dating. like he was saying how he practices his music stuff in his free time but like when ur dating someone ur supposed to spend like all ur free time with them but i’ll have to like share that time with his music and he like doesn’t want me to feel like he has no time for me? but i was like dude i dont need you actively paying attention when we’re together like the other night i was doing my homework in his room while he practicing and i was just so stoked to be in the room with him even though we were doing our own things. and also like the people in relationships who spend allll their time with their significant others are people i get SO ANNOYED BY i was like dude... i dont want to be like any of those couples like of course i want to spend as much time as possible with you but i have other “relationships” i need to maintain that im not just gonna drop like some of my other couple friends have. like my friendships are super important to me, probably bc i have never been in a relationship so i like really do love and put a lot of focus on my friends, so if he needs time for his music and did need some private time to focus i would just spend that time maintaining my friendships because i love and want to spend time with them too? like it’s not that deep and i’ve been alone for so long im used to it.....

i think there was more but anyway he was thinking SO FAR AHEAD and asking me like what i want to do and where i want to go after graduation and im like ????? i .. dont know ??? omg ???? what does this have to do with like dating right now like are u never gonna date anyone again until ur ready to date them until marriage im ? confused? i.. legitimately was NOT thinking this far ahead ? but then he kept bringing up how like feelings fade and he like want to make sure his college friends are lifelong friends and how a breakup would make it so that’s a more difficult thing for us to be and im like i get it ? i have brought up that point to so many people like it used to be that i cared more about having him in my life forever like at least as a friend just bc i like him so much but now it’s harder to be like that bc i like him SO SO much like... idk imagining never having been official a few years down the road and just being that girl he had a “thing” with in college. bc that’s not what i want to be to him. like if we do stop liking each other i dont want to have to meet his future girlfriend or fucking wife and be like hi im olivia.. his friend from college. like just calling what we have “friendship” hurts so bad and if i had to look at someone he like loves in the future and call myself just a friend from college that would fucking kill me. like at least if we were exes i would be like hey im his friend-ex-then friend again from college. ya haha things didnt work out but i’ll always care about this guy ur lucky to have him. ya know. there’s a difference.

and all the things i was concerned about were suchhhh immediate issues like... im only not satisfied by the relationship status of like being a “thing” bc i want to actually be taken on dates..  and have someone who would be happy to like bring me coffee if im having a rough day (and like so it wouldnt be weird if i did little things like that too) and so we could like go on a trip together or like as it stands it would be weird for me to like bring him home for a few days and be like “hello family this is my good friend :) we are going to share a bed bc we are... friends :)” like you cant tell ur family about ur “thing” bc like o ur really good friends that care a lot about each other and have sex but ur not dating... like that gives parents too much to think about it’s gross.... and it would be weird for him to bring me to like his hometown to meet his friends and what not bc we are just like ... a thing? and i WANT to do that stuff like it would mean so much to me. but like you only do that with ppl ur dating and i want to be with someone who can like share their life with me and i can share mine with them if that makes sense. also u know what i think it’s fair of me to want to be able to call someone my boyfriend like. that is a word i have never gotten to use and when i like hear it in movies and tv shows and even when friends say it i feel like im being fucking stabbed. like i have never gotten to be a girlfriend and i feel like people see me as less of a person because of that, especially being in my 20s now. idk just like societal pressures are getting to me i hate being a sociology major im like super analyzing like the roles i am “supposed” to take to live up to what it is to be a woman in our society. like i have been a daughter, a friend, a coworker, a sister but i have never been a girlfriend and that is something i feel like an innate internalized NEED to experience idk like it’s just beat into you by media and peers and parents from when ur like a kid until you actually do fulfill the prescribed gender based roles... like if i am not a wife or a mother in my life i might fucking kill myself like ik roles and labels are meaningless but i NEED THEM to like give me identity and security. anyways. uh that was a lot. if u read all this and i don’t sound insane lmk!

#SORRY THIS IS SO MUCH AND IT'S NOT EVEN EVERYTHING

[chokefriends]

Pit-town Strays Ch.1

Kidlaw softness and redneck shenanigans in a northern mining town. Everything's fucked but whatever.

Rated T, no warnings, or just general warnings for setting-specific social ills and violence (racist cops, shitty parents, etc). Someone ordered wholesome kidlaw family feels? well HERE.

[Ch. 1] - Ch. 2 - Ch. 3 - Ch. 4 - Ch. 5

Read on Ao3 too, I’m Ossicle

“What the hell are you going to Pit-town for?” Bellamy chewed at Law with his mouth open, a smarmy sneer on his pasty face.

“None of your business.” Law scowled, turning his eyes away from his brother’s ground-up breakfast. He shoved a random pile of coursework into his backpack.

“Well I know what kids like you go up there to do. Everybody knows.” Bellamy drawled on, like he knew shit about anything besides scamming beer and shooting bottles at the quarry.

“Don’t make assumptions, idiot. I’m just babysitting.”

“Why?”

“It’s called a job? You should try it,” Law suggested primly. “Feet.”

Bellamy lifted his feet off Law’s pile of textbooks. “Why, though? You got that big scholarship, I seen the letter when it came in.”

Law frowned at him. “How did you…”

“Well it was just there, so I read it. Why don’t you move out, if you got all that money? You hate it here so much.”

Law waved this matter aside. “I owe that money to someone. Give me the volvo keys.”

Bellamy didn’t move his stupid stumpy self from the ancient recliner—prized spot in the basement space the three brothers shared. “No, I need it, I’m meeting up with some guys later to go down to the quarry. Dad said I could.”

“Bellamy, I need it to get to town. Just gimme the keys.”

“Well I need it to pick up little ladies! You can hitch, right?”

Law didn’t bother arguing. He sighed through his nose and slid his feet into his severely ratty sneakers before heading out into the yard.

“Don't tell Dad where I am or I'll tell him about your girlfriend!” Law called on his way out.

“Obviously,” Bellamy muttered.

The ancient volvo wasn’t feeling cooperative today, or Law was having a lapse or something because he couldn’t fucking hotwire it. He slammed his fist on the dash and took out his phone. It was an oddly summery fall day—not too cold to walk or bike—but his shoes were getting thin in the soles, and Law didn't like asking his dad for little stuff like that. Didn't wanna be such a burden all the time.

He scrolled through his messages and sent a couple off to see about a ride. But Robin (who'd suggested the job) was teaching, and Baby (sweet, bitter Baby) was already in the sauce.

BB: i cn still come tho? you real stuck?? big bro awwwww im sry

You: Nono dont go driving if youre partying it up, Ill hitch a ride I guess

BB: Where?

You: Just into town

BB: Where in town??????

You: The Pit.

You: or whatever.

BB: LAWWW NOOOOOOOOooo jus kidding lol no judgement here

BB: id sell it on weekends too if i were pretty liek U

You: I’m not selling my ass!!!

BB: Lol

BB: sure

BB: why else ndn boi hangs w miner trash? Shady.

You: Lots of reasons, including a babysitting job. Don’t make assumptions.

BB: “babysitting”” “””job”””’

You: Yes.

BB: God ur sheltered

BB: shltered bebe in u nice rich house

BB: don get picked up there, pit-town piggies love ndn bebes

Law pocketed his phone with an eyeroll and started walking down toward the highway.

Once he’d found a ride and gotten dropped off, it was a twenty minute walk from the highway to the Pit. Law ended up climbing over the bare, rocky hill behind the truck stop, cuz his phone’s map had the place all wrong. On top of the hill, he could see the Pit in all its glory laid out before him.

Pit-town was the weird little enclave where the town’s mine workers were housed, in tar paper houses as outdated as the mine itself. The tangled machinery of the refinery loomed just beyond the houses, and above all that, the smokestacks. White smoke drifted from their peaks, as high above him as the clouds. Nothing except low bush berries grew around here—it was like an outpost on the moon.

Law went down into the village. Men with tattooed arms watched him from pickup trucks, and women smoking in lawn chairs whispered. Half-feral dogs barked and circled.

“Ya lost, hun?” one busty woman called from her front step as he passed, and her friends chuckled.

“No…” he mumbled back, and hurried on as they all laughed.

He was flustered and out of breath by the time he got to the address, on the other fucking side of the whole village. The house was like the rest: a single-storey bungalow on a small plot of land with a car port full of dead appliances. There was a little pink bike lying on the front step, and a short dog chain attached to a pole in the middle of the bare yard. A deep trail had been trod in a circle around the pole but there was no dog in sight. Law went up and knocked lightly.

He stood there for a few minutes, feeling the neighborhood eyes on his back, before trying again. He knocked a little louder. “Hey, um. Hello?”

A harsh voice called, “YEAH IT’S OPEN.”

Law tried the door. “No it’s not?” he called back.

“YEAH IT IS JUST KICK IT AND TURN THE THING AT THE SAME TIME.”

“...No, definitely not open,” Law assured him after trying every kick-turn combination.

“AH FUCK.”

“Yeah.”

“OKAY, CAN YOU JUST BREAK IN?”

“...What??” Law was almost offended.

“I’M DOING A THING, CAN’T GET THE DOOR RIGHT NOW, JUST TRY SOMETHING.”

Obviously Law could break into stuff, because his shitty little brothers thought it was hilarious to lock him out of the house all the time. And because their father thought it was prudent to keep things like Law’s ID in a secure location. Law didn’t think that skill set was a great way to start this ‘job’ thing, though… He looked around at the prying eyes across the street and they flitted back behind their blinds. He sighed.

The lock was just one of the doorknob ones, and the jamb didn’t have a guard on it so it was easy to get a credit card in there. The door swung open and Law stepped into a cluttered hallway.

“In here!” the big voice called from down the hall.

“I here!” a little voice added.

Law navigated his way carefully, stepping over baskets of laundry, unreturned empties, and sealed up moving boxes. Something obnoxious was playing on tinny speakers in another room. He rounded the corner into a sweltering little kitchen that seemed like the only clear spot in the house.

There was a very tall redhead with a face full of piercings sitting at the kitchen table in his boxers, and a much smaller redhead in a frilly blue bathing suit beside him. They were painting their toenails black, with their feet up on the table.

The bigger redhead seemed really shocked to see Law. He almost toppled backward on his chair. “H-hi! Uh! You’re Native.”

Law blinked. “Yeah. Um. You’re naked.”

“I’m Nami!” announced the little girl.

The guy was pretty much naked, by Law’s standards. Also kind of jacked… Law could feel his face heating up and was glad that it didn’t really show on him. The man sitting there in his boxers was pale as a fucking ghost, though, and so his sudden flush was super obvious. He rushed to recover from that intro.

“I don’t mean like, ‘oh, you’re Native.’ Well, obviously you are, heh, but I don’t mind or anything!"

“Yeah, uh.” Law nodded helpfully. “I don’t mind either, that you’re… naked.”

“Kidd is a naked...” Nami sang to herself.

“I'm not even,” Kidd protested. “I'm just hot as hell. Aren't you hot?”

“Am I??” Law was completely lost.

“Not—! I mean, yeah, but you're in a hoodie? Aren't you sweltering?” Kidd clarified.

“Oooh. No, not really. I like to keep covered up,” Law explained, picking at a fraying sleeve. He supposed it was weird to be wearing jeans and a hoodie in this weather, but no weirder than wearing Crocs in public, like people here seemed into doing.

Kidd was distracted by Nami painting patterns on her feet with the nail polish. “Fuck, Nami, stop, we just paint the nails. It’s messy, see? MESSY.” He took the tiny girl and sat her on the counter instead, then went about cleaning up the table. “Sorry about the door. Can’t go anywhere with wet toenails, it smears like hell.”

Law nodded harder and went to help him. “It’s cool, I know how to break into stuff. I mean I don’t usually! But your door was easy. Not that I’ll do it again!”

“Not a problem… uh, Kidd. I’m Kidd. Hi.” The guy finally got his head together and extended a hand. His fingernails were painted black too. He had a really firm grip.

“Law,” Law replied in relief.

“And this is my sister Nami,” Kidd jabbed a thumb at the toddler perched precariously on the counter. “She’s a fucking psychopath.”

Nami ignored them, sticking towels into the toaster instead.

“You have a dog too? I saw the chain outside.” Law wondered.

“No, Dad took the dog with him. And the fuckin car…”

“Your parents are both working?” Law asked, and immediately regretted it. God, he really was sheltered.

Kidd blushed again and started stacking dishes.

Law rushed to clarify. “Or, ‘parent'? I only got one too—a dad. I'm adopted though, and my birth parents are both passed, so.”

Kidd was wiping off each dish absently under the running water, not really cleaning anything. “We got a dad and mom, they’re just… not around right now. So it’s just us! Which is better, believe me.” He growled the last bit under his breath.

“Oh, got it.”

“Anyway. I didn't wanna ask someone to come all the way here to watch Nami, but that bitch down the street won’t take her anymore because of lice or property damage or something, and I got an interview today. I’ll prolly find another illegal daycare somewhere around here if I do get this job, though, heh.”

“Yeah don’t worry about it.” Law tried not to seem squeamish at the mention of lice.

“If they do take me I’ll be starting right away, so I might be out til pretty late,” Kidd warned him. “I’ll pay you for however long you’re here for though.”

“Sounds good. You gonna work at the mine?”

This seemed like another sensitive issue. Kidd looked away and muttered, “No… you gotta be 21, and take all these courses and stuff. And anyway, like HELL will I end up in the fuckin pit,” he finished with unexpected heat.

Law was saved from having to come up with a response by Nami blowing up the toaster outlet. The kitchen appliances all blinked out.

“FUCK! Again…” Kidd rushed to pick her up and sit her back on the table as a loud dryer beep sounded from the bathroom. “And fuck, there’s my pants. Listen, can you grab a fuse from the drawer there and stick it in? I actually REALLY gotta go, like right now.”

“Yeah of course!” Law watched the strange redhead duck through the kitchen door and pick his way down the obstacle course hall to another door.

He pulled his eyes away from the muscled back and onto the little girl, who was… eating nail polish.

“You!” Law scolded her, and put her in a chair. He grabbed the few towels that weren’t burnt, and tied her to the aluminum frame. “Okay, eat cheez-its while I fix this.”

Law had got the new fuse screwed into the panel and the nail polish off Nami’s face by the time Kidd came back, dressed in clothes that didn’t seem like interview clothes to Law: heavy duck pants and steel-toed boots. He grabbed a duffel bag that was sitting on a box stack, shouldered it and then stood looking at Law.

“Uh,” Kidd was blushing again. It was kind of amazing to see this tough blacklung brat acting so unsure. “If I come back really late maybe I could bring something? To eat? And we could eat it here?”

“Yeah, that'd be good.” Law shrugged like he didn't mind either way.

“KFC?” Kidd suggested.

“Oh I don't like breaded stuff. Fries are good, though.”

“Chinese?”

“I'm trying not to eat MSG actually…”

Kidd tried to think. “So what do you eat?”

“Mostly sushi.”

“I didn't know there was any sushi places in this shit town,” Kidd admitted.

“At the college there's one. Uh, but whatever you bring is fine, don't worry about it!” Law reassured him.

“Okay. Well, see ya.” Kidd made his way outside, yelling at some hovering dogs to git!, then started swearing. “Aw fuck, Nami's FUCKING bike…”

“You trip on it?” Law poked his head outside.

“No,” Kidd was looking at an empty front walk. “Fuckin kids took off with it again. I'll just go punch their dad in the throat later, not a big deal.”

“Holy,” Law commented mildly.

He watched Kidd pull a frankenstein-ian motorcycle out of a side door and roar away on it. Then he looked around to see if anyone had caught him looking. He was just sending a good glare at the prying eyes across the street when he remembered that he was babysitting. He returned to the kitchen where Nami was sitting once again on top of the table, drawing circles in a nail polish puddle with one finger.

“Your brother is an entire entrée,” Law informed her.

She didn't reply, intent on her craft. But she objected when he tried to pick her up. “Nooo!”

“No?” he put her down.

She glared at him, a tiny girl of no more than four, ginger hair in little pigtails and her frilly blue bathing suit spotted with nail polish.

“I'm Law,” he sat down so he was at her level, and introduced himself. “Lawww.”

“Law...” She appraised him solemnly for another moment and then seemed to deem him acceptable. “I’m being a witch,” she confided in a whisper.

“A witch?”

“Yah.”

Law sat back in the chair with a laugh. “My girl! Let's talk!”

Law had the kitchen scrubbed to his own exacting standards in short order, having secured Nami firmly to a chair (with duct tape and towels this time).

She was starting to nod into her cheezits by the time he'd finished, and Law figured it was nap time. He went to review the rooms along the hallway, looking for a baby room. He couldn't figure out the logic of the place, though. There was a largeish bedroom, which seemed to be the source of the stale smoke smell, mostly taken up by a tacky king bed and Seinfeld DVDs. It clearly hadn't been used in forever. He closed that door. Then there was a smaller room that might've once been a child's room, decorated with glow in the dark stars on the ceiling and complex Lego structures piled in one corner. It was stacked floor to ceiling with file boxes and covered in dust too. Another small room seemed to be Kidd's hideout, though the bed was just a box spring covered in laundry and books. There was a guitar and practice amp, and a desk piled with half-dissected old laptops. Law resisted the urge to snoop, and closed the door.

He went back down to the other end of the hall, past the front door, where the narrow corridor opened into a small living room space. A couch and a single mattress were neatly made up into beds, in front of a large TV that seemed like the only new thing in the house.

“I want a Kidd nap.” Nami had somehow gotten out of the duct tape high chair and was at Law's side, rubbing her eyes.

“Okay? In the big bed?”

“You're silly,” she accused. She went to lie down on the couch, pulling a fuzzy blanket over herself.

Law went to sit next to her. He gestured down at the mattress on the floor, with its orange and blue comforter and many fuzzy cushions. “Is that your bed? Don't you wanna nap there?”

“No,” she explained patiently, eyes already closed.

“Right, obviously.”

He watched her shuffle and sigh her way to sleep.

“I could've had a sister,” he murmured, partly to her and partly to himself. “I mean, I do have a biological sister, but I didn't grow up with her. I think it would've been nice, though…”

Nami was already asleep when he looked over again. Easy! Law totally had this babysitting thing in hand. He pulled his stats assignment out of his bag, and got down to the real work.

Nami turned out to be a pretty chill baby, as well as being an utter terror. She mostly ignored Law, preferring to go about her little play tasks uninterrupted, with the TV playing in the background. “Being a witch,” she explained whenever Law asked what she was doing.

“Keep it up,” he encouraged her, turning back to his own work.

He quickly learned, though, to keep an ear out for silence, because she was probably blowing shit up. Law found her building a fire in the oven, then making what he was pretty sure was mustard gas in the toilet.

“How’d you do that??” He took the bleach from her and she threw a mild fit before toddling off to the next game.

By the time Kidd returned, Law was just sitting in a kitchen chair with his stats assignment disregarded in front of him, watching the four-year-old expertly jimmy the makeshift lock he'd put on the knife drawer.

“More twist on the lever,” an amused Law recommended.

“So this one's being a psychopath huh,” Kidd entered and threw his duffel bag on the table.

Law corrected him.“Um, she's a witch and a prodigy? She made several deadly potions with cleaning supplies today."

“Oh jesus now there's two of you.”

“One more and we got a coven.”

“Great. Nami, it's like 11, why ain't your ass in bed?” Kidd growled at his sister, who ignored him.

“She went down for a couple hours, but kept getting up when she heard a car go by. And I couldn't get any pajamas on her,” Law reported.

“Yeah she won't take the bathing suit off unless I bribe her. She's big into being a ‘mermaid’ this month, on top of being a witch.”

Nami had gotten the knife drawer open and was feeling around in it with one chubby hand.

Kidd scooped her up. “No knives.”

“A knife!!!”

Law shook his head and smiled. Child after his own heart. “What's she want a knife for?”

“She's been trying to slash my tires lately, so probably that. It's usually pretty funny to watch, but yeah, not at bedtime. Eh, Nami?”

“I WAN A KNIFE! A KNIFE A KNIFE A—”

Nami stopped and stared at the chocolate coin Kidd was holding up. She grabbed it and wiggled out of his arms. They followed her to the living room where she was stashing her prize under the couch.

“Holy, she's got a hoard,” Law gave a low whistle at the cache of foil coins and random shiny things.

“Yeah I think she's more dragon than mermaid,” Kidd commented.

Nami lay down in her floor bed, where she could see the glittering pile.

“I got food, if you wanna…?” Kidd nodded back toward the kitchen.

“Is she good here?”

“Yeah she pretty much puts herself to sleep, just leave WrestleMania on for her. She likes the noise.”

They went back to the kitchen, and Kidd turned on a thing Law had thought was a smashed toaster oven reconstructed with safety pins, but which turned out to be a radio. Kidd gestured to a bag on the table, and Law unpacked it while the redhead fiddled with the receiver. It mostly seemed to be picking up country music and static.

“Can almost get that alt rock station with this thing,” he muttered, “probably just needs another coat hanger.”

“You went and got sushi??” Law pulled out several little plastic containers.

Kidd’s back was to him but Law could see his neck and ears going red. He kept fiddling with the dials. “Yeah, whatever.”

“From all the way at the college?”

“Yeah. Whatever.”

“...I think that radio is using you as an antenna,” Law observed, changing the topic.

Kidd snorted and let go of the screwdriver-dial, and the radio went to mostly static. “Faboo. Maybe it wants a piercing too.”

His face had returned to a normal color under all that metal, and he joined Law at the table. Law offered him the dragon roll and took the sashimi plate.

The chopsticks were an obstacle.

“Do you stab it?” Kidd glared at the sushi and the two little sticks.

“No, look at my hand: hold one like a pencil, and the other one loosely—”

“I stab it.”

“Don’t stab it, hey, you’ll ruin the integrity of the roll shape!”

“Hm,” Kidd chewed his mangled piece. “Tastes like salad.”

“Here.” Law scooted over a chair. He took the chopsticks out of Kidd’s fist and rearranged them. Kidd’s hands were large and rough to the touch, and the scent of sweat and gas clung to his clothes. The sudden impression of body heat and machinery smacked Law right in the back of the brain.

“I’m gonna say this is finger food,” Kidd decided.

“Yeah,” Law agreed automatically.

“Yeah, fuck this. Want a beer?”

Law hated beer. “Yeah. I mean, whatever.”

Law sat and nursed the beer with determination, trying to pay attention to Kidd's animated take on government surveillance vans and Nicolas Cage. His brain was getting fuzzy really fast, though. He was such a fuckin lightweight.

“He’s not an actual human person, is all I’m saying. You seen his face tryna do face stuff?” Kidd argued, crunching his second beer can and tossing it in the bin across the room. "Nother beer? Hey, you’re not even done that one.”

“Tastes like bread,” Law noted distractedly.

“I guess. You don’t like Bud?”

“I liked the first movie,” Law hiccuped.

Kidd laughed like a fucking hooligan, and Law had to laugh too. Normally loud laughs grated on Law's ears, but he decided he liked this one. It wasn't mocking or cold; just big.

Kidd shook his head with a final chuckle and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Me too. Sooo uh, what you studying at the college?”

“General science right now, thinking I'll go into the pre-med stream,” Law answered right away. “Or maybe something more research, less clinical… uh. Or you know, like. Whatever.”

Kidd actually seemed interested. “Yeah that sounds awesome. I always wanted to go into engineering, but pure research would be cool… You um. Doing some math, there?” He looked over at Law's assignment, abandoned on the table.

“Stats. The bane of my existence. Don't stare at it too long, it'll put the bleed on your brain.”

“...you're stuck, huh?” Kidd glanced over again.

“No.” Law sniffed. “I'm considering it from many angles.”

“Okay, man.”

“Oh, like you know anything about sample sizes and shit.”

Kidd shrugged, but the line in his forehead deepened. He cracked another tallboy.

Law gripped his own beer can in the uncomfortable silence that followed, and then downed the rest all at once.

“Nother,” he wiped his mouth and Kidd raised an eyebrow but passed him a fresh one.

“Git it in ya.”

“Mhm.” Law took a deep swig and almost fucking barfed. “Sooo… you make that bike yourself huh?”

“...yeah,” Kidd's face lost the put-out look and split into a grin. “Or whatever, I just added some stuff and changed other stuff… actually, it's…”

That got another good long ramble out of the redhead, full of startling laughter and crass parallels with female body parts. Law wondered idly if Kidd was actually familiar with any female body parts, or whether this was just how people in Pit-town talked.

“Hm?” Law sat up straight, realizing that Kidd had asked him something. His brain was definitely all swimmy now.

“Or I can give you a lift back now. It's a long way to the Rez.”

“I'm not from the Rez, I live down the highway. I can just hitch my way back, it's not a big deal." Law looked at his phone—after midnight.

Kidd was giving Law a look, like he wanted to say something about that, but then grunted and downed his beer instead. “Here, for today,” he said, taking an envelope out of his pocket and pushing a few folded bills into Law's hand.

“Thanks.”

“If you're free tomorrow I'll be working again at noon. And like I said, you can stay here tonight if the trip out is—”

“Oh!” Law felt his face heating up again. “No, I gotta get home. My dad's gonna kill me as it is. I'll come back tomorrow, though, okay?”

“Okay! Or, whatever, good.”

“Yeah.” Law stood and started stuffing things back into his backpack. “Okay see ya tomorrow.”

Kidd gave him a flippant salute and cracked another beer.

Pulling on his sneakers at the door, Law felt a little tug at his pant leg.

“Law, you are going to go?” Nami worried.

“Yup, gotta go home.”

“Law, you won't be here if you go,” she started snuffling.

Law picked her up and put her back in her bed. “I'll come back tomorrow. Okay?”

“No.” She hid under the blanket and kept snuffling.

He hesitated. “I have to go.”

“She’ll get over it in a minute,” Kidd told him from the doorway, leaning backlit against the frame with crossed arms. “It's better not to draw it out.”

Law looked at the little lump among the cushions and shrugged. He stood to go.

The redhead chewed at his tongue piercing and watched him. “Okay, I don't wanna be weird about this, but like. It's the Pit. And you're... You know?”

Law wasn't getting it. “I'm...?”

“C'mon, you stick out. And it's really late, and it's just past check day, and… it'd really just be faster if I gave you a ride.”

Oh, fucking chivalry or whatever.

“So I'll put my hood up,” Law dismissed this.

“It’s the Pit, though,” Kidd said again.

“... See you tomorrow.” Law left without drawing it out any further.

Law got halfway through the village before someone pulled up next to him, apparently to offer him further unwanted courtesies.

“Looking for a place to stay?” the man offered.

“Just heading home,” Law deflected.

This didn't seem to be the answer the guy wanted, and he followed Law in his pickup at very close range, until they got to the village limits and the end of the street lights. Law gripped his phone in his pocket. He heard the truck door slam just as he went to detour off the road between two houses.

Law tried not to back away as the guy advanced. “I'll call the police.”

“I am the police,” the man pointed to the badge on his belt.

"Shit..."

"And you're trespassing."

Law held onto his phone, a harsh roaring steadily growing in his ears. The smart thing would be to play dumb and helpless so he wouldn't fucking get shot, and just hope someone came by… but the man went to grab him and he panicked just as the roar peaked. Law snapped the fist holding his phone into the man's temple, and it made a loud crunch. A couple more frantic strikes sent the pig down in a confused pile of limbs.

Well he'd fucking done it now. Maybe he could run before—

“Oohhh shit, haha,” someone commented.

Law glared over at Kidd, who was sitting there on his noisy rat bike, peering at the man on the ground.

“Hi?” Law crossed his arms.

Kidd scratched his neck. “Saw him drive past after you left, and figured… yeah. I was just gonna come and like, bam! Do a drive-by with a crowbar. But that Rocky shit was actually way cooler, haha. Is that a brass knuckles phone ring?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah…” Kidd considered the lump on the ground. “Kay, well. Can I drive you home now?”

“...” Law really, stubbornly wanted to refuse.

“Just so you can see how Marlene here rides,” Kidd patted the motorcycle. “Did I tell you I built her?”

Law's tension cracked and an incredulous laugh bubbled out. “Yeah. You told me. She's a beauty.” Kidd passed him the helmet and Law slid into place behind him.

“She’s a rubber-tit, chain-smoking old blacklung biddy, fuck yeah she's a beauty. You can ride her all day and night, she don't get tired.”

Law had been wondering how he'd get all the way home like this without popping a boner, but that mental image cleared it up.

“Uh,” Law gave the unconscious cop a guilty glance, “should we get this guy somewhere…?”

“Oh, I'll just call his wife to come get him, I guess,” Kidd snorted at the pathetic pile and took out his phone.

“You know him?”

“Everyone knows everyone here… hold on a sec. Hey, Mrs. Kyle? Yeah I just seen Kevin going off tryna fight that goose again.”

“Fuckin what??” Law snickered.

“Yeah, Cobb Road. Looked like he'd taken a good one on the head already. I dunno who taught that thing to make a fist. Yeah, anyway. Yeah, bye.” Kidd hung up, nodding to himself like that was it.

“No one's gonna believe that shit,” Law objected.

“Oh the goose? That's real, the thing's a monster. I think they should just shoot it but there's a pool on who'll defeat it in hand-to-hand combat.”

“...okay. Sure.”

“It's the Pit,” Kidd explained again.

Kidd tied a bandana onto his face as a windguard, and they pulled out of the village and onto the highway. It was fall but the air was warm and smelled like tar. Law held onto Kidd's waist and directed him by patting his arm and pointing. The smokestacks receded behind them, though the tar smell lingered on through the treeless landscape. Eventually Law signaled for them to stop.

Kidd pulled off the highway and stopped just under the lone streetlight at the turnoff. He looked around. “This is just a carpool lot. I might as well take you all the way home, right?”

“Nah, my Dad's already gonna be pissed that I'm out this late. If I ride up on a bike smelling like booze… yeah.” Law passed him the helmet and dismounted. “It's not far from here, I'm good now.”

Kidd was still processing the first part. “Aren't you in uni? You still have a curfew?”

Law shrugged. “He's strict. He just worries. Though, yeah, he's nowhere near as protective about my fuckin brothers so—”

At that exact moment Law's brain registered the whine of a familiar car, and he had to grip his bag to keep from bolting. He relaxed slightly when he saw it was just the Volvo.

“Hey Lawnboy,” Bellamy chuckled, leaning an elbow out the window.

“Hiii Law,” a gawky, sharp-eyed girl chirped from the passenger seat.

“Monet, my dream girl,” Law flirted mildly, leaning on the door frame. Monet giggled and Bellamy scowled.

“That your ~boyfriend~?” the blond troll mocked, jabbing a thumb at Kidd, who tensed and sneered.

“Yeah,” Law shot back.

There was a pause.

“Really???” Monet scrambled to get a good look at them both. Bellamy's face went slack with shock.

Kidd stuffed his head into the safety of his helmet.

“What're you doing?” Law questioned the helmeted Kidd.

“He's shy!” Monet squealed. “Ahhhh you guys are perfect!”

“Are you blushing?” Law tried to flip up the mirrored visor and Kidd held on stubbornly, shaking his head.

“Law, bring him to Hawk's place with us, I'll make youse guys’ drinks!! I got sourpuss and peach schnapps!”

“They're not coming to Hawk's,” Bellamy told her sullenly.

“Shut up Bellamy. Law, you guys coming?”

Law demurred. “Gotta work tomorrow, Monet-fique. Nother time.”

“Aw.”

“See you at home, Bellyache,” Law dismissed his pouting brother, who scowled.

“‘Babysitting’, huh. I'm telling Dad you're hoeing it up in the Pit,” Bellamy threatened.

Monet punched him in the shoulder. “Oh my god Bellamy no you're not. Later, Law! Byyye, strong silent boyfriend!”

Bellamy took his cue and screeched away.

Law turned back to Kidd, who was still hiding under his helmet. “Sorry. That was my brother. It just seemed like the best way to get him to leave.”

Kidd gave a slight shrug.

“So. See you tomorrow?” Law shouldered his bag.

Kidd nodded.

“Thanks for the ride. And for dinner and stuff…”

“Yeah it's whatever,” came Kidd's muffled voice.

“Oh yeah I mean, whatever.” Law started off down the road.

“Uh…! Thank you too, for… coming...” Kidd called after him a few steps later.

Law stopped and looked back awkwardly.

“...And for being chill about Nami's issues, and the house, and dealing with that creeping fucker… You don't have to come back after that crap. And if all this is gonna get you in trouble with your dad anyway,” Kidd offered in a nervous jumble, as Law wandered back over and stood there, feeling suddenly sad.

Law had had his share of sweet goodbye kisses under this streetlight, when he'd been a little younger and a little less worried about everything. He kinda really wanted another like that right now… But Kidd was holding onto the helmet on his head like a life preserver. And a kiss seemed like such a shallow, wrong-headed kind of assurance to offer against all ‘that crap.’

Law leaned in, and bonked his forehead lightly against the glossy helmet instead.

“Well, pick me up tomorrow, at the highway. So I don't gotta risk crossing the goose,” Law shrugged too, like it really was all just whatever.

He couldn't see Kidd's face but he could see his heaviness lift.

“You got it, Cap.”

The scruffy redhead leaned into his bike and the road, and became a fading engine roar in the dark. Law walked home slowly.

#kidlaw #KidLaw fic #eustass kid #trafalgar law #one piece modern au #Kid is a blusher #Law is an airhead #blue collar love #pit-town strays

[throughthedirt]

Season 1: Chapter Nine

Previous Chapter — First Chapter

Miles

It didn't matter that I was just shy of turning 44 years old. The University of Oregon campus was nearly 300 acres of property housing nearly 23,000 students from around the world. Sure, the majority were teens and young adults, but there was no shortage of older individuals seeking education. More so, I didn't have to be a student. I could be a teacher, a maintenance worker, the IT guy, even a fuckin' janitor. For all anyone knew, I belonged here. And the way I walked through those grand, window-framed doors - people knew. I had a purpose. Showing no signs of hesitation, fear, or confusion, I waltzed my way throughout the campus. For nearly an hour, I roamed the campus freely and without even batting an eyelash to any other person. I was mostly ignored by those who did notice me. But for most, it was like I didn't even exist - just like the rest of them. I was just another body in a mass of humans. But I was here for a reason, and that was to fulfill a job and keep a promise; an agreement that got me freedom in 6. Kyle Turner. Kyle fucking Turner. "Fuckin' football prick raped my niece and got off scot-free," as Correctional Lieutenant Dave Ward would say. The very first words of his that changed the course of my history at Oregon State Pen. And I had read the reports, the articles, the media frenzy - all in prison. I knew what he had done, and he was guilty. But a fully-paid scholarship and a hell of a lot of "hush-money" got him nothing. Not even a smack on the wrist. He walked. Went free. And Ward's niece? Well, things didn't go so great for her. Fearing him, she refused her admittance into UofO, afraid she would see him again. So the fucker had to die. And now it was finally time. 

Approaching the glass doors of the Performance Center, I made a fatal mistake. Reaching my hand out to pull on the handle, the door stayed shut. It creaked as I tried to open it - but it was locked. "Uh, hello?" A large football player called to me in his confusion, his mouth agape and his eyes squinted as he made his approach. He was as heavy as he was tall; his long, afro-style hair alone adding inches to his height. "This building is for authorized personnel only..." He said to me, pulling a plastic card from behind him and slipping it through the swipe-pad beside the door. The pad flashed green and the door clicked. Unlocked. This place was advanced, way more security than I could have ever imagined. University of Oregon had changed in the last 6 years. Turning to him, I gave a toothy grin and begin to chuckle. "Boy do I feel old, huh." He looked at me, cautiously as he stood before the door. But I didn't let him disappear into the building before I extracted needed information. "I'm actually lookin' for someone - maybe you can help me..." I iterated, "One of your football mates, Kyle Turner." The player gave me a saucy eye glare. "What about him?" Pausing, I conjured the biggest load of shit I could muster up in 0.2 seconds. "My niece, you know-" I started to chuckle, so much so that it interrupted my speech. "Ah man, this is embarrasing on her part, but she's... she's a HUGE fan of his. And I mean HUGE. She has posters of him all over her room, you know?" "Uh-huh..." Little interest from him. Only suspicion. But I didn't let him get another word in. "I mean she's just nuts for college football. Strange for a girl, no? I guess the world is changin' and I'm far behind. Heh, heh, heh." I chuckled again, trying to fluster the boy with too much information for him to process. "But ANYWAYS -" I continued, "Her birthday's comin' up and I was hopin' to get maybe a... you know... surprise appearance from him?" There was a look of confusion on the poor boy's face. "WITH COMPENSATION, of course." Another smile. "Uhhhhhhhmm, righttttt." He replied. "Let me..." He struggled to respond. Possibly the weirdest request he'd ever received, surely. "Let me go see if he's here. I'll be right back." "Sure thing, but ah-!" I held my hand up, a signal for him to stop as he reached for the handle. "Allow me," Taking the door by the giant O shape in its handle, I pulled the steel frame open to allow for the jock to head in. In respect to him, I closed it behind him, locking me out of the building once more. I stood there waiting. Waiting patiently. With my hands stuffed in my pockets, I casually swayed my body and whistled a chirpy hymn. To my surprise, it took only minutes for the door to open again. And out came Kyle fuckin' Turner in the flesh. And he wasn't a teenager anymore. No... He was a man, now. "Uh, hi-?" Kyle would greet me, without so much as a formal introduction. Fuckin' millennials. It took me a moment to sink in his appearance. Tall, 6'1, still shorter than me. A big guy, no doubt. But size didn't matter when it came to murder. Only intent, motive, and calculation. "Yes! Kyle Turner." Pulling my hand from my coat pocket, I extended it to him. "My name is Angelo Rossi. It's great to meet you!" Turner took my hand, shaking it as firmly as I was squeezing. But as he had taken my hand in his, I had also raised my other free hand to firmly grip his bicep. A sort of gesture of greeting, but it secretly to scope his muscular size. "Yeah, thanks." The fucker would respond. Yeah, thanks? Really? Really. Releasing his hand, I returned my superior 6 foot 3 stance to it's upright position and gave a fake, cheery smile. "My niece, she's a crazy fan." Pulling for my wallet, I slipped out a photograph of a teenage girl. "Her name is Nakoma. She's... half native half Italian, like me. Heh." Kyle took the photo in his hand, his eyebrows raising at the beautiful young lady he saw in the picture. Perfect, interest. "A looker, I know. Causes me more problems, ya know?" I chuckled, taking the photo back. "So listen, I came here hopin' I could hire you. For a job, of sorts." Kyle crossed his arms before him and looked at me curiously. "Oh yeah?" "Yeah, man. I'm organizing Nakoma's 16th birthday and I really want to make it special. She has posters of ya' all around her room and I thought, pffftttt, what better to surprise her with her favorite football player? Every teenage girl's dream, right?" I laughed again, thinking the idea is silly, but might actually work. "Nothin' major. There's be about 30 of her girlfriends there hangin' around the pool-" Realizing it was January, I instantly corrected myself. "Indoor pool, at her father's place. Big place, you know?" Kyle's head was nodding - Still interested. "Figured you can drop by for an hour or so, or even less if you're in a crunch. Sign some autographs, take some pictures. Grab a bite to eat, whatever you want. There'll be plenty of food, cuz, well, Italians, am I right?" Laughing again, Kyle's interest seemed to only be piquing the more bizarre and outlandish the story got. "Sounds fun." He smiled, bringing his fingers to his lips as he pondered the thought of 30 hot teenage girls in their bikinis. "But uh-" He started to sway. "I don't know-" "I'll pay you $5,0000. Cash." I confessed. His eyes widened. "$2,500 for showing up. $1,500 for autographs and another $1,000 if you take some selfies. You know' - the girls thing. Selfies, heh." I paused, my eyes growing darker as they remained hidden behind Aviator shades. "What do ya' say? We got a deal?" Swiftly changing tunes, "You know what, don't sweat the decision now. There's a lot of politics in sports, I'm old. I know it." I waved my hand in typical Italian fashion. "You gotta' business card or somethin'?" "Uh, nah but I can give you my number-" Perfect. A rich white kid, hot-shot jock, AND a moron. This was too easy. Handing him the photo, he retrieved a pen from his pocket and jotted down his digits. "Wow, thanks man. I appreciate you considering this." I waved the photograph of "Nakoma" and slipped it back into my wallet. "I'll give you a call something this week. Talk it over with your coach or manager or whoever you kids report to, heh." I put my hand out for him to shake again, "And nice meeting you again."

—   —   —  

I found myself roaming the halls of University of Oregon on my attempt to exit the campus. My curious mind sent me further and further into the campus maze - a prestigious multitude of buildings and intricate floor plans; each with its own purpose, meaning, and unique design. Deep in UofO, I stumbled upon the Department of Fine Arts. The halls were brimming from floor-to-ceiling with murals and artwork. Slowing my pace, I stopped to appreciate the work. I had always had an affinity to for paintings. My eye had always found itself drawn to the color red. Red. My dark irises wandered the walls, finally pulling towards a large, 5 foot canvas. It soared above me - dazzling in its ocean of red. The painting was of a woman, presumably dripping in blood. A sort of, Queen of the Damned. Intrigued, my eyes shifted to the small plaque stuck to the wall by the corner of the artwork. Nicola Strom. My stomach sunk as my heart skipped a beat. "Crucifixion." The words rolled off of my lips. My head retracted slowly as my eyes closed. "Mmmm."

—   —   —  

January 20th, 2018 - Five days after release. Eugene, Oregon had been unusually warm for January. For the most part, it was sunny and rainy on-and-off, with an average high temperature of 45 degrees F. Too warm for snow. At least, not enough sub-zero temperatures to keep it for more than a couple days, anyways. Luckily for this lovely Saturday evening, the rain had stopped early morning and the skies were greeted by a brightening sun. Kyle parked his Trail-Rated Jeep cruiser in front of the colonial-century home, red-bricked mansion. He ducked his head, looking over the place with his pale eyes as he took in the sheer size of the place. Although Eugene was home to old money - big money - it was also commonly inhabited by the middle class. Whoever owned this place... wasn't a white-collar, middle class citizen. Exiting his truck, he approached the front door, which was lavishly decorated with a Sweet-Sixteen balloon bundle. A clear indication he was at the right house. As he rang the doorbell, it only took a few seconds before he was greeted by a familiar face. "Mr. Turner." I said, standing tall with my hand cemented firmly on the back of the door. It was the first time he was seeing my hazel-speckled brown eyes. It was also the last. "Cute." I blurted, subliminally mocking his uniformed self as my eyes gazed over his full-football get-up. Shredded sleeves to show his pectoral muscles. How sleazy. Helmet and all. How sweet. "Come join the fun." I smirked, guiding him through the front door. "But maybe take off the helmet." Chuckling, Turner cracked a smile as he took a step into the house - which was, unsuspectingly, filled with the sound of laughing girls. "Too much, huh?" Kyle joked, unclasping the helmet and slipping his head free. His back was to me as I closed the door. "I thought mayb-" The moment he turned to face me, my hand - hidden behind the door the entire time - swung straight for his head. A thin medical syringe pierced into the side of his neck - administered by my right hand - Gloved. Protected. Injecting the cocktail of muscle relaxants, Kyle quickly deteriorated in a matter of seconds. His initial reaction to grab for my hand, but by the time he could react - it was already too late. He was losing almost all of his muscle ability. One. Two. Three. He hit the ground, unable to move, unable to moan, unable to call for help. With his body curled in the middle of the hallway, his eyes remained open - panicked. Looking down at his 6'1, 200 pound physique - which had been reduced to nothing in just seconds - I shook my head. Pathetic. His eyes followed my every move. He was conscious. Awake. Aware. I stepped over him and walked past him like he didn't even exist. Stepping into my living room, I smiled at the sound of giggling teenage girls filled the open-concept space. Walking over to the stereo system, I grabbed the remote and clicked - Off. Silence. Girls? What girls. There were no girls. Returning to his paralyzed figure, I crouched down to brood over him. I tilted my head to the side and grabbed his face between my gloved thumb and fingers. Squeezing his limp cheeks between them as I leaned his head to look at me. "Oh, Kyle." I made clicking noises with the back of my tongue. "Remember her?" Pulling a photograph from my back pocket - Sarah Ward. "Yeahhhhh." I flicked the photo in his face, nearly submitting to my urge to spit on him. "You're gonna die tonight." There was a dark, unforgiving grimace that crept my cheeks. "And it's gonna fuckin' hurt." Two, single-drop tears fell from the corners of his eyes. Hours had passed. Daylight turned to dark as night loomed over the city. Darkness was here. And it didn't come from the sky, nor the sun. Using Kyle's keys, I exited the mansion on the quiet, quaint street. E 22nd Avenue - a large strip of homes graciously spread apart; separated by the comfort of many, decades-old trees. I pulled the vehicle into the long driveway, reversing it rear-forward all the way to the side of the house. Two garage doors welcomed the Jeep, closing behind the front of it. It remained utterly hidden, safe within the confines of the home's garage. It would remain there until 3:45 in the morning, and a storm was brewing. The sound of the garage door sliding gurgled as it swayed open. Keeping the lights of the Jeep off, I placed it into drive and pulled it out of my driveway. The garage door closed behind me automatically, dismissing any evidence it had ever harbored a crime scene. My heart remained regular - beating as it would driving any other vehicle, on any other day, under any other circumstances. Humming, I drove the few blocks between the mansion and the University Campus. The Jeep came to the vehicle entrance of the Oregon Autzen Football Stadium. Like everything within the Performance Center, it required a swipe card to be unlocked and accessed. Holding out Kyle Tuner's card, I flicked it between the pad and waited. Flashing green, the gates to the field slid open. Although forbidden to bring any vehicles directly on to the terrain, it was 3:50 in the morning, on a Saturday. Too late for any players to be hangin' around during off-season, and too early for any maintenance workers or cleaners to begin their services. It was pitch-black, and between the sticky snow and the blowing winds - visibility was poor. Reversing the trail-rated wrangler, I slowly backed it up on to the field, parking the trunk of the vehicle directly in front of the brightly-yellow painted goal-post. Exiting the vehicle, I was dressed from head-to-toe in Kyle's football uniform, with the addition of a black long-sleeved T-shirt underneath. No tattoos were visible. Virtually nothing about me was recognizable. For all intensive purposes, I could very well be Kyle Turner. Unlatching the trunk, it swooshed open. There lay the true Kyle Turner. The flesh and blood. And there was a lot of blood. Taking the thick, twisted rope in my hand, I ran it from the back of the truck to the goalpost. Tossing it over the post's T-center, I caught it back in my hand and ran it back to the truck. The end of the rope was supported by a curled grappling hook. Kneeling behind the trunk, I fastened the hook to the hitch on the Jeep and found my way back to the driver's seat. Pushing the gears into drive, I slowly began to inch the vehicle forward until the rope strained - pulling viciously with the weight. Metal to the floor, I forced the truck into overdrive, suddenly gunning it forward and sending the object in the trunk to veer out of the vehicle. Decelerating the tracks, I watched in my review mirror as the item - two strong planks of crossed wood - reeled up against the T in the yellow goalpost. As it mounted to perfect height, I slammed the Jeep in park, and swiftly - excitedly- hopped out of the truck. It started slow at first, my heavy, rumbling laughter. But it evolved, soon developing into a magnified, thrill-infused maniacal cackle. Victory.

—   —   —   January 21st, 2018 - The Discovery. The lights to the stadium flickered on - lighting the dark early-morning. The sun would not rise for another hour. And for a group of football jocks mucking their way to football practice, it would be a morning they would never forget. Wailing. Loud, incessant, uncontrollable wailing. The sound of screaming echoed throughout the stadium; hair-raising in its velocity, and intensity. The scene brought a grown, 21-year old man to his knees. Vomit projected from his chapped lips as he puked vehemently on the immaculate, freshly-snowed grass - staining it flaxen. It brought a wave of nausea to the entire team. Some cried, some collapsed, some gagged, heaved, hurled. But most... most stood in shock. Hailed before them was the body of Christ - a crucifixion of their most valued team member. There lay the body of Kyle Turner, naked and colorless, with only the stain of bleeding red that covered his postmortem flesh. His genitals were mutilated. His penis split in three different directions. He had been completely castrated; his balls were absent entirely from his groin. An indescribable amount of blood has been loss at its expense, leaving a blood-pour of red human serous to cascade down his legs. Cause of death? Blood loss. Slow, agonizing, harrowing blood loss. The cross hung from the center of the goalpost, the snow beneath his purple-faded feet red with blood. His hands were staked on either side; his ankles crossed and tied. His neck - the same color as his bruised toes - was mounted by barbed wire. His head bore the same fate - crowned like that of Christ with blood trickling from his scalp. RAPIST - Carved with a knife in to his forehead. SINNER - The words dripped from his abdomen in crusting blood, beginning to harden... but still moist. Fresh. —   —   —   "Shocking news this morning on KVAL-13." Smitha George - Live News Reporter, would announce on national television. "A tragedy has occurred at University of Oregon. Senior Football Quarterback Kyle Turner, Star of the Oregon Ducks, was found brutally murdered at the campus stadium." She would go on, standing unshaken in the parking lot of the Performance Center. "Police have ruled the case a homicide after teammates found Tuner's mutilated body crucified on the goal-post of the end field." Spilling too much information for her own good - reporters classically interfered with investigations; often jeopardizing their efforts. "His hands and feet were reportedly pinned to a wooden cross, and his head wrapped in barb wire. Teammates report that the words "Rapist" and "Sinner" were carved on his body..." "... And that his eyes and lips were painted red, with blood." "Turner's vehicle, a Black 2017 Jeep Wrangler - was found abandoned at the scene. Police are looking for any information that may aid their efforts in solving this terrible case." She paused, staring into the camera as her words fed into the lives of millions of Oregon residents. "I'm Smitha George, reporting LIVE for KVAL-13 News." The clip ended.

#miles jones chapter #miles jones perspective #miles jones #dawn crow #through the dirt #jeffrey dean morgan faceclaim #jdm #murder #tw: violence #tw: rape mention

[plume8now]

I don’t need your opinion

Fandom: One Piece

Ship: ZoSan

Prompt: “I called the wrong number and started talking about my life and you only interrupted me after a few a few minutes of me revealing some pretty personal stuff and now youre invested in my life troubles” AU. OR When Sanji thinks he’s calling Usopp (… but we all know it’s not Usopp.)

Warning: AU, Humor, Romance, Relationship Troubles, Rivalry, Stupidity, Dealing with different pictures of love, Bored!Zoro, Sanji being Sanji, Ero-cook, Mention of Sanji/Conis, Bet, Foolish behaviors, They are children seriously.

Chapter 2/3 - chapter 1

A/N: You can also find it on AO3 or ff! Thank you @blueflamebird​ for correcting me :D This chapter is from Zoro’s pov.

“Deal.”

Zoro smirked. That man was going to eat his pride so bad, he had no idea what he just had gotten himself into. At least, someone was having a good time out of it. He wasn't usually interested in  the business of others, especially when it was about love stories, but this time, it was different.

First, he was bored. He hadn't found anyone to fight with in a long time, and his training classes were off for the holidays. Nothing was entertaining. Nothing new, or interesting.

But this phone call- it changed things a bit. Now he could bother someone, and he was already starting to like it way too much to stop.

“You look happy, Zoro,” his roommate said, slightly leaning his head on the side. “What's going on?”

“Nothing,” he replied. “Just got a phone call.”

“A phone call?”

“Yeah. Anyways, what's up with you and these... clothes?”

The young man was indeed wearing some sort of... what, a giant hamburger? Was that really something you would be willing to wear those days?

“Yeah! I'm going to a costume party on Saturday! There'll be meat! Remember I talked about it-”

“For months, yeah.”

“Come oooon... you should really come!”

“Don't wanna,” Zoro sighed.

The other crossed his arms.

“Why not?”

“Not feeling like going, that's all.”

Did he always have to justify why?

“But you're always complaining about being bored!”

“Yeah and so?”

“So do something to kill it!”

“Hrm.”

“So you'll come?”

He stared at his roommate. He was so stubborn.

“No.”

“What? Why!”

“Because.”

He just did not feel like it?

“That is not an answer!”

“Huh, that is.”

“You're not funny, Zoro.”

The swordsman shrugged. They stared at each other for twenty-five seconds before a new argument came:

“I'll do the chores for three days.”

… Oh. This was becoming interesting.

“One week.”

“One week!”

Zoro smiled. That was worth it.

“Okay.”

Luffy let out a scream of victory.

There were times when nothing was happening in your life. Like, literally, nothing. Zoro felt like he was at one of those moments. And he was dying for something exciting to happen.

A new fight, new trainings, a new opponent. Or even an old one. Not obviously something new. Just- something. To kill his boredom.

“God”, he whispered under his breath. “Holidays are so boring.”

He could understand how Luffy felt, all those times when he kept bothering him, whining about how boring he was, and how much he needed entertainment. How did he manage to kill it? How did he succeed in making it go away?

Everything was boring. And Zoro was tired of that feeling.

That's why, when his roommate came back with a penguin – don’t ask why – he didn't mind. After all, why not? Penguins could be good company, and no one ever said it was strictly forbidden to have a penguin as a pet at home. Unless... said penguin was from a Zoo – Zoo which was supposed to not let go of the animals it was keeping and taking care of.

Maybe, the idea wasn't that good. Maybe, yeah, maybe, they should put it back where it belonged before anyone noticed it had disappeared – and before they get into trouble. Besides, it had been a while since they got trouble. Who complained? Not him. Though being bored didn't mean he was okay with having problems to be kept busy...

But instead, he said:

“What's its name?”

“Bird!”

Zoro frowned and turned to the young man.

“Bird?”

“Yeah! Bird!”

“Bird like... flying bird?”

Luffy made a face, looking at him as if he was staring at an idiot. He wasn't the idiot!

“Dude that's a penguin.”

“I know very well the fact he's a penguin! But he told me he decided to fly like birds. So he wants to be called Bird.”

That's insane.

“Why’d you take him here?”

That's what he should have asked first.

“Bird wants to learn how to fly.”

He laughed. Yeah, he got that part.

“And so you're gonna teach him?”

“Well yeah! Why not?”

Zoro sighed. He knew, he knew he shouldn't have made a joke on this. He knew how serious Luffy could be – and stubborn – about stuff like these. Especially if it included “someone's” dream.

“Just bring him back.”

“No,” he said in a very serious tone. “Unless he tells me to.”

The swordsman took a look at the penguin. It looked dumb, and like it had no idea where it was. It also looked like it wanted to swim in the living room. Which he was not approving at all.

“You wouldn't want me to cut it in half by misfortune while I train, would you?”

“Are you threatening Mr. Bird?”

So it was Mr. Bird now??

He quickly thought how to handle this without pissing Luffy off. Just because his roommate had the mind and the imagination of a child, didn't mean he was completely a child.

“I think it wants to get back to its family. I believe it thought you were taking it on a walk but look how confused it is now.”

“I'm pretty sure-”

“Luffy, what about you bring it back and if it does go back to its place, you'll leave it there?”

He shrugged. That was surely supposed to mean “yes”, then.

“How is it going on with your girlfriend, ero-cook?”

Zoro stared at his screen. His thumb pressed “send”.

It's been three days now, and no news from the shitty cook. He wondered if the man would keep his promises – one being his new decisions concerning that 'Conis-chan' girl, and the other their bet. Was he the kind of person too proud to face complications? Was he going to pretend the phone call never happened?

He didn't care, but  he would be a bit disappointed – though he would never admit it. Zoro didn't get any answer until late in the evening, which was only composed of two words:

“Good, obviously.”

“Really?”

No need to meet the guy to be 99% sure he was lying.

“Yeah.”

He smirked. That was all?

“That's it?”

“What do you want, to laugh once again at me?”

“Maybe.”

“Shut up.”

“So I'll just believe you and admit I lost.”

“Really?”

“No. Of course not. What do you think I am?”

“A bored asshole fucking around, arrogant and so very full of himself.”

Now this was fun.

“And yet you're still talking to that asshole.”

“I'm not enjoying this.”

“Oh yeah? How come are you still talking to me?”

“I made a bet. I don't break promises. Why are you talking to me? Nothing better to do?”

“I made a bet, too.”

“That's an answer way too easy.”

“You replied that too.”

“No, I replied that first!”

“Oh that's alright then.”

“Oh my god, just stop talking.”

“We're texting.”

“Right. See ya.”

Zoro paused, looking at the last message, and scrolled through the conversation. The guy was clearly not willing to talk about it, confirming his thoughts. Though at first that bet seemed to be a nice entertainment, now he felt bothered by it. There was a real relationship at stake, and he didn't like to be included in relationship issues or people's problems. Especially if  it was a perfectly random guy's. That’s so not like him.

He lied down and closed his eyes.

Who cared? He wasn't doing anything, no one owed anything to anyone. They were both free men.

“We talked.”

It's been two days since their last conversation, and Zoro replied two hours later, busytrying to free Luffy from the Zoo in which he'd stolen the penguin. The Zoo's security was for sure to be changed, but they eventually got to Luffy. That had been a long, long day.

“That's a big first step in a relationship. Did she reply to your 'hello'?”

“Ahah. Very funny.”

“You almost begged for it.”

“I didn't.”

“You did.”

“No I didn't.”

“You sure did.”

“I. Didn't.”

This man was such a kid.

“Okay shut up and tell me what happened now.”

“So you wanna know?”

Oh, come on man.

“So you wanna tell me?”

“This conversation is nonsense.”

'You are the nonsense', he thought. But instead, he texted:

“Agreed.”

“We discussed, like you said when we talked on the phone.”

“Oh so you admit being a superficial guy?”

“Don't push it.”

“Alright, ero-cook, what happened”

“We had a “cigarette” debate.”

What now?

“She smokes?”

“No. I do.”

“Oh. Aren't you supposed to be a cook?”

“Those are two very different things.”

“Are they?”

“Yes.”

“If you say so.”

“Anyway, we talked about ourselves. I opened up. Somehow we ended up on the smoking question.”

“Oh so you did listen to me...”

“Shut up.”

“You know that answer has a limited amount of use.”

“Shut up.”

“Apparently you don't.”

“She asked me why  I was smoking, I replied, like a lot of people, that it was helping me handle the tension and stress. But she said it wasn't the solution, and I should quit. I know she's right, but I can't promise that.”

“Why not?”

“Did you ever try smoking?”

“Nope.”

“Anything else?”

“I enjoy good drinks.”

“Great, an alcoholic.”

“Hey what?!”

“Imagine being forced to stop drinking.”

“Yeah, nah.”

“I know she's right. I hate to go against her.”

“What happened?”

“She said she didn't dare say it before, but she couldn't handle the smell.”

“That's basically a “me or the cigarette” situation.”

“Yeah.”

“You chose the cigarette?”

“I didn't choose anything yet.”

“No, you already did.”

“What?”

“You chose you.”

“Me?”

“Smoking sucks, I'm not saying I approve, but you obviously can't stop right now.”

“... I chose something else over a woman?”

“That's progress.”

“Not really??”

“Well, your sentence clearly says “over a woman” dude. She's Conis. Not “a woman”. Objectifying her again?”

“Stop doing that.”

“You stop doing that.”

“Shut up.”

“Here it is again.”

“I will kick you!”

“Try me.”

Oh why, he was enjoying teasing him so much right now.

“You have a weird face.”

Zoro looked up.

“Come again?”

Luffy slightly tilted his head on his left.

“You have a weird face.”

The swordsman frowned.

“That's my normal face.”

His roommate frowned back, staring at him for some ten seconds, before he shrugged:

“I guess it is!”

His phone vibrated in the middle of the night, and Zoro groaned in his pillow as his hand looked for said phone. Who was the dumbass texting him while he was sleeping? (Something that was actually often happening).

“I don't know a thing about you.”

Damn ero-cook.

He didn't need to know anything about him, because there was nothing to know. It was not like they were friends or anything, now... Was it? He put down his phone, thinking that maybe, just maybe he'll consider replying this text positively or not on the next day.

...

Five minutes later, he texted back.

“You look awful,” Luffy said when he saw Zoro leaving his room, half awaken, dragging himself to the kitchen with half of his bed with him. He'd rarely seen his roommate in such a state, he'd usually stay in bed all day, or leave it completely, but never in-between.

“Is there someone out there paying you to compliment me every day?” Zoro mumbled.

“What?”

“Yesterday, weird face, today, awful,” he yawned.

“Shishishi, no, but I wish! I'd buy tons of meats with it.”

“Of course you would.”

He sat in front of him, and looked around before asking:

“What's for breakfast?”

Luffy's eyes widely opened.

“You think I'm making breakfast?”

No one was making breakfast here. They've been roommates for years, and not even once did they prepare breakfast. They'd just take anything around, and eat it.

“Right.”

“What's wrong with you?” Luffy curiously asked.

“Texted all night, I guess.”

“Texted?”

The older man took a look at his friend. He could understand the questions behind his eyes. That was unlike him to miss a good night of sleep, if there wasn't alcohol or a fight included.

“With that ero-cook.”

“Oh,” Luffy grinned. “So you like him, huh?”

“N-no, I don't,” he frowned, “it has nothing to do with it.”

“Then why do you keep talking?”

“We have a bet.”

“How will it end?”

“What?”

“Are you guys going to meet?”

“I... I don't know.”

“Did you talk about it?”

“Yeah, on the phone, the first time?”

“There was another time??”

“No,” Zoro whispered not knowing why.

“So when do you meet?”

“I just told you I wasn't even sure!”

Luffy pouted, super-disappointed. Seriously, why was he even roommate with such a kid, already? Oh, right. He had a very mature side surprisingly popping up, sometimes.

“Don't do that face to me, won't work.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Yeah, right.”

Someone knocked on the door after those words, and before Zoro even thought about moving to open, Luffy had left his seat and already on it.

“Who's that?” he asked.

The door opened on two men he never saw before. Luffy greeted them before turning to Zoro.

“You forgot? We have our party tonight!”

Damn, yes. He forgot.

He stood up and came to meet the guys. One of them was slightly higher than Luffy, curly black hair, without doubt with African origin. The other, about Zoro's height, had a weird eyebrow, blond hair eating half of his face, dressed in a nice suit.

“Remember those guys I told you about? Well, here's Sanji, and Usopp, whom I met yesterday!”

I hope you liked it, as usual, please leave a comment (or like and share!) because I do need an opinion *wink wink* - or you can also send me a message if you want!

Reminder: they never told each other their names :D

#zosan #sanzo #roronoa zoro #sanji vinsmoke #one piece #op #fanfiction #plume8now #i don't need your opinion #chapter 2 #zoro's pov #au #humor

[sakuradragonrose]

Chapter Two

They were just getting ready for the big night. Hiro was watching and waiting carefully, his robot Megabot tucked securely underneath his hoodie narrowing his eyes when Masashi finally walked in the Hamada residence. Dressed in a simple white buttoned shirt and grey pants.

“So: You’re siding with the enemy?”

 Masashi rolled his eyes, making himself comfortable on their couch. “You know your older brother is actually a pretty cool person if you spend some time with him.”

The youngest Hamada sibling rolled his eyes in response, shaking his head in disbelief. Although Hiro would never admit it out loud, as of late he had begun to feel as if his own friendship with Masashi was dwindling day by day. They used to have so much fun together when they first met. “Sounds like weird and boring stuff to me.” Hiro muttered, seating himself beside his friend.

 “He only wants to make sure our scholarships don’t run out is all.” Masashi commented, trying to be more patient with him.

“How DID you guys get in anyway?”

 Masashi’s mouth opened as if he were going to give him the explanation, but they both began pondering. Really…Tadashi didn’t even tell him or his own brother just how they managed to get in a university like SFTI.

“Masashi…I fear for all of us now.” Hiro commented dryly, pulling his legs up to his chin. “Still though, I never would’ve thought someone like you would end up at that nerd school.”

“It’s a little thing called ‘growing up’. You’re just ticked at me for not going to those Bot fights without Tadashi-.”

 “What about me?”

 Masashi let out a yelp the minute Tadashi entered the room, all the while trying not to blush at how he looked this evening…dressed in a tuxedo that fit his body perfectly, grumbling as he tried getting his tie on however thanking Masashi who helped him get it straightened out chuckling sheepishly. “Ah thanks Masashi: I would have been here all night trying to get this thing on.”

“No problem,” Masashi chuckled.

 “Now what was it you two were talking about?”

 But seeing his brother and best friend look at one another, then give him matching innocent smiles saying ‘Nothing Dashi. Nothing at all’ only made him more apprehensive by the minute.

I’ll bring it up later after the thing’s over… he decides in the end, scratching the back of his neck. “Anyway: Masashi are ya all set? And you’re sure you don’t want to come with us, Hiro?”

 Hiro scoffed with his trademark eye roll. “Why on Earth would I go to your nerd school?”

 “Because it’s actually entertaining?”

 “Oh you mean showing the audience this? ‘Here’s my virtual girlfriend/boyfriend folks! Aren’t they fiiiiiiine?’ He let out a yelp when Masashi bopped him on the head giving him a look of disbelief. “Um…ow! What the heck was that for Sashi?”

“Can’t you give your brother a break for once? And last time I noticed you aren’t such a hot-shot yourself in the dating pool.”

“Robotics is my true love.” Hiro dead panned.

 “Aw you really don’t want us here do you?” Tadashi mocked giving him a grin. “Alright. No Gummy Bears for-.” He cursed under his breath when Hiro held up a bag of them. “Damn. …Oh crap Masashi we gotta get a move on! We’re already two minutes late.”

“Okay, okay! Don’t shove.”

 “Have fun love birds!”

 “WE AREN’T LOVE BIRDS!”

 Almost the minute Tadashi slammed the front door shut and he heard his moped take off, a certain glint appeared in Hiro’s eyes as he grinned down at his Megabot.

Time for some real fun now

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

 The minute they arrived at the university and Masashi saw how…many cars were in the parking lot he swallowed a heavy lump in his throat. It’s okay…it’ll be okay. You won’t make a fool of yourself. Not this time… he repeated that little mantra of his over and over in his mind only to grin when he heard Fred’s familiar voice.

“The Duck-Tape Overlord has returned!” The young man shouted giving Tadashi and Masashi each a fist bump.

“Good to see you again Fred,” Tadashi chuckled looking at each of their friends. “I can’t believe we’re finally going to introduce Baymax to the community. This is going to be huge!” He gave a sheepish grin. “We’ve been working on this for a month I’d say.”

“You mean using me as your pin cushion? While working out on the bugs?” Masashi teased, laughing at the playful narrow of his friend’s eyes.

“Will you stop with that? And duct tape is completely different from needles.”

 GoGo gave a roll of her eyes at their playful banter before flashing Masashi a quick smirk. “Oh yeah: Masashi, Professor Ackerman was looking for you not too long ago.”

 The minute she mentioned his name, Wasabi, Fred and Honey Lemon all ‘oooood’ in a childish manner whereas Masashi’s face flushed and Tadashi arched a curious brow. Professor Alex Ackerman was one of the newer ones at San Fransokyo Technical Institute: A young one, close to his late twenties and very attractive.

“P-Professor Ackerman? What’d he want to talk with me about?” Masashi made an attempt not to stutter.

“Yeah. Why does he want to talk to Masashi?”

 GoGo gave a one shouldered shrug, shaking her head at Tadashi’s questioning tone popping her gum again. “Dunno,” she replied. “Just that he wanted to see you after the expo or something said he wanted to take you out for coffee if you weren’t busy that is.”

 Again, Wasabi, Fred and Honey Lemon ‘ooood’ before snickering at the glare Masashi tossed at them. “Oh c’mon man,” Wasabi laughed giving him a nudge. “We’re just playin around with ya! We know you and the prof are only friends.”

“Sure you guys do.”

 As they started to prepare Baymax however, getting him geared up and such Tadashi was silently brooding behind the group. His hands clenched slightly at his sides biting the inside of his cheek.

Professor Ackerman does seem to be focusing on Masashi a lot lately…every time we’re together he’s always right there with us. But he shook his head, actually giving himself a little slap across the face. Oh will you stop it? He’s a good guy: You can’t prevent Masashi from going with other people that wouldn’t be right. It’s only for coffee anyway.

“Wait, wait!” Honey Lemon’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts when the ‘eccentric’ girl pulled them all in for a group photo. “Say Baymax!”

 “Baymax!”

 CLICK

 “We’ll be right in the crowds.” She gave them a good luck wink and the group headed down off the stage save for Tadashi, Masashi and Fred that is.

Masashi could feel his heart just pounding against his chest, surprised it didn’t leap right out and hop off the stage making a break for the exits. He could practically feel everyone in the crowd watching the trio with anticipation and curiosity. But the ones who made him most nervous were Professor Callaghan and Professor Ackerman.

Someone pressed the play button. Music began playing from the speakers.

Typical Tadashi….the Hamada’s always have to make a big presentation for everything. And is that VIDEO game music? He gave the older of the two a ‘Really? Are you for real?’ kind of look but all he received was one of his infamous grins.

 The trio then proceeded to introduce themselves, Masashi pleased with himself that he didn’t stutter like a fool this time. “Okay: First a little adjustment has to be made. After all it’s not science without a little pain right?” Some of the crowd actually laughed at Tadashi’s joke.

RIIIIIIIIIP

Everyone cringed or hissed at Fred’s pained cry. Well almost everyone.

“Woman up!” GoGo shouted from her spot.

 Tadashi motioned Masashi to speak next, looking with concern as did Fred. This was it. All eyes were on him. He could see Honey Lemon and Wasabi giving him an assuring thumbs up, nodding eagerly for him to speak. Refusing to let his stage fright overcome him this time, Masashi loosened himself up and cleared his throat activating Baymax whom drove over towards Fred.

 The robot inflated giving a cute little wave. “Hello. I am Baymax, your personal health care companion.”

Masashi stepped forward making a gesture. “This, ladies and gentlemen is Baymax. The world’s first portable robot medical kit.” A smile actually crossed over his face when some in the crowd gave impressed awes and oos.

Wow. Am I actually talking? Not stuttering like a moron? Huh. This isn’t so bad after all

“I was alerted you were in need of medical attention when you said ‘ow’.”

 Oh he and Tadashi tried not to laugh when Fred commented on his ‘man hair’ ripped out of his chest. “Dude! You ripped my man hair off!”

 Those ten little faces appeared on Baymax’s chest. “On a scale of one to ten how bad do you hurt?”

Masashi could see Fred wanted to say ‘Crying phase’ but the minute he saw GoGo cracking her knuckles he swallowed. “Uh…eight?”

Tadashi fought his hardest to not face palm ignoring the smirk Masashi threw his way. Why did everyone say eight? "You have a small epidermal abrasion on your upper torso." Baymax said, holding one finger up.

“Don’t hurt me.” Fred whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut only to crack one open when Baymax applied the same antibiotic he gave Masashi just some nights ago.

“Now don’t let Baymax’s huggable/cute design fool you,” Tadashi took over next for a minute seeing some people held questioning looks on their faces. "He has a carbon fiber skeleton that makes lifting even the heaviest patients a breeze." Watching the robot pick Fred up with ease.

 “He’s like a marshmallow!”

 Masashi actually let out a laugh along with some others from the crowd at his friend’s reaction, though when he locked looks with Professor Ackerman he instantly turned away clearing his throat. "The heart of Baymax is his healthcare chip,” Tadashi continued.

"Programmed with over ten thousand medical procedures and home to his caregiving matrix." Masashi said after.

"I cannot deactivate until you say, you are satisfied with your care."

 “In that case….we’re satisfied with our care.” The duo said in unison. Once Fred had been placed down, the robot stepped back in his case sealing himself up. “And that, ladies and gentlemen is Baymax.”

The feeling of accomplishment coursed through their bodies when the crowd burst forth with grand applause. They even heard a whistle or two from Wasabi and Honey Lemon, letting out sheepish laughs thanking everyone for attending. With that, the trio headed off the stage followed by their robot laughing when Honey Lemon nearly glomped them in a hug.

 “You guys were so great! And Masashi you actually overcame your stage fright!”

  “Thank God it wasn’t like last time when you stood frozen the entire time.” GoGo added slapping him once on the back in acknowledgement.

Masashi chuckled before grinning at Tadashi. “Man: Just wait until Hiro sees Baymax! He’s going to love him.”

Tadashi grinned back pulling the other in a one armed hug. “I’m sure he will Masashi.” An older man then came up to the group followed by Prof. Ackerman. The students instantly perked up at the sight of Callaghan but Tadashi pursed his lips seeing Ackerman, putting a little bit more pressure on Masashi’s shoulder without knowing until the other spoke up in a whisper. “Oh. Sorry Masashi.” He muttered.

“Very well done Mr. Hamada, Mr. Nishino.” Callaghan said with honesty, holding out two envelopes. Tadashi grinned and took them.

“Thank you so much Prof. Callaghan. It means a lot.”

 Professor Ackerman spoke up next smiling genuinely at them. “That truly was an outstanding presentation. One of the best I’ve seen yet: You really do take after your father don’t you Masashi?”

 The red head gave a bashful sound of laughter, a blush appearing on his face. “Thank you professor Ackerman but I’m nowhere near close to my father. He’s a whole other level compared to me.”

They talked for some minutes, Masashi feeling Tadashi glare at Ackerman from behind his back when the professor took his hand in his giving it a soft squeeze. “I’ll still see you on Tuesday then?”

 “Of course sir. Tuesday it is.”

 Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

 The night air was always cooler compared to the hot/humid air in the morning for summers in San Fransokyo. Wasabi had suggested they all go out to eat as a group but Masashi and Tadashi had grown a little too tired and from the lack of sleep they both had been receiving due to staying up so late at night.

 “So…you two are still going together?” Tadashi asked, Masashi blinking in a bit of surprise as to why he was asking him about his meeting with Ackerman. “Are you sure it’s appropriate for a student to be out with his professor?”

The younger of the two arched a brow, getting on the older male’s moped. “Appropriate? Dashi, you’re making it seem like I’m dating the guy…we’re just-.”

“I’m not making it seem like it’s anything!” Tadashi snapped suddenly. Befuddled by his own sudden shouting. He very, rarely shouted at anyone no matter what. Not even when Hiro was driving him nuts.

Masashi picked up on that for he narrowed his eyes at his friend, lips pursed and crossing his arms over his chest. “Are you saying I’m making it seem like something then? I don’t know why you’re becoming so jealous of Professor Ackerman lately.”

Tadashi let out a scoff, adjusting his helmet gripping his handlebars perhaps a little too tight. “Jealous? You’re accusing me of being jealous? Ha don’t make me laugh.” He kicked the moped in gear after making sure Masashi had his helmet on, speeding down the street.

Masashi grumbled something under his breath that fortunately for Tadashi he couldn’t understand when they reached the Lucky Cat Café, Tadashi skidding his moped to a halt the two giving one another a good long glaring look. “I just don’t know what to say when you tell me you’re going on a date with your own professor.”

“A date? Really Tadashi?” Masashi sighed wearily, shaking his head in disbelief. “Did I even say it was a ‘date’? No I didn’t. I think you need to clean out your ears!”

Both were clearly offending each other for Tadashi glowered down at Masashi who glared up at the taller of the two in return.

“….I don’t know why you’re being like this all of a sudden towards Professor Ackerman,” Masashi said coolly. “But I’m going, Tadashi. Whether you like it or not.”

And that was that.

When Masashi walked briskly back to his apartment that was only a few blocks down from the café, Tadashi lent against the doors of the building squeezing his eyes shut wondering just why the Hell he was acting like this lately.

#BigHero6 TadashiHamada AO3Fanfic