#i said oh fuck that gimme your number and made it clear she can contact me anytime about anything
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I think I accidentally adopted a kid today and hnfn
#personal#not really but i sure as fuck imprinted on her! id kill for her now!#its a bit complicated but shes a few years younger than me n does not have the best home life and in her own words no friends#we got a few of the same issues so im also like hello#anyway we talked like about her stuff she got to vent and get a non toxic pov from me and few adult adults#n my mom and i took her to lunch and she started talking about no friends#i think it started cause her grandma was like#talking about reading and my mom was like oh laura fuckinf LOVES to read#i didnt want to shame her for not reading so i cut in like yeah i love it but its not everyones thing#but if its a habit you want to start just make sure to have fun with it! read fiction read dumb books or even just read stuff with your#friends#have fun and enjoy yourself firstmore you know?#she was like see i dont have friends and my brain went WILD n i dont know?#i said oh fuck that gimme your number and made it clear she can contact me anytime about anything#dumb shit or if she needs help and i genuinely do enjoy her company#skipping the rest of lunch a legit thought i had was okay fuck i need a license in case she needs to get out of the house for anything#overall fuck ❤️#only bit i didnt like was my mom and i agreeing i probably shoudnt come out so her family doesnt view me as a predator#mom was also like yeah i know YOU dont like her but i dont want you to confuse her ❤️#brain went a little crazy on that mainly cause shes literally a child so. rather eat dog shit#two#anyone my age or older likes her im gonna attack like a rabid dog#cause thats disgusting but bonus points for some of her issues ❤️
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So @petrichordiam and I are menaces and giggled over our ideal dinluke flower shop AU for like 4 hrs and then I wrote this.
Title: murderer next door
Summary: Din works as a florist and Luke works as a bookseller and they’re both assassins trying to keep the other off their turf.
-------------
Two times now, Luke had crashed past that flower shop, and two times now, the fucker inside had taken out his mark. Now all Luke had to say about the whole thing was that it was too bad that he was going to have to kill the guy.
Han told him not to turn back. The mark was dead; the mark was gone. They weren’t fast enough this time, but there would be others.
Luke just couldn’t let it go, though. He had rent to pay, and McFloristApron over there was smashing through all his targets and making that nigh impossible—regardless of how many marks there were in the area.
Luke waited until Han had closed up shop for the night and remained there in the dark with his arm slung over the back of the chair in the backroom, surrounded by books. He rolled his shot of whiskey in its tumbler. The sound against the old wood table offered no comfort.
He stood up and left the glass to get his laptop.
He wasn’t losing to some florist, Han, sorry. Only one family could take innocuous cover on this street, and it was them.
---
McFlorist’s name wasn’t listed on the florist’s staff page, but then again, none of the people on that page had names. In fact, the website’s whole vibe was all wedding-chic until you clicked on the ‘staff and contacts’ tab. Then, it may as well have been a line of mugshots.
Luke squinted along the row of increasingly involved headgear until he got to someone with a reasonably-sized neck with no tats. The ladies on either side of him appeared to have sapped all the ink out of McFloristApron. He wore a mask over the lower half of his face and gave a stoic thumbs up to the camera.
Under his picture was the number fifteen.
Damn.
Luke was only making eight per pop. Who the hell was this guy eating up all the feeder fish, huh? Them lower division folks had to eat too, you know.
Well.
‘Lower division’ in a sense of the word. Being two times undercover wasn’t super glamorous, Luke had to say. But when your dad fucked it up for the first family, sometimes you had to take what you could get.
Luke pointed at Fifteen on the screen.
“You and me, pal,” he said. “You and me.”
--
Step one was to get paid first.
Luke chased down three marks on the other side of town to pay the rent and the medical bills for now. His hand’s new sleeve felt like a dream. It didn’t overheat like the nylon black one did, and the hand was far less shiny now as a bonus. That had certainly reduced the number of people catching something move out of the corner of their eye.
Was it worth fifty grand?
No.
Was it worth the last nine that Luke had left to pay on it?
Yeah. It was definitely worth the nine.
------
Step two was to go make it clear to Fifteen McFlorist that he and his folks needed to back down in the face of the established guard.
Luke put on his biggest sweater and the thickest glasses he could find. He stole Chewie’s messenger bag with all the pins on it. He slung it over his shoulder and rolled the hems of his jeans up just a smidge too much, then scurried over to the florist’s across the way.
Fifteen was off to the side of the register, fucking around with something in the refrigerator. Luke busily and noisily looked through the wall of foliage on the side of the shop nearest the window. He hummed. He hawed. He made anxious nerd-sounds until a voice asked, “Hi, can I help you?”
Luke glanced out of the corner of his eye and found that Fifteen was standing facing his way now. His mask was gray this time. His apron was orange. His boots were too heavy-looking for florist work.
“I’d love that,” Luke gushed breathlessly. “See, my mom just got engaged and I’m on the way to her house.”
Fifteen lifted his chin slightly.
“What’re her favorites?” he asked tonelessly.
Terrible customer service skills, dude.
“Roses,” Luke said.
“Ours are shit today,” Fifteen said. “How about dahlias?”
Luke didn’t know what those were but sure.
“That sounds great,” he said. “You have any in pink?”
--------
He watched Fifteen brutalize some pink, orange, and white flowers into a bouquet wrapped with a silver bow and was sure to smile every time the guy looked up.
“That’ll be $37.59.”
Sir, these are dead flowers. There is no need for that price.
“Can I put it on card?” Luke asked. “How long have you worked here, if you don’t mind me asking? I work just across the way is all.”
Fifteen’s dark gaze flicked up. His hair was covered by a gray beanie two shades darker than the mask.
“At the club?” he asked.
“The bookshop,” Luke corrected him with a shy, but widening smile.
Please be gay. Please be gay. Please be gay. Leia wasn’t going to want to cooperate. She thought it was beneath her to establish boundaries like this.
“Blue paint,” Fifteen said. “Yeah, that place. How long have you been there?”
“My brother-in-law’s place, actually,” Luke said. “I started there last year after I finished college.”
Or, you know, maybe even eight years ago when he’d finished college. No one had to know. Baby faces don’t kiss and tell after all.
“Huh. You must like it there,” Fifteen said.
“It’s fine,” Luke hummed. “You like it here?”
“The kid does.”
“Oh, you’re a father?” Luke asked. “How old?”
“He’s three,” Fifteen said. “Godson. His folks were in an accident; didn’t make it.”
“That’s terrible, I’m so sorry to hear that,” Luke said. “He’s lucky to have you.”
Fifteen handed him his card back. Luke’s hand didn’t close in time to catch it and it fell onto to the wooden counter.
“Sorry about that,” Luke said, reaching for it with the other hand. His knuckles bumped into Fifteen’s when he went for the card at the same time. They both paused and went for the card again with the same result. Luke laughed.
“Slippery, am I right?” he asked, flattening his fingers on top of the piece of plastic and snatching it away.
“Very,” Fifteen said. “I hope your mom likes them.”
“Me too,” Luke smiled. “I’ll see you around—What was your name?”
“You can call me Armando,” Fifteen said.
“Armando,” Luke sounded out. “It suits you.”
It was a falsie.
“And yours?”
“James.”
“It suits you.”
It didn’t.
“Bye now,” Luke said. “Thanks for your help.”
He let the door fall closed behind him with the tinkle of the bell.
--------
He informed Han that “Armando” had a toddler and received only a warning look and a scolding for all his effort. Han told him not to get jealous. If there was a kid in the balance, then Fifteen, for better or worse, was going to have to see each day after the next until there was no longer a kid in the balance.
Luke offered to call CPS and report “Armando” as an assassin.
“You do that and those folks across the street are gonna call the VA and tell them I’m an assassin,” Han said. “Lay low, Luke. Lay low.”
Never.
“Christ. At least until that thing’s yours then.”
Luke glared at his right hand.
“Gimme a double,” he told Han without looking away from it.
------------
It was never easy to hunt in the daylight, but Luke wasn’t here to do easy things. He needed to get Mark No. 1 alone. The man took the train once a week to a gentleman’s club on his lunch break. Luke needed a change of clothes.
He had a rainbow windbreaker, white boots, and fishnets all ready to go.
He got on the same train as the mark and dropped his phone nearby. It clattered loudly and the case came off. Luke swore and squatted to drop it at the same time that two girls next to him decided to become good Samaritans. They crouched with him and one of them caught the phone first. They handed it back with a smile.
“I like your jacket,” she said.
Luke let his face struggle to find a smile at her kindness to him, a sweet little twink trying to find the pride parade that happened two weeks ago.
“Thanks,” he said. “I like your bracelet.”
He stood up. The girls were pleased with themselves. Luke glanced back to find Mark No. 1 turn his head abruptly away.
Come here, Markie.
Do you like what you see?
Mark No. 1 didn’t make it out of his hotel room. A pity. Luke took the elevator down and huffed and puffed about a cheap date when he passed the front desk. He stopped abruptly and went back to ask the receptionist what the cross street was. She judged his go-go boots.
He told her she wasn’t his type. Her manager gave him the cross street.
Mark No. 2 had different parameters.
----------
Mark No. 2’s parameters involved chasing him through a maze of boiler rooms and dumpsters. He was chump change towards a hand that Luke hadn’t wanted in the first place, but alas. The anger still roared.
Luke cornered him, still in go-go boots—no need to sacrifice style for speed—and watched those pale eyes look every which way as Mark No. 2 realized that there was no getting out of this.
“You got options, friend,” Luke said. “I can bring you in hot or I can bring you in—”
“—cold.”
His head snapped up and he lurched out of the way just as the crack of a bullet exploded in the alley. A car backfired around the corner in a sympathetic cough. Luke stared at the body then twisted around just in time for a thick glove to latch onto the back of his neck.
“Well, look who it is,” Fifteen drawled.
Luke glared out of the corner of his eye.
“Hands off, Armando,” he warned.
“I like your boots.”
“You’re gonna love ‘em when they’re on your dick,” Luke warned.
“Back off, Nayberry.”
Fucking hell, Han. This is why they should have set up boundaries weeks ago.
“I prefer ‘James,’” Luke said sweetly.
The glock levelled at his face didn’t care.
“You took my mark,” Fifteen said.
“Aw, poor baby,” Luke pouted. “Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you took mine.”
Fifteen’s orange apron was gone. He’d swapped it for an old leather jacket—something he could more easily wipe clean. He should’ve gone for patent leather. The brown really wasn’t working with his grey mask-beanie situation.
“Stay in your lane,” Fifteen warned.
“Only if you stay in yours,” Luke beamed.
Fifteen huffed.
“Bookstore,” he scoffed. “Who’d you give the flowers to?”
Luke tsked.
“Myself, jackass,” he said.
“Do you even have a mom?”
“What the fuck business is that of yours? You even got a kid?”
Fifteen’s stare was deadly—the cooling body before them notwithstanding.
“Take one step near him and we won’t be talkin’ so friendly, yeah?”
Mm. Yeah.
“You owe me four grand,” Luke informed Fifteen as the glock went down and Fifteen left him to go take a pulse.
The man’s back stiffened.
“Four?” he asked. “You took this job for four?”
Luke rolled his eyes.
“I got bills, Armando,” he drawled.
“How do you keep that shed open? Have you sold even one book?”
Rude. Luke was a great sales associate. If he actually cared to put his mind to it, he’d be worthy of a promotion to manager.
He pulled the rising legs of his shorts down and adjusted the weapon in his windbreaker. He couldn’t leave the alley the way he’d gone into it. Someone might have seen. He was going to have to take a side street. Hmmm, which one? Choices, choices.
“I’ll give you a Dad’s discount. Gimme two grand, and you can have him,” Luke negotiated as he thought.
“Two.”
Hey, no need for that tone. This was a great deal.
“What’re you gonna do with two?” Fifteen asked, already knelling down to heft the body over his shoulder as proof for payment.
“Buy some more tights,” Luke deadpanned. “Two, final offer.”
Fifteen stood up all the way and gave him a weird look. A long look. His beanie was pulled down low, but Luke got the impression that he was frowning at him.
“Take the four,” he said out of nowhere. “I’ll bring it tomorrow.”
Luke recoiled a step at first, then recoiled another when the reality of the situation hit him full in the chest.
“Forget it,” he snapped.
He spun around and started to leave.
“Wh—hey. HEY. Where are you goin’?”
“I don’t need your fuckin’ pity,” Luke called ahead of him as he set to climbing the chainlink fence separating him from the adjacent dead-end alley.
“You what?”
“You heard me,” Luke said.
He jumped down. His left hand found his right wrist and squeezed as he walked.
-------
The phantom pains kept him up all night, and it was definitely that and not the humiliation that made him call in sick. Han told him to answer his therapist’s emails. Luke told him to go do something useful and hung up. He rolled onto his back on his bed and focused on letting his body relax, his jaw unclench, his joints go limp.
There was sunlight finally streaming through his apartment windows again. It had been months.
Spring was almost here. He just had to hold out a little longer.
--------
He came in to work the next day and found an envelope on his chair in the backroom. It was thick.
“McFlorist dropped it off,” he said between aggravated sounds at his spreadsheets.
“Is it tax season already?” Luke asked him as he tried to burn a whole in the center of the envelope with his mind.
“Sure fuckin’ is.”
He stepped forward and snatched up the envelope, then deposited it squarely in Han’s lap. He made an unattractive noise of confusion and alarm.
“For the taxes,” Luke called as he went out to grab his lanyard and name tag. “Gotta keep this place open for another six months at least.”
------------
There were new books in. A new shipment to shelve. Two kids’ displays to set up. And Luke was actually good at this stuff, thanks; he started stacking.
He got peace until he nearly got to the end of the second display, and then what he had was a heart attack. Two liquid brown eyes surrounded by an ocean of ringlets stared up at him from between his knees. The child curled a hand in and out in hello.
Luke jerked himself up to locate the thing’s parents immediately, and promptly found himself in deadly eye-contact with Fifteen.
Armando.
“You were gone yesterday,” Fifteen said flatly.
Luke looked between him and the kid. He was pinned between two enemy parties. How to escape, how to escape.
“Are you sick?”
How to escape. How to escape. How to escape.
“Are you hurt?”
H—what?
“I’m fine, stalker,” Luke snapped with more heat than this present cover allowed. He caught himself and pulled it back. “I’m fine,” he repeated. “Thank you for asking. Is this…?”
Fifteen blinked once. The child blinked once as well. It was creepy.
“He’s mine,” Fifteen said. “And apparently the only thing that will get us through the next two hours is a book.”
Dude.
“Kids are kids,” Fifteen said. “You got any books?”
Luke stared at him, then checked the shelves to make sure he hadn’t teleported into another dimension.
You always had to check.
“We’re in a bookstore,” he said.
“He can’t read,” Fifteen said, pointing.
The kid grinned. His teeth were gapped in that toddler sort of way. He was kind of cute.
“You can’t read?” Luke asked him.
“Hi,” Baby said.
Oh no.
Luke loved him.
“How much?” he asked Fifteen.
“Touch him and you’ll be permanently comatose,” Fifteen said.
“Not if I died out of spite,” Luke said.
There was a long pause. Then Fifteen started laughing? Kind of hard?
“Oh my god, that was so unprofessional. I am so sorry,” Luke blurted out.
Fifteen collected himself and shook his head. His little one giggled and reached for Luke’s fingers.
“Boo,” he said.
Luke couldn’t feel the hand, but he could feel all the heart.
“Book?” he asked, crouching down. “Do you want a story?”
“Mmmm.”
“I have the perfect one,” Luke told him. “It’s about a caterpillar. Do you know what a caterpillar is?”
He got a slow, exaggerated head shake back and forth, back and forth. He stood up straight.
“I’m conducting a temporary kidnapping,” he informed Fifteen. “Do I have consent?”
Fifteen looked from him towards the front entrance and mulled over the merits of leaving his kid with his rival assassin. Then he shrugged.
“Consent granted,” he said. “Luke.”
Luke’s heart stopped.
“James,” he said.
“Your name tag says ‘Luke.’”
Well, fuck.
“Luke Nayberry. It suits you.”
Hhhhhhh. This was karma, wasn’t it.
“Thanks,” he gritted out. “And yourself, Armando?”
“Din.”
Woah, look out. Mr. One-Syllable-Cool-Man had entered the building.
“Din, what?” Luke asked as his arm registered tension. Din’s kid had latched onto his fingers and started pulling incessantly with a chubby hand gesturing in the direction of the wall of children’s books.
“Don’t you worry about it,” Din said.
“Fine, go trip then,” Luke said.
He swore that there was a smile under that mask.
----------
#dinluke#luke skywalker#ficlet#fic#I can't take any trope seriously it turns out#perhaps I am simply too old now to appreciate them#the mandalorian
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Hey, I love your writing! Could you maybe do like Marlene makes Sirius and Remus do the boyfriend tag for the lions media page and the questions are just a mix of cute, normal things and then really really not so cute normal things 👀
I may have gotten a little carried away with this ideas, whoops! There isn’t much ~spicy~ stuff here, but if you guys liked it I’ll do a part 2! Writing this was easily the best part of my day. Credit for Coops and Sweater Weather goes to @lumosinlove!
“Hello, everyone, I’m Dorcas Meadowes, and welcome back to Lion Pride!” Dorcas smiled at the camera and waved. “Today I’m here with team captain Sirius Black and our newest player, Remus Lupin, for the boyfriend tag. They’ll be asking each other a series of questions and they are legally obligated to answer honestly!”
“Wait, really?” Remus asked, his eyes wide.
“No, but it’s a good idea anyway.” Dorcas shuffled the small stack of notecards in her hands and passed half to each of them. “I’m here to supervise and clarify if you need it.”
“Alright, first question: how did we meet?” Sirius grinned. “Take your time on this one.”
“We met in the PT room before I was formally introduced to the team because Pots unscrewed the lids of the Gatorade bottles and the spout hit you in the eye.”
“Oh my god, I forgot about that!” Sirius turned to the camera. “Watch out, Pots, vengeance is coming.”
“Question number two,” Remus laughed. “If we’re going out to eat, where are we going?”
“Sid’s.” They said in unison.
“Number three: What’s one food I don’t like?”
Remus paused and bit his lip. “That’s a tough one. You’re kind of like a black hole for food. Uh, maybe pickles?”
“Yeah, I hate pickles.” Sirius shuddered dramatically. “Leave the poor zucchini alone.”
“Pickles are made from cucumbers.”
“Same difference.”
“No, it’s not!”
“Moving on!” Dorcas interrupted. “Remus, you’re up.”
“This is why we need a supervisor,” he said to the camera. “Okay, question four. How many siblings do I have?”
Sirius lit up and beamed at him. “One! Jules!”
“Your number-one fan,” Remus teased.
Sirius glanced down at the next card and barked out a laugh. “Oh, I’m going to get roasted so hard here. Am I a morning person or a night person?”
“You are the earliest early bird of all time and it’s terrible,” Remus groaned. “Six a.m. rolls around and he’s wide awake while I’m barely a person until eight, and that’s assuming I’ve had coffee.”
“You’re the cutest zombie I’ve ever seen at seven in the morning,” Sirius said.
“Aw, babe. Question six: what’s our song?”
Sirius thought for a moment. “Hmm, I don’t know.”
“I was going to say, I don’t think we have one yet.”
“We’re taking suggestions if anyone has ideas,” Sirius said to the camera. “What’s my best friend’s name.”
“Harry Potter,” Remus answered without hesitating. “You only like Pots for his baby.”
“True.”
Remus started to read the next card, then looked to Dorcas. “Do I have to ask this one?”
“Yes!”
“Cover your ears, everyone. What’s my nickname?”
“LOOPS!” Sirius shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth. “But to me it’s mon loup. What’s my weirdest habit?”
Remus dropped his face into his hands. “Your order of operations. To anyone out there who still thinks Sirius Black is cool—stop kicking me!—last night he got stuck in his t-shirt because he was brushing his teeth at the same time.”
“It’s efficient!” Sirius protested, poking him in the calf one more time. “You don’t appreciate me.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Remus kissed him on the cheek. “Okay, what’s one of my special talents?”
“Hockey.”
“That doesn’t count,” Dorcas said.
“Bummer. You can sing really well.”
Remus’ ears went pink. “I don’t know about really well.”
“You do it all the time!”
“That doesn’t mean I’m good at it!” They both laughed until Dorcas cleared her throat.
“Sorry, sorry. Question number…something. If you were baking me a birthday cake, what flavor would it be?”
Remus snorted. “Bold of you to assume I can bake. But if I could, I’d do a vanilla cake with chocolate frosting.”
“You’d steal all the frosting off it, wouldn’t you.”
“Oh, definitely. Next question! Where was I born?”
Sirius was quiet for a solid ten seconds. “…Wisconsin?”
“What, the entire state?”
“I know you were born in a hospital.”
“Do you have any idea how many Wisconsin hospitals there are?”
“Well, you were only born in one of them.” Sirius shrugged. “I give up, what city?”
“I’m not telling you. You can call my mom and ask when we’re done here.”
“She’d tease me for days. I’ll get it out of you eventually.” Sirius shook his head and turned back to the cards. “Oh, here’s a good one: could you tell I liked you?”
Remus burst out laughing. “Are you kidding me? No!”
Sirius turned to face the camera. “If anyone out there doesn’t know the whole situation, we basically just stared at each other for, like, a year before anything happened.”
“I think the first time I started picking up on it was when I came back from vacation and got a fifteen-second hug from this one,” Remus said, pointing his thumb toward Sirius. “At that point I kind of went ‘…wait a minute’.”
“Let’s do the next question before you spill any more embarrassing stories.” Remus’ smile turned sharp. “Oh, no.”
“What was your first impression of me?”
“Hot.” Sirius’ eyebrows shot up. “Woah, I said that way too fast, didn’t I?”
“A little bit, but I appreciate it.”
“Are you comfortable with PDA?” Sirius looked over at Dorcas. In lieu of an answer, Remus scooted over on their shared couch and settled down in Sirius’ lap. “Hello.”
“Hi. As you can see, I can’t stand it if you even breathe on me in public.”
“God forbid we make eye contact.”
“In all honesty, I think we’ve already crossed the PDA bridge,” Remus said. “Once pictures of you and your boyfriend making out go viral, there’s really no incentive to tone it down. My turn: who’s my favorite musician?”
“Fucking ABBA.” Sirius let his head fall on the back of the couch. “Sorry, I mean ABBA.” Remus started whistling the intro to ‘Gimme, Gimme, Gimme’ and Sirius scrambled for his notecards. “What’s my favorite time of the year?”
It took Remus a minute to catch his breath from laughing. “Uh, fall. Autumn. We have the same favorite, actually.”
“It’s a great season. You get hockey, big sweaters, and there’s still a little bit of sunshine.”
“Halloween, too,” Remus added. “Oh, shit, you’re going to have a field day with this one. What word do I use the most?”
“Jeez.” Sirius gave him a big smooch on the cheek. “Such a Midwesterner. Where was our first kiss?”
“Pascal Dumais’ guest room, on a dark and stormy night,’ Remus said. “We got snowed in for Sirius’ birthday party.”
“It was really romantic though.”
“Yeah.” Remus planted a quick kiss on his lips before grabbing the next card. “Who would win in an argument?”
“What’s the argument about?” Sirius asked. “Dorcas, is there a specification?”
“I think we trade off,” Remus mused. “We don’t fight much.”
“Nah. Kissing or cuddling?”
“What about it?”
“Which one do each of you prefer?” Dorcas clarified. She hadn’t stopped smiling since the interview started.
“Ohhhhh.” Remus readjusted himself in Sirius’ lap so he was leaning against the armrest more. “I mean, both are great.”
“Agreed.”
“Last question for me!” Remus waved his final notecard in Sirius’ face. “How would you describe my style? Tread carefully, Cap.”
Sirius thought hard for a moment. “This is a dangerous question, Dorcas. Um, you’re going to hate me for this.”
“Spit it out, Black.”
“Sexy librarian?”
“Fuck off.”
“See! I told you!”
“Sexy librarian? Really? At least I own clothing other than monochrome t-shirts!”
“I have my game day suit, too.”
“…the suit is nice.”
Dorcas was laughing too hard to get them back on track, so Marlene had to motion at them from behind the camera. “Sorry, Marlene, we’ll finish up. Okay, Fruit Loop, am I a dog or a cat person?”
“I think you love dogs more than you love me,” Remus said. “You don’t hate cats, though.”
“First of all, that’s not true, I love you most.” Sirius kissed him soundly on the lips. “Second of all, Regulus is enough of a cat person for both of us.”
“I was genuinely afraid we’d come home and find out he’d adopted eight kittens while he was still living with us. Dorcas, is that it?”
“That’s it,” she confirmed, still dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “Great job, you guys killed it. Thanks for watching everyone, and make sure to stay updated with Lion Pride social media!”
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an olliewicks flower shop au to soothe the soul! this is somewhat based on mine and @tingo-tango’s tags on this post.
fields of flowers, soft beneath my heels
Ollie’s wrist-deep in a pot of soil, sweat rolling down his cheeks and sunlight streaming through the windows of Faber’s Flowers, when the shop’s bell rings and a new customer stumbles through the door. Ollie frowns slightly and hastily wipes the beads of sweat off his chin with the corner of his shirt, before plastering on his best customer service smile to greet whoever needs flowers at 7:30 am on a Tuesday morning. He mentally catalogues the possibilities; maybe they’ve forgotten their spouse’s birthday? Or maybe it’s a gift for someone at work? Maybe it’s an apology present because they accidentally cycled into a fruit stall and ruined a fresh batch of melons?
(Okay, maybe not, but it would be a refreshing change in the cycle of constant businessmen grovelling for their partner’s forgiveness)
Ollie shakes himself from his thoughts and grins across the counter at the customer, who’s sporting a baseball cap and a t-shirt that sits just right across his broad shoulders. Ollie’s eyes track down the guy’s biceps which are a tad too big for the sleeves. Ollie consciously shut his mouth to stop himself from gaping; this guy was hot. As Ollie’s gaze roams across the customer’s face to meet his eyes, he realises three things. Number one is that he definitely shouldn’t be ogling a customer like he’s a piece of meat. Number two is that he hasn’t said anything to this guy yet. Number three is that at least a minute of awkward silence and staring has passed since the customer entered the shop.
Ollie rips his eyes away from the customer’s face to stare at a spot slightly behind his left shoulder. “Hi! What can I help you with today?”
The guy shifts on the balls of his feet, scanning the shelves of bouquets and individual flowers. “Erm, I’m looking for a bouquet of flowers for my mom?” His voice raises at the end of his sentence, which is kind of cute, if Ollie does say so. He rubs the back of his neck and his checks flush pink. “I kinda need to apologise to her.”
Ah, a classic apology scenario. Got it.
“What’s the apology for?” Ollie asks as he turns to the sink behind the counter to wash his hands. “Not that you have to tell me that is; it just might help as we make the bouquet.” He unravels the roll of tissue paper and cuts off a square to package the flowers in.
Hot Guy winces. “Ah,” he says, “I kinda got into a fight in front of her the other night. She was not happy to say the least, so I figured I might as well get her some flowers to apologise for it.”
“Cool, cool.” Ollie grins at him. “What kinda flowers do you want for her?” He gestured to the whole shop, where various buckets of flowers lined the walls, each displaying a different species. “We can get her just a plain old bunch that’s all just the same type of flower, or we could mix and match, create a nice piece of artwork that she’ll admire rather than a bunch that’s boring and all the same.”
Hot Guy’s eyes flick up from the counter and meet Ollie’s own, moving slowly up his body. If Ollie was feeling particularly optimistic, he’d say the guy was checking him out, but he pushes that thought to the corner of his mind because he’s made way too many faux-pas in the past by asking out guys that have come into the shop just for all of them to be straight. Hot Guy clears his throat. “Yeah, a mixture sounds good. I know her favourite flowers are hyacinths if that helps?”
“That’s perfect.” Ollie shoots him the most reassuring smile he can think of, eyes softening. He grabs the bucket of blue hyacinths that sit behind him. “These alright?”
“Yeah, those are great,” Hot Guy says a little hoarsely, squinting at Ollie’s name tag, “Ollie.” Something settles in Hot Guy’s voice and he seems a bit more comfortable.
“So, why'd you get into a fight in front of your mom?” Ollie reaches for the bucket of Narcissus behind him and waves a bunch at Hot Guy for affirmation. He nods in return. “Doesn’t seem like the best idea to me-” Ollie trails off, hoping that Hot Guy might get the hint and finally introduce himself.
“Oh, uh, Pacer.” He coughs and the remaining tension leaks out of his posture. “Nah, a guy said something about Ma, and you know, I had to rush to defend her like the rash idiot I am.”
Ollie laughs. “At least, it’s one of the more noble reasons to get into a fight. There’s a bit more chance of forgiveness, then.”
Pacer nods and his gaze wanders away from where Ollie is deftly making the bouquet to settle on the purple Clematis.
“You like them?” Ollie makes a ‘gimme’ motion with his hands and Pacer passes the bucket over to him. Their hands briefly brush each other during the exchange and Ollie does everything in his power to ignore the jolt that goes through him at that brief skin to skin contact. “You’ve got a good eye; I was just about to grab them myself.”
“Yeah, my mom loves blue and yello-” Pacer cuts himself off with a sneeze. “Also, aren’t they the colours of the local hockey team around here? The Falcons?” Although he has a completely clueless tone to his voice, Pacer is studying Ollie’s reaction as if it might reveal the secrets of the universe.
“Yeah, the Falcs! I only get to see them every so often, but they’re great,” Ollie says, doing his level best to ignore Pacer’s sudden intensity. “I was actually on the same team as Jack Zimmermann in college, which was pretty cool.”
“Really?” Pacer’s enigmatic expression becomes even more indecipherable. “That is pretty cool.” He looks slightly over his shoulder towards the street before meeting Ollie’s eyes and flashing a genuine smile at him. “I actually played a bit of hockey myself, you know.”
Ollie tries to convince himself that the bubble of excitement that rushes through him is because Pacer is such a good conversationalist and not for any other reason, like the fact that they have a couple of things in common, or that Pacer is one of the hottest guys he’s ever seen.
(He fails.)
_X_
Pacer leaves about forty minutes later, with a bouquet and handwritten note in hand and a smile fixed firmly on his face. When Ollie goes to scrub down the counter and start repotting the plant he’d abandoned when Pacer had arrived, he spots a scrap of paper that definitely hadn’t been there before. The note is pretty cute; it’s a string of numbers and a smiley face, accompanied by a couple of lines from Pacer.
Would you like to go I would have asked you out earlier, but my tea friend always says it’s bad form to hit on workers whilst they’re on shift. Anyway, here’s my number if you want to go out some time? Call m Don’t worry if you don’t though!
- Pacer
Ollie grins as he opens up his phone to add the number to his contacts, but pauses as he sees a Google Alert come through that he’s set up for the Falcs. The text reads, Providence Falconers acquire forward Pacer Wicks from Colorado Avalanche in exchange for a second round pick in the 2022 NHL Draft, and immediately underneath the caption, Pacer’s smiling face stares out at him.
Pacer’s voice echoes in his mind. “I actually played a bit of hockey myself.”
Played a bit of hockey himself? Ollie cannot believe this guy. He plays in the fucking NHL and all he says is “I actually played a bit of hockey myself.”
However, Ollie thinks as he opens up the article to see a picture of a bruised Pacer from his last game with the Avs, it would explain why he needed to apologise for fighting in front of his mom.
_X_
Now that Ollie is aware of Pacer Wicks’ existence, he seems to follow him everywhere. Well, not Pacer exactly, but his name.
It begins, like many things, at the grocery store.
“Excuse me?” the cashier asks, as she’s scanning his groceries two days after Pacer first came into the florist’s. “Are you that hockey player? Pacer Wicks?”
Ollie furrows his eyebrows. He doesn’t think that him and Pacer look that similar, but then again, Pacer’s only been in Providence a couple of days, so people don’t exactly know what he looks like yet. “No, sorry.”
The cashier purses her lips, taking a moment to study him again before ringing him up. “Huh, sorry! You guys just look really alike is all.”
“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Ollie gathers up his groceries. “These things happen sometimes.”
(He almost texts Pacer to tell him about it, but, as Ollie looks at the clock on his phone, he realises that Pacer probably isn’t going to want to receive a message about how someone thought they looked similar mid-way through his game against the Pens.
Also, he’d have to wish him luck and honestly, as much as Ollie loves the Falcs, he wouldn’t wish them too much luck against his hometown team.)
_X_
ollie
hey! i’ve finished off that other apology bouquet for your ma!
let me know when you want to swing by and pick it up!
also i was watching the game tonight; do you need me to make up another identical one for your ma, or do you wanna come into the shop to choose this one?
pacer
thanks ol! i’ll probably swing by to pick it up tomorrow and then help make the next one at the same time?
ollie
sounds like a plan!!
_X_
When he said these things happen sometimes to that cashier in the grocery store, he didn’t expect them to happen all the goddamn time. Be it at his favourite café, on the street, or on the commuter rail, someone always, always, asks if he’s Pacer Wicks.
_X_
ollie
oof that hit from eriksen looks like it’s gonna leave a mark
pacer
yeah, half my face is swollen
ollie
yikes
pacer
i assume we’re still on for dinner in a couple of days right?
even if my stunning visage has been marred by the fists of a schooner
ollie
that was a very weird way of putting it
but yeah, i still wanna go out with you even if your face looks like a dodgeball
_X_
A girl taps him on the shoulder at Bitty’s Bites downtown. “Excuse me, are you Pacer Wicks?”
Ollie smiles sheepishly at her, brandishing his coffee cup with a scrawled Oily on it as if it might keep the Pacer Wicks fans away. “Sorry, you’ve got the wrong dude.”
He hurries out of there as quickly as his legs can take him after that, hands fumbling for his phone so that he can text Pacer about it.
ollie
jdshjkdsjh a girl just asked if i was you
pacer
oh?
ollie
yeah, i don’t really know why so many people ask if i’m you
especially as they usually ask when you’re on a roadie??
so i don’t get why they know who you are without knowing the falcs’ schedules
pacer
maybe they’re a fan of my dashing good looks rather than my hockey?
isn’t that why you agreed to go out with me after all?
Ollie grins to himself before sending back three words.
don’t push it
_X_
He’s less generous to the guy on the commuter rail, but in fairness that’s mainly because he stole the last seat just before Ollie could get there and it’s 6:30 in the morning.
“Hey, aren’t you that hockey pl-?”
Ollie barely looks up from his phone before cutting him off with a sharp “No.”
_X_
Today, someone even asks him at the flower shop.
“No,” he says, heaving the deepest sigh he can whilst still remaining in customer service mode, “I think Pacer Wicks might have other things to do on a Saturday afternoon than work the till at a flower shop.” He shuts the cash drawer on the register with a bang and hands the customer their change and bouquet as quickly as he can. “Thank you for shopping with us! Enjoy your day!”
He collapses back onto the wooden stool that he keeps behind the counter, taking a breather for approximately five seconds before a laugh echoes through the shop. Ollie jumps half a foot in the air before locating Pacer, who’s stood in the corner of the shop inspecting a piece of sea holly.
He’s dressed up pretty nicely considering hockey players’ notoriously bad fashion sense, wearing a button-up, a nice pair of jeans that do all the right things for his hockey butt, and his ever-present baseball cap, but this time, unlike his first visit to the shop, it’s sat backwards on his head. He spins around to face the back of the shop, grinning his face off. “I’m impressed by the fact that she asked you that whilst I was standing in the shop and she still didn’t notice me.” He laughs, smirking across at Ollie. “Does that happen often?”
“Yeah, some people are surprisingly oblivious sometimes,” he says, “but also, I don’t look that much like you?” He pauses, trying to work out what Pacer’s face means. He places his hands on his hips and jokingly rounds on Pacer. “Do I?”
Pacer chuckles, taking a few steps closer so that he’s leaning against the counter. “Not that much, but would it be so bad if you looked like me?” A mock-wounded expression plays across his features as he presses his hand to his chest.
Ollie takes off his apron and hangs it up behind the counter. “Nope, because you are extremely hot.” He threads his fingers through the hockey player’s belt loops to pull him closer, feeling emboldened by Pacer’s flirting. “And if that means that people are inadvertently calling me hot whilst asking if I’m you?” He shrugs. “I can live with it.”
Pacer has to lower his gaze to meet Ollie’s eyes, the two inch height difference between them clearly obvious, even if Ollie is six foot, thank you very much. “You were right about something though,” Pacer murmurs, “I do have better things to do than stand in a flower shop on a Saturday afternoon.”
“Like what?” Ollie raises an eyebrow.
Pacer smiles softly down at him, taking his hand and interlacing his fingers with Ollie’s. “Like taking the cute florist that works there on a date for starters.” Pacer starts to move them towards the shop’s entrance. “There’s this lit-” He sneezes abruptly.
Ollie tilts Pacer’s head downwards. “That’s like the fourth time you’ve sneezed in the shop.” He rubs his thumb over his cheek, frowning when he sees that Pacer’s eyes are slightly red. “Are you okay?”
Pacer waves him off. “Yeah, it’s fine; my antihistamines just wore off.”
His-? Ollie furrows his eyebrows before leading his date out of the shop. “Pacer, are you allergic to flowers?”
“No?” Pacer’s sheepish and slightly bunged up reply says everything that Ollie needs to know.
“Fuck, Pace, why have you been coming to the shop so much if you’re allergic? Surely you don’t like the aesthetics of flowers that much that you need to torture your sinuses every spare minute of the day.” Ollie pinches the bridge of his nose, voice full of exasperation.
Pacer holds his hands up in surrender. “In my defence, the first few times were because I did need to buy Ma flowers, but I didn’t keep coming back because the flowers were pretty.” He pulls Ollie close and frames his face with his hands. “I came back because the florist was.”
_X_
The final time Ollie is mistaken for Pacer is five years later as he’s heading towards the arena for Pacer’s final game of the season. In fairness, dressed in a Wicks jersey and a Falcs snapback, he probably looks more like Pacer now than he has at any time since he first got mistaken for him in the grocery store.
“Excuse me?” A teenager taps him on the shoulder, their arm slung around a friend. “Are you Pacer Wicks?”
Ollie grins at the kid. “Nope,” he says, trying not to take too much joy in the hope fading from the fan’s eyes before he drops the bombshell, “I am his husband though.”
“Really?” The teenager’s eyes light up. “You’re not kidding, right?”
“Nope.” Ollie holds up his phone screen to show the kid a photo of Pacer kissing his cheek, just so that they know he’s not lying. “D’you wanna meet him after the game?” He smirks at them. “After all, I do know a guy.”
#the formatting's kinda whack#but it's late#so i'll format it properly when i post it on ao3 tomorrow#ollie and wicks#my writing#omgcp#it's like 3k i'm so sorry
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Work In Progress Wednesday
So! I’m releasing the first chapter of a new fic tomorrow so how about a preview? The first 4 and a half of 6 (or possibly 7) chapters are written so I’ll do a chapter a week. I’ll put the preview below the cut.
Rating: M
Chapters: 6 or 7
Title: In This Lifetime or the Next
Pairing: InuKag
Summary: The dreams have started. Inuyasha knows what it means, knows what comes next. His soulmate is alive and she’s ready to be found; but this time, he is not ready to find her. Because he is cursed. Because every time he finds her, she dies. Because she’s never lived more than a year after the first dream.
It shouldn’t be possible to get a demon this drunk.
“What do you mean you’re not going to look for her?” Koga asked, leaning over the bar and eyeing the woman serving drinks, again. His speech wasn’t slurred but he had no volume control and he was swaying dangerously on the flimsy barstool.
“Will you keep your eyes in your fucking skull for five minutes?” Inuyasha asked, snapping his fingers in Koga’s face to draw his attention. “Aren’t you seeing someone?”
Koga scowled and turned back to his friend, swatting at the offending hand. “She kicked me to the curb. Said I wasn’t spending enough time with her or some shit. Whatever, you didn’t answer my question.”
The bartender came over to check on them and gave Koga the stink-eye when he tried to wiggle his eyebrows at her. When she walked away, Inuyasha said, “No wonder you dragged me out tonight. And seriously, the bartender isn’t interested. She can probably spot an asshole a mile away and you’re a giant flashing sign that just screams ‘asshole.’”
Koga scowled. “Fuck off and answer my question. You’ve done this, what, like five times now?”
He sighed, trying not to think about the specifics and failing. “Seven and I can’t fucking do it again. I’d rather be alone than-”
“Oh, cry me a fuckin’ river,” Koga growled and downed the rest of his drink in a single gulp. He slammed his glass back on the bar, drawing a few angry looks from other bar goers and the bartender. “What if this time is different?” He swayed dangerously on his stool and Inuyasha tensed, waiting to see if he’d have to play catch.
“You’re really fucking drunk,” Inuyasha pointed out. “Which is amazing for a full demon. And what if it isn’t? Why the fuck would it be any different this time around?” He put a hand up for the bartender to settle their tab. The wolf had had enough.
“You think...fuck. I should call her,” Koga mused, his mind jumping topics at a speed only achievable when shit-faced.
Inuyasha rolled his eyes, knowing where this was going and asking anyway. “Call who?”
“My woman.” Koga started to tilt and Inuyasha shot a hand out to steady him. He should have just let the asshole fall. Luckily, the bartender was already there, taking Inuyasha’s credit card.
“Fucking hell, wolf shit. You’re not drunk calling your god damn ex.” One hand on his drunk friend’s shoulder, Inuyasha fished two 20s out of his wallet to throw to the bartender. She earned it dealing with Koga the last few hours. She took it with a grateful smile, handing his card back.
“Good luck with him,” she said, pointing at Koga without taking her eyes off Inuyasha. “Be safe and enjoy the rest of your night.” She shot one more look at him before sauntering off to wait on other customers. He was used to the looks his silver hair and gold eyes earned him. Even among demons he was exotic, an attractive novelty with fluffy fucking ears.
“Let’s get out of here.” Inuyasha stood and dragged Koga out of the bar.
When they were safely outside, he pulled out his phone to call for a ride. Carrying an inebriated demon halfway across the city was not high on his list of things he wanted to do on a Friday night. He debated who his best option would be. Miroku was spending the night with his girlfriend, probably being gross, so that was a no-go. Jinenji would be up but the guy was way too nice to put him through drunk-Koga hell and his wife would give Inuyasha an earful for dragging him out. Ginta or Hakaku would be ignoring calls, knowing how Koga got after a break-up. Shiori would do it but he didn’t want a woman for Koga to focus his attention on. Fuck.
He was gonna have to call the fox.
He popped in his custom-made earpiece (because it’s impossible to find earbuds that fit when you have dog ears) and scrolled through his contacts until he found who he was looking for. Shippo answered and it was clear he had been informed of things that Inuyasha had not. “Yo. Lemme guess: Koga’s break-up hammered and you need a ride?”
“How am I the last to hear about him getting dumped?” He growled and scowled at Koga. It was definitely a conspiracy.
“Someone had to deal with it and you seemed like the best option.” He could practically hear the fucker smirking. Yep, they’d set him up.
“Just get your ass down here.” He gave Shippo the address, keeping one eye and ear focused on Koga. At least Shippo was close by.
Turning his full attention back to Koga, he noticed the phone in his hand a little too late.
"Listen, I’m not even mad about that anymore. How about I come over there now and we can make up. I learned this new trick with my tongue and-" Koga didn't get to finish his sentence because Inuyasha snatched his phone away.
"First, gross. Second, what'd I fucking tell you? No drunk calls to your fucking ex." He glared at Koga, contemplating murder and the best place to dump a body, until a quiet voice distracted him. The ex was still on the phone.
"Hey, anyone still there?"
Shit.
“Hey,” Inuyasha said, holding the phone so they could hear each other more clearly. It was awkward at best with his ears on top of his head but his half-dog-demon hearing made up for it. “Sorry about the asshat, I wasn’t paying enough attention.”
“Oh, it’s alright. I was kinda expecting it anyway,” she said and sighed. “I shouldn’t have answered my phone in the first place so it’s partially my fault.”
Inuyasha growled, fighting the urge to punch Koga in the throat. The woman’s voice was soft and sweet, gently caressing his sensitive ears. The thought of Koga getting anywhere near someone who sounded so...so pure made Inuyasha’s blood boil. “Keh, not your fault he’s an asshole.” Said asshole was making grabbing motions for his phone but Inuyasha swept a leg out casually, Koga’s ass meeting the ground hard enough that Inuyasha heard his teeth clack together. “Don’t worry, I’m not giving him his phone back until he’s sobered up a bit.”
“How much has he had to drink? It takes a lot to get a demon that drunk,” she commented.
“Too much, clearly. I can’t promise he won’t try to call you again when I’m done babysitting his ass. Want me to delete your number from his phone?”
“Hmm, it’s tempting but no.” She sniffled and he wondered briefly if she’d been crying. Just because she was the one doing the dumping didn’t mean she couldn’t be upset about it. “Is he...well, really upset? It wasn’t a...a nice breakup. I kind of...um...well, I accidentally shocked him with my reiki when he wouldn’t leave and I uh, I feel kinda bad.”
Inuyasha couldn’t stop the bark of laughter that escaped his throat. “You what? I mean, I’m sure he deserved it.” Koga grumbled from the ground beside him but Inuyasha ignored him.
“Don’t laugh,” she said but he could hear the amusement in her voice and the poorly stifled giggle. “I never trained beyond keeping it in so sometimes it just...escapes.”
He shook his head and chuckled but reigned in his mirth quickly. “You, uh...are you alright?” he asked, genuinely concerned for the woman even though he’d never met her.
“Oh, yeah.” She sighed and sniffled again. “I mean, I’m as good as I can be after something like that. Thank you though, for asking. Um...what was your name?”
“Oh, uh Inuyasha.” Should he have been on the phone this long with his friend’s ex? Absolutely not. Did he care at the moment? Also absolutely not. His brain was scrambling for a way to keep her talking so he could hear more of her melodic voice. His instincts were shouting at him to comfort and protect the woman on the other end of the phone. He needed to put a stop to that and soon.
“Well uh Inuyasha, my name’s Kagome. Thank you and, um...it was nice to meet you, kind of. Oh, I mean, it was nice to meet you but we only kind of met. Not ‘it was kind of nice to meet you’...um, shit. I’m rambling, sorry.” She giggled and he could feel his ears twitching at the sound. It was fucking adorable.
The awkwardness of it all made him chuckle. “I get it. You too, Kagome.” He liked how it felt saying her name. “And if asshat bothers you again, just let me know and I’ll deal with him for you.”
She giggled again and it just wasn’t fair what it was doing to him. “Will do. I...um, I gotta go. Bye, Inuyasha.”
“Bye, Kagome.” He was sure he was grinning like an idiot by the time he hit the end call button. Hopefully, Koga was too drunk to notice.
“Gimme my phone back, shit-breath.” Koga had managed to get himself back to his feet at some point and was making a more focused grab for his phone. His scowl was a good indicator that he’d heard a good bit of the conversion. Inuyasha didn’t miss the way his eyes narrowed when Inuyasha finally let the smile fall.
“Here, fuckface.” He tossed the phone in the air, Koga catching it with ease despite his drunkenness; he was already starting to sober up.
The blare of a car horn made them both jump. “You two assholes call for a ride?” Shippo yelled out the window. “Hope you know, I charge by the minute.”
Inuyasha pushed Koga into the car, trying and failing to not think of Kagome, thoughts of his soulmate forgotten for the time being.
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Gateway Drug | Part Sixty-Nine
A/N: soooooo, last minute I decided to torture you guys:) I made the chapter into 2 parts, next part will be posted tomorrow night. I'm prepared to be cussed out in the comments 😤 love y'all tho
Also, I'm saving the picture for the next part because *cough cough* so I'm sorry if this appears a little naked.
Words: 2.6k
Warning(s): explicit language, mentions of drug abuse
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S e p t e m b e r 1 9 8 7
“Where are you--”
I’m shut up with the sound of Nikki slamming the door before I can finish asking him where he’s going, and I let out a heavy breath.
"--Going." I finish my question with a heavy sigh.
We’ve only been off the road for a couple days and tomorrow is our last day home, so we decided it’d just be easier for us to stay at the house instead of one of us sleeping elsewhere, but he’s been staying somewhere else every night we’ve been home...I don’t want to know who he’s been staying with or what they’ve been doing, so I haven’t bothered to ask.
I glance at the clock, seeing it’s 5:47pm, and go ahead and assume that since he’s been leaving the house around this time every day and hasn’t been coming back until the next morning, that he’s not coming home again until tomorrow.
Which means I’m by myself, being that Karen is on a small vacation ever since we’ve been home and she hasn’t been having to watch our house.
“Great.” I sarcastically mumble to myself, deciding to start on dinner, Whisky staying under my feet. "If Daddy isn't careful, I'm going to choke him with his own hair." I say to him and he looks up at me with a wagging tail and big smile. "Glad we can agree."
I get one pan out of the cabinet before I’m putting it on the counter, and sighing out.
“You know what? I don’t want to cook.” I state, putting the pan back, shutting the cabinet door, and stepping to the phone, dialing a number.
It rings a couple times before the line is picked up, and I smile at the voice on the other end.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Stevie, it’s Viv.” I tell him.
“Hey, babe, what's going on?" He asks me.
"I'm looking for Duff, do you know where he is?"
"He's in the shower." He replies. "You want me to tell him you're on the line?"
"No, it's okay, just tell him to gimme a call ba--"
"--Duff, it's Viv!" I hear Steven scream and I cringe, pulling the phone away from my ear a little.
I hear Duff's muffled reply, opening my mouth to tell Steven that I'll call back later, but I'm being cut off again.
"I said, 'Viv's on the line'!" Steven yells again, hearing Duff respond. "He's coming." Steven assures me.
"Stevie, you could've waited until he was out of the shower." I comment.
"Trust me, Viv, he would want me to interrupt him if it's for you." He states. "Ok, he's here, I love you, bye."
"Love you, bye." I reply.
"Hey." Duff takes over.
"Hey, I'm sorry I interrupted your bathing, I tried telling Stevie you could just call me back later."
"No, no, Viv, you're fine." He assures me.
"Oh."
"What's up?" He asks and I look around my kitchen.
"Um...I was just wondering if you're free tonight?"
The line is quiet for a second and I raise my brows, rubbing my lips together, waiting for him to say something.
"...Hello?"
"Oh, yeah, s-sorry, you wanna do something or something or--I mean, like you wanna hangout? B-Because I'm free, ya know. Yeah." He stutters out awkwardly and I hold back a laugh.
"Smooth." I hear Steven comment in the background.
"Dude, shh!" Duff replies in a whisper. "Um, anyway, yeah, I'm not busy."
"Okay, I was gonna order take out if that's okay with you?"
"Whatever you want is fine with me." He offers.
"Okay." I reply.
There's a long pause and the both of us finally try to talk at the same time:
"Alright, well--"
"Cool, so--"
We stop for a second, the two of us chuckling a little.
"Sorry, you go." He tells me.
"I was gonna say, 'I'll see you in a few minutes'." I say.
"Good deal, I'll see you then." He agrees.
"Okay."
"Okay."
Again, another awkward silence.
"...Okay."
"Okay."
The phone is suddenly hanging up, the dial tone in my ear, and I quirk a brow, before putting the phone back on the hook.
I wasn't sure why things were so freaking awkward with us, nothing had changed, nothing had happened. I hadn't seen him since the Playboy shoot a month and a half prior, so I didn't understand what exactly shifted.
I hear the doorbell ring and Whisky starts barking while I grab the Chinese takeout boxes and some silverware.
"Whisky, who is it?" I ask him sweetly as I step to the door, opening it to see all six feet, four inches of Duff.
He's in a CBGB t-shirt and black jeans, a bag of gummy worms and a six pack of Pepsi in hand.
"Hi." He says, and I step aside and let him in as Whisky immediately starts sniffing at him, starting at his boot, up his leg, and I politely keep him from getting too personal as soon as his nose goes for his crotch.
"Ohhhkay, Whisky, that's enough." I tell him, nudging him away from Duff as he hands me the Pepsi and candy, crouching down to pet him.
"No, it's fine. He's just trying to know me." Duff chuckles, he and Whisky bonding the second his fingers move over the back of Whisky's ears, making him melt like butter in Duff's hands.
After a few minutes of me putting our food on plates and him going to wash his hands, we're finally eating in the living room floor, at the coffee table, with the dog eating his food several feet away, despite coming over to try to eat some of ours every now and then.
"So, like, apparently Nikki's trying to get you guys a spot on the tour." I inform him and he raises his brows.
"Really?"
"Yeah. Slash and Stevie have been conspiring and shared it with Nikki...and he loves you guys so he and Tommy and Vince and Mick are down for it. He's been pestering Doc and Doc said he'd contact your manager a little later." I add.
"Well, we've got some shows coming up to promote the album but, I mean, I don't see the harm in going on tour with them." He shrugs. "It'd be good exposure."
"It would."
"I don't know." He shakes his head a little, swallowing another bite of Lo mein, and I furrow my brows. "I just expected more people to buy 'Appetite'. And they would, if we had our video on MTV, and radio actually played us." He vents. "We're just chomping at the bit, ready to run our asses off the second the race starts, and nobody's firing the fucking starting gun."
The radio was afraid to play them, MTV refused to put their video for "Welcome to the Jungle" on air because John Malone (who owned half of the cable-houses that broadcasted MTV) only saw them as a heroin band, and promoting them wouldn't sit right with his strong Republican, conservative,"christian" morale...so he threatened to drop MTV if they played Guns N' Roses.
"I can talk to Doc and see if he can pull any strings. I mean if they'll play Mötley Crüe--"
"--Tom is vouching for us to anyone that will listen." He explains. "Right now it's not something to worry about, but if it's still like this six months from now, we need to panic a little."
"There's no way in hell it's gonna take six months for you guys to pick up traction." I state in disbelief.
"Viv--"
"--If six months from now you guys still aren't on MTV, I'll harass whoever I need to, to make it happen. I'll go to their houses." I promise and he shakes his head, chuckling.
I was serious, and I ended up delivering on that.
"None of them are worth the trouble. Just a bunch of money-hungry hypocrites hiding behind religion to validate their assbackwards logic." He shrugs.
"You sound like my dad." I point out and he smiles, taking another bite of food as I sip from my bottle of Pepsi.
He stares at me for a moment before I'm raising my brows, silently asking him what's up.
"So, like, how is your dad so cool and your mom is so…" he trails off and I take a breath, shrugging a little.
"That's how she was raised. I mean, I know that's not an excuse but her mom and dad were both that way on her and my aunt--my aunt obviously cracked under the pressure and just gave up trying to please them back when she was a teenager. My grandparents have been dead for years now but my mom still acts like she's trying to make them happy." I mumble. "Which, according to my dad, she wasn't always like that. She did a small 'wild' thing one time, and got knocked up with me."
"What?!" He gawks.
"They got married seven months early to avoid her parents knowing what they had done." I add.
"Dude, imagine losing your virginity and getting pregnant from it." He tries to hold back a laugh.
"My mom always told me I was planned, and once I was old enough to do the math between my birthday and their anniversary, I put the pieces together and my dad finally told me what happened when I turned sixteen."
He nods, and licks his lips, awkwardly clearing his throat before saying:
"So...what about your first time?"
I scoff, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
"Um, seventeen, Nikki, their roach-motel apartment."
"You've only dated one guy?"
"Yeah." I nod.
"Wow…" he says it like it's hard to believe.
"What's that mean?"
"I just expected you to have dated a couple more guys before settling on Nikki." He replies.
"I didn't settle for Nikki." I tell him, matter of fact. "Being with him was a good idea at the time." I add.
"Nah, I get it. That's how it was with my first big-boy girlfriend."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"What happened to her?"
He takes a second, taking in a heavy breath, but trying to keep things light with his smile.
"We were, like, kids basically. Like sixteen/seventeen, and I had to go out of town to visit some family, and when I got back she told me she had hooked up with this dude at a party while I was away. And we broke up, and then got back together, and then things were good for another year until the big heroin epidemic hit Seattle." He informs me. "It got its hooks in her and wouldn't let go. I finally just had to break things off because I couldn't watch her kill herself in an overdose like some of my friends had already done, and I left for L.A. shortly after. I know that's selfish but ignorance is bliss. I don't think I'd be able to live with myself if I were to ever find out she'd died." There's a small gloss to his eyes, like he's holding back a few tears.
"That's not selfish." I tell him, shaking my head. "Some people aren't meant to be in our lives forever. Some are just there to grow you in some way and if it's not God's will for them to stay around you he gives you the strength to just walk away." I suggest.
"Is that what's happening with you and Nikki?" He asks next, looking at me. "He's giving you the strength to walk away?"
"God's ignoring me currently so I wouldn't know." I admit. "He wants me to stay with Nikki, but Nikki won't even say whether or not he truly wants a divorce. He just avoids the conversation. I think he feels like if he ignores it, the issue will resolve itself."
"Well...what do you think? I mean, has anyone asked how you feel about this? Like having to make people think you guys are together and stuff."
"It doesn't really matter how I--or even Nikki--feels."
"Okay, Vivian, I didn't ask about Nikki, alright?" He politely tells me and I sigh.
"I'm miserable." I finally get it out. "We pose for pictures in magazines, still, a-and pile on the PDA anytime press is around and it freaking sucks. Because we're arguing more and more lately so it's like as soon as we get inside we're going back to being mean to each other. And I'm over him, like I've accepted the fact that we're more than likely divorcing, I've gotten all of it out of my system, but the waiting and dragging it out for another year is just getting to me." A couple tears topple over my lashes.
"If you want out then get out, Viv." He says to me.
"It's not that simple, Duff."
"Yes, it is. You're just waiting for Nikki to tell you he wants to work things out, and using Doc telling you guys to hold off on any decisions until the tour is over, as an excuse." He states, as noninvasive as possible and I hate to hear the truth. "If you wanna stay, stay, if you want to leave him, leave him. You shouldn't have to explain yourself either way. It's your own business but at least be honest with yourself and call it what it is."
"I will when you do." I argue and he looks at me with raised brows.
"Excuse me?"
"Oh, please, Duff, you act like this when you're sober but then when you're drunk you're telling me you love me." I state. "You're not being honest with yourself, either."
His brows furrow.
"Viv, what the fuck am I suppose to do? Huh? You're married. You've been married."
"Barely."
"What do you want me to do about it?" He defensively chuckles out.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"Nikki's done a lot for me and the band, and I don't want to disrespect you or him so I've kept to myself, alright? So just leave it at that and let's finish eating because I got rehearsal tomorrow." He tries to change the subject.
"He had an entire mistress, Duff, telling me how you really felt about me wouldn't have--"
"--You wanna know how I really feel about you? Fine. I don't understand how someone so beautiful and insanely kind could fucking exist, but you do. My hands get all weird and sweaty and gross when you're around. I can barely walk at times because my legs feel like jello anytime I'm talking to you. It pisses me off that you're so talented and a fucking genius but all you see is how you aren't good enough because you aren't the 'type' that guys like Nikki usually desire--but I'm telling you now, people stare at you anywhere we go like you're healing lepers or something and it's definitely not because they think you're ugly. I know what my boundaries are and would never purposely do something that would make you uncomfortable. I'm sorry I said that to you when I was shitfaced. I'd much rather have told you when I was sober, but there's never been a point of me telling you because--"
"--Tell me." I cut him short. "You're sober." I point out, shifting to my knees. "So tell me."
He licks his lips, his breathing picking up slightly as he looks me dead in the eyes.
"I love you." He tells me. "I love you, Vivian." He repeats it, more confidently. "I have since the day we met."
I nod a little, my eyes getting teary and I'm kissing him before I can talk myself out of it.
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I have a suggestion for the Meet Ugly Prompts! Can you do 36, Sternclay, NSFW? Thanks so much! :)
Here you go!
36. it’s mid-apocalypse and you break into my secret shelter and I swear I’ll kill you if you don’t give me three damn good reasons why I shouldn’t
Barclay is running out of daylight. It was worth it, he found two flocks of survivors, waited with them until Ned was able to get the car down and pick them up (the Lincoln is remarkably immune to hoards of undead/possessed humans). They’d told him there was another group further East, that they’d passed them the evening before and tried to link up for greater safety. So Barclay took his chances, just like everyone does these days, and gone to find them.
He’s found them; eight people, all prone on the ground, all with white ooze seeping from their mouths and the wounds on their bodies. Too late. He’s almost immune to being too late. Almost.
It’s not worth trying to dispatch all of them, he’ll lose what time he has left to find shelter if he does. He turns into the woods, trying to remember if he can make it to the cave up the rock-face or if he’ll be spending the night on the move.
His Sylph sense of smells picks up something human and he pauses, tilts his head and listens for footsteps. What he gets is the crunch of leaf litter behind him, from the clearing where he found the newly minted undead.
Maybe the person nearby has shelter. Maybe they’re vulnerable and need help.
Cautiously, he takes off his bracelet, and the scent becomes much stronger. He follows it, finds its source at a log. Kneeling down, he feels along the ground and finds metal beneath a full foot of dirt and leaves.
The sun goes down, and he shoves the log, sliding the hidden door open enough to drop down into the darkness and slide the door shut over him. A human couldn't manage the weight, but a Bigfoot certainly can.
Once in the holding room, he keeps the bracelet off long enough to spot a door to his right. He turns human, considers his options, and then politely knocks on the solid metal. No answer, but not moaning voices either.
He could probably manage the night in this holding area. But just to be safe…
He pulls out one of the last things they got from Heathcliffe prior to blowing the gate closed (for now. He hopes) to at least foil part of Reconciliation’s plan. A universal lock pick. Holding it against the metal, gears whir and tumblers fall until the door swings open. He steps through into a well lit bunker and is immediately greeted by the barrel of a handgun.
“Shut the door.”
Barclay shuts the door, keeps his hands up in surrender.
“Give me three good reasons why I shouldn’t shoot you.” The man, tall and lean and clearly comfortable with the weapon in his hand stares him down with steel in his blue eyes.
“I, uh, I’m on a rescue team, see?” He indicates the torn red patch on his jacket, the one volunteer rescuers got when this all went down.
“How do I know you didn’t steal that from someone who was?”
“Why the fuck would I do that?”
“I’ve run across no fewer than three groups of people claiming to be ‘helpers’ or to offer shelter who then, on all three occasions, tried to kill and eat me.”
“What the fuck, there’s still plenty of food places?”
A huff, “you seem genuinely indignant, so fine; one reason. You need two more.”
“I, I honestly didn’t know if anyone was down here, I just came down because it got dark. There was a party I, uh,” he swallows, ashamed, “I didn’t get to in time. They’re infected now and I didn’t want to get bit.”
“Shit, they’re close and you opened the main door?”
“And closed it!” Barclay says hurriedly, “but if they or anything else does get in, I swear I’ll help you. And I’m damn good in a fight.”
“One reason left.”
“I, I, uh, I’m a good cook?”
“How does that help us in this situation?”
“You still gotta eat, right?”
His walky talky crackles with Mama’s voice, “Barclay, you somewhere safe? Over.”
He doesn’t move.
“Bud, if you’re in trouble gimme your best guess at coordinates and I’ll come. Over.”
“Reason number four: if you kill me, you’ll be dealing with her, and I cannot stress how terrifying she is when someone she loves is hurt.”
The man hesitates, then lowers the gun, nodding. Barclay picks up the walky-talky.
“Found a bunker, staying the night, over and out.”
“Come on, then.” The man waves for Barclay to follow him into the main room, “but if you try anything, know I’m not a man of empty threats.”
“Clearly.” Barclay mutters, taking in the bunker; it’s well supplied, like a miniature house, and if one did not know what was going on outside, it would seem cozy. No longer with terror tunnel vision, he gets a better look at his reluctant host. Short, black hair that’s been combed back, sharp cheekbones and a clean-shaven, handsome face. He’s almost Barclay’s height, which is novel.
“So, uh, how’d you get such a sweet hiding spot?”
“I am, or was, an FBI agent. I knew where many of the apocalypse fallout shelters were, and was lucky enough to be near one when this all started. I was en route to a town called Kepler.”
“No shit.” Barclay sits down at the tiny kitchen table, “that’s where I’m from. Where we’ve been running the rescue missions out of.”
“I’ll admit I’m not up on how things are going outside. I lost contact with my superiors three days into the epidemic. They were my last tie to what was happening. As I said, the last times I went out to search for others, to try and help if I could, other people posed an issue.” He sighs, sits down across from Barclay, “I guess it’s nice knowing I rid the coming world of three groups of people who would eat others for fun.”
The implications of that statement take a moment to sink in and Barclay is torn between feeling sorry for how frightened the man must have been and understanding just how close he was to dying a few minutes ago.
“I’m sorry you’ve had such shit luck. Maybe the nice digs balance it out?”
A polite laugh, “they do. I was worried at first about getting lonely, but that’s not all that different from how my work life used to be. Most people don’t want to pal around with a man in black on a mission.”
“That does explain the suit.” Barclay points to the slacks and dress shirt the man is wearing and the jacket hung over a nearby chair.
The man blushes, “I, uh, I’ve only had my work clothes, most of which were suits. Plus, they make me feel a bit more like...well, like myself I guess. That’s always been my fear of apocalyptic scenarios; that’d I’d stop being me and become some faceless creature bent on survival.”
Barclay shudders, “yeah, I get that.”
A hand extends, blue eyes taking on a bit of warmth, “I’m Joseph. Joseph Stern.”
“Barclay.” Barclay shakes his hand, noting the way Joseph inhales sharply at the touch.
“Are you hungry? The food in here is about what you’d expect, but it’s still food.”
“Here, lemme see what I can do.”
Joseph shows him the shelves of canned food, instant ramen, and MREs, and Barclay sets to work in the weird little kitchen. The bunker must have a generator running of some non-electrical source of power, because he’s able to get a hotplate working. Cooking soothes him, a familiar rhythm in an alien space. Joseph sits nearby, sometimes talking with him and sometimes inventorying his supplies. It’s been awhile since he spoke this easily with someone; he loves his friends, but they can talk over him very easily.
When he presents the two bowls, Joseph’s face lights up.
“This, this looks amazing! How did you do this from all that? Wait, is that Spam?”
“Yep.” Barclay twirls some ramen on his fork, “adds a hell of a lot of salt and it’s actually pretty nice deep fried.”
Joseph takes a bite and moans, “lord, I’ve missed food. Er” he clears his throat, “that came out wrong.”
“Bit of a foodie are we?” Barclay teases, bumping Joseph’s shin with his toe.
“Yes, actually. I traveled a lot for work, and food is a great way to get to know a place. Plus, people always talk easier in restaurants, so it’s an excellent way to do recon.”
“What’s your favorite thing you’ve ever eaten?”
“Hmmmmmm. Is it tacky to say foie gras fries I had once?”
“No and holy shit that sounds good.”
“Oh, it was. I do love a good fried rice though; like, the kind you get from some hole in the wall place that just sells every kind of Asian cuisine mushed together.”
“Mmm, I haven’t made fried rice in awhile. Maybe I should do that when I get back.”
“Oh, right. How far is-”
The walky talky squeaks and Barclay grabs it in a flash.
“Mama, that you? Over.”
“Yep, it’s me. Indrid got a word to Aubrey through the ol’ third eye and says to stay indoors all through tomorrow and into the next day. Gonna rain buckets, make the roads rough for anyone who’s human but not that dangerous for an oozer. You feel me? Over.”
“Copy that. I’ll stay put here. Over.”
“We’ll let you know when it’s clear. Over and out.”
“Looks like I’m staying here a little longer.”
“That’s absolutely fine. Did she say third eye?”
“Uh, hey, you wanna grab dessert? I saw some Twinkies on those shelves and haven’t had them in ages.”
Joseph raises his eyebrow in a way that indicates he knows exactly what Barclay is doing, but follows him all the same. They spend the evening eating baked goods of dubious quality and talking on the couch. At some point Barclay adjusts, bumping against Joseph, but rather than pull away the agent just lays his legs across his lap. When the time comes to sleep, Joseph shows him to a bedroom behind yet another heavily fortified door.
“This is kinda…”
‘Grim? I agree.” They stand between the two small beds in the grey room, the lamp buzzing above them. Joseph’s is on the right, somehow more tidily made than the one that hasn’t been touched.
“We could, um, push them together. If that’s something you’re comfortable with. Might feel less like a prison and be warmer too.”
“Works for me.” Barclay pushes his bed away from the wall. Were it safe to do so, he’d show off, by lifting it over his head. He bets Joseph would like that.
Barclay waits until Joseph is changing into pajamas to strip down to his boxers and slide under the covers, not wanting to presume his comfort with Barclay’s mostly naked body. Judging by the appreciative look he gets when Joseph lifts the covers and stares, he didn’t need to be so concerned.
“Y’know, you can just ask for a hug.” He chuckles when he notices Joseph hesitantly inching closer.
“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortableAH.” He laughs as Barclay pulls him into a hug, smoothing his hands along his soft pajamas.
“Ohhhh” the sigh is soft, chaste, but still dripping with want, “this feels nice.” His fingers trail up and down Barclay’s chest.
“Mmm, but we both gotta rest up. Been a long day. Get some sleep, agent.”
Ever since the Reconciliation-generated illness broke the perimeter, the other Lodge residents have had trouble sleeping. Barclay’s gotten into the habit of kissing their foreheads; for his kind on Sylvain, it was always a gesture of protection. So when he kisses the top of Joseph’s head, it’s purely out of habit.
Joseph just sighs again and murmurs, “goodnight, Barclay.”
-------------------------------------------------
He wakes up before Joseph, gives him a much more deliberate kiss on the cheek and heads out into the main bunker. Makes coffee and a simple breakfast, revels in the delight on Joseph’s face when he walks out and sees the meal waiting for him.
They play cards after breakfast, Joseph better at BlackJack and Barclay better at poker. Try their hands at a chess match, though Barclay is rusty (but more than happy to let a handsome guy show off for him). Joseph digs out what books are available, so they can read now and then. But mostly, they just talk. Joseph talks about his work, about his interest in the paranormal. Barclay talks about the Lodge, his friends, offers a carefully edited series of stories from his traveling days.
They’re laid out on the couch, Barclay functionally spooning the smaller man as they read. He doesn’t notice he’s running his hand up and down his side until Joseph moans.
“Will, um, will you keep doing that? I, it’s been awhile since I’ve been touched like that. But, um, more to the point, I like it when you touch me. So, please?”
“Course.” Barclay grins, sets his book down so he can loop his other arm under Joseph’s head. He slows his strokes, takes time to savor the muscle he feels under the dress shirt. Even in his human form, he can smell that the agent is aroused. Then again, the fact he’s twitching his hips is kind of a give away.
Barclay rumbles out a laugh, leans forward and nuzzles the back of his neck, kissing it when Joseph gasps.
“Barclay, will you--that is, I want, unnnnfhcuck” He moans when Barclay gently nips the base of his neck, trailing little lovebites all over his throat.
“What is it babe? What do you want?” Barclay bites his ear just as he’s trying to answer, causing another whimper in place of a reply.
“Oh fuck you.” Joseph snickers, turning his head to kiss him, the awkward angle doing nothing to dampen the hunger in it.
“Can if you want to.”
“Good lord yes” Both Joseph’s hands find his arm, clinging to him as he wiggles his ass backwards to grind against him. Barclay’s cock eagerly responds, and Joseph groans, excited, “oh yes I like that very much.”
“Not sure you’re ready for that yet, babe. Much as I like the idea of cumming in you until you’re fucking dripping, rather be on the safe side and use a condom the first time I fuck you into the ground.”
“Figures that’s one of the things I haven’t found in this place.” Joseph grumbles as Barclay unbuttons his slacks.
“Think I got something you’ll like just as well.”
“Okay, oh, ohOkay.” Joseph tips inelegantly backwards as Barclay yanks off his pants and underwear. Barclay growls, hooks his legs over his shoulders and dives forward.
“FUCK” Joseph grips his head, pulling him closer as he laps at him, “ohlord, oh thank you, fuck.”
Barclay growls, does it again when the noise makes the agent tense and moan. Chuckles with each new sound of pleasure, drinking them in as he relishes Joseph filling his senses.
“Fuck, shit, Barclay you’re going positively wild and I love itGAHhhnnnyes.” Slick coats Barclay’s bear as he drags his face up so he can suck Joseph’s dick. God almighty does he want to be inside him, want to make him scream as he fucks him open in both forms, want to watch his body bounce and strain to take his Sylph form while those blue eyes go teary with pleasure.
He cups Joseph’s ass with both hands, pressing him as hard against him as he can manage, his focus stripped down to doing whatever it takes to make him cum.
“Fuck, fuck, Barclay, ohlordohfuckme, like that, please just like that.” His ass tenses under his hands and Barclay flicks his tongue out one last time as he cums, panting and still pleading for more.
Taking care not to actually hurt him, Barclay hauls Joseph so he’s laying on the couch before pouncing on him, kissing him until he’s gasping, growling and rumbling praise as Joseph manages to get his jeans open.
“That’s it babe, jack me off, lemme cum all over you, oh fucking-A that’s good.”
Joseph moans a little at the compliment, then smirks, “you have a thing for marking me, big guy?”
“Fuck yeah I do.” Barclay sinks his teeth into his shoulder, nearly howls when that makes Joseph speed up.
The agent swiftly undoes the buttons on his dress shirt, running his hands across his chest as he grins teasingly up at Barclay, “you want to cum on this, want me to let you make a mess of me?”
“Uhhuh, fuck, Joseph, you’re all mine babe, all mine.” He drops down to kiss him, pumping his hips so his cock fuck’s Joseph’s fist over and over again. He’s growling uncontrollably, kisses turning messy feral as he licks and nips at the human’s lips and neck.
When he cums he buries the sound against Joseph’s throat, praying he can’t notice how non-human it is. Glancing down gives him a perfect look at the last of his cum dripping onto the agent’s stomach, and he whines, low and animal, with affectionate want.
“That, that was, ha” Joseph kisses his cheek, “good lord I can’t remember the last time a hook up felt that good.”
“Glad you liked it.” Barclay smiles at him, kisses his nose.
“I did. I like you too, Barclay. So much.”
The come down on the couch together, cuddled up and trading innocent kisses between whispers of affection.
As they’re cleaning up, Barclay picks up the walky-talky, intending to call Mama for an update, “y’know, I meant to ask last night; what were you going to Kepler for?”
“My work with the UP. I was investigating a string of disappearances tied to Bigfoot.”
Barclay drops the device.
“I know, it sounds silly in the face of what happened next.”
“Uh huh, right, I mean, it’s good to have a goal-”
“Barclay, this is Mama, we got the all clear to pick you up. Over.”
Joseph looks at the radio, visibly sad but clearly resolve to the fact Barclay will leave him.
He could do just that. Leave him here to keep fending for himself. Pretend this never happened. Pretend he doesn’t matter.
Keeping an eye on Joseph, he gives Mama the nearest spot on the road to pick him up.
“And, uh, Mama? Tell Ned he’ll be picking up two people. I found someone I can’t bear to leave behind. Over.” He holds out his hand. Joseph looks at it, then around the room, then at his face.
Then he smiles, and takes his hand.
Barclay knows they’ll be explaining to do down the road. Bu right now, that doesn’t scare him. Right now, Joseph’s hand is in his, and that’s all that matters.
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It’s the End of the World as We Know It - Chapter 2
summary: During the international quarantine in your first-ever pandemic, the people around you slowly begin to disappear. As the world grows quieter and quieter, you find yourself all alone-- no power, no friends, and only one goal: to find whoever of your friends might be left and reunite with them.You're naive to think anything can be that simple. As you're faced with ever-increasing loneliness, you run into some boys who apparently went to the same high school as you. Will you join forces with them to figure out your strange circumstances together, or will you brave loneliness in a world that is slowly crumbling apart?
Link on AO3!
words: 3,341
rating: M - Mature
genre: angst/humor, romance, adventure, apocalypse AU, reader-insert
warnings: sort of depressing content, a smidge of violence, cursing
a/n: this one’s a little short, but please enjoy nonetheless!
- Can I Crash Here? -
It’s raining outside. You sit on a mattress that’s been grouped together haphazardly with a number of other mattresses in the dark, cold gym. Akaashi has been sitting next to you quietly this whole time, and you’re appreciative of the silent comfort. Indie lays at your feet, heaving a great sigh every now and then.
When you’d shown up at the gym, you were relieved beyond words to see some familiar faces-- even though you hardly knew these boys at all, they were still alive. You remember falling to your knees and screwing your eyes shut as the grief and fear from the past few weeks came pouring out of you in shaking sobs. Akaashi had been the one to awkwardly pat your shoulder, while Indie sniffed and licked at you nervously.
Somehow in your hysteria, you had been ushered to sit on a mattress while you sobbed into your knees. After a few minutes, you hesitantly looked up to find Akaashi next to you, and Bokuto and Kuroo kneeling in front of you with distress and hesitation-- of course they wouldn’t know what to do in this situation, as you hardly knew yourself.
Akaashi had gently asked you what happened, but you shook your head, unwilling to think of what you had just been through. You remember when a fresh wave of panic overcame you, and you had gasped, which only worried the boys even more.
“M-my car!” You ran your hand through your tangled hair. “I parked it outside the school-- shit, I’m sorry, I-- I didn’t even think-- oh, fuck, they’re gonna find me--”
“Hang on.” Kuroo asserted, placing a firm hand on your shoulder as he hooked you with a steely, calm gaze. You remembered how his bright eyes grounded you somehow, how they brought you back to the present. “We can drive your car over here and hide it. Here, gimme the keys. Akaashi, wait with her-- Bokuto, come with me.”
“Huh? Why do I have to come?” Bokuto exclaimed.
“In case I run into whatever’s got her so scared, I don’t wanna be alone.” Kuroo shrugged as he stood, your car keys having somehow made it into his palm.
“Ohhh, scared, are ya?” Bokuto teased.
“Yeah.” Kuroo said, and that definitely sobered up his spiky-haired friend as the gravity of the situation settled uncomfortably around you four. Bokuto had cleared his throat, and then he had patted your head awkwardly.
“Don’t worry! We’ll fix everything for ya.” He had beamed at you, but you could only stare blankly back. Bokuto shifted awkwardly, then gave Indie a few pats. “Good dog! Okay, we’ll be back. Take care of her, Akaashi!”
The two boys had left about ten minutes ago, and here you were, now sitting in the spacious, cold gymnasium of your high school next to a boy you barely knew who gave you poptarts only a day before. Was it a day? It feels like weeks ago.
You look up at the high ceiling as the rain pitter patters against it soothingly, and you can feel Akaashi’s gaze land on you at your movement. You lick your dry lips, and glance at him.
“A-are none of them awake?” You whisper, and you’re referring, of course, to the number of other sleeping humans surrounding you and Akaashi. The sleeping lumps are unidentifiable, as far as you’re concerned-- you’re surprised there are so many people grouped together in one place. There’s some snores here and there, but no one besides you and Akaashi are awake.
Akaashi shakes his head. “These guys can sleep through a fucking typhoon.”
You laugh a little, and Akaashi’s chest warms up a bit. It’s nicer to see you smile instead of cry. He clears his throat.
“So, what happened?” He asks quietly.
You bite the inside of your cheek and glance at him. He seems to always have the same calm, apathetic expression on his handsome features, but his voice is comforting and tinged with worry. The two of you have been sitting in the quiet for some time now, and you’re sure you gave him quite a scare upon your sudden arrival, so you suppose he deserves an explanation.
“Well, I… went home, unloaded some of my groceries.” You clear your throat. “Then, um, I tried to text my friend Callie, but it wouldn’t send, so I fell asleep. And then I woke up around 3:30 and heard some guys in my house…” Biting your lip, you remember being grabbed by the red-head, and subconsciously wrap your arms around yourself, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Akaashi. “Um, so then I ran out and drove here.”
Akaashi hums and studies you for a moment. He can tell you’re troubled, so he doesn’t want to press the subject. But he doesn’t want you to stay troubled.
“What’s his name?” He asks, petting Indie behind her ear.
“Indiana, Indie for short.” You smile sideways at him. “And she’s a girl.”
“My bad.” Akaashi returns your smile, glad to see you relax just a bit. “She’s trained really well.”
“Yeah, she tackled one of the guys back there.” You say proudly, but after you think about it for a second, you hope she didn’t kill him. Indie looks up at you, panting happily, and you give her a pat on the head.
“Damn. Guess we shouldn’t mess with you, then.” Akaashi sits back, and you suddenly notice how close the two of you are sitting. Maybe it’s the extreme lack of human contact you’ve had recently, or the fact that Akaashi is insanely cute, but you feel a blush creep up your neck despite yourself. It’s also stupidly late. And you’re tired.
You glance away from him as you hear footsteps outside the gym, and the doors open to reveal Kuroo and Bokuto, the latter twirling your car keys on his finger.
“We have hidden your car!” Bokuto announces triumphantly, and you shush him, only to find that he hasn’t actually disturbed any of the sleeping people behind you. Akaashi was right, you think as you glance at him again.
“Getting cozy while we were gone?” Kuroo grins, looking between you and Akaashi as the two close the doors behind them and walk up to you. You stand abruptly-- it’s the goddamn apocalypse, you don’t need a crush. Still, yet another blush creeps up your cheeks. Akaashi rolls his eyes as he stands up beside you.
“Where did you hide it?” Akaashi asks.
“Behind a tree.” Bokuto gives you your keys back.
“I should add, we also put some leaves over your car for added security.” Kuroo says, and you nod appreciatively.
“Just so long as you parked it near the gym, it should be out of sight from the street.” Akaashi yawns. You feel a wash of guilt at your realization that you’ve kept these guys up really late, after they’ve done who-knows-what kind of hard work during the day. Not everyone has your fucked up sleep schedule.
“Thank you so much-- um, I’m really sorry for keeping you guys up.” You say sheepishly.
“Don’t apologize!” Bokuto exclaims. “We were up when you got here anyways. Hey, here’s a question-- if your leg gets cut off--”
“We should get some sleep.” Kuroo cuts in. “As much as I’d love to hear her input on that topic, it can wait until the morning.”
Bokuto sighs in resignation, but rubs his eyes tiredly. He wanders over to his mattress and flops down, burrowing himself into his pile of blankets. Kuroo stretches, then stops abruptly as he whips around to look at you.
“Oh shit, where are you gonna sleep?” He asks you, then looks to Akaashi, who frowns.
“Oh, I can just sleep on the floor.” You wave your hand dismissively-- you really don’t want to put them out of any comfort.
“No.” The two boys say at once, and you’re a bit surprised at their severity. Bokuto is already snoring, much to your surprise.
“I’ll sleep on the floor-- you can sleep in my bed.” Akaashi offers, already pulling a blanket off of his mattress.
“Please, you can sleep in my bed.” Kuroo asserts, peeling off one of his own blankets. The two boys look at each other, and you could swear they were glaring.
“No!” You exclaim. “You guys already helped me enough-- plus, it’s cold as hell in here and sleeping on this cold floor is bound to make you sick, and you can’t get sick during the apocalypse-- do you know how easy it is to die from the common cold, especially when there’s no doctors around?!”
The two boys are a little taken aback by your exclamation, and so are you-- this is the most emotion you’ve shown in quite a while. You bite the inside of your cheek and frown, crossing your arms. “None of us are gonna sleep on the floor.” You assert, and Kuroo tosses his blanket back onto his bed.
“What do you suggest, then?” He asks, crossing his arms right back.
“You could sleep with one of us.” Akaashi says quietly, like that has zero implications whatsoever. Your eyes widen, and you’re so glad it’s dark in the gym because you’re sure that your face is as red as a tomato. Kuroo snickers.
“I’m down if you’re down.” He says teasingly, and raises his eyebrows at you.
“Up to you.” Akaashi adds quietly. Clearly, this decision is in your hands-- and you don’t want them to sleep on the floor, and you certainly don’t want to sleep on the floor yourself, and sharing a bed with one of them couldn’t possibly be that terrible, could it?
You gulp, and glance at the floor. Kuroo is hot, you’re not gonna lie-- you’re sure he pulled all the girls in school. He also seems like he’d be really nice to curl up against, since he’s much bigger than you are. And Akaashi, he already makes you feel safe. Plus, his broad shoulders and undeniably fit body cross your mind as you imagine how it’d feel to tuck your head under his chin...
You shake your head. Even though you are touch starved, you will not make things worse for yourself by imagining how it would feel to cuddle with any of these boys.
You clear your throat, aware of how long you’ve been silent.
“Um, I’ll sleep with Akaashi-- if, if that’s okay.” You mumble, hoping to any higher power that they can’t sense your immense embarrassment. Akaashi nods, though you don’t miss the almost triumphant look he tosses Kuroo’s way. The latter only shrugs, flopping down on his own mattress a couple beds over.
You bite your lip, unsure of where to look as you slip off your shoes, then begin to peel off your outer layers. Akaashi undoes his belt, and you look at him alarmingly. He looks confused for a second, then seems to realize what that might look like.
“U-um, I’m gonna keep my pants on.” He says, and it’s the first time you’ve heard him sound nervous. You nod quickly.
“Yeah, me too.” You hate sleeping in pants, especially jeans-- usually it’s a huge tee shirt and undies for you, but you are not about to strip down to only that with a boy you’ve only just met, no matter how cute he is. You slip off your socks, then sit on the mattress with your back to Akaashi. You feel the mattress dip as he sits down too, and you take a deep breath before laying down on your side, facing away from the boy next to you. He does the same, and you can feel the warmth of his backside against yours as the two of you are just inches apart.
The rain falls steadily above your heads, and after a moment, you feel Akaashi shift behind you, and a blanket suddenly finds itself draped over your body. You roll over onto your back just as Akaashi begins to pull away, and he shrugs.
“You said yourself we can’t afford to be cold.”
“Thanks… You have a blanket too, right?” You whisper. Akaashi doesn’t answer, but that in itself is an indication that he doesn’t. You pause, then toss a portion of it over him, only to find it’s just a bit too small to cover the both of you.
...Unless you scoot closer together. The two of you lock eyes with that realization, and you know that he has to be blushing as much as you are. You quickly face away, and he does the same, as the two of you scoot closer together so that your backs are pressing against each other. You take a deep breath to try and calm your racing heart as the warmth from Akaashi begins to spread throughout your whole body. You feel his breaths, which even out rather quickly. He must have been really tired.
You, on the other hand, are wide awake. Your heart won’t stop racing, which is super annoying. Still, you screw your eyes shut in the hopes that you’ll at least get some sleep tonight.
The rain continues falling, and eventually, you are lulled to sleep.
[-]
The first thing you register is a pleasant warmth and an even pleasanter smell. You instinctively nuzzle your face closer to it, and in response you feel whatever sensation that’s wrapped around you tighten its hold. You’re properly wrapped up, though you don’t know what’s around you or where you are. All you know is you’re extremely comfortable and happy.
As consciousness slowly seeps in, memories trickle in one by one: running down your stairs, frantically gripping your steering wheel, wandering around your abandoned high school, dropping your hammer on the concrete outside the gym while staring at--
You furrow your brows, and your eyes flutter open against your will-- you haven’t gotten nearly enough sleep, but you can’t stop waking up as you take in your surroundings.
Your face is currently burrowed into Akaashi’s chest, your head tucked under his chin. Your hands are actually curled into his white shirt, and as you let go of it bashfully, you find that his arms are wrapped around you-- one laid flat on the mattress beneath you, and the other resting over your waist.
A blush once again lights up your face as Akaashi shifts in his sleep, unconsciously pulling you closer. He lets out a contented sigh, and you feel a foreign tingle spread throughout your whole body. You bite your lip-- as sunlight slowly filters into the gym, you’re sure that no one else is awake yet, otherwise you would’ve been woken up to the sound of Kuroo teasing you and Akaashi to no end.
You can’t let the other guys see you and Akaashi like this-- you can’t handle the embarrassment. As much as you don’t want to wake Akaashi up, you have to. Biting your lip, you move to pull away from him, but almost instantly, he tightens his hold on you, and with a grunt, he rolls over onto his back, pulling you with him. You suck in a breath, trying to stay silent as you now rest on top of his chest, one of your legs between his.
You bury your face in his chest, completely unsure of what to do. He was so exhausted last night-- you don’t want to wake him up! Just as your mind begins to race for a flawless escape strategy, Akaashi groans and rubs one eye open.
“Mnf….” He says your name groggily, and you ignore how his gravelly voice sends tingles up your spine.
You decide to play dumb, and turn your head to the side with a big yawn.
“Hmm?” You answer quietly, and relax your body as much as you can. You feel Akaashi freeze in place beneath you, and he quickly removes his other hand from the small of your back.
“U-um… you’re… on top of me…” He mumbles, and you groggily lift your head to face him, making sure to keep your eyes lidded so that you can play this off effectively.
“Huh?” You furrow your brows as you meet Akaashi’s gaze, whose face is now bright red as the sun slowly illuminates the gym. You catch the subtle, perhaps accidental, glance he takes towards your chest, and realization hits you then.
You’re just in your undershirt… a tank top… and your chest is pressed against his… You can imagine exactly what kind of view he had just then as you quickly roll off of him, your arms crossing over your chest quickly.
You both stay very quiet, unsure of what to say to each other. You ignore how nice it felt to be held by him, and how much you didn’t really want to leave his embrace. God, how childish of you-- it’s just the fact that you’re starved for human interaction, that’s why you’re feeling like this.
Somebody yawns really obnoxiously a few beds over, and you look up just as someone hurls a pillow towards the offensive yawner.
“Can it, Shitty-kawa.” Somebody grumbles.
“I can’t even wake up without getting scolded, can I?” The yawner answers.
The gym slowly starts to stir as the sun grows brighter through the high, square windows. You sit up at the same time as Akaashi, and you both can’t help but glance back at one another bashfully. Reaching down, you pull your flannel over your now cold shoulders, and Indie gives your hand a good morning lick.
“Morning,” Kuroo yawns, and grins over at you and Akaashi. “Sleep well?”
You blush, and only mutter a “good morning,” back.
“Huh? Who’s that?” The yawner exclaimes, and you turn towards the sea of mattresses to spot a boy around your age-- also insanely cute, with somehow perfectly styled hair-- sit up and openly stare at you. “Hmm, nice one, guys. She’s pretty cute.” He grins, and you’re not quite sure how to respond to that.
“We’re just ignoring the social distancing rule now, huh?” The guy who threw the pillow sighs and sits up to look at you, as well. You feel like a deer in the headlights, so you look for any possible way to escape this conversation.
You shoot to your feet, and turn to Akaashi. “Where’s the bathroom?” You mumble, but Kuroo answers for him.
“Down that hallway, to the left. No-- sorry, right. That’s where the girls bathroom is. And the plumbing still works!” Kuroo grins, and you nod quickly, turning to rush off to the bathroom. Indie follows behind you loyally, and you hear the boys begin to talk about you openly as you run off.
“Yeah, we met her yesterday…”
“...showed up in tears…”
“...Call her cute again, see what happens, Shitty-kawa…”
You’re in the school bathroom before you know it, and you laugh wryly to yourself as the familiarity of it makes you almost feel like you’re back in school. Small groups of the dirty tiles are arranged in your school colors, and there’s still a very old flier hanging on one of the stall doors, advertising a school play that never happened.
You rush to the sinks, and turn on the cold faucet water. You grip the sides of the sink with ferocity, and dare to look at your reflection.
There was no way you looked cute in this moment. That guy was either extremely thirsty or a cruel liar-- your hair was matted, eyes drooped and tired. You’re sure that your dark circles never looked darker. A wave of embarrassment overcomes you at the realization that you slept next to cute Akaashi looking like this...
You shake yourself of those thoughts, and look at yourself with hardened resolve. You splash your face with cold water, and that wakes you up a bit. Deep breath in, deep breath out. This is only temporary, just until you can gather your thoughts, enough supplies, and enough courage to travel to Ohio alone. This is only temporary…
But it’s your life now.
#haikyuu fanfiction#haikyu fanfiction#haikyuu x reader#kuroo x reader#akaashi x reader#iwaizumi x reader#oikawa x reader#reader insert
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Love at First Bite
Dewey Finn x Vampire!Reader
((ft. TUM action))
Trigger Warning: Violence, Mentions of Sexual Assault, Blood (obviously)
You’re name is Y/N. You are a vampire. You were, unwillingly, turned around fifty years ago. April 20th 1969 to be exact. Although you couldn’t find the humor in it when you were younger, now you couldn’t help but chuckle at the fact. The last fifty years have been…. difficult for you to say the least. You weren’t exactly comfortable feeding on humans, and never were. It was incredibly hard to resist the hunger when you first turned, but it has gotten easier. Barely. Instead of human blood, you would go out and feed on the blood of animals. That wasn’t exactly easy for you either since you loved animals, but you couldn’t risk killing anyone. Not again. Although animal blood never satisfied you, it kept you from starving and that was enough.
One night you were walking down the dark streets on your way home from feeding on….a rabbit. Thankfully you couldn’t see any people around you, but you could sure as hell smell them in the bars and shops you walked by. You shivered as the smell of them entered your nose and you quickened your pace. As you were walking down the pavement that glistened from the rain that had came down on it earlier, you could hear a faint whimpering. You stopped in your tracks and listened closely. You could hear a woman weeping and…..
Anger struck you as you heard a man and you followed the sound. You came to an entrance to an alley way and were met with a sight that disgusted you.
“Get the fuck off of her,” you seethed. You didn’t waste any time to observe. You knew all you needed to know.
The woman looked at you and was about to scream for help but the man gave her a look that shut her right up. The man then looked back to you, not letting go of the iron grip he had on the woman’s wrists.
“You better fuck off sweet cheeks, or you’re next,” he then turned back to the woman and you cod hear her choke on a sob. In an instant you were right behind him, baring your fangs and growling lowly.
“I said. Get. The FUCK. Off her,” you warned.
You were so close to breaking your fifty year no human blood drinking streak. But if you were going to kill a human, you’d shed no tears if it were this….scum.
“What the fuck-!?” his eyes widened as you moved faster than humanly possible, and when he spotted your fangs he let the girl go.
As soon as she was let go she instantly scrambled away from him and onto her feet. She too, witnessed your inhuman qualities and stared at you in fear. You soared her no glance as she ran past you and into the night. Your gaze burned into the pitiful man’s soul who knelt before you.
“P-please don’t kill me…” he whimpered, not daring making eye contact with you.
You chuckled darkly before you grabbed him by the throat and pinned him to the wall harshly. He was clearly shocked by your strength and he started to claw at you hand, however you didn’t budge.
“I bet that’s what she was begging you, right? Not to hurt her? Not to kill her? But you weren’t going to listen to her, were you?” your grip on his throat tightened and he struggled more, his eyes widening even further.
“So I think I’ll give you a taste of your own medicine, hmm?” your voice was low and filled with malice.
You weren’t thinking as you slammed his head against the brick wall. If you were, you would have known what was soon to follow. The scent of fresh blood flooded your senses your sentences left me defenseless ((sorry i had to)) and you’re pupils dilated like crazy. Your grip on his throat tightened even further and the hunger in your stomach felt unbearable. You slowly leaned in, before you paused. Your mind was screaming at you that this went against everything you stood for as a vampire, but then a thought hit you. Did this fucker deserve to live? This wasn’t a human. This was a monster. Just like you. You moved your thumb and turned his head to expose his neck before you sunk your teeth into his neck. No one would miss this bastard, no one would even know he was dead. Thus ended a thirty year streak of a no human blood diet. Little did you know that someone would in fact know he was dead, for you had a little bit of an audience standing in front of the entrance of the alley. When you were finished with your meal, you felt a surge of euphoria as the human blood ran through your system. As much as you wanted to drain him of everything he had, you made sure to leave him alive. Just enough that he wouldn’t turn. That was the last thing you needed. You licked off all the blood on your lips and teeth, resisting the urge to moan softly as you turned to leave. But when your eyes landed on the stranger in front of you, your heart stopped. Figuratively.
Dewey had been walking, well, stumbling home from a night spent at the bar. Again. Listen, he wasn’t an alcoholic, okay? Anyways, he was humming softly to himself, lost in his own thoughts until he heard a thud in the alley way that he was passing. Then he heard faint groaning. Normally he’d just assume it was a homeless person and keep on his way, but this time he slowly turned to face the alley. Maybe it was because he was drunk, but he felt a need to investigate. He squints into the dark alley, just barely able to make out your figure pinning a fairly large man to the wall. At first he thought there was some kinky stuff going on but the longer he watched, and he did keep watching for…..some reason, he saw you real back. His eyes widened as you went in for the kill. Holy shit. He just stood there and stared with wide eyes. He was way too drunk for this. This had to be just some kind of weird…drunk hallucination. Those exist right? But any doubts he had were gone once you let go of your prey and his body slumped down to the floor. That’s when he saw the blood around your mouth, and your tongue running along your- He froze when you turned and saw him. Oh shit. Okay, maybe- maybe this isn’t the worst way to die?
Your eyes widened as you saw him and you suddenly realized what you have just done. You looked more horrified than he did and he noticed, even in his drunken state. Maybe it was because he was drunk that he wasn’t as scared as he probably should have been. You were panicking and you were about to vamp speed run away until you remembered that you had the power to compel people. Make them do, or think things with just some eye contact and a bit of concentration. You’d only ever done it in emergencies, and now definitely counted as an emergency. Slowly, you walked over to him until he spoke making you stop dead in your tracks.
“You’re a vampire, right?” his eyes that were once wide in fear were now wide with intrigue.
You blinked at him a couple of times before slowly nodding. You could smell the alcohol coming off of him so that explained his lack of fear. But why was he looking at you like that? Did he not know what you just did? In all honesty, the thought that you just killed a person wasn’t really on his mind. What was going on in his head was that he was standing in front of a real vampire. A real, hot vampire. It struck a kink in him he didn’t even knew he had.
“You’re not….you’re not scared of me…?” you asked, clearly confused.
“Uhhhh no…? Are you going to bite me? Because I’m down- Wait, does it hurt?” his face goes through a rollercoaster of emotions. Confusion, curiosity, excitement, worry.
“I uh- I’m not going to bite you…I don’t feed- I don’t usually feed on humans…” your voice was quiet. You didn’t exactly know why you were telling him this. Or why you haven’t just compelled him to forget what happened and leave.
“Can you? Bite me I mean,” he looked at you with big doe eyes and he took a few steps towards you, swaying slightly.
To be perfectly honest, the whole idea of a vampire chick was more than hot to him. Especially the thought of one pushing him down onto a bed and biting on his neck. It was enough to make the man blush just thinking about it.
“What!? Why- You know that I could kill you right?” you stared at him in disbelief. He….he wanted you to bit him? Okay, this guy is definitely way too drunk to grasp the reality of the situation.
“I’m not going to bite you,” you say again more sternly this time before he has a chance to respond.
“Aww………okaaaaayy,” he visibly deflated, his shoulders slumping and his lips forming into a childish pout.
His behavior made your own lips curl upward slightly. He’s pretty cute. Wait. What? You shook your head of those thoughts and your small smile disappeared as quickly as it came. You couldn’t let your heart make the decisions anymore. No matter how lonely you were…. You were suddenly ripped away from your thoughts as you heard him speak up.
“Dewey. That’s uh, my name by the way. If you uh, ever want a snack just hit me up. You got a pen? Of course you don’t have a pen, why would you have a pen? Gimme- Gimme your phone,” he rambles on and takes a few more steps towards you, causing you to take a few back. He notices this and frowns.
“Shit- I uh- Sorry I’m a bit tipsy and-”
“Y/N. My name is Y/N,” you interrupted him, cautiously taking a step towards him.
You didn’t know why, but something about him made you feel….something. Maybe it was the high of the blood you just had. Maybe it was the fact he knew you were a vampire and still wasn’t afraid of you. Or maybe it was the way he was looking at you. But whatever it was, it caused you to take out your phone. A grin immediately spread across his face as you handed him your phone and he eagerly put his number into your phone. Although it took him a couple of tries since he stumbled with the keys.
“Hell yeah!” he sang in dramatically and pumped his fist in the air before giving you your phone back.
You couldn’t help but giggle softly at his enthusiasm. Okay you had to admit it, he was cute.
“Well, okay. I’ll be seeing ya around sweet- doll- baby cheeks,” he cleared his throat and flashed an awkward grin, shooting you with finger guns as an attempt to recover from…..whatever that was. He then very hastily stumbled down the street, you could hear his heart beating fast and you smiled.
Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. You doubted he’d even remember what happened tonight anyways. Because of that, you didn’t bother to compel him. That and, it just didn’t feel right. You hadn’t met anyone who was this…accepting of your nature before. There were people you told your secret to that you’ve known for years who became absolutely terrified of you. You thought you’d never feel this…normal again. When you looked down at your phone you saw he sent a text to himself using your phone. Presumably so he’d have your number saved too.
As the next couple of weeks passed by, Dewey kept texting you. Everyday. Still as unafraid and still as determined to go on a date with you as the day you met. At first, you tried to reply with as little as possible hoping he’d eventually lose interest. But of course, he kept on trying. That truly baffled you. Not only were you giving him almost nothing to work with text wise, be he knew what you were and yet he never ceased to pursue you. After nearly a month of daily cute texts and constant reminders that his offer was still on the table, you finally caved. It was only supposed to be one date, one where you’d compel him to forget you. It just wasn’t fair to him. You knew you couldn’t provide a family for him, and the possibility of you losing control and killing him would always be present. But…..you just couldn’t do it. The way he made you feel on that date….it was almost as if you could feel your heart beating again. He made you feel alive. So, one date turned to two, then three, then next thing you knew you two had been dating for almost a year.
During that time Dewey always had questions about your vampire-ness. In the beginning he bombarded you with them, to the point where it felt almost overwhelming. But as time went on, his questions became less about what you are and more about who you are. Although, he never stopped offering himself as, and you quote, your “sexy fruit gusher” to which you always declined. You hadn’t really explained why exactly you wouldn’t feed off him. You just told him that you didn’t like to feed off humans, and that was that.
Today, however was different. It was the anniversary of….well, something you’d really rather forget and you were a little on edge. It was about sundown and you were laying on Dewey’s bed, staring up at the ceiling lost in your thoughts. That was until the man himself came busting through the door humming to himself, a pizza in hand. Although you didn’t need to eat, you still could so Dewey always got enough food for you too. Mainly so he could casually ask you for yours since you don’t eat and he’s just sooooo hungry. You didn’t mind, of course. It was cute. He was cute. But tonight, would that be enough?
“Hey there bay-be!” he plopped down onto the bed next to you, causing the bed to bounce slightly under his weight.
“Hey Dew,” you sat up and greeted him with a soft smile, but refrained from the usual cheek kiss.
He noticed the lack of affection but didn’t say anything, just assuming you forgot or were to eager for some sweet zah. He places down the box of pizza down onto the bed in front of you two and opened her up, exposing the beautifully disgusting food. He wastes no time taking a slice and chowing down, you following suit not too long after. Food had been a coping mechanism you used when you were alive, and it still helped even after you died. Well, as much as binge eating can help anyways. Dewey looked over to you and grinned cheekily, now was the perfect opportunity to try once more.
“Y’now, I bet I’d taste better to you than that pizza,” he nudged you slightly with his elbow and wiggled his eyebrows.
However you weren’t in the mood, not today. Not about this.
“Dew, we’ve been over this a million times. Please drop it, okay?” you sighed as you tried to be as calm about it as possible. The whole reason you kept saying no was because you didn’t want to hurt him, turning his offer down would be meaningless if you snapped at him now.
“Oh come on! It’s almost been a year! Don’t you want a taste? Does my blood smell bad or something? Is it because I eat like crap? Is it because I’m fat?” he rambled on, suddenly putting down his slice of pizza.
“What? No- Dew, you’re not fat. It’s just… “ you sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose, your patience starting to wear thin.
“Then what is it? It’s not because I don’t want it, because OBVIOUSLY I do!” he whined like a kid who wasn’t getting what he wanted, flailing his arms and all.
“Dewey, I said drop it. So drop it, okay?” your tone of voice was one a one of warning. If he pushed further you don’t know if you could keep your cool.
“But-!” he began to argue further but you cut him off.
“I said drop it. So fucking drop it,” you eyes were dark and your fists were balled up tightly. You weren’t quite yelling, but you sure as hell were close.
However that still wasn’t enough for him to stop it. He just wanted to at least know why. It kind of hurt that his vampire girlfriend wouldn’t even do to him what vampires are supposed to do. Was there something wrong with him? Did she not like him enough? Did she have to love him in order for her to feed off him? If that were true then….that meant she didn’t love him.
“Can you at least tell me why then?” he sounded desperate for an answer, and it broke your undead heart. You hated that you were hurting him like this but you were scared to tell him the truth. Scared that he’d be scared of you.
“I just- I just can’t….okay?” you turned your back to him, swinging your legs over the edge of his bed and trying to hold back tears memories of past mistakes came flooding back.
You knew he wouldn’t be satisfied with that answer, but you hoped that he would take the hint that it wasn’t something you wanted to discuss.
“You can’t what?” his tone wasn’t mad or annoyed, it was genuinely confused and….hurt.
“BECAUSE I CAN’T RISK ACCIDENTALLY KILLING YOU! I-I CAN’T KILL SOMEONE THAT I LOVE AGAIN, OKAY!?” you finally snapped. Suddenly standing up and turning to him with tears streaming down your face.
If you needed to breath, you’d be hyperventilating right now. You quickly turned your back to him again and covered your face. He was silent for a long while and you were sure he was afraid of you now. That was, until he finally spoke.
“You….You love me…?” his voice was small and hopeful.
“Wh- That’s what you’re focused on!? Didn’t you hear me!? I’m a murderer! Fuck Dewey, I almost killed a man the night we met! I’m- I’m a fucking monster!” you turned to him and stared at him with wide eyes in disbelief.
“Okay but, you love me?” a grin slowly spread across his face and he scrambled across the bed, kneeling near the edge.
It wasn’t like he was ignoring the other stuff you said, that stuff just…..didn’t really matter to him. He loved you with all his heart. You were on his mind almost as much as music was. Almost. To hear that you felt the same way about him? Oh god, was this boy more than excited. He didn’t care that you’ve killed, although maybe he should. You haven’t hurt him, you never fed off him, hell you never even kissed his neck in fear you’d lose control! So, he wasn’t exactly worried.
You blinked at him and searched his face for any signs of fear, or anger, or anything negative. Only to be met with nothing but hope and….love. Your expression softens and you let out a shaky sigh. You did love him, so damn much. It was like whenever you were with him the place where your heart was got all warm and fuzzy. He made you feel alive, loved, and normal. Everything she ever could of hoped of finding.
“I- I do love you, Dew….and it’s because I love you that I’m terrified of losing you. Especially to myself….” you nervously fidget with your hands nervously and avoided his gaze.
“Y/N, I’m not going anywhere. I trust you with my life, literally. I’ve been willing to risk my life for you since we met, and yet you refused over and over. I’m pretty sure your fear- no, love will be a hell of a lot stronger than your hunger,” he takes your hands and places a kiss on each one.
A small smile made its way onto your face at his cheesy words and you realized that he was right. Your love for him was infinitely stronger than your thirst for blood. If you were going to feed on him, you’d take every precaution. You pulled him into your chest for a hug and he happily wrapped his arms around your waist.
“Plus, dying by my sexy vampire girlfriend isn’t such a bad way to go,” he shrugs and grins up at you with a cheeky grin.
“That’s not funny,” you frowned slightly, though it didn’t last for very long. His smile was just too contagious.
“So……does this mean you’ll finally…?” he looked up at you with big puppy eyes, even going so far as to bat his eyelashes.
“Okay, yes. I’ll feed on you,” you sighed softly before finally giving in to his request.
As soon as those words left your mouth he pulled away from the hug, jumped off the bed, and did a lap around his small room pumping his fists in the air in victory. You giggled at him before he stopped in front of you and you gave him a soft kiss.
“Alright, go lay on the bed,” you paused for a moment before continuing, “and take off your shirt.”
“Yes, ma’m!” he eagerly, perhaps a little too eagerly, threw his shirt over his head and plopped down onto the bed on his back.
Why he wanted to do this was still a complete mystery. Maybe he liked the idea of being bitten? Maybe it was the idea of being your own personal source of blood? Or maybe it was the fact that you were a vampire in general? It was most likely a combination of all of them if we’re being honest.
You sat on the bed next to him and rested a hand on his chest. He looked up at you with his big brown eyes and excited grin. He had never waited for something for so long and still have so much interest in it. He was so ready, more than ready. He was eager and excited. Ever since he saw you feeding on that random guy in that alleyway, it did something to him and it made him wish that was him. He didn’t know why it was so hot to him, but it was so, so hot to him.
As you looked down at him and took in his more than perfect upper body, you thought of places where you could feed on him from. You had a feeling he wouldn’t let you heal the puncture wounds with your blood, so you didn’t want to bite anywhere that’d be visible. He was a teacher after all and the last thing you wanted was for him to get fired. Your eyes darted around the different possible places you could feed from. His shoulder? Hmm no that’d be too painful since it’s close to bone. Thigh? Maybe some other time. Okay, definitely some other time. His chest? Maybe, that seemed like a good place…But then, your eyes drifted down to his stomach. Your smile widened as you found your target. Bingo.
Dewey tried to follow your train of thought with your eyes and when they landed on his stomach, he felt a mixture of things. Arousal was definitely one of the first, love was also one that was very present. However, his insecurities started to eat at him as his extremely attractive girlfriend eyed his fat stomach. As if reader his mind, and you might actually have, you placed a soft kiss onto his stomach. Instantly his face was consumed with a deep blush.
“I think I’ll choose here to start with, if you don’t mind?” you look up to him, but you don’t move your head.
He opened his mouth to express how he was more than okay with that, but the only thing that came out was some sort of whining sound. He then covered his face with his hands as his face now burned with embarrassment before furiously nodding. You smiled up at him, although he couldn’t see it, and peppered his soft stomach with kisses. Dewey peaked down at you through his fingers, wanting to watch as you sunk your teeth into his skin. As you found the perfect spot, you licked it slightly before pausing.
“Thank you, for this. I love you Dew,” you whispered your gratitude against his skin and placed one last tender kiss before you, as gently as possible, sunk your fangs into his skin.
The moment his hot blood made contact with your tongue you tried and failed to suppress a moan. Drinking human blood was always euphoric, but this? This was on a whole new level. This was just…heaven. You eagerly took more of his blood in your mouth and down your throat. You looked up to meet his gaze and you could see him wincing, you dialed it down by licking at his woulds rather than ducking on it. You brought a hand to his side and rubbed soothing circles onto his skin with your thumb. The soft touches and your hot tongue gliding along his stomach made him relax slightly, and also made him extremely aroused. He bit down onto his lower lip and slowly brought a hand down to play with your hair. It was hard for you to rip yourself away from his orgasmic blood, but you did it. You did it. Before you sat up you licked away the excess blood and left a soft kiss to the wound, your lips barely ghosting his skin. Once you sat up you licked your lips and looked over to his very, very, very red face.
“Are you okay?” you asked him with a soft voice.
“I- I’m uh I-” he gave up on words and just nodded, giving a thumbs up.
You chuckled and leaned in, gently moving his hand away from his face before placing a tender kiss to his lips. You quickly went to the bathroom and got yourself a bandage that was a good enough size to cover both your teeth marks. You returned to see Dewey sitting up and poking at the wounds, then wincing slightly.
“Don’t do that, here let me,” you sat in front of him and applied the bandage to his stomach, to which his hand instantly rested on top of. But not because of the pain or anything.
“That was- That was- Can you do that again?” he stared at you with wide, hopeful puppy eyes and you couldn’t help but giggle.
“Maybe some other time, love. Now, it’s cuddle time,” although he was disappointed to hear that you wouldn’t bite him again, he instantly perked up at the word ‘cuddle.’
Before Dewey laid back down he grabbed a slice of pizza which caused you to chuckle and shake your head. You then laid down next to him and rested your head on his chest, draping an arm across his stomach just above where you bit. Closing your eyes, you listened to his heart beating.
“Thank you,” Dewey said softly, kissing the top of your head.
“No, thank you. Your blood is absolutely delicious,” you looked up at him and kissed his neck before going back to listening to his heart.
After that night you left many, many, many bite marks all over his body. All of which he practically begged for. Of course, most of them came to be in the bedroom.
______________________________________________
@the-ineffable-prince-of-hells @lord-satan-3244 @meangirlsx @im-eating-rn @ramencupposts @beetlejuicebeadoll
#dewey finn x vampire!reader#dewey finn x reader#dewey finn x you#dewey finn x vampire!self insert#dewey finn#school of rock#school of rock musical#school of rock au#my wriitng
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Season’s Greetings
...and a merry fuckmas to you too, asshole
Summary: It’s the season and Bullseye has a job, everybody just keeps getting in the way and into each others pants.
...Taskmaster already regrets hiring Bullseye.
Rating: T for mentioned violence, profanity
Parings: implied Outlaw/Domino, Taskmaster/Outlaw
Prologue
Chapter 1: Queens
The first snow had long since fallen, earlier this year than usual, and as expected, it came with the annual issues of subway cancellations, unplowed roads, and slip ‘n falls in the City. Even the caped crusaders of New York were less likely to be seen on the streets and skies as it continued to pour down to the tune of Let it Snow. It was a time made for people like him to slip under the radar and get shit done.
As he stood with his spiked hot chocolate, Taskmaster wasn’t surprised to see Spider-Man, now in a knitted red and blue scarf and snug cap, swing past not far from his Queens apartment, clocking him as he did on his phone. At least twice a day, usually on a pretty even schedule. It wouldn’t be hard to avoid the Webslinger. Spider-Man didn’t really look into anything unless civilians complained or got hurt.
Taskmaster made a big point of being the nicest neighbour possible for this very reason, he helped old ladies with their bags and put up christmas lights even despite Bullseye’s efforts to tear them down.
He could certainly have chosen another place, but each borough had it’s heroes and it was at times useful to have one under clear surveillance. Queens just had the least violent one and the one who wasn’t tapped into what was happening in the criminal underground. Happily enough, he knew that the Black Cat was again in one of her off seasons with the Spider, so he’d be getting no intel from that front. And other heroes seldom interfered in the Spider’s turf in Queens even if he shared Midtown with a few. All he needed to do was to keep his dirty business indoors and elsewhere.
He had argued extensively with Bullseye about this, there was no way he’d setup shop in the City, especially the Kitchen, and he wouldn't tolerate any killing anywhere near him. Taskmaster wasn’t going to court the attention of Punisher or Daredevil; those two were dangerous to get involved with especially when he was doing the hit with Bullseye. He knew about the middling beef with Spider-Man, but it wasn’t anything as psychotically obsessive as Bullseye’s thing for the aforementioned vigilantes.
Now it was just to keep the assassin on track and focused without picking fights with any superheroes or vigilantes. It had gone fine the first week with the extensive surveillance and planning needed, but now well into December it was starting to get more difficult.
An unexpected, though in hindsight predictable, issue had been the utter loathing Bullseye had for Christmas and the season in general. It wasn’t the more common version of just outright ignoring the festivities, which Taskmaster himself mostly did, but the virulent and expressive hatred of an obsessive nutjob.
It wasn’t just murdering Santas with christmas decorations and vandalising christmas displays, it was Bullseye whining about it constantly. If it wasn’t the holidays, it was the cold and the snow. Bullseye was always too cold and bored by everything when he wasn’t allowed to just murder everyone who annoyed him. Bullseye was making Shocker seem like a stoic and Boomerang mature by comparison. It was frankly making Taskmaster want to kick Bullseye off the job. If only the plan didn’t hinge on him.
Sighing, Taskmaster texted Black Ant on a secure VPN bounced line for a progress report. He couldn’t wait for this job to be over.
SpcUpUrLif: status
BBA69: got full access to Access. Got myself a free prime account on the bosses credit and a waterbed }XD
SpcUpUrLif: exit strategy in place?
BBA69: nearly. Tho why bother? I coudda killed the target like last week. I’m tired of living of Karen’s lunch. iÍt’s KALE and vegan. She thinks its Mark in accounting :PPP
SpcUpUrLif: i’m not arguing about this again. just do it. client wants it like this.
SpcUpUrLif: besides money. can’t hide all that cash in your prime account.
BBA69: truth bro. Gimme a few days then, gotta go slow to hide the trail
BBA69: hows the resident Grinch psycho? Still making darts outta glass for Santa?
SpcUpUrLif: out doing his part, talking to everyone how he’s gonna do the hit of the century. best scapegoat ever.
BBA69: Small blessings. GTG Nancy Tightpants is clocking in and she’s having an affair with Mark and it’s a real porno up in here
SpcUpUrLif: you’re disgusting
BBA69: gotta get my kicks somehow ;)
Logout
Taskmaster pocketed his phone and sipped more of his chocolate, mind churning on getting everything right since shit would go really bad if it didn’t, pissing off both the client and Bullseye. He didn’t know who scared him more, but he was determined to make this job run without a hitch. He’d just have to manage until then.
Maybe he’d call Outlaw, have a boozy night and good fucking. She was out with Domino, and she deserved that, but hey, maybe they were into a threesome. He snorted to himself, thinking it unlikely, but Christmas miracles. Later perhaps, give them some nice presents, with all the money he’d make, and have a quiet evening, which would be an improvement on his current situation.
Speaking of the devil, Bullseye stomped in through the door, bundled up into anonymity in more garments than an adult man should ever need. A gloved hand tugged down the scarf and revealed a grinning mouth, and a bright red snotty nose.
“Guess what? I hit Spidey with a snowball!”
Of course he did. “I swear, if you blow our cover--”
“Pfft. No chance, even if he saw me he’s too much of a weeb to hurt anyone over a snowball,” Bullseye said as he shed all his outer clothes on the floor in a wet pile, making Taskmaster bite his tongue to avoid yelling at him to pick his damn stuff up.
“Why are you here?” he asked instead. “We didn’t schedule anything for today, and I told you I’d contact you when your part started.”
“I’m bored and I talked to a few people at the Bar --- guess what they told me?” Bullseye grinned, and Taskmaster honestly couldn’t tell if Bullseye meant talking as in actual conversations or torture induced confessions. He somehow doubted that Bullseye made much distinction between those two. It also begged the question of who would willingly talk to Bullseye? Never mind, he was already the idiot doing that.
“That you have beautiful eyes and can absolutely take their seat?” he remarked dryly, knowing to thread the fine line of joking with Bullseye and taking him seriously.
“That too.” Another grin and a chuckle. “There’s gonna be a big charity gala and all the bigwigs will be there. We don’t need to wait around anymore, just kill him there, job done. And we can even make it look like he wasn’t the target since there will be so many rich assholes there! Shooting fish in a barrel and tons of guards for me to play with.”
Oh God, Bullseye thought he was being clever. Taskmaster could already feel a headache coming up, he set his cup on the table and tried not to raise his voice.
“No. We have a job. We do the job according to specifications. If you want to do another job while you wait, be my guest, as long as you don’t get caught.”
“Spoilsport,” Bullseye huffed, took and drank his chocolate before Taskmaster could snatch his cup back. “Can’t do anything fun with you and I hate just sitting around.”
Deep breath and resist the urge to punch the daylights out of Bullseye.
He needed to give Bullseye something to do before everything blew in their face. “On the other hand, it might be good for you to go. Check out the target and his guards, do a little gentle poking to see their reactions, but nothing that’d make them beef their security up further. It’d need a delicate touch as well. I think I know exactly who to send with you to make that work and to finance it all.”
He was certain that he had Black Cat’s number and she owed him. She couldn’t afford to end up on his naughty list. Maybe get Domino on it too, she had a better hand on Bullseye’s brand of crazy. God knows the man needed a babysitter.
Taskmaster told Bullseye the outline of a simple smash and grab with an added assassination of a few ‘bigwigs’ he knew had active bounties on them. The assassin ate it up like his marshmallows and hot chocolate. It would at least give him some time away from Bullseye; it wasn’t worth the headache to get a close eye on the marksman’s uncanny skills.
As Bullseye finally left, Taskmaster could see and hear a pile of snow land on him, out of nowhere, and an insincere ‘sorry’ call out from above as Bullseye burst into a litany of curses.
He wrote down the time on his phone, smiling.
TBC
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ANOTHΣR SHΦT
Fratboy!Tom Holland | Tom x Reader
Chapters: | 1 | 2 |
Chapter 2
You wouldn’t say that you liked Mondays, but there was something refreshing about the start of a new week. The mad dash to get all of your work done on Sunday night often meant you hit a slump in the afternoon, so to cope with the post-weekend crash you’d created a routine that involved getting a large coffee from the campus coffee cart and finding a nice grassy spot in the quad to settle onto and get a start on your readings for the week. It was small, but it was something that helped get you through the day and gave you something to look forward to. This particular Monday was sunny, but a cool breeze would occasionally blow through and gently tug at your hair as you made your way around campus. You walked towards your usual spot at the base of one of the many trees in the quad and settled yourself against its thick trunk. Across the quad, a group of people were kicking around a soccer ball.
You took a sip of your coffee and pulled out your textbook and notebook and started reading, jotting down important things from the chapter as you read. You’d had 30 minutes of uninterrupted reading time when someone suddenly plopped down beside you.
“Hello Y/N,” grinned Tom, a slight sheen of sweat covering the copious amount of skin he was showing in his muscle shirt. “You didn’t text me, I was worried about you,” he said, taking a pull from his water bottle. As he tilted his head up, you got a clear view of his tight jawline.
“I’m sorry. I’m sure it’s kept you up at night,” you responded. “I thought you didn’t live on campus?”
“I don’t, I was just at the gym,” he said, pointing back at the large rec hall on campus. “I’d just finished when I saw you sitting here, figured I’d pop by and say hello.”
“Well, hello to you too,” You said simply, turning to look back at your book.
“What’re you reading?” He asked. You held up your book higher so he could read the cover, still staring intently at the paragraph you were reading. “Student’s Guide to Cognitive Neuroscience? Sounds hard.”
“Yeah, you really need to pay attention to what you’re reading to get it,” you respond pointedly.
“Oh come on Y/N, you can’t honestly tell me you’d rather read that than speak to me,” Tom laughed.
“Yes, I am honestly telling you that,” you said, mimicking his accent. “I need to read this, we have our first midterm soon.”
“Alright, alright,” Tom said, throwing his hands up in defeat, “I’ll make this quick. Sig Ep’s hosting a fundraising event this weekend. We rented the pool for a night and are gonna put a bunch of inflatables in it and watch Titanic. Sound like something you’d be interested in?”
“So that’s why you came over,” you said, barely managing to refrain from rolling your eyes “You haven’t sold enough tickets yet and need a few more people to come or you’ll get fined. That’s how that works, right?”
“Sweetheart if you don’t think I could sell ten tickets then you don’t know me,” he smirked.
“I don’t know you,” you pointed out. “I met you like, two days ago.”
“Fair enough,” Tom laughed “let’s change that though. Don’t worry about buying a ticket, I’ll put your name on the list,” he said as he stood up and brushed the grass off his pants. “You have my number so if you’ve got any questions you can text me. Or call if you’d like to hear my voice more. I could give you tips for your impressions.”
“Wait I didn’t sa-“
“I’ll see you Friday!” He said before heading off, a smug smile plastered to his face.
-
“Why are boys such idiots?” You asked as you tossed your backpack at the foot of your bed. After your encounter with Tom, you couldn’t focus on your reading so you retreated back to your dorm.
“Because they’re boys,” Amanda said simply. She laid in her bed with her laptop on her chest, watching Criminal Minds on Netflix. “You can’t expect a lot out of them. What happened?”
“This guy, Tom, he’s trying to drag me to the Sig Ep event this weekend. But it’s at the pool and-“
“Wait, Tom as in Sig Ep Tom?” Amanda asked, looking over at you. “Tom “look at me I’ve got perfect hair and a British accent” Tom?”
“I mean, yeah, I guess.” You said, suddenly uneasy. Did he have a reputation you hadn’t heard of? He was probably a serial dater. Going out with girls for a few weeks before leaving them for the next cutie in a crop top. He could be the type. “Why, is he-“
“Oh my God Tom Holland is trying to get you to go to Sink or Swim that’s fucking hilarious.” Amanda laughed before you could finish your question.
“It’s not funny!” You said exasperatedly “I talked to him for like, twenty minutes on Saturday and now he won’t leave me alone.”
“And you’re complaining? The guy’s gorgeous. And British!”
“He’s a Sig Ep, Amanda, you know I hate them. I only go to their parties because of you guys.”
“Honey, listen,” Amanda said, pausing her show and moving her laptop to the side so she could sit up and look you in the eye. “I’m not going to say you need to get over your dislike of Sig Eps. After what Daniel did it’s valid. But you need to make an exception for this guy.”
“Why should I? All he’s done is walk around like he’s the king of campus or something and try and flex his snarky attitude at me,” you say, rolling your eyes. “And I guess he called me an Uber on Saturday but that’s it.”
“Woah woah woah wait, Tom’s the guy from Saturday?” Amanda said, “Uh-uh, you don’t get to say he hasn’t done anything for you when he was literally willing to fight Daniel to defend you.”
“Oh my God, Amanda, he was not defending me!”
“He totally was!”
“Babes!” came a voice from your shared bathroom. You lived in a suite with 3 other girls, your two rooms split by a shared bathroom. You and Amanda were in one room, and Emily and Shannon were in the other. Standing in the doorway of the bathroom was Shannon, a patient smile on her face. “What’re you yelling about? I’m trying to study for my French quiz tomorrow.”
“Tom Holland was Y/N’s savior from Saturday!” Amanda blurted.
“No. Way,” Shannon said, a grin spreading over her face.
“Yeah, and he asked her to go to Sink or Swim!”
“What’d you say!” Shannon asked, taking a seat at your desk.
“I didn’t say anything, he didn’t ask me,” You said, pinching the bridge of your nose “Besides I thought it was just a movie screening. It’s not a couples thing or anything… is it?”
“I mean, no, it’s not a couples thing,” Amanda said, “But how many people do you really think these inflatables can fit?”
“I’m not going,” you said flatly “If there’s anything worse than being surrounded by Sig Eps, it’s being surrounded by Sig Eps in a pool.”
“You could sit in the bleachers. No need to get near the water,” Shannon offered.
“I’m not going,” you repeated, growing frustrated. Your roommates could see your growing tension and backed off. They began talking about their own plans for Sink or Swim before Shannon dismissed herself to go back to studying. Now that the seat was vacated, you sat at your desk and took out your textbook, struggling to pay attention to your reading.
-
“So, saw you talking to a girl today,” Harrison said, spreading some peanut butter on a slice of toast. “Who is she?”
“Just a girl I met at the party on Saturday,” Tom responded, grabbing a protein shake from the fridge. “I only spoke to her for like five minutes, are you stalking me or something?”
“I’m everywhere, mate, you should know this by now. What sorority she in?” Harrison asked.
“I don’t know. She’s friends with some Pi Phi’s apparently.” Tom said. He shook his protein shake and sat down at the frat house’s shared dining table.
Harrison walked over and leaned over the table on his elbows in front of Tom.
“Quit your bullshit, dickhead. Gimme more details,” he said as he took a bite of his toast without breaking eye contact.
“Are you two gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes again?” Jacob asked as he walked in on the scene.
“Tom’s fancying some girl and I wanna know more about her,” Harrison said.
“I don’t fancy her,” Tom said, rolling his eyes.
“You’re certainly making an effort with her,” Harrison said.
“Is it the girl from Saturday?” Jacob asked “Because she was cute,”
“Oh so you tell Jake about her but not me,” Harrison said, acting wounded.
“There’s nothing to tell! I’ve spoken to her like twice, it’s no big deal.”
“So you’re saying you haven’t stalked her Instagram yet?” Jacob asked.
“No, why would I?” Tom shrugged, downing the remainder of his protein shake.
“Because she might have swimsuit pictures on there,” Harrison said, waggling his eyebrows.
“Real mature,” Tom said, rolling his eyes. “I think she’s cute, alright? That’s all there is to that.”
“Is she coming to Sink or Swim?” Harrison asked.
“Hopefully. Bought her a ticket.” Tom shrugged again.
“You don’t usually invest in your hookups,” Jacob pointed out.
“It’s $5 that’s hardly an investment.”
“But it’s something,” Jacob countered.
“You guys are annoying, I’m going to my room.” Tom groaned, leaving the kitchen.
“Remember we have thin walls!” Harrison yelled after him.
Once he got to his room, Tom flopped on his bed and let out a deep breath. It had been a long day, and he still had a lot of homework to get done. Despite this he pulled out his phone and opened Instagram, typing in “Y/N”.
He smirked a little when he saw her profile picture and tapped it, his smirk vanishing when he saw your account was set to private. He was so used to people’s accounts being open and available, he checked to see if he didn’t accidentally try and view your finsta instead. But no, there was only the one private account under your name.
“Mysterious girl…” He mumbled, finally putting his phone down and heading over to his desk to do his work.
AN: I’m taking title suggestions for what to call this series! If you have any ideas you’d like to share I’d love to hear them ^^
Tags: @iaiabear @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @fijiangecko
#Tom Holland#Tom holland x reader#tom holland x you#tom holland x y/n#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland aesthetic#Frat!AU#fratboy!tom#Tom holland imagines#tom holland fandom#tom holland drabbles#Peter parker#peter parker imagines#peter parker fanfiction#spiderman#spiderman fanfiction#spiderman imagines#MCU#marvel#my work
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Numb pt 22
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Lumberjack AU
Pairing: Ryan Haywood x Reader
WC: 2100+
Date posted: 18 Nov 2018
Megan Pottsman
Missing 17/12/2015 - Found 22/12/2015
Body, female. 10 yo. Found 500 meters past tree line.
Blunt force trauma. Lacerations across torso, shoulders, base of skull.
Clear Bear Attack. No labs required.
SCRIPT
Interview with Mathew. D. Pottsman (Father)
Interviewer: Officer G. Sorola
Supervisor: Det. Insp. M. Hullum
17/12/2015 03:37am
Sorola: Hello, Mr. Pottsman, I’m Officer Sorola. I’m going to ask you some questions relating to your daughter’s disappearance. Please remember that you will need to tell us everything so that we can do our jobs.
Pottsman: Yeah, okay. I can do that.
Sorola: And you’re alright with being recorded?
Pottsman: Yes.
Sorola: Then lets get started. Mr. Pottsman, when was the last time you saw Megan?
Pottsman: Probably at dinner the night she went missin’. I made her favourite, and she wanted to watch TV. I went to do some reading and left her watching some cartoon show.
Sorola: Is that all?
Pottsman: I heard her.
Sorola: Pardon?
Pottsman: I heard her. There was a knock on the door and she answered it. I heard her tell me she was going out, and that’s the last of it. Told her to come back before the snow got too bad. When the street lamps came on. But she… she didn’t.
Sorola: Any ideas as to which of her friends it was?
Pottsman: … no.
Sorola: No?
Pottsman: That’s what I said. I don’t know which friend it was.
Sorola: So, please let me know if I’ve somehow misunderstood you. You let your 10 year old daughter leave the house with someone you assume to have been a friend, of who you don’t know, in the middle of a brewing snow storm? And, more importantly,you made no effort to check on your daughter and her friend for yourself.
Pottsman: No, no now you’re making it sound like I wanted her to leave. Like I don’t love my daughter!
Sorola: I haven’t said anything of the sort.
Pottsman: You don’t have too! You’re sat right in front of me acting all high and mighty. You know what? It’s my fault. There, I said it. It’s all my fault. I was a shitty dad and now my daughter is missing. If Megan doesn’t come back I’m going to be the one that’s killed her. Not whoever took her, not the weather. Not some wild animal. Me, cus I couldn’t bring myself to be a good dad.
Sorola: Mr. Pottsman, please. No one here is accusing you of anything. Right now this is a missing persons case and we’re doing everything we can to locate your daughter. That includes interviewing everyone that came into contact with her before the incident. The person who you claim to have knocked on the door is a prime suspect, and possibly the last person to have seen Megan. Is she likely to have left with an adult?
Pottsman: I don’t think so. She understood stranger danger.
Sorola: What about an adult she recognised?
Pottsman: Listen here, officer. Everyone in this town knows everyone. We’re friends with every family here cus we all go to that damn community garden thing. Megan gets along with all of them, even that new carpenter down the street. She baked him some cookies cus she was worried he wouldn’t have any friends, ha, she told him to go to the garden cus she though he’d get along with the large guy. What’s his name? Jack? He was over the freakin’ moon when he fixed up our neighbours house and she brought them out with a little card she’d made.
Sorola: New carpenter? Are you talking about Haywood?
Pottsman: Hmm? Yeah, him. Stand up bloke. You don’t think it was him, do you? Oh god, Megan told him to hang around with the other kids.
Sorola: No, we don’t believe he is involved. His alibi is airtight. He is accounted for outside his home at the time Megan disappeared. We currently have no suspects, which is why we’re talking to you.
Pottsman: So you do think I did it!
Sorola: Please, we’ve been over this.
Pottsman: I - I… okay. No, okay. I’m sorry. My nerves are just - it’s been a long few hours. I’ve smoked a pack. A whole pack, can you believe it? I haven’t smoked in years, and now I can’t sit still without something between my damn fingers.
Sorola: It’s perfectly normal to revert into old habits when you’re nervous.
Pottsman: Nervous? No, no the claw marks on my neighbour’s porch that’ve now turned up on mine make me nervous. The snow and that bleedin’ livestock massacre that’s going on either side of my home makes me nervous. But my daughter being missing? I’m fucking terrified. I’m so scared I can’t see straight. I just - I can’t. Everytime I close my eyes I can hear that damn knocking. I should have gotten the door. Jumped that fucking railing so Meg didn’t have to open it. It should’ve been me. Oh god, it should’ve been me.
“Hey Michael,” you call over your shoulder, fanning out the photos of the tiny body covered in blood and curled in the snow. “I think I’ve found another one.”
His head pops up over the stack of files he’s working through, eyes encased in growing bags. Sat cross legged in the evidence locker, he’d long since abandoned the confines of a desk. “What’s the date?”
“She was found on the 17th of December in 2015.”
He whistles, glancing down to the timeline at his feet and following the numbers with his finger. “Got it! Gimme a name.”
“Megan Pottsman,” you read off, peering at a shot of her on a medical table. Body bloated, skin crossed with blues and bruises.
“She’s an early one.”
“She’s the 3rd we’ve found in 2015,” you murmur, bringing the photo you hold closer. “Happened before Jeremy moved here, too. He arrived in 2016, I think? This victim was put down as a bear attack.”
Michael perks up, shuffling over to you and sifting through the file. He stops on one of the same set of photos you’re trying to make sense of, lost in the line carving across skin. “Doesn’t look like a bear.”
“Bears rarely attack people, too,” you add. “Get this: her dad said in an interview that she went out with someone that knocked on the door. He thought it was a friend, and look at the lacerations. They’re not quite like the ones on the victims we’ve got, by they’re a damn lot closer to the markings on entryways of Pottsman’s home and the neighbours.”
“You’re right!” Michael exclaims, “this is the third body with similar markings. And his testimony puts the knocking and the scratches in the same timeframe as the missing person.”
“Is there a photo of her from behind?” you ask, rifling through the contents, urged on by the burn smouldering at the base of your skull. Irritation thick around your throat. It takes a moment for you to find, but eventually the gloss of the image you’re searching for sticks to your fingers.
“Here,” says Michael, plucking the picture from your hand and lining it up with the other 2 photos of the 2015 victims, all presenting their necks.
Drawing closer it gets harder to breathe. With an uncomfortable constricting sensation that tightens your throat - of which you blatantly try to ignore - you take in the wounds. It’s not hard to recognise them anymore. The tell tale signs are obvious after having witnessed them so many times. The slightly blacked curl of the incision located at the base of the skull. The raw irritation circling the neck. Sure, their skulls hadn’t been removed like the later victims, but they matched the earliest cases you had, clumsy as the wounds may be.
“This is fantastic. That ties our killer to the body!”
Michael doesn’t even question you with a funny look, equally excited. “Perfect in the worst possible way, but absolutely awesome. We’ve finally got an undeniable link between the Widow ghost story knocking bullshit and the killer. Meaning analysing the scratches on doorways and comparing them to the body lacerations will help with determining the murder weapon!”
You’re nodding, compiling the evidence into a seperate box and pointing to Michael with a determined finger. “You got Jackie’s number?”
He rockets into standing. “You bet your ass I do!”
“Then call her, damn it. With this information she’ll be able to confirm the correlation between the new victims and the scratches, prove that we should be looking into the possibility of a copycat killer for the Widow of the Woods. We’ll finally prove to Jeremy that he’s a fucking idiot for not listening! We can do this.”
“We can fucking do this!”
“I’m absolutely exhausted! I’m going home.”
“Me too!”
“Nope,” you reject, beaming at him and handing over the box, “you’re going to face the beast.”
“How dare you call Jackie a beast?”
“Jackie? Hell no. I’m talking about Jeremy. You can tell him he’s wrong, I value my life.”
-
The walk home is everything you could have asked for. Cold enough for the wind to nip at the skin lining your cheeks, to gnaw on your nose until it’s red raw; but warm enough in the burrow of your clothing. And isolated enough to gather your thoughts into something you can almost excuse for a pile.
Because as the snow starts to dance, the streets clear. Families giggling with eager children into shelter, doors closing with audible snaps and warm orange light flooding from the windows. Even the distant figure of Ryan, of who you raise a hand to wave to as he sits stagnant on his front porch watching the white caught on the wind, stands to head inside. You don’t blame him. Continuing past until the store disappears behind you.
It’s quiet, which is nice. A welcome change to the mayhem that’s been inhabiting your mind so frequently. Chaos causing havoc and a constant stream of uncontrollable chatter. Hands buried deep in your pockets, it’s with every turn of your charmed stones that you realise just why it’s been so loud inside you head. Why you haven’t tried to instate some silence.
Because, if you had, you’d remember her.
Which, honestly, isn’t ideal with an open serial homicide case running rampant through your priorities.
And again, now that you’ve mentioned honesty to yourself, you can’t avoid the reason why you’re so frustrated with Jeremy. Why you want to take him by the shoulders and shake, desperate to hear the rattle of common sense. Of a failure you’ve both shared, and the experience you seem to have taken away while he’s remained as stubborn as ever. If he keeps going the way he is, refusing to explore a potential lead because it seems implausible, or silly, or pointless, someone else is going to die.
The crunching of snow beneath your boots works wonders, sound enough to ease the panic bubbling just below the surface. Every few steps draws in a deep, freezing breathe. Calm with every recount of ‘left foot, right foot, repeat’. Doused in the glow of happy homes and flanked by snow banks, it all starts to make sense. There’s an uncomfortably misplaced relief at the prospect of connecting the things you knew to be related all along, the links between the scratches, knocking, and missing children now so solid that people can’t ignore it.
So solid that you can’t question your sanity anymore, because the evidence is clear as day. Paranormal or otherwise. The Widow of the Woods, or the story at least, had a role to play. Of that you were sure.
The lodge comes into view after a few more minutes of quiet walking, nothing but the wind accompanying its breech above the snow. Through the windows comes the compassionate glow of Lauren’s summertime; of warmth and comfort and family as she spins in Trevor’s arms, the pair laughing and dancing in the firelight. The hum of music trembling into the snow. Wrapped in the intoxication of togetherness, of the overwhelming love they have for one another - that same love that greets you at the door as you ease off your shoes and unravel from your layers.
But you don’t bother them, not yet, anyway. Instead watching them claim the living room as a dancefloor, Lauren’s sunshine caught in Trevor’s gaze that looks as though he can’t thank the stars enough for the beauty he holds in his hands. Can’t tell the woman with shining cheeks and a smile that brightens the room just how wonderful she is. How she glows whenever he so much as throws her a glance, or fractures into rays of gold when he smiles. Her happiness so warm and inviting that it throbs around her body, casting those she loves in her own light. And as he looks at her now, it’s like words won’t be enough.
That nothing will be, which is why he’ll never stop trying.
#Achievement Hunter#Ryan Haywood#RTAH#Ryan Haywood x reader#lumberjack au#lumberjack ryan#jeremy dooley#detective!jeremy#geoff ramsey#michael jones#lindsay jones#jack pattillo#gavin free#trevor collins#alfredo diaz#numb#numb fic#witchy!reader#ah reader insert#rt reader insert#rt imagine#ah imagine
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it’s all about the money, honey (Connor Murphy x Reader)
connor paying you to be his fake girlfriend! based on the anon i got last night!
I didn’t really proof this so let me know if i’ve made any mistakes!
warnings: swearing and a little angst. i think that’s it?
The final bell rang and you breathed a sigh of relief as you stuffed your books into your backpack and slung it over your shoulder. It was finally Friday, and you had nothing to do over the weekend. You were completely free. Walking out of the classroom, you made a list of all the Netflix shows you needed to get caught up on. You still hadn’t finished Madmen, but the new season of Riverdale just came out and, even though it was kinda trashy and way over dramatic, you still enjoyed sitting down and binge watching it with a tub of Ben and Jerry’s. But there was also that movie you heard someone else talk about in class, Alex Strangelove. It sounded like something you might like. But The Toys That Made Us also just released new episodes, and that’s a pretty neat show. And funny, too, for it to be a documentary series. Ooh, you had something new on your list too, though--
“Y/n!” you were pulled out of your thoughts by someone’s hand on your shoulder, yanking you off to the side, out of the sea of students all heading towards the exits. You looked up to see a panting and disgruntled Connor Murphy.
“What the hell, I’ve been calling your name.”
“Didn’t hear you.” you shrugged his hand off. You’d tolerate him touching you around his family, sure, but you didn’t want it happening when it wasn’t necessary.
“I need you to come over tonight.”
“No.” you said simply.
“What?”
“I said no. I’m busy.”
“Busy with what? Holing up in your room and watching TV by yourself?”
“None of your business.” you hoped he couldn’t tell he hit the nail right on the head.
“Just, please, Y/n.”
“Why? What’s so important that you need me over there so bad?”
“My grandmother’s coming into town tonight. Larry told her I had a girlfriend and now she wants to meet you.”
You barked out a laugh.
“It’s one thing for me to lie to your parents and Zoe, but your grandmother? That’s not happening.” You turned to walk away when he something that caught your ear.
“I’ll pay you double.”
You stopped in your tracks and turned around to look at him. He looked desperate.
You sighed, running a hand through your hair. You could really use the money...
“Fine.” He visibly relaxed at your words.
“Thank you. Now can we go? I’d rather just get this over with.”
You followed Connor out to the senior parking lot and climbed into his car, tossing your bag into the backseat and sighing heavily as you buckled up. He ignored you, of course.
As Connor pulled out onto the road you let your head fall against the window and thought about how you even got into this position in the first place.
You and Connor were never really friends. You’d known him since middle school, but never really talked to him. He was always a little cold towards you. Maybe it was because you were friends with Jared, who was, admittedly, an asshole to Connor. Or maybe that was just Connor’s attitude towards everyone.
The two of you sat beside each other in science, and would occasionally have to work on assignments together. Usually he would do his half quietly, and you would do yours, and when your were both done you’d copy the answers from each other. An easy system. One day, a few months ago, you were filling out a worksheet while Connor sat back, arms crossed, doing absolutely nothing.
“Okay, what the hell is your problem?” you’d asked him eventually, putting your pencil down.
“Why do you care?” he snapped.
“Because you’re my lab partner and you’re not doing jack shit. This is due at the end of class and I can’t afford to fail this assignment.”
“Of course.” he’d scoffed, “You’re only worried about yourself.”
You’d clenched your jaw in frustration. Whatever he was going through really wasn’t your problem, and you didn’t really give a shit. But if you could help him with whatever it was, maybe he’d get off his ass and do his part of the assignment.
“Just…” you took a deep breath, composing yourself. “Maybe I can help.”
He laughed humorlessly at that.
“You can’t. Unless you can get my parents off my ass about not being a “normal kid”. They’re constantly nagging me, asking why I’m not hanging out with friends, why I don’t join a club or try sports, why I don’t have a girlfriend. Fuck, at this point I’d pay someone just to pretend.”
“How much?” you joked.
“Sixty bucks per date.” he deadpanned.
“Are you kidding or…?”
He shrugged, picking at his nail polish. His face was tinted pink. Holy shit, he was being serious.
“I’ll do it.”
“What?” he asked, looking over at you incredulously.
“I’ll do it. I’ll be your fake girlfriend or whatever.”
“Oh.” he cleared his throat. “Uh, thanks?”
“Don’t thank me. You’re paying me for it; it’s not like I’m doing you a favor or something.”
“Right, yeah, uh…” he ran a hand anxiously through his hair.
“Just, uh, gimme your phone real quick.”
He obliged and you added your number to his (depressingly short) contact list.
“Text me or something and we can work out the details, yeah?”
“Yeah.” he nodded, not looking at you.
He started on his half of the assignment. You worked in mutual, awkward silence.
The page was finished in time and once the bell rang he left the room without a word.
Later that night you got a text, briefing you with a made up backstory and a time and date to have dinner with his family. And thus began your “relationship”.
Connor pulled up to the Murphy household to find his usual parking spot occupied by a gold Lincoln Town Car. He sighed and opted to park in the street.
“She’s already here.”
You could practically smell the anxiety on him and, honestly, you felt a little bad for him.
You got out of the car and followed the stone walkway up to the front porch.
Connor grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers through his right before opening the front door.
The sound of chatter died down a bit as you walked in. Connor took a deep breath before leading you into the dining room. Larry and Cynthia sat at the table, along with Connor’s grandmother, an older woman with round cheeks and big curly hair.
“Hi Nana.” Connor raises his hand to her and she scoffs, standing up and holding her arms out in front of her.
“Connor Lawrence Murphy, get over here and give your Nana a hug!”
You snort at the mention of his middle name and he shoots you a glare before releasing your hand and walking over to his grandmother.
She squeezed him tight, her head only reaching his chest while the top of her hair brushed under his chin.
“You’ve gotten so tall, motek! And your hair hair is so long!”
Connor flushed pink as his grandmother reached up to stroke his hair.
“Going to have to take him for a cut soon.” Larry commented, and you could tell Connor was biting his tongue.
“I think it’s very handsome, Larry. He looks so much like your father now.” She cupped Connor’s cheek and smiled sadly. It sent a pang through your chest to see the way he looked away, the sadness that flickered in his eyes at the mention of his grandfather. He’d never talked about him to you before.
But then again, why would he? You weren’t really his girlfriend. Hell, you weren’t even his friend. You were just someone he paid to keep his parents off his back. If it weren’t for your little deal he’d want nothing to do with you.
For the first time since you started this whole thing, you felt a little bad.
“You must be Y/n!” his grandmother said suddenly, pulling away and hurrying around the table. She pressed a big kiss against your cheek and you were a bit taken aback.
“I’ve heard so much about you!” she mused, pushing your hair away from your face and smiling at you. Your cheeks burned at the attention.
“You’ve done so well, Connor! She’s beautiful!”
“Yeah, uh, she is.” he mumbled, taking a seat at the table and looking anywhere that wasn’t at you.
The front door opened again as Zoe came inside, guitar in tow. Connor’s grandmother, much to your relief, released you in favor of showering Zoe in kisses and compliments.
You took your usual seat beside Connor and sat quietly, listening to Connor’s family get caught up. Connor, you noticed, stayed silent as well, looking incredibly uncomfortable. You reached over and grabbed his hand, giving him a reassuring squeeze. Only because you were acting, though. Just in case Larry or Connor’s grandmother looked over, or if Cynthia came out of the kitchen where she was cooking something that, surprisingly, smelled like real food. It was all just for show, really, it was.
“So Connor,” his grandmother said, swallowing her mouthful of pasta, “how long have you been dating Y/n?” she gestured towards you with her fork.
“About three months.” he told her. He’d decided your “anniversary” should be three weeks before the night you first met the Murphy’s. Long enough that it would make sense for you to meet them, but not too long that it would be weird that he’d never talked about you to them.
“And how did you two meet?”
“Well, we’ve gone to school together since 6th grade, but we really started talking when we got paired together on a project several months ago. It all kind of took off from there.” he told her the well rehearsed story. He was lying through his teeth to his grandmother quite convincingly. It made you wonder what else he was keeping from his family.
Not that it was any of your business.
“Does he treat you well, chamudi?” she asked you. You made a mental note to google what that meant when you got home.
“Oh yes, of course he does! He’s the sweetest guy I’ve ever met, really.” You leaned your head lovingly against his shoulder, trying to really sell the routine.
“You know, Connor,” she told him, taking a sip of water. “Your grandfather and I were married at eighteen, right after high school.” she raised her eyebrows at him.
Zoe snorted at the comment. Connor looked down at his plate.
“That’s because he was joining the military, Mom.” Larry told her, “And I don’t think they’re that serious right now.” for once you were thankful that Larry opened his mouth.
She only hummed at him and took another sip of water. An uncomfortable silence hung in the air a solid ten seconds before Cynthia cut in.
“Well, speaking of marriage, Are you coming back in town for the wedding next month?”
“Of course I am. I wouldn’t miss my granddaughter’s wedding for the world. It might be the only chance I get to see one of my grandchildren marry before I die.” Connor and Zoe both rolled their eyes.
“Will you be coming, dear?” His grandmother asked. All eyes were on you. You swallowed hard.
“Well, I- uh, I actually hadn’t heard anything about this. I guess Connor just forgot to tell me.” you offered a forced smile.
“I guess I did.” You could see Connor’s jaw muscles were tensed.
“Well, this is your invitation now.” His grandmother smiled.
Connor was staring at you, willing you with his eyes to decline.
“Oh, I don’t want to intrude on family matters--”
“Nonsense!” Cynthia said, reaching across the table and laying her hand over yours, smiling sweetly. “You are family, sweetie. And I’m sure all the cousins would love to meet you.”
You looked between Cynthia and Connor, and then Connor and his grandmother. Seeing no other option you smiled and nodded your head.
“That, um- That sounds wonderful. I’d love to go.”
Everyone smiled at you- everyone except Connor- and dinner continued from there without a hitch.
Connor was silent as he drove you home.
“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” you told him. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel but said nothing. “I didn’t know what else to say. Everyone was looking at me and I just…”
You sighed, feeling kind of guilty.
“You don’t have to pay me for it.” still nothing.
“I don’t know why you’re acting like this, Connor. The whole thing was your idea in the first place.”
“I didn’t have any other option.” he snapped. “It was either pay you to be my fake girlfriend or get shit from my parents forever. If I had any choice I wouldn’t be spending my time with you.”
You knew that was true when you agreed to this. That didn’t mean it hurt any less.
Connor pulled up to your house, hitting the breaks a little too hard. You grabbed your bag and he thrust a wad of bills into your hand wordlessly. Your eyes stung as you slammed the car door as hard as you could behind you, causing a dog somewhere in your neighborhood to start barking his head off. Connor sped off before you were even off the sidewalk.
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Title: “La botellita”
Series/Timeline: Twinkle – Shira’s Academia days
Characters: Shira – Juli – Rose – Farz – Enix – Larelop – Tallo – Grey – Dan – Seth - Arraiz (mentioned) - Kendra (mentioned)
Length: 2374w
Based on a real story (?)
the phone call is so real and was so dumb omg
also someone backing off from something so easy/stupid because “reputation” bruh
///
“What are we gonna play? Don’t tell me it’s spin the bottle, that’s dumb” The Meercle asked the Livolt with a curious glance towards the empty water bottle she held, as the rest of the group cracked jokes and chatted around.
“Oh don’t be a party pooper, spin the bottle is fun” Juli answered.
Rose quickly joined in with a sigh, she crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow inquisitively “We’re not babies, I’m sure everyone here can give a lil peck to someone else hm~?” She asked staring at everyone, the boys started pestering each other at that.
“Are we playing the kissing version or the daring version?” Shira asked.
“You’re bound to kiss either way” Juli grinned.
Shira made a face but laughed “Answeeeer”
“Daring I got them here”
“Great! I’m in”
“Alright everyone let’s seeee…. gather together in a circle” Juli called out to everyone as the groups took their positions and sat down at the small table, stood around or even sat at the ceramic floor, almost everyone from the Advanced II had been reunited and Shira looked around with a playful smile, counting the participants in her head. “We’ll be playing spin the bottle with the dares, aaaall of you know the rules, if it points to you, you’re the victim” She said holding up a baseball cap filled with little strips of paper “Tough you can skip… but that comes with a price”
“I’ll go ahead and do the honors” Rose mentioned quickly, taking the bottle, she spun it around and it landed on… Farz, everyone started teasing the first victim.
“Give it here” He said simply with a smile, doing a beckoning gesture with his hand to Juli, she offered the cap and he picked a paper. His eyes skipped over the text and he tossed it away “Are you serious?”
“No backing of now noooo, you’re the first one!” Juli yelled
Rose picked up the paper and laughed “Well our friend here -who apparently doesn’t know how to read- has to put up a small show as a stripper” Yelling immediately followed as he flustered refused and everyone else teased him to do it.
“Fine fine” He got up and started dancing around as he slowly took off his jacket while the girls yelled and laughed, he started taking off his shirt as well but then blurted a “woops” and sat down again. Shira shook her head laughing, he probably would if they weren’t on academia grounds.
“EEEEYYYY!” “Laaaaame! At least do it well and take off the shirt boy!” “Woooooo!” “Nice one Farz ~”
“Next up…” He spun the bottle and landed on Shira.
She muttered a complaint and picked a strip of paper, reading it fast “Aw shit, it says I gotta do moaning sounds out loud” the group roared with laughter at the irony “I’m cursed, why this?” She stared at Juli for an answer… or a way out.
“Who wrote these things?” Enix asked trying to contain tears of laughter. “It had to be an Alpha I swear”
“Of course they were and next year we’ll add our own” Larelop grinned.
“Come on, you picked” Tallo started “chop-chop wanna hear that” He clapped his hands lightly for emphasis on the words.
“Don’t be nasty I’m 16” She laughed.
“Go on Cleó~” He teased.
Shira leered at him “I am going to hit you” Nonetheless she took the dare, though still trying not to laugh and now blushing a bit “ok ok lemme…” she closed and cleared her throat.
“She’s getting in character…” Rose couldn’t help teasing.
Her brows furrowed “Hngah! hnaaah…aaaah~ No I can’t!” She yelled red faced.
“AAAAAHAHAHAHA!” “Just like back then!” “You’re kidding, that was so fake!” “banned y’all are banned”
“Next iiiis” Shira spun the bottle around, landed right opposite of her to Tallo, she stared up at him with a gaze that said ‘revenge’ Grey and Dan exchanged glances and laughed at the Osubame’s disgrace.
He said nothing at all as he picked his strip of paper.
“I bet you everything he’s gonna pick a non-dirty one” Rose whispered over to Shira.
“Shit I hope not” The meercle mumbled back.
“Make a prank call” Tallo read with a victorious smirk.
“Are you serious?!” Shira yelled in disbelief leaning forward, seriously what were the chances?
“Gimme a phone” He smirked and extended his hand.
Rose handed him Seth’s who offered it “Not using your own, what a coward” She taunted.
“It’s called a safe net darling” He started dialing a random number, taking care of not calling to one of the contacts already registered, set the phone down and put it on speaker as it was calling.
“Say you’re calling from a strip club”
“Of course, and then I introduce you”
“Smooth fucker…”
“Say it’s a robbery, say it’s a rob-oh shit!”
The phone stopped ringing and someone answered “Hello?” It was a middle-aged man’s voice.
Tallo picked the phone and put it closer to him “I got the money run hurry up!” He hushed in deeper and rugged voice, everyone tried not to laugh or they’d give it away too fast.
“what?”
“Suaz…” Shira muttered.
“I got the money man, move move, the police is in my ass! I’m waiting at the spot we agreed where are you?!”
“w-what? who’s this?”
Tallo looked up and Juli was making a gesture with her hand slicing her neck for him to just drop the call and he did. Everyone started laughing.
“Neeeext!” Rose called out, shaking the baseball cap.
Tallo picked up the bottle and spun it in the center of the circle again, everyone leaned in expectantly. It stopped in front of a certain Tyltto.
“We have a winner” Farz commented, Tallo just tried to contain laughter, oh the irony!
Enix stirred around the strips of paper before picking one and reading it, her shoulders fell as she sighed “screw you all”
“That’s not what it says” Dan joked smirking.
“Nope, but someone has to buy me an ice cream” She passed the strip of paper to Shira, Rose huddled up to her to read as well and both gasped and laughed.
“It’s true it’s true!” Shira commented.
“But she’s gotta lick and suck on that ice cream well~” Rose joked and loud laughter followed as everyone kept making comments and teasing poor Enix.
“And I thought mine was bad” Shira mentioned.
“Yo, at least I get an ice cream?” Enix shrugged but Rose and Juli still shook their heads.
“Chip in to buy Enix her ice cream, come on” Dan mentioned, extending his hand, palm open “I’ll go buy it outside at the place near the bookstore” He explained as everyone pulled a few coins and placed them all together in his hand.
“Aahh those are so good” Larelop mentioned dreamily.
“Say you’re gonna share Eniiiix~” Shira smiled at the tyltto who stuck her tongue at her in response.
Said and done, minutes later Enix had a simple chocolate popsicle, the girl licked her lips as she unwrapped it and then started slowly licking it’s whole length and giving some light chocolate-y nibbles at the tip until she put it in her mouth. The reactions from everyone were just priceless.
Shira squealed and laughed hiding her face on Rose’s hair who alongside Larelop just stared at the Tyltto amusedly and with a hint of disbelief.
Enix parted with a small last lick and looked around with a serious expression, eyes narrowing “Tallo is that a fucking wingboner I swear to Zygarde… if any of you get a tent for this I am never speaking to you again”
Everyone immediately turned to Tallo and the Osubame folded his wings tighter in his back purely by reaction. Dan, Rose and Larelop started laughing gleefully as he blushed in embarrassment and glared daggers at Enix “Bad joke”
“Can dish it out but can’t take it?” Enix replied as she picked the bottle to spin it now, it landed on Grey of all people.
The saihorn clicked his tongue annoyed, and here he thought he could get away without participating, how naïve “Go ahead give me that” He pulled a piece of paper, his eyes skipped over “Aahh no big deal” He put it down but Larelop quickly snatched it.
“You have to say your crush’s name out loud and confess if they’re playing too~” Larelop smirked knowingly at him, he glared back.
“oohhh juicy~!” Rose laughed suddenly paying much more attention.
“Who is the chanceuse petite princesse?” Dan asked almost mockingly, Seth chuckled and gave him a nudge with his elbow.
Grey sighed and stretched his legs “Aright, you remember the last crowned Alpha queen? Well I had a crush on her back then” He admitted, smiling slightly as he remembered her “I never approached her or anything though just kinda admired her from afar”
“Arraiz? Daaaaw!” Juli exclaimed cupping her cheeks.
“Wow dude, she was a real babe indeed, aiming high there” Seth said patting him on the shoulder. Tallo nodded in acknowledgement and some of the girls rolled their eyes.
“I got over it though” He quickly added “Plus she graduated 2 years ago”
“You’re not fun” Juli mentioned “Also didn’t Kendra have her number?”
He shrugged and spun the bottle next to change the topic quickly.
The game continue for a few more rounds as people completed their dares, some hilarious and silly, some really daring and the majority being risqué. Until finally it was Tallo’s turn again…
“Go out and yell full force ‘The zombies are coming!’” Seth read.
“I skip” Tallo said simply raising a hand in defeat.
Shira gasped in disbelief “Are you shitting me? Out of all things so far you back out from that one?!”
“Yes I got a reputation” Tallo explained with a totally straight face.
The Livolt boy laughed “A reputation he says…”
Tallo looked at the girls in the group “Hmmm Enix would you be my victim?”
“Byyyeee Tallo I’m not kissing you~” The girl replied casually absentmindedly biting her ice cream stick, having finished the actual treat rounds ago.
“Shaaa…” He let a defeated smile, having sort of expected that, and looked up at the brunette next to him “Rose?”
The Butterfree looked at him with a knowing look that practically spelled ‘you owe me so many’ but nonetheless her lips curved slightly in a half-smile and she leaned in.
“Woooooo~!”
“Now this is something!” Larelop exclaimed while Shira simply stared amazed at her two closest friends kiss.
“Five years of friendship for this” She laughed. Dan in particular stared at her confused.
“Huh?”
And then she noticed what she had said. Out loud. “Uhh…nothing nothing, who’s next now?” She dismissed it quickly and changed the subject.
Dan spun the bottle around and it landed on none other than Larelop. The Tairenar’s bushy tail wagged impatient and nervous as she rummaged through the slips of paper to pick one.
“I got it” She proceeded to read it “Slap the person to your left on the butt” She let out a short laugh, especially considering the one most to her left was Farz.
The laughter was immediate “oooohhhh!”
“I bet it doesn’t say butt though” Juli laughed.
“Same thing same thing, come here Farz” She uncrossed her legs and sort of just crawled towards him, seemingly not wanting to put too much effort into this, the boy reluctantly got up and sighed turning her back to her. Larelop stretched her arm, brows furrowed and tip of her tongue out and gave a slap on the boy’s butt “score!” Enix and Shira laughed loudly.
“aayyyy!” Romy called out. Enix patted the boy on the shoulder apologetically, seeing his embarrassed blush.
“she wants the booootyyyy” Tallo teased.
“shhh ok ok my turn then” Larelop said moving her hands for them to pipe down, she picked the bottle and gave it a good spin.
It landed on Dan this time, the Livolt sighed and took one of the few strips of paper, his eyes skipped on the text and he frowned “Lick the foot of the person at your right??!” He yelled alarmed.
“OOOOHHHHH” “Ewww” “Nasty!”
“Skip skip!” He said quickly waving the little paper and putting it away.
“Aww come on man don’t be a coward” Grey smirked.
“Coward? Between licking your feet and kissing a girl I’d much prefer the second one thank you!” Dan spat pushing him away playfully.
Enix clapped her hands together “Who is it gonna beeee~?”
Juli’s eyes narrowed, now here’s the thing: she’s his twin sister, rose and enix had already kissed someone, larelop wasn’t interested but could do and then there’s Shira… who actually has a tiny crush on her brother…
The choice was pretty obvious.
She nudged at the Meercle who instantly blushed.
“Juli no” Shira mumbled.
“Juli yes” she grinned back and nudged at her once more. And at that moment she made the stupid mistake of looking at him and their gazes actually met. Shira felt her face become hot and tried to suppress it and calm down.
“A kiss between two leaders?” Dan mentioned, everyone else shut up and stared at him.
“Alliance by marriage and all of that, sure” Shira joked. She nervously leaned in forward, heart beating fast and closed her eyes and felt his lips on hers.
And then, just as quick, it was over and she sat back down trying not to make this much of a big deal. Juli’s wide grin was not helping things though.
“And so The Elementario and Legemd are now one joined team, everyone else go home” Larelop laughed.
“Where’s my macaron at?” Tallo added.
Suddenly a strident ringing sound called everyone’s attention: the bell signaling the end of recess.
“Noooooo!/Awwwww!” Everyone complained, getting up stretching and dusting clothes to go back to class.
“That was way too short!”
“It’s because we took too long with the ice cream thing”
“Well you could have kept playing while I was gone buying it!” Dan objected.
“We’ll continue later” Juli laughed mischievously. As everyone went back inside she slowed down a bit to walk beside Shira “you ok there?”
“Don’t you dare say a thing but… it was nice” She blushed.
Juli just grinned.
#the ice cream thing I can't#never got over that dumb kiss btw#eifi writes#twinkle#asdfghafad#juli no#rose's first quote is also literally taken from what she said in another fanfic word by word//hit#this whole game was based on something from that fanfic and actual spin the bottle games I played in liceo
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