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runningfrom2am · 10 months

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big reputation - (r.c)

summary: Rafe drives you and your hardly conscious friend home from a party.

This can be read as a stand-alone but it's technically a part two to getaway car

pairing: rafe x reader

wc: 3k

tags/warnings: mean!kook!reader, bullying i guess?, highschool!au, swearing, drinking, emetophobia warning, smut (its implied nothing actually graphic happens)

requests

nav/masterlists

Loud music shakes the floor of the beach house you're in, filling your ears with Taylor Swift's 'End Game'. One of your favorites. You smile leaning over the railing of the loft, the world spinning as you talk to a giggly Bella, forgetting every sentence the second it leaves your lips.

"Bells, I just love you so much. Have I ever told you that before?" You say, cutting off your friend as she talks.

"Aww, I love you too. So, so much." She replies, throwing her arms around you as you both stumble and fall against the railing.

"Woah! Careful ladies." You hear a male voice close to you and a hand on your back.

"Hi! Quinton, oh my god." Bella giggles before you can identify him, pulling him into what is now a group hug.

"Had too much to drink tonight, huh?" The boy asks and you both furiously shake your heads.

"No! We would never." You say, stopping the head shake as it makes you dizzy.

"Just the good kind of drunk then? I'm glad to hear it." He laughs, dropping his arm from Bella's shoulder and leaning onto you still. You reach up and place your hand on his arm as it falls over your body.

"Yeah! It's so good. It's been too long since we've had a good party, you know?" Bella says, smiling between the two of you.

"Literally! I missed being drunk." You giggle.

"Me too, you're so funny when you're drunk," Quinton says, patting your shoulder.

"I like to think I'm funny all the time." You say, raising an eyebrow as you turn to look up at him.

"Well, duh, just a different kind of funny. More carefree." He explains. "Less... uptight, you know?"

"Oh please." You roll your eyes. "You pretty much have to be uptight to even get into Kook Academy. Bells is an outlier." You laugh.

"So true, actually." Quinton agrees.

Before you can reply, Bella speaks up and proves her right. "I'm gonna go get another drink, I think. Do you want one? Or a water? Actually, yeah I'll get you a water, Y/N/N. It'll be good for you. Yeah." Bella rambles on, quickly tapping you on the shoulder and pointing at you before heading unsteadily toward the stairs. "I'll be right back!" She shouts over the music as she gets farther away.

"Thank you, Bells!" You call after her.

"Come with me," Quinton says, leaning down to speak in your ear, then placing a kiss on your neck.

Shivers run down your back even in your drunken state, looking down the stairs and seeing Bella stopped at the bottom talking to some girls. "I should probably wait here for Bells." You reply, in contrast to you leaning your head to the side to give him more access to your skin.

"She'll be at least ten minutes. Come on." He whispers, dropping his arm from your shoulder and grabbing your wrist, leading you away from the railing and back to a somehow unoccupied bedroom. You suppose she'll be fine, she's got those girls with her and you'll find her in just a few minutes.

Downstairs, Bella stumbles into the kitchen, looking around for an empty cup, and checking all the plastic red cups littered across the countertops. "Bella!" She hears her name and turns.

"Hey! Topper! How are you?" She slurs, immediately walking up to him and giving him a hug.

"Wow, you've had a few, haven't you?" He laughs, patting her back and then pulling away.

"How could you tell?" She giggles.

"Just a guess." He shrugs. "Hey! We're about to start up a game of Chandelier- you want to tap in? We're gonna team up on Kelce, at the very least it'll be a funny watch." Topper says, laughing through the end of his statement.

"Yeah, for sure!" Bella nods, then looks down at the cups in her hands. "Oh, well, I need to get Y/N some water first. Do you think I have time?"

"She'll be fine for a few minutes, you know her." He insists. "If you don't want to drink anymore, someone else will drink for you I'm sure."

Bella thinks about it for a second and nods. She knows you're as independent as they come, but she still does worry about you. She dismisses the thought, remembering you're with Quinton and would probably like some time alone with him anyways. "Okay, sure. Sounds like fun." She agrees, following Topper out to the patio where the game table is placed.

"Hey Bella, you gonna play?" Rafe asks her as she takes her place at the table, squeezing in between Kelce and Topper.

"Yeah! I've never played this before so I'll have to learn as I go but you guys might need some patience for me." She giggles out, not really standing steady on her feet as it is.

Rafe raises his eyebrows and nods, looking at her a little surprised. "Right, yeah." He gives Topper a look, suggesting it may not be the best idea for her to play. "Hey, Bella, where's Y/N?" He asks, leaning over the table a little as the boys work on filling up all the cups with various drinks they had on hand.

"Oh! Uh, she's upstairs." Bella answers, smiling and leaning in a little bit. "With Quin. I figured I'd give them some alone time." She giggles, winking at him.

"Oh, gotcha. Cool." Rafe finds himself looking up towards the windows on the second floor, not sure what he was expecting or even wanting to see.

"Yeah, I'm excited for her! I think she's really into him. Well, that's what she says. She never seems interested when I want to talk about it, though. She does have some issues so I think it could be about that. Sorry, no. I shouldn't say that- I mean, I just worry about her because of some stuff that's happened to her and I definitely shouldn't be telling any of you this so I'm gonna stop talking right now." Bella rambles on, slowly trailing off toward the end of her sentence.

"No you're fine- we won't tell anyone," Topper says, shaking his head. "Who hasn't had a sprinkle of trauma in their lives, you know?"

"Let's just play," Rafe says, quickly polishing off what's left in his can before tossing it over his shoulder. "Me and you start, Top. That way Bells can see how it's done."

It's been about half an hour since Bella left to go get your drinks, and part of you feels guilty for disappearing on her. Realistically, though, you know she doesn't mind finding someone else to talk to for a bit while you're sitting on the ensuite bathroom counter with Quinton's head between your thighs. She's got tons of friends- and god knows she'll love to hear about it later.

Your head is leaning back against the mirror, eyes closed and all you can hear is your own heavy breathing and the music shaking the walls from downstairs. That's until you think you hear someone calling your name, then a hand on the bedroom door handle which is in full view of the open bathroom door. Why did you not lock it? You shove Quinton's head away as quickly as you can, just in time to push your skirt down before the door swings open.

"Y/N-" It's Rafe, and he freezes for just a moment, clearly processing what he almost walked in on as Quinton stands up, wiping his mouth on his shirt which he just picked up off the floor.

"Hey, Rafe- what's up?" He asks casually, pulling the fabric back over his head. As you stare at the boy, stunned and red in the face.

"Uh- I need Y/N. Something happened." He explains vaguely, grabbing your arm and pulling you from the room.

"Jesus Christ, Rafe! What the fuck?" You say once you're out of earshot, letting him pull you down the stairs.

"It's Bella, she keeps asking for you. She's like, super fucked up." Rafe huffs, pulling you out onto the patio.

"Okay yeah, aren't we all?" You scoff and he shakes his head. You take one look at your friend, laid out on the grass on the back lawn and quickly run over to her, kneeling by her side.

"Hey, Bells? You alright, babe?" You say, a sympathetic smile on your face. She absolutely does not look good.

"No..." She groans, opening her eyes to look up at you. "Can we go home?" She asks, and you quickly nod.

"Of course. Uh... yes. Do you think you're gonna be sick? Will you be fine if I call an Uber?" You ask.

Rafe is quickly kneeling next to you. "I got some water, here, Bella, let's get you up." He says, and you both help her slowly sit up, then he hands her the cup.

He leans in close to your ear to talk to you so she doesn't hear. "She puked all over the table- she's probably done for now but she's gotta get home."

You wince and look back up on the patio where Kelce and Topper are throwing cups into a garbage bag and dousing the surface with any cleaner they could find under the sink and covering it in paper towels. "Yikes." You chuckle, turning to look back at him.

"Yeah, it was not pretty." He laughs a little, shaking his head. "Do you guys have a DD?" He asks.

"No, we were going to Uber- but I don't know if they'll let us in." You sigh, sitting back on your heels.

"No, no. 'm fine, guys. I take it back. I wanna stay." Bella insists, handing you the almost empty cup.

"Well, I think I'm ready to go home, babe. That okay?" You smile at her and she nods.

"Of course! Yeah, let's go home." You giggle at how quickly she changed her mind.

"I think I can drive," Rafe says, looking between the two of you. You hesitate, thinking it over. "I haven't had much. I was going to drive myself anyways. Do you trust me?"

You find yourself nodding. He seems sober enough for you. "Yeah, okay. Rafe is going to take us home." You turn to your friend, patting her leg.

"Oh! Thank you, Rafe. You're so sweet." She slurs, reaching forward and placing her hand on his cheek.

He laughs, shaking his head. "That's a new one for sure. Come on. Let's get you home."

You both help her up, letting her drape her arms over both of your shoulders and holding her waist as you walk out to the street, towards where Rafe says he parked. Luckily he didn't take the bike, he was thinking he'd probably have to drive Topper and Kelce too.

He watches you as you talk to Bella quietly, giggling to yourselves. "Oh god, wait! Y/N I'm so sorry- you were with Quinton!" Bella says suddenly, now loud enough for Rafe to hear. "I hope I didn't ruin anything- oh god..."

"No, no. Bells, it's fine." You insist, shaking your head. "It wasn't good anyways." You shrug, making Rafe choke on his laughter.

"What? Why?" Bella gasps, looking over at you. "Was he-"

"Uh-" You laugh nervously cutting her off as you briefly make eye contact with Rafe over her head. "I'll tell you about it later, okay?"

"No, please- share with the group," Rafe says, raising an eyebrow at you.

You roll your eyes. "I'm not gonna 'share with the group', let's just say, I'm over him now and I'd like to thank you both for getting me out of there."

The two of them laugh at that, and Bella tries to lean in to whisper to you. "You'll still tell me the details later though, right?" She says, trying to be quiet but it was still loud enough for Rafe to hear.

"Yeah, yeah of course." You giggle, making eye contact with him again.

"Uh, this is us," Rafe says, digging in his pocket for his keys to unlock the vehicle. He opens the back door, and you both help Bella in. "Okay, not to be that asshole, but Bella; if you have to puke, now is the time because I really don't want it to stink in here." He says as you buckle her in. She nods and gives a thumbs-up.

"I'm good. I promise."

"Okay, Bells, if you think that you're going to puke while we're moving, say something, okay? We can pull over or roll down your window or something." You tell her and she nods again.

You hop in the passenger seat and Rafe jogs around to the driver's side, climbing in and starting it up. You drive in the direction of Bella's house, putting on any Taylor Swift he had on his phone at her every request- not that you minded. It was mostly Reputation, which was fine by you since that was your favorite as well.

Luckily, you make it to Bella's without a hitch, jumping out to go enter the gate code to be let onto the property. You quickly jump back in and Rafe pulls up the long driveway to her house.

"Rafe! Here, hold on- how much do you want?" Bella asks, digging through the bag on her lap.

"Don't pay me." Rafe laughs, shaking his head.

"Okay, well, I guess I'm just going to accidentally leave this fifty back here where you can't reach it. Oopsies." She laughs, tucking it in the back seat and wrapping her arm around you again as she pretty much falls out of the car.

"Yeah, whatever Bella." Rafe chuckles, shaking his head. "Hey, Y/N, are you staying here? Or do you need a ride home?" Rafe asks as you're about to shut the door.

"Uh, I think I'll go home if you're okay to wait a couple minutes while I get her to bed?" You ask and he nods.

"I'll be here." He assures you and you thank him before shutting the door, helping Bella up to her house, and entering the code to get in.

"Wait, wait, tell me about Quinton!" Bella whispers once you're inside as you help her upstairs to her room.

"I'll tell you tomorrow- we'll debrief at brunch, yeah?" You laugh, shutting the door to her room behind you.

"Okay, okay." Bella sighs, flopping down on her bed as you grab her a makeup wipe and some pajamas from her drawer. "You know what I've been thinking?"

"Hm?" You hum in response, placing the pajamas on the bed and sitting down next to her, holding her chin as she sits up so you can gently wipe off her makeup for her.

"I think you and Rafe are like, the same person. You have a lot in common! You're both the oldest of three, you both are a little bit mean, but like in a fun way, and you have virtually the exact same sense of humor." She says and you laugh, shaking your head. "If you're over Quinton now, like you said, maybe- I don't know, just a pitch, maybe you should consider all your options. That's all I'm saying."

"Bella, come on. Rafe is... Rafe." You laugh, carefully wiping her lashes.

"Yeah, and you are you. And I'm me. And you're kind of friends, so like- what's the harm? Also, I can see it in the way he looks at you." She says, eyes still closed. "Besides, I've heard it's big."

"Bella!" You laugh, your cheeks burning as you sigh. "I've heard that too." You admit.

"Okay! You can get us evidence and give me all the tea. Neither of you are the relationship type either so there's no pressure." She explains. "But also, like, I really don't think a relationship would be bad for you. Or him. If you are as similar as I think you are. Also, you kind of went on a date the other week! Like, come on. You get on so well."

You smile to yourself and shake your head, getting up to throw out the dirty wipe. "I've got to go, Rafe is waiting." You giggle and she nods, laying back down. "Hey, put your pajamas on before you pass out. Okay? I'll see you in the morning." You head back to the door.

"Go get your man, Y/N/N. I love you." Bella yawns, already half asleep.

"Love you too. I'll call you in the morning." You whisper, stepping out and closing the door softly behind you, careful not to wake her parents.

You sneak outside, running over to the car where Rafe is still waiting, looking at his phone when you jump in.

"She good?" He asks as you close the door.

"Yeah, passed out instantly." You chuckle, avoiding eye contact with him.

"Sweet. Yeah." He agrees, sensing a shift in tension. He starts the car and you start back down the driveway, getting back out onto the road after closing the gate behind you.

"So, did you tell her about Quinton?" Rafe laughs.

"No, that's a breakfast conversation for sure." You chuckle.

"A breakfast conversation? Really? Why do you have to put other people through that?"

You shrug in response. "Because I don't give a shit if anyone knows."

"That guy is a dick, you know that right?" Rafe says suddenly, and you look over at him as he stares at the road.

"Well, yeah, but we're kind of friends so..." You reply defensively.

"He's not worth your time. I know him pretty well, and just like, don't bother." Rafe says, glancing over at you for a second.

"Maybe I'm not worth his time." You reply.

"Nah. You can do so much better. And it wouldn't be hard." Rafe insists.

"Thanks." You say hesitantly. You've never been the best at accepting compliments, but Bella has told you to work on it, so when in doubt, just say thanks.

Luckily you don't live far from Bella, so you pull up to your house in just a few minutes. You open the door, grab your bag off the floor by your feet, and going to shut the door. You've been sitting on what Bella said, really just marinating in the thought of you and Rafe together. No harm in trying, right?

"Aren't you coming in?" It comes out more passive-aggressively than you intended when what you meant to ask was if he would like to come in, but that's just not how your mind works sometimes. His head snaps up at this, and he's already undoing his seatbelt.

"Yeah, yeah. Sure." He agrees quickly, turning off the car.

part one

taglist: @slut4drudy , @madelynie , @mutual-mendes , @sadfury , @totallynotkaibiased (i also tagged some mutuals who like my other stuff so if you want to be added or removed lmk!!)

#rafe cameron #obx fanfic #obx #outer banks #rafe obx #rafe cameron x oc #rafe fanfiction #rafe fic #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x reader #rafe imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe x you

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cosmicanamnesis · 1 year

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everybody loves a(n as yet untitled) coffeshop au pt. 2

[part 1] [part 3] [part 4] [read on ao3]

“You’re late,” Keith said as Steve came in.

“What? No I’m not,” he said, confused, and pulled out his phone to check the time for good measure. “Yeah, I’ve got like, two minutes.”

“Yeah, I know. Hurry up, though, I need to take my break.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

He quickly hung up his coat in the break room and pulled his apron on so he could take over for Keith before he got yelled at some more. The second he was at the register, the door chimed.

“Hi, welcome in- Oh, hey Eddie. You… Hang on, don’t you normally come in, like, three hours ago?”

“I did, you just weren’t here to see me,” Eddie smiled, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

“Oh, um. Alright. What can I get you, then?”

“Just a small hot chocolate. Um… Did you know you’re wearing the wrong name tag?” He tapped his chest a couple times in the same spot Steve’s name tag hung on his apron.

“Huh? Oh, yeah!” Steve laughed, grabbing a cup to make Eddie’s drink. “I’m covering for Robin right now. We started doing this thing, ages ago, where if one of us covered for the other, we’d uh… We’d swap name tags. It’s kinda stupid.”

“That’s hilarious, actually,” Eddie chuckled.

“Yeah, we have fun with it. It’s funnier on her than it is on me though.”

“Oh, cause Robin is a kind of androgynous name,” Eddie guessed.

“Yeah, and Steve really isn’t. So, hot chocolate, huh?” Steve asked, changing the subject. “Didn’t expect that one to be yours.” He passed the drink to Eddie at the end of the counter. Eddie smiled, almost laughing as he took it.

“Yeah, I’m not really a coffee guy. Shocking, I know, based on the,” he gestured up and down at himself. He always dressed more or less the same, with big heavy boots and ripped jeans and an old leather jacket with a denim vest on top, covered in pins and patches advertising bands that Steve had never listened to. “Y’know, all of this.”

“Yeah, you don’t really look like a hot chocolate guy. So the whole huge order, that’s for everybody else in the tattoo shop, yeah?”

“Ah huh. I just started apprenticing there, which means I’m the store gopher.”

“The store what?” Steve laughed. Eddie smiled and sipped his drink, still standing at the pick up counter. Fortunately, there was no one else in the cafe.

“Gopher. Like an errand boy. Y’know, hey Eddie, go for coffee, hey Eddie could you go for lunch, stuff like that. Gopher.”

“I can’t say I’ve ever heard that before. That sounds like a pain in the ass.”

“Eh, it’s not so bad. I should probably get back, though,” Eddie said, tapping the counter. “It was good to see you, Steve. Got kinda worried when you weren’t here earlier.”

“What? Why?”

Eddie turned back to him, walking backwards, and shrugged. “You’re my coffee guy,” he said simply.

“Well, just a heads up then, I won’t be here at all tomorrow either,” Steve smiled.

“Alright, good to know. See you around, Stevie.”

Stevie?

“So did you get his number yet, or what?” Keith asked, coming back up to the front.

“Shut up.”

“So, no?”

“Isn’t it, like, unprofessional for you as my boss to be asking me that?”

Keith just shrugged and started wiping down the counters. The bell on the door rang again, drawing both of their attention as Eddie ran back in, drink still in hand.

“Wait, if you’re free tomorrow-” Eddie slammed his hand down on the counter to stop his momentum as he caught his breath. “Do you want to come to a party tomorrow night? It’s not a huge thing, but my band is playing and it’s like, a bunch of their friends, so it’d be cool to have somebody else I know there.”

“Oh! Um. Sure?” Steve said, trying to ignore Keith staring at him. “I didn’t know you were in a band, that’s really cool.”

“Thanks," Eddie smiled like he wasn't actually expecting a yes. "Here, can I put my number in your phone?”

“Yeah, of course!” Steve opened his phone and passed it over the counter.

“Phones are supposed to stay in the break room, Harrington,” Keith deadpanned. Eddie, apparently only just noticing Keith, giggled quietly as he added himself as a contact and handed the phone back to Steve.

“Okay, for real this time, I gotta get back to work. Just text me so I’ll have your number!” Eddie called, again walking backwards out of the cafe. As soon as he was gone, Steve immediately headed back to the break room to text him. He burst out laughing halfway there.

“What’s so funny?” Keith asked.

“Look what he saved himself as,” Steve passed Keith his phone to look at the new contact.

hot chocolate guy

“You want to kiss him so bad, it makes you look stupid,” Keith said, ever unimpressed.

“Appreciate the support, Keith,” Steve said sarcastically, ducking into the back.

He shot a quick text to Eddie as promised and immediately texted Robin after. He didn't expect a reply, assuming she was on her date, but she answered within seconds.

Got his #

who

Eddie, the guy none of you like.

WGAT

WHAT*

FR???

Yeah, he invited me to a party. Apparently he's in a band.

oooo sounds like a date ;)

Stop it. It's not a date.

could be a date ;) ;) ;)

Stop.

"Steve!" Keith yelled from the front. "Quit texting your boyfriend and get back out here! And leave your phone in the break room this time, please?"

Steve huffed and slipped his phone back into his coat pocket so he wouldn't have to listen to it buzz on the table his whole shift.

"I was texting Robin, actually," he said, coming back up to the front. "Dude. There's no one here, why the rush?"

"I like making your life hard," Keith shrugged.

The next time Steve got a chance to look at his phone, he had a text back from Eddie, two from Robin, seven from Chrissy and one from Dustin for some reason.

hot chocolate guy:

Hey, it's Steve!

hey there coffee guy

Robs:

Stop.

you love me

warning: i told chris so she might blow up ur phone

Chrissy (work):

Oh my god Robin said you got whats-his-face’s number??

And he asked you out?

And he's in a band? That’s so cool!!

I take back what I said about not knowing what you see in him.

I do NOT take back what I said about him being weird though.

Oh Keith made you put your phone away didn't he?

I ask as if you could respond if the answer is yes.

Lil Buddy:

hey Steve, what are you doing tomorrow night?

He decided to respond to Dustin's message first.

I'm going to a party. Why?

oh, that's cool. we're throwing a party at the house too, I was going to ask if you wanted to come but if you're busy then don't worry about it.

Let me find out what time the party is, I'll see if I can swing by your place too!

Honestly I'm not sure how long I'll be at the other party, I'm only gonna know the guy who invited me.

who invited you?

Just a regular at work.

the one you have a crush on?

Oh, fuck off. But yes.

;)

Stop. God, you've been spending too much time with Robin.

sounds like a you problem.

Steve rolled his eyes. He loved the kid but god damn was he a handful. He decided to move on before he got sucked into the text-based slapstick comedy that was a drawn out conversation with Dustin Henderson.

He moved on to Chrissy's messages.

Haha, yeah, I did. Don't listen to Robin, he didn't ask me out. He invited me to a NYE party.

How is that not him asking you out?

Because it's not a date!

;)

Jesus Christ, is Robin paying all of you to do that?

Do what?

Nevermind.

He'd see Robin later so he didn't overly feel the need to text her back, instead opting to stare at Eddie's text trying to think of something to say that didn't make him sound desperate or insane. It wasn't going well. Every time he got a free minute, he would type something, stare at it for a while, and backspace the whole thing. By the end of his shift, he still hadn't texted him back.

He and Keith had managed to get the whole cafe clean and ready to close without anyone coming in right after they finished cleaning the espresso machine, which felt like a miracle, and they actually got out on time. As he walked back to his apartment, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He pulled it out to check quickly as if it were an emergency. It was from Eddie. A somewhat blurry photo of Steve, taken from inside the tattoo shop. Another message popped up as he looked at the image.

saw you :)

Haha, hey. Yeah, I just got off work. Sorry I didn't reply earlier, my boss made me put my phone away.

rude ass

Tell me about it.

so the partys tomorrow at 7. no dress code so just come as you are. i can come pick you up

If anyone asked, Steve wasn't blushing, it was just cold.

You don't have to, I do own a car. I just live so close to work it's not worth it to drive.

good to know. but apparently the neighbors get mad when theres too many people parked on the street so were trying to carpool as much as we can

also its gareths turn to drive the band van and his driving scares the shit out of me

Steve laughed to himself as he climbed the stairs to his third floor walk-up. He didn't know who Gareth was, one of Eddie's bandmates he imagined, but he had friends like that too so he understood. He let Max drive his car one time and one time only, and in her defense they did all get home in one piece, but never again.

Haha, alright, you can pick me up then.

He dug his keys out of his pocket and let himself into the empty apartment. It was a tiny little two bedroom thing, but it was just him and Robin living here, so they didn't need that much space. And despite being a walk-up, it was actually pretty nice. The living room had big windows, they had a balcony, they couldn't hear their neighbor's every move through the walls, it was great.

He tossed his coat over the back of the armchair in the living room, which was the chair's sole purpose, and flopped down on the couch. His phone buzzed in his hand. Text from Robin.

omw home, bringing a friend

if you don't want to hear anything you can't unhear then leave

Gross.

you've been warned. eta 15

Steve didn't really have anywhere to go on short notice. He had half a thought to text Eddie to see if he would be off work soon, but thought better of it. He didn't want to freak the guy out. His phone buzzed again. Speak of the devil and all that.

wyd

Trying to figure out something to do to get me out of the house in the next 15 minutes. You?

getting off work

why do you need to be out of the house in 15 minutes lol

Robin's bringing her date home. I don't want to listen to… Whatever they end up doing.

i thought you were dating robin?

Nah, we’re super platonic. We just live together.

wanna hang out?

Apparently Eddie didn't have the same reservations that Steve did.

-------

Well. That blew up.

Howdy? I'm Lichen. I shipped Steddie so hard it brought me out of a several-year-long writing dry spell. I have this fic in progress and a oneshot series that's like. Halfway done? But I am on AO3 as Lichen_Not_Moss and I've got a few complete fics up right now, so far all for Stranger Things

Ode to the Dungeon Master - <1k words, angst, not Steddie

I'll Come If You Call - 4k, angst, Steddie-adjacent

Brown Eyes, I'll Hold You Near - 132k, all over the place, longform Steddie fic

Tagging (everyone who replied to part one, whatever you asked to be tagged or not:)

@original-cypher @avacrebs @dangdirtydemons @rainydays35 @changenamelater @phantypurple @alienace @renaissan-vvitch @krazyperson @dreammetheworld08

#steddie #steddie fic #stranger things #stranger things 4 #text

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yetanothergreyjedi · 1 year

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Ghosts of Our Pasts: 9

DP x DC Crossover

Danny Fenton and Damian Wayne Siblings AU

Ao3

Masterpost Previous Next

Dani: Yo, what's with the massive group chat I just got dropped into?

Dani: I'm assuming you guys have to do with this

Tucker: ....did... did we forget to send you Danny’s new number?

Dani: he has a NEW one? I just swapped his contact information like 2 weeks ago

Tucker: it's actually the same number just backwards... present from the Backwards Day Ghost

Dani: WOW

Tucker: it was miserable

Dani: I'm sure

Dani: so about the group chat?

Tucker: Danny met his bio-sibling and he had a fraid too, so idk its like fraid inlaws or something?

Dani: Bio-sibling? Danny's adopted?

Tucker:Shouldn't you know this?

Dani: Why would I?

Tucker: You're his cousin....

Dani: Oh... I forgot I told you guys that...

Tucker: ?

Dani: I'm his clone

Tucker: this is gonna be a wild story isn't it

* Dani started a call that lasted 31 minutes *

---

Jazz: Danny why did you just put me in a group chat with like 25 people in it?

Danny: Sibling groupchat

Jazz: What?

Jazz: Danny, I'm going to need a bit more explanation than that.

Jazz: you didn't get cloned again?

Jazz: Did you???

Jazz: Danny?

* 1 missed call from Jazz *

* 2 missed calls from Jazz *

* 3 missed calls from Jazz *

---

Jazz: please tell me Danny lost his phone again and isn't in some kind of trouble.

Tucker: Oh, it's in his bag... he's out rn...

Jazz: out where?

Jazz: I thought this was supposed to be a 'laying low' vacation?

Sam: that was before he met his brother

Jazz: his brother?

Tucker: yeah! Apparently he's related to the Batman!

Jazz: you left him alone with his brother

Sam: Yeah...?

Jazz: the brother that killed him?

* multiple people are typing *

---

So yeah, Danny was officially tasting emotions now. He realized as Damian looked him over. The flour-y taste of concern was replaced with a salty-savory pride as he confirmed that, no, Danny hadn't been shot. (Well, he would've been, if he hadn't decided to not be tangible.) Then Bio-dad dropped down, mugger dude gave off another milk-sour wave of fear. Then Bio-dad saw the gun and huh, he didn't think describe how disappointment tasted with human words. But maybe he should be focusing less on what flavors most accurately described his stupid new empath ability and focus more on the situation at hand.

Together Dami and Bio-dad explained the normal process of cuffing criminals in obvious places so the police can find them. It was simple, didn't really require Danny to do anything, so he disassembled the weapon while he listened. Which he probably shouldn't have done, because now he was being asked to hand it over as evidence...

"Uh..." Danny fished the larger pieces back out of his pocket, but their was a lot of little ones, because he might've phased the screws out to take apart the fun little inner bits and he ended up dropping tiny metal parts all over the sidewalk.

There was a beat of silence, then Damian clicked his tongue with a little "Tt," and Danny flushed.

"Sorry..." Danny started.

"It's fine," the Bat said. Amusement, it turned out, tasted like raspberries.

Notes

Danny, holding a deadly weapon: "is this a fidget toy?"

Somebody told me once that they didn't see any Canon evidence that Sam and Tucker knew Dani was a clone. And like, their lives are so crazy that peice of information falling into a crack, sure. Where did Danny's concerned about vlad cloning people came from. Like they didn't question it, vlad is weird. They could see him doing it... oh... he did do it? That makes more sense than a sudden semi rational fear.

Also Batman has absolutely noticed some weird things about Danny. But he also knows that Danny has "a weird conglomeration" of Lazarus put side effects, and that Danny said "mood" about being in other dimensions. It might be ooc for him to be patient with answers, but he's in my story so he's gotta play by my rules.

Tag list

@spectralstardustandphantomnights @avelnfear @idfk-man10 @blackroserelina @candeartist422 @mur-ururu @luer-mirin @insufferablecatenthusiast @skulld3mort-1fan @alonedustspeck @voidbornposts @meira-3919 @marshmello @aethernorwood @mimilikey @undead-essence @cloudminder @markus209 @everything163 @latheevening226 @roman4517 @moobloomrights @battybatbat @lumosfeather18581 @werv @ahyesanerd @pyramaniac @lexdamo @princessbelix @bun-fish @deeannthepan @edgyboi10000 @thatrandomsarahchick @busterkeel @aconitewolfsbane @spoopyspoony @bright-shade @spidey29phangirl @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @keimiwolf @u-a-wizard-jamie @gay-puff @bicerise @itshype @blackfoxsposts @icanneverdecide @lolottes @chubbypotato @jovialherringtacoghost @saltyladynightmare

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green-agent · 21 days

Text

Fate?

BREWING LOVE NEXT DOOR (masterlist) chapter 2

Jung Wooyoung x neighbor!oc (Yujin)

Synopsis: because of her mother who loved coffee, Yujin had an unhealthy obsession with caffeine. Feeling down? Coffee. Feeling great? Coffee. Passed a test? Yay coffee. Failed a test? Naur, coffee. Her friends joked about her having more caffeine In her veins than blood.Now, after leaving her hometown and coming to Seoul, she was excited to study in KQ University. Will she die of shock after finding out that the handsome barista was her neighbor? Will she realize why people actually have crushes on baristas? Will she be able to confess?

Genre: fluff, crack, barista au, uni au, neighbors au

warning: slight Seongjoong? Yujin thinks Seonghwa is mother, frat party but labelled as Thanksgiving party, let me know if I missed something.

word count: 1k

note: I'm sorry for all the pov shifts and scene changes 😞 but hey, Chapter 2 is here. The story's just starting!

Nobody's POV

7:30

Yujin was late, not only for her classes but also for the new club she had applied to in University.

Today, the president of the club wanted to introduce the freshmen to the older students. And as a fellow freshman, Yujin was supposed to be early. Something that she most definitely wasn't.

Grabbing her things, she ran out the door. Bag in one hand, she carefully locked the door as she clumsily put her shoes on.

As she sat down in the room, she couldn't help but bite the inside of her cheeks, a habit she had. Right then, A slightly shorter boy, probably a University Junior, spoke up.

“Hello, our fellow university classmates and juniors, I'm Kim Hongjoong, the president of this club. I hope you guys will have a good time here…”

His hair was two toned, half black half white. Pretty cool.

He spoke more about himself and the club, also introducing the new ones to the vice president, Park Seonghwa. Another gorgeous man. Yujin had to resist the urge to say ‘mommy?’ Cus' he felt so…mother

But as Hongjoong carried on about the club, Yujin's eyes caught a beautiful sight. The beautiful sight was sitting across the room.

The barista from the cafe…he was chatting with a guy. Blond haired guy, to be exact…his hair looked like the boy the barista joked with, maybe he was the same person?

Yet, Yujin was regretting the fact that she didn't take a good glance at his name tag. What was his name!?

“Thank you!”

Yujin's new cheerful downstairs neighbor, Shin Ryujin, beamed at her.

When Yujin was about to go upstairs, she noticed that Ryujin was having trouble with putting some boxes up the stairs, so she decided to help. Plus, She hadn't met all of her new neighbors yet, but Ryujin was definitely a good one.

As the two girls were talking, Yujin saw a figure walk up the stairs. No way…

“What happened?”

Ryujin asked, confused as to why Yujin suddenly stopped talking.

Hearing her, Yujin came out of her little confusion. She turned to Ryujin and asked,

“The guy who just walked up, who was he?”

“Oh that? That's Wooyoung, Jung Wooyoung. Why? Did you get a crush on him?”, Ryujin teased.

“...no, I just saw him at the cafe, Refresh and Recharge. Then I also saw him at uni today, in my club meeting. I was just wondering…”

Yujin drifted off, well, only the first word was a lie.

Ryujin nodded, “hmm, yeah. He is a Barista at the cafe. He's also your neighbor”

“huh!?” Yeojin kinda whisper-yelled.

Confused, Ryujin mumbled, playing with her own fingers, “did you not know that or something…”

Yujin's POV

As I sat on my bed, I just did a quick review of everything I found out.

The boy I had a teeny tiny smol little crush on…is not only my clubmate and uni senior…but also my fucking neighbor!? Like a literal next door neighbor.

That's a lot to take in. Should I talk with him? I mean, he's only a doorbell away…

But then again, what would I talk to him about? That hey, bro. Nice to meet you, I think I got a crush on you cuz you're gorgeous. Please don't think I'm weird.

Yeah, he'd definitely think I'm weird. And his gorgeous face tells me he probably already has a girlfriend.

What if it's the other female barista in Refresh and Recharge Cafe? I mean, she was pretty, sounded polite. She seemed very lovable.

But hey! We improved a little bit. I now know his name. Jung Wooyoung, it's cute, if you ask me. Wooyoung.

Nobody's POV

And like that, Yujin spent a whole month going to Refresh and Recharge, trying to focus on her studies. She had to agree, Hongjoong and Seonghwa were a great duo, just one thing, they argued like an old married couple. A sophomore told Yujin that they were a very ‘parents’ typa friends.

She spent a lot of time in the evening, trying to figure out if she should ring her next door neighbor's bell or not.

She always got rejected by her own brain with things like ‘he probably worked very hard today, you should let him rest’ and ‘he’s also a student, he might be studying’.

It wasn't until November.

As her doorbell rang, she quickly fixed her clothes before opening the door. It was another fellow neighbor of hers, Karina.

“Hey Yujin! I wanted to invite you to the Thanksgiving party in my apartment. All of our neighbors are coming so I'd be glad if you came too.” Karina happily suggested.

Yujin had never been to this type of Thanksgiving party yet, so she accepted happily.

“Yeah, I'd love to”

Nobody's POV

I'd love to, my ass.

Now while she actually sat at the party, she realized she had nothing to do.

A cup of orange juice was in her hand as she stared mindlessly at the wall. Randomly playing with her own fingers once in a while.

Even Ryujin was having a fun time with her boyfriend.

After coming to the party, Yujin realized that it wasn't actually the typical thanksgiving party, it was nothing like a thanksgiving party. It was more of a typical university frat party.

Everyone was dancing crazily, some random couple making out in the corner. And Yujin could swear she saw someone drink alcohol in the other corner.

So when a hand tapped on her finger, she kinda freaked out, yelling, “WHAT THE FU-”, and then slapping her own hand on her mouth after seeing who it was.

The barista, the really handsome barista. Her university clubmate, and her neighbor…Jung Wooyoung.

Again, the mole under his eye made her choke on air, it was so…attractive.

He gave a little smile as he sat down in the chair in front of her, still maintaining a comfortable distance.

“If I heard the birdies right, you must be Yujin. Am I right?”

Taglist: @dinossaurz

Dividers: @cafekitsune

Banners: From Pinterest

Send an ask or dm me to get on the taglist! And I'd prefer if you commented on the masterlist instead of chapters 🤗

#✒------💚 mine #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #jung wooyoung #ateez #Wooyoung #Wooyoung fluff #Wooyoung crack #☕ Brewing Love Next Door 🤎#Wooyoung fanfic #Wooyoung ff #ateez wooyoung #ateez ff #ateez fluff #ateez crack #jung Wooyoung fic #jung Wooyoung Imagine

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ejzah · 5 months

Note

Hey there! I have a prompt request if you’re interested. I’m sorry if I’ve already sent it your way. I’m new to fanfiction and you are one of my favorite writers. I catch myself thinking of prompts randomly and questioning if I should send them your way.

I was rewatching S3E7 Honors and I have always wanted to hear more about the talk radio show conversation. I always felt that Deeks deflected way too easily. Would you write a tag either close to canon or completely AU? Whatever inspires you more.

I appreciate that you keep writing for the show. I always look forward to reading your writing.

A/N: Thank you anon! That is so kind of you. Feel free to send me any prompts that you’d like. Just know that I may not always write for every one or it may be some time before I get around to a particular prompt.

***

What If

“So, what did you say?” Kensi asked a few minutes into their drive back to the mission house.

“What?” Deeks shot her a confused look, and she nodded her head, a smirk playing at her lips.

“On the radio show Callen heard you call in to. What did you say?”

Deeks chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh, we did not establish that whomever Callen heard was me,” he evaded evenly.

When Callen first brought it up, Deeks had felt a moment of panic. The call had come during a moment of weakness, when he’d been feeling particularly frustrated and lonely. Deep down, he knew the idea was a terrible one, but he convinced himself that no one would ever find out and it would be a good opportunity to unload on someone he’d never have to talk to again.

“Really? A guy who was confessing his deep, dark feelings for his partner?” Kensi said skeptically, slanting a look his way before she smoothly switched lanes.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that would describe a lot of guys in LA.” Deeks shrugged, putting on a thoughtful face. “And I’m not even sure that Callen said he was talking about a female partner.”

“Deeks, as we established this morning, your voice is unique. I would certainly recognize it anywhere.”

It was Deeks’ turn to raise an eyebrow, and he grinned suggestively. “Oh really?”

The side of Kensi’s right cheek bone flushed under his gaze as she scrambled to defend herself.

“I mean, I spend two-thirds of my life with you, to my deep regret. Of course I would recognize your voice,” she said quickly.

“Uh-huh.” He grinned at her discomfort, settling in his seat as he considered her reaction. He’d seen Kensi flustered a few other times like this, but he’d never pursued it beyond a couple jokes.

There was an extended silence where Kensi resolutely stared directly ahead and Deeks watched her out of the corner of his eye.

“So, hypothetically speaking of course, what would you have done if it was me on that radio show?” he asked casually.

It was a few moments before Kensi spoke, having taken the time to pull into her designated parking spot.

“Well, I would say that you can always talk to me. Even though I tease you a lot, if it was something serious, I wouldn’t betray your trust or make fun of you,” she started, expression surprisingly honest as she eyed him. She dipped her head, focusing on her thumbnail, and added, “And you might be surprised by my response, if you did.”

“I would?” Deeks asked softly.

“Maybe. Hypothetically speaking.”

“Yeah, no, of course.” The words were on the tip of his tongue, but he found himself hesitating.

“We would should probably go inside before Hetty comes looking for us,” Kensi said, and the moment was gone. “No matter how much she might like your “idiosyncrasies”, you know she hates late paperwork.”

“Definitely don’t want to make Hetty mad,” he agreed, getting out of the car and falling into step with Kensi. They didn’t speak again as they walked to the door, but he was aware of every brush of their shoulders.

He wondered what would happen if he was just a little braver.

***

A/N: I hope that was ok.

Thanks for the prompt!

#ncis la fanfiction #marty deeks #kensi blye #pre-densi #post honors #unresolved romantic tension #anonymous prompt #ejzah fanfiction

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sesamestreep · 8 months

Text

damned to pining through the windowpanes

(read on AO3)

(read the whole series here)

SUMMARY: Foggy and Matt have a rare chance to catch up while Foggy's in New York for work. Unfortunately, this also means they have to talk about what happened at Rosslyn... [ AKA - The West Wing AU circa season 2 ] A/N: It's time for part 3 of The West Wing AU, baby! This time we're dealing with the aftermath of 'In the Shadow of Two Gunmen' and 'Noel' (though "dealing with" is putting it a bit strong...), which means there's a little angst and the slightest hint of hurt/comfort (??) ahead. But mostly it's just banter and ambiguously reciprocated flirting. I continue my trend of only letting romantic things happen in the rain. Foggy does math in his head and pretends to be Cary Grant. Matt gives his professional opinion and refuses to whistle. Other stuff also happens. Please enjoy. [Full content warnings and tags can be found on AO3 as always!]

The bar that Matt chose for them is not precisely what Foggy imagined it would be. It’s a mildly swanky Midtown bar with leather chairs and couches everywhere and iron light fixtures drenching everything in an amber light that manages to be warm in name only. He doesn’t know Matt that well, but this still doesn’t feel like his vibe. It feels like a place you take a client, impressive but ultimately impersonal, which is not insulting exactly, but somewhat surprising. It’s not a business meeting after all. At least, Foggy didn’t think so when they arranged it.

Matt is there when he arrives, looking simultaneously like he doesn’t belong and like he owns the damn place. That, he realizes, is Matt’s vibe; he always sticks out in a crowd but in a good way. He’s impossible to miss.

Foggy calls out before he gets to him, on the assumption that Matt, like all people, appreciates a heads up more than a surprise arrival but doesn’t always get one, on account of being blind. He's gratified in this choice when Matt surges to his feet with a wide, delighted smile in response and wraps Foggy in a hug once he’s within range. It had been raining outside, just lightly, but Matt is warm and dry in his arms. Foggy has to remind himself to pull back before it gets weird.

“Matt,” he says, too eagerly, but he can’t stop himself. He is happy to seem him, after all. “You look great.”

“Thank you,” he replies, sincerely. “I’m sure you do too.”

Foggy laughs. “Yes, my full Gandalf beard is coming in nicely.”

Matt’s hand immediately comes up to caress his chin and investigate this claim, making Foggy’s breath hitch in a way that is probably obvious to the bartender across the room, let alone Matt himself.

“Liar,” Matt says, feigning disappointment. “Are my hands cold?”

“A little,” Foggy lies. Matt is always so warm.

“Sorry,” he says, rubbing his palms on his thighs. “Let’s sit,” he adds, gesturing to the other chair across from his.

“Yes, of course. Nice place.”

“Oh, thanks. I’ve honestly never been here before. A client recommended it, when I said I needed to meet a friend in the neighborhood.”

“Oh,” Foggy says, over his heart attempting to beat straight out of his chest. He’d just called them ‘friends’ for God’s sake. It’s not a marriage proposal. “Well, thanks for arranging everything.”

“It’s no trouble,” Matt says, waving a hand to dismiss the praise. “I always look forward to seeing you when you’re in town.”

“Yeah, it’s been a minute, huh?”

“A long minute,” Matt replies, pointedly mild in a way that Foggy recognizes immediately. “In your case.”

“Right,” Foggy says, awkwardly. He’s spared from having to come up with an intelligent response by a waitress appearing with a glass of water for him and asking if they’re ready to order. Foggy asks about their beer selection, as a stalling tactic, even though this is a fancy enough place that he should order something more grown-up. He chooses a Guinness anyway, and is so nervous he doesn’t hear Matt’s order.

Once she departs, Matt tips his head in Foggy’s direction. “So, how are you holding up?” he asks, as neutrally as possible.

“Oh, you know,” he replies, even though Matt doesn’t. He wouldn’t have asked otherwise. “I’m doing alright.”

He leaves out the part where he goes to therapy twice a week now and the fact that he’s got someone from ATVA on speed dial and so does Karen. He can feel his pulse racing in his palm, where he cut his hand putting it through a window around Christmas after having what was later identified for him as a panic attack fueled by his PTSD from being shot. His hand is fully healed now but there’s a scar that he touches instinctively with the fingers of his opposite hand the moment he thinks of it. As if Matt will notice that and know he’s lying somehow. Matt probably doesn’t want to talk about that, or his astronomical medical bills, right now, though.

Matt nods profusely, and Foggy gets the distinct impression that he’s both disappointed and not surprised to be getting the smoothed out, small talk version of Foggy’s answer to that question. He’d feel worse about it, but Foggy’s had some iteration of this conversation about 80 million times in the last ten months. Nobody wants him to just word vomit about the stress of getting shot for twenty minutes, he’s found. He doesn’t even want that.

“I meant to call,” Matt says suddenly, with more force than Foggy suspects it warrants. It sounds like he only just managed to get the words out against their will. “I’m sure you’ve gotten that a lot lately, but I did. I wanted to reach out sooner.”

“That’s fine—”

“It isn’t,” Matt interjects, looking truly miserable, like he's the one who shot Foggy or something. “When I saw it on the news, I almost called. But there was so much going on, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to reach you directly because—well, you know.”

“Yes. I do.”

“And I thought of calling Karen, but I figured she was probably busy with…everything. And honestly, the news didn’t mention her but I worried she was hurt too.”

“Karen wasn’t at the event,” Foggy says, gently. “She stayed late at the White House to meet with someone for me, and I told her to take the night off when she was finished. It’s just about the only smart thing I’ve ever done in my life, and she absolutely read me the riot act for it when I woke up from surgery.”

“Good,” Matt says, with feeling, though Foggy’s not sure which part he's addressing. “And she’s okay?”

“She’s a pain in the ass, as always, but yeah. She’s good.”

Their waitress appears with their drinks at this stunningly awkward moment, which is a mild relief in its own way. She refers all her further questions hopefully in Matt’s direction, which is almost enough to make Foggy laugh but he manages to rein himself in. After she’s been pleasantly dismissed, they’re back to the stilted silence.

“I know it’s not the same as calling, or—I don’t know—sending something, but, for what it’s worth, I prayed for you,” Matt says, in the direction of the floor. Judging from his posture, he could be praying now.

No one has ever said that phrase to Foggy in a positive context before, so he doesn’t immediately know how to respond. “I appreciate that, Matt,” he eventually says, which is not something he’d ever say to the evangelicals who often claim they pray for him to change his mind on gay marriage, abortion, and school prayer.

“I don’t think you’re religious or anything like that, so maybe it doesn’t mean that much…”

“I’m not,” Foggy says carefully. He’s never seen Matt look this uncomfortable before, so he figures he should tread lightly. “But you are. That’s what makes it meaningful. Thank you for thinking of me.”

“I couldn’t stop,” he says, and it’s not the context in which Foggy wants to hear that a hot guy was thinking of him, but it still makes his heart race nonetheless. “I’m so glad you’re okay, Foggy.”

“You and the entire Democratic party, my friend.”

Matt laughs in a way that suggests he tried to fight it. “Glad to see your humility is still intact.”

“The neo-nazis are going to have to wake up much earlier if they want to take my oversized ego away,” Foggy says, lightly.

“And your sense of humor,” Matt says, wryly, which is as close as he’ll get to calling Foggy out for deflecting.

“Yes, you got me there. I’m obviously kidding. The DNC is actually terribly sad I survived. The President’s approval numbers would have skyrocketed while mourning a member of the senior staff.”

“Christ, Foggy. Don’t…talk like that. You’re not just some senior aide, you’re a full person. And you almost died.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be so macabre, really. But you spend enough time in professional politics and you get very comfortable with your own replaceability.”

Matt looks like he wants to say something to that, if the way his mouth twists is any indication, but he just ends up glowering in the direction of his drink instead. Foggy fights the instinct to apologize for the way he’s chosen to cope. He’s working on healthier mechanisms in therapy but he’s also been instructed to not let other people’s expectations of how he should feel dictate how he does feel. He likes Matt a lot, but they’re nowhere near close enough that he owes him anything.

Still, he can’t help but add, “You gotta laugh at this kind of stuff. The only other alternative is to take it seriously and how can you? These morons took aim at the President because they felt the administration was too ‘diverse’ with too many women and minorities in positions of power and the only guy they really hurt was a WASP-y little nobody. Tell me God doesn’t have a sense of humor.”

“That He does,” Matt says, bleakly. “Though I imagine there’s quite a few things you stand for that the white supremacists could find it in their hearts to object to.”

Foggy feels his heart drop like a stone into his stomach, but he manages to keep his tone light in spite of it. “Ah, so the rumors have reached you.”

“I was speaking ideologically,” Matt replies, but doesn’t actually deny the thing Foggy accused him of.

“Yes, that’s true. Me and the neo-nazis are, blessedly, on opposite ends of the political spectrum. But even if we weren’t, shooting a queer man would probably still count as a victory to them.”

“You don’t think—?”

“No,” Foggy says, crossing his legs as effetely as possible for what he imagines is dramatic effect. “I think they would have been happy with anyone they hit. And, despite how careless I am with my reputation, I’m not out out, you know?”

Matt nods, again directing the gesture towards his drink. Foggy takes a long pull of his beer, and decides to do nothing to alleviate his discomfort. As much as he instinctively wants to, it’s not his job to make another grown man comfortable around him because he had the audacity to say the word 'queer' out loud.

“I hope you don’t think so poorly of me that you’d imagine that’s how I would choose to broach the subject with you,” Matt says, eventually.

That certainly gives Foggy pause. “What do you mean?”

“If I wanted to ask if you were gay, I wouldn’t use ‘so, do you think you were the victim of a hate crime or just a regular crime?’ as my opener. I really hope you know that.”

Foggy laughs, unexpectedly. “You’re right. You are absolutely better than that. I apologize.”

“I don’t need an apology.”

“Well, too bad,” he says, amiably belligerent. He probably shouldn't find Matt's extremely careful handling of this topic so endearing and amusing, but he does. That probably says something about him, and likely it's nothing good, but this isn't therapy. He doesn't need to psychoanalyze himself to death about it right here and right now.

Matt spreads his hands out wide in a defensive gesture that Foggy also finds cute. “I'm serious. It's not—I wasn’t chastising you.”

“No, you were fishing for praise. And now you can have it: you’re far too nice to behave the way I implied you were behaving. I’m used to people wanting to speak in code on this subject, unfortunately, which is why I jumped to conclusions. Sorry about that.” Foggy exhales noisily, preparing himself, before he adds, “And, for what it’s worth, I’m not gay.”

Matt’s brow furrows in confusion. “You’re not?”

Foggy lets himself read way too much into Matt’s tone, as a little treat. It’s probably pure confusion, but since he’s treating himself to some delusion, he lets himself hear some disappointment in there too, in the moment before he corrects him. “I’m bisexual. It means I date people of the same gender and other genders too. I’ve had significant relationships with men and women and—”

“I know what bisexual means,” Matt interrupts, though he still appears to be thinking hard.

“Some people don’t,” he replies, casual. “They think it means ‘gay, but too precious to say so.’”

“That’s not what I think.”

“You don’t think I’m precious?” Foggy asks, faux offended.

“Oh, you’re precious alright,” Matt replies, with a stupidly sweet smile. “Adorable, even.”

Foggy blushes and thanks whatever deities he can remember that this extremely hot, straight guy that he can’t stop himself from flirting with is blind. “Good, I was worried for a second there.”

“Another toast to your deeply debilitating injury not having any negative effects on your ego.”

“Hear, hear!” Foggy says, and takes a long drink of his beer. Afterwards, he pauses and gathers his courage to say the thing that’s been on his mind all this time. “Listen, Matt, I don’t know what you had in mind when you invited me here tonight, but—”

Matt looks perplexed by this when he cuts him off. “I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t give you the wrong impression…”

“No! God, no!” Foggy has to laugh. For all it’s the first thing on his mind, he knows it’s the farthest thing from Matt’s. “Sorry, that was the wrong time for a conversational segue. I was not trying to implying that at all! I know you’re not hitting on me. Relax.”

“I am…? Relaxed, that is,” Matt says, though he doesn’t look it. He doesn’t look tense in a homophobic way, though, just a regular 'this is awkward' way, which, yes, there is a difference and Foggy is an expert in its discernment.

“I just meant, maybe you have some business to discuss, or maybe you just want to catch up, but I—I have something I want your advice on, I guess.”

“Okay.”

“It’s just that, you and I, we’re friends, but we don’t see each other all the time, and I need someone with a little distance, for the sake of perspective. You know?”

“Foggy,” Matt says, as he places his hand on Foggy's elbow gently, “did you hear the part where I already said ‘okay’?”

Foggy laughs, tension flooding out of him. “Right, yeah. I steamrolled right over that, didn’t I?”

“What’s on your mind?”

“Well, as you know, I was shot.”

“Yes.”

“Uh, by the KKK.”

“Yes, Foggy, I knew all this.”

“God, this all sounds so absurd,” Foggy says, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “How is this my life?”

“Politics,” Matt says, with a humorless smile.

“Yeah. Well, so the situation is this: Marci wants me to sue them.”

“She wants you to sue the Klan?”

“Well, her and the Southern Poverty Law Center want me to sue the Klan.”

“God, you weren’t kidding,” Matt says, looking a little green. “Your life is…unreal.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s the perfect way to describe it. Anyway, she thinks this is a good idea. Some people over there think we have a case. I…”

“You don’t?”

“Hey, I’m a lawyer by training, same as her, same as you, same as…well, everybody. I’m sure there’s a case there. They wouldn’t push me to do it if there was no chance. It’s just…she says it’s up to me, whatever I choose to do, but…”

“You don’t want to do this,” Matt says, without even having the good grace to pretend it’s a question.

“I don’t,” Foggy admits for the first time out loud. “I really, really don’t. God, that makes me feel like a coward, but you’re right; I don’t.”

“You’re not a coward, Foggy. You took a bullet for the president.”

“Oh, don’t do that,” he says, nearly choking on his drink in his effort to not laugh—or cry—at that description. “I did no such thing. I was standing around, like a moron, when someone tried to shoot the president and missed. I didn’t dive in front of anyone. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Matt tips his head to the side, considering this. “You took a bullet while serving the president, then. Still not cowardly.”

“I don’t really know that much about your life, Matt, and I don’t want to assume, so here’s an insane question: have you ever been shot before?”

“Mercifully, no,” he says, gamely. “I’ve gotten into some scrapes in my life before, but that’s one I’ve never had to deal with.”

Foggy leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, bracing himself to explain this thing—this huge, terrifying thing that's been living in his brain for months—to another person, and risk it meaning nothing to them. “Well, then I’ll let you in on a secret about taking a bullet: you don’t have to be brave to do it. It’s just a thing that happens to you or it doesn’t. And if it does, it’s a split second and then you’ve done it. If that bullet had been a few inches over in any direction, I might have died, or it would have hit someone else entirely. Nothing I did or did not do contributed to my survival at all. It’s just…a thing that happened.”

Matt takes this all in with an outward appearance of calm and looks thoughtfully into the middle distance. “I’m sorry,” he finally says, after a few moments, his voice decidedly not calm.

“I don’t want you to feel bad for me, Matt. And I don’t want you making me into a hero, when I’m not. I just—”

“You want to move on,” he says, nodding. “And a lawsuit wouldn’t allow you to do that. You’d have to live and relive that night over and over again, in court, in the press, everywhere. I imagine you'd also have to step down from your position at the White House in order to do this and I'm guessing you don’t want to do that either. None of that sounds like what you want to be doing, if that's not too presumptuous of me to say."

Foggy swallows with great effort, because his throat has gone completely dry at having someone read his mind like that. “Yes.”

"It is presumptuous?"

"No," he says, shaking his head. "I meant, yes, you're right. That's—none of that is what I want to do."

“Then, that’s okay.”

“Is it?” Foggy asks, suddenly aware that this is a crazy conversation to have in a bar. “I mean, what if this lawsuit could help people?”

“It doesn’t have to be you,” Matt replies, touching his arm again. “Not this time.”

He snorts. “And what if I never get shot by a white nationalist ever again, Matt? What then?”

“It’ll be too soon,” Matt says, smiling and squeezing his arm.

“I meant—”

“I know what you meant, Foggy. Give me some credit.”

“I’m saying, what if this is one of those ‘make lemonades out of lemons’ type situations?”

“It’s your life, though," Matt replies, with a shrug. "Yes, it would be brave to do this. Important, even. But you work for the White House. Most of the stuff that crosses your desk is important. Most of it has the power to change people’s lives in some way or other. For some people, this would be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to make a difference. That’s not true for you. And it’s okay to admit that you’re tired of this fight. You got shot. You survived. And then you did the truly brave thing of continuing to wake up in the morning. You kept going to work, even though that’s the thing that nearly killed you. You didn’t resign or back down. You’re still showing up. So, no, you don’t need to sue anybody to prove you’re brave. You did that already. You can say no. I’m giving you permission, if that’s what you need.”

It is, startlingly, exactly what Foggy needed. It's nothing he would have been able to ask for, because he certainly couldn't have put it into words even a minute ago, but it is somehow the precise thing he needed someone to say to him for days now. Something that’s been tightening and hardening in his chest for a long time finally loosens and he takes his first unrestricted, unencumbered deep breath in what might be months. He has to take a drink to hide how shaky he suddenly feels.

“I can put that in writing, if you’d like,” Matt adds, when Foggy doesn’t immediately say anything in response. “I’m not sure how you foresee breaking the news to Marci going, but if it would help...”

Foggy waves a hand, pretending to be more calm than he actually is. “Marci won’t give me grief about it,” he says. “I mean, she will, but no more than usual. She’s used to me disappointing her, being my ex and all.”

“Marci is your ex?!”

“Yeah, you didn’t know that?”

“No, how would I—" Matt looks utterly perplexed by this revelation, for whatever reason. "I—where was I supposed to get that information from?”

“That’s a good point,” Foggy allows. “It was when we were in law school, so it’s basically ancient history. She just makes a point of telling everyone I got to where I am because I slept my way to the top, which is why I assumed you knew.”

“That’s just—” Matt shakes his head. “So hard to imagine.”

“You did claim to understand what bisexuality was earlier…”

“Yeah, it’s not the woman part that’s throwing me,” he says, sarcastically. “It’s the Marci part.”

“Despite the reputation she cultivates, she really doesn’t bite,” Foggy says, amused, “unless you ask nicely.”

Matt pulls a face. “Thank you for that.”

“Speaking of too much information…”

“Oh, I don’t like the sound of that segue.”

“Can I ask you another insane, possibly impertinent question?”

“No,” Matt says, but then immediately continues with, “I wasn’t always blind.”

“God,” Foggy says, burying his face in his hand, “everyone asks, don’t they?”

He shrugs. “It’s a reasonable question.”

“I’m still sorry. I just—I don’t know if this makes it better—but we talked a lot about me tonight and I feel like you know me better now, and I wanted to…I don’t know, reciprocate somehow? Does that make sense?”

Matt cocks his head to the side, as if considering him. It’s a funny little gesture—cute, too—but Foggy definitely feels like he’s being evaluated. It’s strange to feel that way when he knows Matt can’t actually see him.

“It does, make sense and make it better,” he finally says. “There was an accident when I was a kid. A complete freak accident.”

“How old were you?”

He seems surprised by this question, of all things. “I was eight.”

“Is that a weird thing to ask?”

“Not really, no.”

“I just—you look confused…”

“Yeah,” Matt says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess it’s just not people’s usual first follow up question. They tend to ask me what happened.”

Foggy winces. His own recent medical issues should have cured him of this, but he remains stubbornly squeamish. He’s not sure he wants to hear about an eight year old getting into a horrifying accident, especially when that kid grew up to be this person he likes so much.

“Do you want to tell me about that?” he asks, hesitantly.

Matt's laugh is just a surprised huff, but it’s a comforting sound. “No, I actually don’t, if I’m being honest.”

“Then feel free to tell me anything else about yourself, instead.”

Matt takes this to heart and tells him instead about other parts of his childhood—growing up with a single dad who ran a boxing gym, splitting his time in school between the debate club and the wrestling team. Foggy controls himself enough during that portion of the conversation not to ask if all that wrestling didn’t make him even a little bi-curious, which he considers a major victory, and talks about doing high school theater himself (which did make him a little bi-curious, a fact he does mention, because once he’s out with someone, he’s out) and breaking his dad’s heart by never making the varsity hockey team.

“Ice hockey?” Matt asks.

“Yeah. I was just okay, so I’m not surprised it didn’t work out for me in high school,” Foggy says. “I always wished there was field hockey for boys. I feel like I would have crushed that.”

Matt seems delighted by this answer. The rest of their conversation for the evening revolves around how they both grew up in the city and somehow their lives never intersected until that meeting almost two years ago now in D.C. They both applied and got into Columbia, but Matt ended up at Fordham because they offered him better financial aid. Same with law school, where Foggy continued at Columbia but Matt went on to St. John’s in Queens. Matt’s dad taught classes at the same YMCA where Foggy and his siblings learned to swim when they were little. Foggy mentions the diner his aunt and uncle own in Hell’s Kitchen and Matt’s certain he and his dad got lunch there a few times. If he asked his mom, Foggy is certain she’d know somebody who knows somebody who knew Jack Murdock back in the day.

“How long has he been gone?” Foggy asks gently, once he clocks the fact that Matt only refers to his dad in the past tense. “If you don’t mind me asking, that is. Which you’re allowed to, by the way. Mind, I mean. You don’t have to answer.”

Matt smiles. “Wait, I’m sorry, can you explain that more clearly? Do I have to answer, even if I don’t want to?”

“Okay. Dick.”

That just makes him laugh. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist,” he says, and he’s still somehow smiling when he continues. “My dad died when I was sixteen.”

“Man, that is rough.”

“Yeah.”

“You and multiples of eight just do not get along, do you?”

Matt actually throws his head back and laughs at that one, which just makes Foggy wish they knew each other when they were kids even more. Nobody laughed at his math jokes back then, either. “I guess not. Although, I graduated law school and passed the bar when I was 24. And 32 wasn’t half bad either, so maybe I’ve grown out of it.”

“You’re what, 34, now?”

“Yeah, 35 next month.”

“Hey, happy early birthday,” Foggy says, clinking the glass of his nearly-empty second drink against Matt’s where it’s sitting on the table, and definitely not trying to figure out if that means he’s an Aries or a Taurus. “We’ll have to check back in when you turn 40.”

“Somebody knows their times tables,” Matt says, appreciatively, and Foggy is for sure in love with two-drink Matt.

“I can do long division too,” he replies, way flirtier than that sentence warrants, but he can’t help himself.

“In your head?!”

“Sometimes, baby,” Foggy says, with a wink that Matt can’t appreciate.

“And you’ve got a steady job?” Matt exclaims, finishing his drink. “How are you single?”

“I could ask you the same thing, my man. Wait, you still have a job, right?”

“Yeah, but I cannot do long division for the life of me.”

“Oh, yeah. That’ll do it.”

“So, what’s your excuse?”

“Well," Foggy says, gesturing with his glass, "I work at the White House, which means I basically live at the White House and even when I’m not at the White House, it’s all I talk about, so dating is not something I have a ton of time for or much success with, when I get around to, uh, doing it.”

Matt makes an unimpressed face at that. “We just spent the last, I don’t know, forty-five minutes talking about everything but the White House, Foggy, so I’m having trouble believing you.”

Foggy drains his glass, and tries to think of a response that isn’t just asking Matt on a date already, since they apparently have such an easy time talking to each other. “Maybe the eligible singles of Washington D.C. are just less interesting than you,” he says, which isn’t asking him out but it’s only barely better.

Matt clears his throat awkwardly. “Foggy, I—”

“Or they’re afraid of inheriting my mountain of medical bills when things get serious,” Foggy interrupts, trying to get them back on solid ground. He definitely put them to close to the sun with that last comment.

“Well, that’s…valid,” Matt replies, fixing his jacket's cuff in what might be a nervous gesture. “The healthcare system in our country—”

“Oh, do not get me started,” Foggy interjects. “Hey, there’s another reason I’m single!”

Matt laughs. “Well, we have that one in common, then.”

“You’re really not seeing anyone?”

“Oh, I mean, I meet people,” he says, in a way that implies he’s getting laid regularly. Foggy kind of hates him for a second before he gets a hold of himself. “But I’m not dating anyone.”

“Right,” Foggy says. He might actually be a little relieved they didn’t know each other when they were younger. At least Matt knows him now as Foggy-who-works-at-the-White-House. There’s at least some cache to that. Foggy-who-understudied-for-the-role-of-Tevye-in-Fiddler-on-the-Roof was maybe less impressive. “Well, unfortunately for you, my friend, this is where our magical evening together must end. I’ve got to catch the train back to D.C. out of Penn Station in—” he checks his watch—“an hour, so I’d better get going.”

Matt frowns. “You have to go back tonight?”

Foggy tells himself he’s projecting an air of disappointment onto Matt in this moment, because it’s definitely not actually there. “Yeah, unfortunately. I’ll probably go straight from Union Station to the West Wing.”

“I guess working for the White House really does put a pretty serious damper on your personal life, huh?”

“Oh, god," Foggy laughs, "is this the first time you’ve had drinks with someone and they haven’t gone home with you afterwards? Is this a new experience for you, Matt?”

He ducks his head, looking thoroughly embarrassed. “You’re such a dick.”

“Hey,” Foggy says, putting his hand on Matt’s shoulder comfortingly, “it happens to the best of us. Don’t beat yourself up, champ!”

“Seriously, you’re the actual worst,” Matt says, laughing. “I’m glad you’re leaving.”

“Aw, don’t be like that!”

“Believe it or not, I was actually trying to imply it’d be nice if you could stick around so you could see your family, or maybe a Broadway show, or something.”

“Nah, I’m not allowed to have any fun until they vote us out of office.”

“Bite your tongue!" Matt objects. "I like having you guys in the Oval office!”

“We’ll see how long that lasts,” Foggy says, standing to put on his coat. “But I appreciate the concern for my social life, and I’m sure my mother would appreciate that someone out there is trying to get me to visit, since I can’t be trusted to do it myself.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly an unbiased observer here. I’ve got a horse in this race too.”

“You do?”

“Sure,” Matt says, using the arms of his chair to push himself up to standing, “I like it when you visit too.”

Foggy ignores the way that stupid, minor admission makes his heart thump in his chest like it wants to break free and land directly in Matt’s hands and stay there forever. “Keep talking like that and you’ll never be rid of me,” he quips, weakly.

“Oh, no,” Matt replies, without a hint of inflection. “What a terrible fate.”

“Alright, enough getting my hopes up,” Foggy grumbles, as he picks up his scarf from the chair and loops it around his neck. “I’m going to miss my train, so…”

“I’ll walk you out,” Matt says, nodding in the general vicinity of the door as he shrugs into his own coat.

“You don’t have to!”

“I’m going home after this, so I'm headed in that direction myself,” he says, with a smile that suggests he thinks Foggy’s being unnecessarily demure about all this.

“Well, fine, then.”

There’s the typical cluster of people by the front door, waiting for the rest of their group to arrive or bothering the hostess about something, so Foggy needs to gently and politely push his way through the throng to get out. Somewhere in there, he angles his arm back until it makes contact with Matt’s, a sort of invitation that he can always plausibly deny later, but he feels Matt’s hand settle on his elbow after a second. Foggy offers a friendly apology to the person he nudges out of their way and pushes the paneled door to the outside world with his free hand, letting in a gust of damp air. He drags Matt after him and tows them to a protected corner of the entryway, where there’s enough of an overhang to shield them from the rain for a moment without putting them directly in the way of the door.

“I should hire you as a bodyguard,” Matt says, cheerfully, as they crowd together in the corner. “That was very smooth.”

“Spend enough time with Secret Service agents around and you start to get a knack for crowd control,” Foggy says, and then regrets it, because it brings the specter of the shooting back into the conversation. He tries to fob it off with a joke. “Besides, you couldn’t afford me.”

“True enough,” Matt replies, with a soft smile. He looks like he’s going to say something else, but the door behind him opens suddenly and swings wide, which he feels as quickly as Foggy sees it and he’s forced to step closer to Foggy to avoid it.

Foggy’s hand comes up protectively and almost settles on Matt’s neck before he gets a hold of himself and puts it on his shoulder instead. It looks, more or less, like they’re hugging goodbye, he imagines, but it’s still an awkward position and it forces him to reckon, once again, with how good and warm Matt feels in his arms. It’s functionally torture. A group of well-dressed, attractive women—getting drinks after work, if he had to guess—emerge from the bar and the first one out gets the brunt of Foggy’s glare and glares right back.

“You really shouldn’t stand there,” she says, probably more harshly than she meant to with the defensiveness of someone who narrowly avoided doing something wrong by a very slim margin. “It’s not safe.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Foggy replies, not particularly interested in getting into an argument here and now.

Matt steps away from him, then, and clears his throat like he’s going to say something but doesn’t actually follow it up with anything. He shifts enough that his face is no longer hidden from the light over the door and the woman sees him properly for the first time. Her face clears of some of its annoyance and the fight goes out of her immediately.

“Sorry about that,” she says, much more kindly, though her eyes land on Foggy’s hand, still clutching Matt’s shoulder, and her expression remains somewhat wary. Foggy takes his hand away guiltily.

“Don’t worry about it,” Matt says, politely but disinterestedly, as he adjusts his jacket. After the woman and her group have swanned off into night, he clears his throat and adds, just to Foggy, “At least she didn’t do the whole ‘What are you? Blind?’ routine. That always ends awkwardly for everyone.”

“Yeah, I imagine it would,” Foggy says, mildly, even though he's feeling what's likely a very inappropriate surge of protective feeling towards Matt right now. “You okay?”

Matt nods. “Fine. Yeah.”

“Do you think people generally feel worse in those situations because you’re blind and they almost injured you, or because they’ve clearly ruined their shot with someone so handsome?”

“Shut up, Foggy,” Matt says, but his thoughtful expression has been disrupted by his embarrassed smile.

“What? It really could go either way!”

“Don’t you have a train to catch?”

“Weren’t you just saying you like it when I visit?”

“I’ve changed my mind,” he says, smiling wider.

“Yeah, I figured that might happen,” Foggy mutters and then surveys the scene. The rain is coming down heavily now, and this is a busy street populated with bars and restaurants that are full of young professionals meeting clients or blowing off steam after work. Getting a cab is going to be a nightmare. “Alright, here goes nothing.”

He steps out onto the sidewalk from under the shelter of the overhang in front of the bar, and opens his umbrella. Matt steps forward with him, presumably recognizing the sound and knowing it means he’ll stay dry. Without thinking, Foggy hands off the umbrella to Matt, whom he realizes doesn’t have one of his own, and lifts his free hand to try to hail a taxi. As predicted, many of the cabs he can see further down the street are being claimed before they can get to him by other people as anxious to get out of the rain as he is.

“You don’t know how to do that really loud whistle that people do in the movies to get cabs, by any chance?” Foggy asks, turning back towards Matt.

Matt shrugs. “It doesn’t actually work in real life, I don’t think.”

“But you can do it?” he asks, impressed.

“It’s not going to get you a cab!”

Foggy shakes his head, disappointed. “Fine, deprive me of my movie moment. Taxi!”

Finally, after several more attempts, a taxi pulls to a stop in front of him and a few people get out, presumably to go to the bar they just left. Matt steps forward to hand over the umbrella.

“It was nice seeing you,” Matt says, as Foggy grabs the door.

“Yeah, you too,” Foggy says, before turning to the driver. “He’s going to Hell’s Kitchen. What’s your address?”

Matt looks at him like he’s grown a spare head. “I thought this was for you.”

“I’ll get another. It’s fine.”

“Foggy, your train…”

“I’ve got time and you haven’t got your own umbrella. That’s easy math to me, so get in the damn cab.”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind the rain. I can get my own cab, or walk. Really!”

“Or you could take this cab right here and stop arguing with me.”

“But you’ve got to get to Penn Station!”

Foggy sighs, feeling silly as he lingers by the door of the cab, having an argument with Matt while the cabbie eavesdrops and rain soaks through the sleeve of his jacket. “I grew up here, remember? It's not that far, and besides, I could get to 34th Street with my eyes closed.”

“So could I,” Matt points out, amused, which is fair.

“Just let me be a gentleman and take the cab, please,” Foggy says, exasperated. “I’ll feel a lot better knowing you got home safely.”

“You’re really…” Matt pauses, like he’s searching for the right word and can’t find it, which means Foggy is left there to consider what exactly Matt thinks he is while rain drops tap melodically on the fabric of the umbrella above their heads and the barrier gives the erroneous impression that they’re separate from the rest of the world for a moment. He gets a second to watch the amber and white lights of the city freckle across the bridge of Matt’s nose as he thinks too hard about whatever it is he’s trying to say, and Foggy gets his movie moment after all, because there’s a split second there where he feels like Carey Grant or something close, standing on one side of a rain soaked taxicab door with the object of his affections on the other, arguing about who should take the cab. He thinks about the end of Breakfast at Tiffany’s, which doesn’t star Carey Grant but a similar type of handsome mid-century man, and wishes he didn’t have a five-hour train ride to a different city and a lonely trek back to the office ahead of him. He wishes very suddenly that he and Matt were headed to the same place, or maybe just that he’d never left New York and that he was only a quick cab ride away from home on a rainy night like this. It’s all foolishness, of course, but he wishes for it, nonetheless.

“In or out, gentlemen,” the cab driver calls from the front seat.

Foggy’s about to say something to him, asking for another minute to finish this argument, when Matt surges forward to hug him. It’s awkward, of course, because there’s the matter of the car door between them, but his arms wrap around Foggy’s neck and they end up pressed cheek-to-cheek. It feels so stupidly nice that Foggy’s brain stops working momentarily. He can’t even imagine what anything more would feel like; it would probably kill him.

“I’ll see you around, Matt,” he says, awkwardly, after a moment. He even pats him on the back, like they're estranged cousins who only see each other at Christmas or something.

“Yeah,” Matt says, faintly, as he lets go of Foggy and steps back. “Don’t be a stranger.”

“Sure,” Foggy replies, trying to sound light and easy, but feeling every inch of distance between them like a personal affront right now. It’s like there’s an alternate universe breaking off from this one right here in this moment, one where he and Matt don’t go their separate ways at all, one where they share the cab with only one stop in mind, and he’s not too terrified of rejection to ask Matt a simple and inoffensive question once and for all. But he told Matt earlier tonight and he meant it: he’s not brave. The fiction of maybe someday in his mind is better than knowing for sure what he cannot have. He’ll take delusion over disappointment any day.

“And don’t get shot again,” Matt says, interrupting his thoughts.

Foggy laughs, unwillingly. “Okay. I promise.”

“I’m serious,” Matt replies, with a smile that might even be fond. “If it happens again, I’ll come down there and kick your ass myself.”

“Well, now I’m going to get shot just to see you again!”

“You’re impossible,” Matt says, as he ducks into the cab. Foggy moves to shut the door behind him, but Matt stops it with a hand. “I’m serious, though. Take care of yourself, Foggy.”

“I will,” he says, feeling like Deborah Kerr or Audrey Hepburn or whoever now. “Just for you, I will. I promise.”

Matt laughs, which is a good sound to be left with until they see each other again. “Good. See you around.”

“Goodnight, Matt,” Foggy says, far too wistfully, and closes the door. He hears Matt give the driver his address as the car pulls away from the curb with the slushy noise of tires over wet pavement. He stands there, stupidly, watching the cab disappear down the street and around a corner, letting more rain soak into his jacket and drum against his umbrella for a long moment before he’s ready to return to reality and set about hailing another taxi for himself.

#NOBODY HERE HAS ANY COUTH WHATSOEVER BABYGIRL #THEY ARE LOUD SO LOUD ABOUT EVERYTHING #okay now that that's dispensed with #mattfoggy #mattfoggy fic #the west wing au #daredevil fic #daredevil #mcu fanfiction #matt murdock #foggy nelson #we are in our itsotg and noel eras be advised #it be stressful out here #homelywenchsociety #that's my writing tag! don't worry about it!#series: a more perfect union

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blackfire-fanfiction · 11 months

Text

Did someone say propaganda? Anyway here’s a little thing for the @tmnt-crossover-polls. It’s actually the first thing I’ve written for the same raph au (masterpost here), so it might be a little rough

Basic summary of the same raph au: 12 Raph and Rise Raph are the same person. He switches bodies (and dimensions) randomly whenever he sleeps/is unconscious. Raph eventually learns how to balance both lives. Important context: if both bodies are somehow in the same dimension, only one of them is concious.

2012 turtles: Leo, Donnie, Mikey Rise turtles: Leon, Dee, Angelo Corvus (Previously known as the Handler) is a crow/raven yokai OC that appears in the kidnapped arc of the SRAUC Also Slash is here too, don’t worry about it :)

----

Shouts of surprise as a group of 10 fell from a flash of light.

Everyone stood up from the haphazard positions they ended up on the floor, and Leo was the first to scan the group for anything out of place.

“Everyone good?” He asked, taking in everything.

“Besides the fact that we weren’t supposed to be meeting up for a while? Yep, just peachy.” Leon grumbled.

“Come on, Leon, don’t be like that,” Angelo said. “It’s always great to see our brothers from another dimension!”

“Yeah, just ignore your brother that’s trapped underneath himself. That’s just fine.” Raph said in monotone from where he was stuck under the body of his larger body.

“I got you bro,” Slash gently dragged the unconscious body off of the turtle.

“Thanks, Slash.” Raph went to push himself up when a feathered hand was offered to him. “And Corvus! What are you doing here?”

“Oh god, Slash is here?” Donnie looked horrified as Raph talked to the mute bird yokai.

“Ooo, Slash is here,” Dee grinned. “This should be fun.”

“Where is here, anyway?”

“GUYS! The stickers on our plastrons respawn when you take them off!” Mikey bounced into view, a pile of stickers discarded on the floor.

“Huh, same raph au? Wait, where are we actually?” Leon looked around.

The space was filled with other versions of them, and with some people that they couldn’t recognize at all.

“Woah,” Angelo gasped.

“Tmnt poll competition?” Donnie read from a banner. “Maybe we’re-”

“It appears as if we’re in a sub-dimensional space where alternate versions of us are gathered to compete in some way.” Dee interrupted. “As Mikey and Leon have discovered, we have tags to show which dimension we belong to.”

“Was it necessary to interrupt?” Donnie frowned.

Dee just smirked.

“Donnies, can you play nice for once?” Raph said in a warning tone at the same time Leo said “Chill out, guys. It’s not the end of the world.”

“Wait, where’d Mikey and Slash go?” Angelo looked around, confused. “And Corvus, I can’t see them either.”

Raph shrugged. “They’ll find us eventually. Now, does anyone want to help me move my big body to somewhere out of the way? I don’t want anyone tripping.”

Meanwhile

“Yo, other me, is that your brother dragging that big spiky turtle across the floor?” A Mikey with the tag Sunset Linings asked.

“Hm? Oh yeah. Raph probably thought he’d be in the way being in the middle of the room like that.”

“What?”

“Anyway, I’m excited to see who will win in the first round! Your group seems really cool, especially that big gloomy guy. I should probably meet up with my bros, but good luck in the competition!”

#tmnt crossover polls #same raph au #same raph au crossover #the slash saga #rottmnt #tmnt 2012

18 notes · View notes

msm-tsotmw · 10 months

Text

(Sprigg blinks their eyes open. They are in what appears to be a Castle room, surrounded by… they don’t know who’s surrounding them, but they can hear them talking.)

Ugh… huh?

( But they look like a Furcorn ! This is Mythical Island , Naturals like them don’t usually end up here . )

(yeah… huh?)

oh look, they’re awake! hi!

(Sprigg notices a white Strombonin and a light pink Yawstrich standing around their bed. Well, those two CLEARLY aren’t Urceus or Theo. also tagging @paidexp bcs I miiiiiight mention those 2 lol)

Huh… what? Who are you??

oh, us? ah! i’m cameo, and this is tundra. welcome to mythical island! we found you lying on the ground unconscious, so we decided to drop you off here.

Mythical Island??

well, us mythicals have gotta go SOMEWHERE sometimes, you know what i mean?

the same doesn’t really go for me and a few others, we can’t really leave this island unlike my friend theo, his girlf-

Theo said to keep his admiration for Urceus a SECRET .

ah, um, its GOOD FRIEND urceus, for some reason. theo lives on air, and so did i!

well, until i fell into some kind of “kow-muh” and-

Cam , I don’t mean to be rude , but I think you’re talking too much .

oh okay, sorry ‘bout that!

anyways, what’s your name?

…Me??

yeah, you! i mean, you’ve gotta be called SOMETHING, right?

Erm, my name’s Sprigg.

I was just sleeping in a cave while waiting for my friends to come and get me, and I… somehow ended up here and I don’t know how to get out.

oh, that’s because of deep-dream teleportation!

…What.

Er , nevermind . That seems like a complicated subject to explain to you .

speaking of dreams, maybe we should go talk to pringle.

Pringle??

Only a pioneer and master practitioner of the art of Dreamcraft .

They can probably help you return to your friends .

wait, DO you wanna return to your friends?

Yeah. You see, my friends and I are a group of adventurers, and we’re supposed to travel the Monster World to try and save it from impending doom, apparently.

Impending doom …?

ah, right! the plague of silence that pringle was talking about a few days ago.

…So that’s what it is?

yeah! we’ll give you a little more context when we reach them. anyways, follow me!

(Cameo begins to fly away. Tundra bends down to speak to Sprigg.)

Please don’t mind him talking about introducing you to Pringle all of a sudden . Cam can be a bit too quickly-paced at times …

Alright. Let’s go see whoever Pringle is, then.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

yes, the leader of Mythical Island in this AU is named fucking PRINGLE. I just thought it would be funny

also I miiiiiiight draw Cam and Tundra sooner or later idk

-Mod Jimmy 🗣️

#my singing monsters #msm #msm au #my singing monsters au #furcorn #furcorn msm #yawstrich #yawstrich msm #strombonin #strombonin msm

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taomyou · 5 months

Text

The Romance of Reimbursements - Chapter 17

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader Status: COMPLETED Summary: There’s a guy you see every Friday on bus 143, and you think he’s pretty hot. It wouldn’t hurt to tell your best friend about him, would it? or, you and Levi take the same bus home from work every Friday, and you fall in love slowly, clumsily, and with all the time in the world to fold as many paper stars as your heart desires. Word Count: 7.0k Tags: slow burn, friends to lovers, modern au, office au, fluff, romance, meet-cute, matchmaking (A/N: this fic is entirely available on ao3 here if you would like to read it there instead!) Chapter Navigation Accompanying Playlist

nothing

You're in the middle of getting ready for dinner when you hear a knock at your door. You go to check the time on your phone: 4:38 PM.

Huh, Hange isn't due to come get you until 5, but them being over early is fine with you. You put your phone back down on the bathroom counter, and you go to open your door, makeup done and dressed in pajamas.

Imagine your surprise when, instead of your eccentric best friend, you see your parents.

"What're you doing here?"

Your mom beams at you and raises the bag in her hand. "We brought something for you!" Your dad awkwardly raises his hand in a wave, and you blink before mindlessly moving out of the way to let them in.

Your mom sets down the bag at the dining table before her and your dad both get situated at your couch, and you excuse yourself quickly to go back to the bathroom where you call Hange.

After a couple of rings, they pick up the phone. "Hi! You ready yet?"

"Yeah, about that, I might need to skip on dinner today."

"What? Why? You were the one to suggest we take advantage of the Mother's Day discount for the restaurant!"

You groan. "I know, but my parents are here."

"'Here,' as in, at your place?"

You nod, biting at your cheek. "Yeah."

"Don't they still live in your hometown? That's, like, two hours from here."

"That's what I'm saying!" You exclaim. You put your phone on speaker and set it back on the counter as you go to start taking off your makeup, "I have no idea when they're leaving, but it’s probably not for a while, so you guys can head to dinner without me."

"Sure, but are you good? I thought you liked your parents."

You reach for the makeup-remover after wetting your face. "I do, but I still feel bad for bailing on plans with you guys,” you muse. “And you know how they are, they’re so nosy.”

They laugh. “Yeah, but I relate to them like that! Gossiping with your mom is so fun!”

“I never should’ve introduced you to them,” you groan.

“It was inevitable, we’re best friends and neighbors! But don’t worry about missing dinner! It’s Mother’s Day anyway, you should spend time with them.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I was thinking about making the drive over to them, but my car’s still in the shop.”

“Oh yeah! What was even wrong with it?”

“No idea, I think it’s something with the engine?”

“I’d ask if the mechanic overcharged you, but you probably wouldn’t even notice.”

You hum, gently scrubbing at your face. “Just because I let you use my money willy-nilly doesn’t mean I let everyone take advantage of me.”

They laugh over the line. “Perks of being friends with a lawyer! Anyway, did he give you a date for you to pick it up yet?”

“I don’t really need my car for work or anything, so I just told him that I’m fine with whatever. He said Saturday at the latest, so I’ll probably take the bus to get it then.” You hear a knock at the bathroom door, so you splash water onto your face with one hand and grab a small towel with the other. “I gotta go, but have fun tonight!”

“You too! I’ll text you about it when I’m home!”

“Mhm!” You hear the ending dial tone, and you bring your towel up to your face to pat it dry as you step out into the main living room. “Sorry, did one of you need the bathroom?”

“Oh, no, we were just wondering what you were doing,” your mom tells you. You nod awkwardly, and you go to sit next to them on the couch.

“The place is so clean now! I still remember when we’d have to come over during your schooling to help clean,” she says, looking around the space. “It feels like just yesterday we were visiting you here for the first time.”

You roll your eyes. “You say that every time you’ve been here.”

Your father gets up to go get the back your mother had on her earlier, and he brings it back to you.

You take it from him and set it on your lap before peeking inside. “What’s this?”

“Your brother got us a tea set, but we have the exact same one at home already.”

Your brother called you earlier in the week asking what he should get your mom for Mother’s Day, but you definitely did not include a tea set in your list of gift ideas. To be fair, he’s away at university, so he probably didn’t know he got something they already had. “Are you sure you don’t want to keep it?”

Your mother waves you off. “It’s just me and your father at home nowadays, we don’t need anymore tableware.”

You get up and go to the sink to wash it, and you get a kettle going so you can make some tea for them. They probably aren’t leaving anytime soon, so you might as well make them feel comfortable while they’re here.

Luckily, you got plenty of groceries yesterday, and you’re able to figure out something that could adequately feed the three of you. You spend the next couple of hours cooking with your mother in your small kitchen space, and your father listens from the dining table. Your mother eventually takes over the cooking and asks if you could make dessert, and you nod before going to get started on that.

You don’t mind, really. You don’t get much chance to go and visit anymore, with work being as strenuous as it is, but you do love your parents, no matter how nosy they may be.

As you’re mixing together the batter for the spice loaf you’ll be making for dessert, your mom asks about anything and everything.

“Are you seeing anyone nowadays, honey?” She prods.

You sigh. Of all the things she likes to ask you about, you dread this the most. She’s definitely not rude about it, but you know she’s waiting for you to introduce someone to them.

“No, mom, I would’ve told you if I was.”

She asks you where the bowls are, and you direct her to them so she can start setting up the table. You finish up with getting the batter into a prepared tin, and you slide that into the oven before joining your parents at the table. You give your thanks, and the three of you start eating.

After a bit more talking about work and how things are going in your hometown, the oven beeps, and you go to take that out to cool before returning to the table. Apparently, in the maybe two minutes that you were gone to take care of that, your mother goes back to the topic of you dating.

“I didn’t know if you would tell me you were seeing someone, young people these days don’t tell their parents anything,” she laments. “Do you need me to set you up with anyone? Your father’s coworker’s son is a handsome fellow.”

You cringe, wincing as you go to take another bite of your food. “I do not need any more people meddling with my love life.”

“More? Is someone else scheming to get you a partner?” Your father asks.

“Oh, oh! Is it Hange?”

And of course, you hear a knock at your door right then-and-there. It probably is them, but before you can get up from the table to open the door for them, your mother goes to do it for you.

“Oh my gosh, hello!”

Hange wraps up your mother in a big hug, and your mom returns the gesture. You and your dad exchange looks across the table, but neither of you say anything. The two let go of each other fairly quickly, and your soul just about leaves your body when you see Erwin and Levi coming in too.

Well, this is just fucking great.

Erwin introduces himself to your mother with a firm handshake and a smile, and your mom looks over at you all-the-while with a knowing smile on her face. You have to bury your face in your hands, and your dad just laughs at your misery. Hange’s joined you at the table by now, so they chime in too with their own giggles.

You peek out between your fingers to see that Levi’s now the one in front of your mom, and you’re terrified to see what will happen. Your mother likes warm personalities like Erwin’s and Hange’s, and you have no idea how she’ll receive Levi’s comparatively colder one.

You can’t hear what he says over Hange’s laughter next to you and Erwin’s conversation with your father, but you can only assume it goes well enough when your mom and Levi come back to the table, her with a new bag.

She sets the bag on the table, and she takes out what looks like a case of desserts. “Ooh, this looks delicious!”

“Levi picked it out at the restaurant!” Hange praises, patting their friend on the back loudly.

He just nods, and your parents laugh at his awkwardness. “Well, thank you, Levi,” your mom says.

You continue eating dinner quietly, though it seems that your parents have forgotten about it entirely when they leave the table to go to the couch. Erwin talks with your father and Hange with your mother, so that leaves you and Levi to hang out with each other. You watch the four as they all chat on the couch, slowly taking bites of your food.

“I’m not going to be on the bus on Friday,” Levi tells you.

You turn to look at him. “Any particular reason why?”

He pauses before answering. “There’s some business I have to take care of.”

You hum before leaning over slightly to bump your shoulder against his. “Have fun, then.”

“Yeah.”

In the last month, things haven’t changed between the two of you, and you like that.

You like that you’re able to spend time with him without having to overcomplicate things by throwing in any romantic undertones. You like that your heart doesn’t go into practical cardiac arrest whenever he accidentally touches you, that his hands feel warm against yourself when you help him make his stars.

You eventually finish with your meal, and you get that cleaned up while everyone else talks. There’s a lot of pointing and whispering from the four figures on the couch, but you can’t be bothered to pay any mind to that right now.

Levi helps you with drying the dishes, which is as much as you’ll ever let him do, and the two of you join the others at the couch when you’re done.

Before you can even join in on their conversations, Hange gets up and dusts off the front of their pants. “Well, it was nice being here, but the new episode of The Bachelor airs in fifteen minutes, and I can’t miss it!”

“Since when did you care about trashy TV?” Levi asks.

“Since always!” They scoff. “It's so entertaining! Like watching a social experiment!”

“You know those shows are all scripted, right?”

They tut at you, waving their finger at you. “That’s another level of complexity! The people who write these shows are actual geniuses, and we must appreciate their efforts.”

And just like that, Hange’s out of your apartment. Erwin’s just as quick with his exit, citing a burning desire to catch the 9 PM radio in his car (who the fuck listens to the radio?), and they both leave behind Levi.

He’s hesitant to leave, probably intimidated by your parents, but when your dad approaches him, you know that he’s definitely intimidated by them.

“What do you do for work?”

You look to your mom to silently ask for her to get your dad away from Levi, but she only smiles at the interaction, so you hope Levi can survive your father for what is hopefully only a thirty-second interrogation.

Man, Erwin was probably just going through the same thing just now.

“I’m a professor at Sina University in the architectural studies department, and I’m a freelance architect.”

You see your dad nod in approval, though it’s especially strange that he’s so serious about it. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-nine.”

“Do you own or rent?”

“I own.”

“How much student debt do you have? I’ve heard that architects have a lot of school to get through.”

“None, sir. I was on scholarship and grants.”

“Do you have insurance?”

“Yes.”

“Do you drink or smoke?”

“I drink socially during work events, and I do not smoke.”

“What is your highest degree of education?”

“I have a Master’s in architecture.”

“Do you have any children from previous relationships?”

“No.”

That time, you want to scream for the disaster to stop, but your dad just keeps going.

“How long have you known my daughter?”

“Since September.”

You suppose you wouldn’t know either if you were asked that question, but September works.

Still, you can only watch in horror as the interaction drags on, but you’re grateful that Levi apparently hasn’t backed down. You have to peek through your fingers to even look in their direction, unable to keep your eyes on the car crash happening in front of you.

What the fuck is wrong with your dad? Levi’s just your friend, why does he care about all of this? You don’t even care about it! And why hasn’t your mom intervened at all?

“What car do you have?”

“I don’t care about my car, it’s just a car.”

Fucking finally, your dad smiles and moves to pat Levi on the back with a laugh. “Good for you, son!”

Levi can only awkwardly nod in acknowledgement, which gets yet another laugh out of your parents.

Having enough of their… whatever the fuck they’re doing, you slip in between your dad and Levi and put your arms over both their shoulders, a big, sarcastic grin on your face.

“Levi actually has a work conference to go to, he was just staying to be polite.”

Your mom nods in understanding, believing your lie. “That’s okay, we were just about to head out too.”

“It’s already 9, are you sure you can make the drive back home right now?” You ask.

“Your mother and I are going to stay at a resort, actually. It’s not too far from here.”

“Oh, that sounds fun,” you tell them. “Do you want me to walk you back to your car?”

Your mom waves you off. “No, no, don’t worry about us. You can walk Levi out to his, though!”

You and Levi look at each other but don’t say anything.

“Uh, sure?”

Your mother makes sure to thank Levi again for the dessert case, completely forgetting about the spice loaf that she wanted you to make, and her and your father are out of the door in a matter of seconds.

“What just happened?”

“I have no idea,” you say. “There’s a spice loaf she forgot to take, if you wanted it instead.”

“What the fuck is a spice loaf?”

You shrug. “I don’t know why it’s called a loaf, it’s pretty much just a cake.”

“Sure,” he sighs, rubbing at the side of his head. “Hange made me try this fucking horrendous cheesecake at the restaurant, I’ll eat anything at this point to get rid of the taste.”

You laugh, and you guide him back over to your kitchen. The loaf is cool enough now, so you quickly get on some disposable gloves before cutting it up into more manageable slices.

Levi somehow finds the cellophane bags on his own, and he helps you wrap it up before you take off your gloves and wash your hands. After that, you grab a bag for him to put the slices into, and you and him are back at your doorway, about ready to say your “get home safe”s.

But first, you have to apologize for your parents.

“Sorry about my parents,” you cringe. “And for skipping on dinner.”

“Your parents were a lot.”

You sigh. “I know, hopefully they don’t come on as strong to you if you have to see them again.”

He shrugs. “I don’t mind. They seem like nice people.”

“My dad asked for practically every detail of your life!”

“And? That doesn’t bother me,” he pauses. “Do they like me?”

“Uh,” you think for a second. “Probably? My mom liked the desserts you bought, and my dad likes asking the car question because my brother told him that people who care about cars are sociopaths.”

“Your brother is right, who the fuck needs a sports car that wakes up the entire neighborhood?”

“Nobody,” you shrug. “But I wouldn’t worry about whether they like you or not. If they like Hange, then there’s no limit to who they can tolerate.”

“If you say so.” He looks out towards your hallway and goes to raise the bag you gave him. “Thank you for the loaf.”

You nod. “Yeah, don’t worry about it.”

“See you on Friday?”

“I thought you had business?”

He nods, clicking his tongue. “Right.”

“I’ll technically see you on Friday, just not this coming one.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. That’s what I meant when I asked.”

You roll your eyes. “Sure. Get home safe, Levi.”

“You too. Thank you again.”

“Mhm.” You wave to him as he leaves, and you sigh.

Fuck, you have to wait two weeks to see him again?

Well, out of sight, out of mind. Even with your wish for more ways to avoid thinking about your feelings, you wish it didn’t also entail not being able to spend time together.

✰

The mechanic hands your key back to you, a bright smile on his face. “There you are, miss! The rest of your paperwork is at the front desk, the person working there can help you with that.”

You thank him before heading inside the building, putting your car key back on your keyring while you walk over. The mention of paperwork is hardly daunting, but you still know you’ll have to review everything thoroughly before you’re content signing.

You greet the woman at the front desk with a smile and give her your name, and she slides you a clipboard with a single sheet of paperwork on it. You take it with you to the seating area so you can look at it, but in the middle of reading, you hear a familiar voice introduce himself to the woman at the front desk.

“Ackerman, Levi.”

You look up from the clipboard to see your friend, clad in neat dress clothes.

Huh, what a small world.

You go back to the paperwork, not wanting to get caught staring, and you sign your name at the bottom before getting up to silently slip it back to get processed. You wait behind Levi for him to get his things sorted out, but it takes an unusually long time. When you were getting your initial paperwork earlier, it didn’t take even a fraction of this time.

The woman sighs. “I’m sorry, sir, your car hasn’t finished being repaired yet.”

“I need my car today, could it get done by noon?”

You hear a few more clicks from her computer before she responds. “The parts for the repair have been ordered, but they won’t be here in the shop for another three business days.”

“I paid extra to have it finished today,” he says, “and you’re telling me that it won’t be ready for another three days?”

Someone as blunt as Levi usually comes off as indifferent, maybe even angry, but right now, he just sounds… desperate.

“I’m sorry, there isn’t anything I can do about it. I can get the mechanic for you, and he can explain what’s going on, if you’d like?”

He shakes his head, almost defeatedly. “No, that’s alright. Thank you anyway.”

When he turns to leave, he nearly misses you, but when you tap his shoulder, the two of you make eye contact. You wave at him before quickly stepping forward to hand the woman your paperwork, and she quickly types something into her computer before telling you that you’re ready to go. She leaves to go do… something, and it’s just you and Levi left in the relatively small space.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but do you need a ride somewhere?”

He sighs, putting his hands into pockets. “I was supposed to go somewhere, and my car decided to stop working yesterday.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “If you’re offering, don’t. It’s a three-hour drive.”

Three hours isn’t so bad. You know Levi to be decently frugal with his time, and you’re sure he wouldn’t want to make the drive if it didn’t mean something to him.

Besides, he sounds pretty distressed. If there’s anything you could do to help, you’re going to do it.

“That’s not that long, I can take you.”

“What? No, you have better things to do with your time,” he scolds. “It’s not that big of a deal, I can just go another time.”

“It sounds pretty important if you paid extra to get it repaired faster,” you challenge. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m fucking sure,” he goes to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Well,” you pause to come up with an excuse, and when you see the complimentary drinks station at the corner of the space, you have your excuse, “I didn’t see you yesterday, so I still owe you your tea. I can just drive you to make up for it.”

He groans. “In what world is a six-hour round trip equivalent to a box of fucking tea?”

“In this one,” you retort. “But seriously, I don’t mind.”

“Are you going to give up if I say no again?”

You sigh. “I don’t want to force you, so yeah.”

Before he can speak again, he gets a phone call. He picks it up, and you look away to afford him his privacy.

“They said another three days.”

“It isn’t a big deal.”

“What the fuck? No, go to work. Do not fucking use me as an excuse to take the day off.”

You feel his gaze shift towards you, and you hear him sigh. “Okay, okay, get off my fucking back. I’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah, bye.”

The dial tone of the call ending goes off, and you turn to face him again. He slides his phone back into his pocket, and he brings up his fist to cover his mouth while he clears his throat. “Are you sure? It’s a long drive.”

You nod and give a playful thumbs-up. “Yes!”

Instead of rolling his eyes like you expect him too, he gives you a thumbs-up in return. “Thank you,” he looks out and past you at the parking lot for the place. “I need to get some things from Furlan’s car first.”

“Yeah, that’s no problem. Want some help?”

“You’re going to do it anyway, so what’s the point of asking?”

You roll your eyes. “It’s called being polite.”

“Never heard of it before.”

“Oh, I can tell.”

You follow him as he leads you outside, and you see Furlan leaning on the side of his car. He looks decently surprised to see you, but he still smiles and waves at you. Levi goes to the other side of the car to the backseat to start getting his things.

“It’s been a while since you’ve been at the house, we miss you!”

You smile in apology. “Sorry, just haven’t really had any time lately.”

“That’s okay, I’m pretty busy too,” he pauses to lean in closer to you to whisper. “Oh, and thank you for those brownies a while ago! Me and Isabel make them all the time now!”

You chuckle. “And does Levi know this?”

Furlan smugly shakes his head after he pulls away from your ear. “Nope, and it’s going to stay that way.”

“Well, I’m glad you guys like them that much.”

Levi comes back to where you and Furlan are, and in his arms is a rather… unexpected assortment of items. There’s a large box, but you can see a watering can and a bouquet of flowers that peek out from it. You can’t quite tell what they’re for, but you aren’t sure if it’s the right time to ask.

“You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” he answers. You go to take the watering can and flowers to help lighten the load for Levi, and he thanks you before nodding at Furlan and then letting you lead the way to your car.

When you’re a fair bit away from Furlan, you figure it’s alright to ask.

“What’s all this for, if you don’t mind me asking?”

He hums, opting to continue looking forward instead of at you. “Today’s my mom’s birthday.” He halts in his gait, and he looks almost horrified as he finally turns to face you. “Fuck, I should’ve told you earlier. Seriously, it’s not too late, you don’t have to drive me to a fucking cemetery.”

You’re frozen in place at the statement, unsure of what to say.

So you’ll just say something and clarify afterwards if it comes out wrong.

“Am I supposed to be offended that you didn’t tell me…?”

He blinks, trying to process what you’re saying. “I don’t know.”

You wave your hand in front of his face to snap him back to you, and he blinks again.

“Levi, don’t worry about it. I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?”

You get to your car, and you put down the watering can on the top of your car to free your hand and get your keys out of your pocket. You unlock it, and you open the door for Levi to put everything in the backseat.

“I think I should be asking you that. Are you sure you’re okay with me taking you?”

“I asked first,” he says. Still, he goes around the car to sit in your passenger seat, and you join him in the driver's.

“I already told you that it’s alright with me,” you tell him.

He sighs before reaching over to get his seatbelt done, and you watch as he puts his elbow on the space below the window. “Thank you, then.”

✰

The drive is silent, for the most part.

When he gets in, he compliments the cleanliness of your car’s interior, and you thank him for the sentiment. He gives you directions as you drive, you put on music, but other than that, there’s nothing said between the two of you.

The drive is long, that much is certain, but it’s relaxing, at least for you. Levi does offer to switch every hour or so, but you insist that you’re enjoying the change of pace because he’s normally the one chauffeuring you around.

When you reach Underground City Cemetery, Levi speaks up again to give you directions for where to park. There’s plenty of flowers and gifts that decorate the other graves, probably from the previous Mother’s Day weekend, and they fill up the field with life in colors.

There’s a small lane that is just barely wide enough for you to park, but luckily the place is empty enough to not have it be an issue for anyone else.

“Well, we’re here.”

“I can see that,” he says. As he goes to undo his seatbelt, he looks back to see you staring at him. “What?”

You take your hands off the steering wheel and nervously put them in your lap. “I can come back later, if you want the privacy. I don’t want to intrude on anything.”

The sound of his seatbelt clicking free is loud, and he avoids eye contact with you as he reaches for the door handle and goes to get his things from your backseat. You take that as your sign that he does want you to go somewhere else, but before you can put your car back into drive, Levi walks around the car and knocks on your window with his knuckles.

You roll down your window, and you watch as he looks back and forth between you and the backseat.

“You can come with me.”

You blink slowly. “What? Are you sure?”

He nods. “Yeah,” he looks into your backseat again. “I need help carrying everything anyway.”

You take your keys out of the ignition, and you silently help grab what he can’t carry. He starts heading towards a path, so you follow him, careful not to step on anything other than bare grass or sidewalk. You notice along the beginning of the walkway that there’s various water faucets, so you make sure not to trip on those either.

The walk is a fair bit away from your car, but it’s not anything inconvenient. If anything, it looks like Levi relaxes as he walks in whichever direction he’s headed towards.

When you reach the end of this particular walkway, you see that there’s a fresh bundle of flowers in the little divot in the dirt where he stops.

“Did you come for Mother’s Day?” You ask.

He shakes his head, and he sets his box down, getting a small stool from it as well to sit on. You’re unsure of what you’re meant to do, but you wait for him to give you any instructions, if any.

“I only come on her birthday, it’s too busy on Mother’s Day,” he says. “My uncle comes every week to leave flowers, he still lives in this fucking town.”

“That’s nice of him.”

He scoffs, and he starts to pull on a pair of rubber gloves. “Hardly, I have to pay him to do it.” He gets them on, and he has to uncomfortably lean over to get what he needs from the box.

You quickly go to set down the watering can and the flowers on the blank grass next to you, and you tell Levi that he can just tell you what he needs.

He asks for a long cleaning brush, and you dig through the box to get that for him. You watch as he sweeps away at the dust and dirt on the flat headstone.

The name is barely legible, the granite still ashy, but you can still read it: Kuchel Ackerman. Underneath her name is only a birth date and death date, nothing else.

Levi sighs. “That fucker. I saw him yesterday, and he swore that he cleaned the headstone.”

He asks for a small pick to clean up some of the carvings in the stone. You hand it to him and exchange it for the brush he was just using. You tap it on the side of the box to make sure that the rest of the tools inside don’t catch any of the dirt.

“Was that the business you were on yesterday?”

He nods. “He needed a ride to the airport for whatever fucking reason. My car broke down when I was on the way home.”

“That sucks.”

“It does.”

He seems to need to concentrate on cleaning up the stone alone, so you quietly slip away to fill up the watering can with one of the faucets you saw earlier. He didn’t mention needing any water, but you figure that it’d be better to have it than not at all.

The walk is decently long both ways, but you don’t mind it. You and Levi seem to be the only people in the immediate area, so you’re grateful that he has the quiet he needs to spend time cleaning up the grave, too.

When you come back, he asks for you to slowly pour out the water while he scrubs, having changed the pick for a different, smaller brush this time, and you follow the direction. He asks that you go and get more water, and you just nod before going back and make the same trip.

You have to do it another three times, but you still don’t mind it. When you come back with the last helping of water, he doesn’t ask you to pour it over the stone anymore. The flowers he brought with him now replace the other ones that were set by his uncle, and he asks that you pour the water into the small divot on the ground.

He puts his gloved hands under the falling water to protect the petals from collapsing underneath the stream, and he carefully wipes away any of the water that spilled back down onto the headstone.

“Well, that’s it for today,” he mutters, taking off his gloves. “We can head out now.”

“Do you need any more time here?” You offer, bending down to help get everything neatly in the box. “You don’t have to rush for my sake.”

He checks his watch for the time. “The cemetery closes in 30 minutes.”

You hum, continuing to get things put away but still carefully enough to not cause too much noise or damage anything.

“We can stay another 30 minutes, then.”

He looks back and forth between you, your car in the distance, and the headstone. “Are you sure?”

You nod. “Yeah, I can start getting some of this back to the car on my own.”

He doesn’t say anything else, and you take it that he wants to stay, so you start moving things back to your car. You have to make several trips to make sure that you don’t carry more than you know you can, but you still don’t mind.

When you come back for the last time to get the very last of the things, Levi’s getting up, dusting away loose dirt from his pants. He doesn’t let you carry anything on the way back, but you give no protest, only silently walking next to him as the both of you make your way back to the car.

When you’re both in your seats and everything in the box has been accounted for, you start to drive, again following along as Levi gives you the directions.

In the entire time you’ve been out, neither of you have eaten, so you ask him if there’s anywhere he’d want to go and grab dinner. He says he’d rather just get home, and after a bit of back-and-forth, you make him promise to eat when he gets home, and you continue driving.

He still asks to switch with you every now and again, but you just tell him to not worry about it. You have to stop to get gas with about another hour left of your commute back to his house, and he pays for it before you can even realize that the gas has finished pumping.

When you finally reach his house, you both get out of the car, and you go to help him get his things inside. He sets the box down on the doormat before going to ring the doorbell, but before he can press the button, the door swings open and you’re met with Furlan for the second time in the day, as well as Isabel for the first time in the day.

And of course, they pull you inside along with Levi and force you to have dinner with them. You’re unsure if Levi still wants you to be around after having spent practically the entire day together, but you choose to ignore the thought as you eat and enjoy banter with Isabel and Furlan.

Levi eventually slips away to take a shower, and you, Isabel, and Furlan decide to make some brownies, and this time, Levi’s allowed to know about it because they’re made to cheer him up.

The dessert is in the oven by the time he comes back, and you’re halfway out the door when you see that he’s done with his shower, towel draped over his shoulders.

He slides on a pair of slippers before walking you across the street, and neither of you say anything until you’re at your car, shoulder-to-shoulder and leaning on the vehicle.

“Thank you,” he tells you. “Seriously, you have no idea how much it means to me that you took the time to drive me today.”

You give him a gentle smile, and then you look up at the sky, unsure of where else to look. “You don’t have to say thanks, but I appreciate it.”

He groans next to you, following suit and looking up too. “Did you not hear a word of what I just said?”

You hum. “I did, but you don’t have to thank me.”

“And why the fuck not?”

Honestly? “No idea, but it doesn’t feel right to accept thanks for a gesture like this,” you pause, turning to look at him.

His eyes look shiny under the moonlight, but you’re unsure if it's just the silver in them or tears welling up.

“I’m just grateful you trusted me enough to spend time with you while you visited her.”

He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “You fucking idiot, of course I do.”

There's a silence again, and despite all the words that just miss the tip of your tongue, you feel like you could be here forever, nothing said between the two of you.

“You should get going. It’s late.”

You blink before leaning over slightly to tap your shoulder to his. “Yeah, you’re right.” You both get up from leaning on your car, and there’s another pause before you have to go. “See you on Friday?”

He nods. “Yeah, Friday.”

You sigh again, looking past him and at his house.

“Do you want anything other than tea? Just this once, let me repay you properly.”

You laugh, turning back to face him. “You already know the answer is no.”

“Are you sure?”

When he asks this time, you properly mull it over. Is there really anything you want? The tea is more than enough, but you don't even need that.

Honestly...

"Nothing."

"What?"

"I want nothing," you say again, a bit more confidently.

There isn't anything that you could want, at least that he could buy. For once, you think that you want there to not be any reasoning behind your exchanges.

"You want nothing," he repeats to you. It sounds like a question coming from him.

"Yeah, nothing."

"Is this a fucking joke to you?"

You shake your head with another smile. "No, I'm taking this very seriously," you pause, trying to read the expression on his face. "Don't worry, I'll still bring you your tea the week after."

"You think I fucking care about you paying me back?"

You sigh. "I don't know, maybe?"

"Do tell, then, why you want nothing."

You shrug. "I don't know. There's nothing you need to pay me back for, you can just give me nothing next week."

He sighs. "If you fucking insist."

You laugh, shaking your head again. "Thank you, I look forward to it."

Before you can turn to go and get inside of your car, you notice Levi looking at you, his hands awkwardly at his sides and instead of in his pockets.

And before you can ask if there's anything else he needs to talk about before you go, you feel his arms come up and pull you into a hug.

It isn't tight. No, it's loose enough, and you know that it's meant for you to have the option to leave if you want to.

Strangely, you don't.

You bring your arms up awkwardly to hug him back, unsure of where to grab until you find an opening on his body for you to hold onto, but it doesn't matter. His hold on you tightens, just barely enough to tell you that he appreciates you returning the gesture, and his head find its place comfortably on your shoulder.

His hair is still wet and it drips cold water onto your shoulders, but you don't mind it at all.

His body slotted against yours is still warm, comfortable—just like it always is. And again, you wish that it could last forever.

"Even if it means nothing, thank you."

You know that even if you say, again, that you don't think he needs to thank you or repay you or express his gratitude in any way, you just nod in agreeance to let his heart relax.

"You're welcome, Levi."

Even if he sees it differently, you know you both mean the same thing—that you both appreciate what you do for the other, and that this... repayment system is how interact with each other. That much lets your heart relax.

Eventually, the both of you let go of each other, and the rest goes by too quickly for you to remember.

He tells you to get home safe, you tell him the same, and you're on autopilot as you drive back to your house.

You take your shower, still lost in your mind, and you get into bed. When you go to pull your blankets over again, you freeze.

Instead of the feeling of comfort being the one that confuses you this time, but it's oddly similar.

It isn't that the comfort in his company confuses you. No, not at all. If that were the case, then you'd be anxious when you're around him.

No.

What confuses you is that you want his comfort. You want him to be around. You want to feel that way all the time, not just when you're around him.

And so, for the first time in literal months, you have to flip onto your stomach, scream into your pillow, shake the nerves out of your legs, and do it ten times over... only for it to do absolutely fucking nothing.

Fucking great.

So much for thinking that you could keep up with your little game of running away from your feelings.

✰

Next Chapter

#attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #tao.levi #levi aot #levi ackerman #the romance of reimbursements #levi #fanfiction

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runningfrom2am · 11 months

Text

achilles heel - I: Ben's Sister

summary:

Grace is the very opposite of her brother in every way. when she finally moves onto campus at UNC Chapel Hill, she feels like she gets to be her own person, make her own friends, and hopefully start a promising career in the museum industry, and maybe, one day, get married to her high school sweetheart and live the American dream for herself. Rafe Cameron however, upon their very first meeting, throws a wrench in her very perfect plan.

tags/warnings:

rafe cameron x fem!oc, rafe is giving very much homewrecker, fanon!rafe (kinda), college!au, friends to lovers, slow-burn (maybe?), minimal oc description, drug and alcohol use, mostly unedited, (these tags are not exhaustive, lmk if i should add anything!)

wc: 2.1k

my master list

series masterlist

requests

January 4th, 2019

B: i'll be at the caf in 10 if you want to grab breakfast before class

Her phone buzzes twice in quick succession as the screen lights up on the table in front of her. She leans over to read it, putting down her coffee mug and rolling her eyes slightly to herself. Grace had already eaten the same thing she always does, being frozen strawberries and whipped cream for breakfast, and is finishing up her first of several cups of coffee for the day when she receives this text from her brother.

g: okay, back table in the corner

She sends her quick reply and goes back to what she was doing, pretending to read her textbook and hoping to absorb at least the key points before her eight am class. So far, this method has worked well for her. Only one semester down so far, but with a 3.91 GPA, Grace is feeling pretty good about her academic career.

Her brother, Ben, on the other hand, got into the same school on a scholarship for soccer, and Grace is pretty positive he's only doing the same degree as her so she can tutor him while he lives in a frat house. Which he very promptly moved into after orientation, leaving Grace on campus alone, and she didn't mind it one bit. Having some space from her brother and her parents for the first time has been amazing.

Grace looks up as her disheveled-looking brother slides into the seat across from her at the table, practically throwing his plate down. She removes her headphones to hear what he's saying. "Huh?" She asks, prompting him to repeat himself.

"I said..." He draws it out, clearly frustrated his sister didn't listen. "You're already reading that? It's only the second class."

"Oh, well yeah, they're assigned readings for a reason." Grace replies, putting in her bookmark and closing the book, shoving it in the bag at her feet before looking back at her twin brother. He looks like he just rolled out of bed, which, of course, he did.

"Right. Give me the summary then, yeah?" He asks through a mouthful of cinnamon and sugar toast.

Grace sighs a little. "So, basically, there's this guy, totally a dick." She begins to explain and Ben nods, but he's already looking down at his phone. "So he shoots this elephant, right, and then someone else shoots him, and then that's how the third world war started."

"Wait, what? Really?" Ben asks, his attention suddenly drawn back to her.

"No. There was no World War III, dumbass." She replied flatly, crossing her arms over her chest. "Do you even know what this course is about?"

"Not yet but that's why I'm here isn't it?" Ben chuckles, taking another bite of his toast and instantly chasing it down with his orange juice.

Grace cringes a little as she watches that. "Not exactly..." She replies, looking down at her watch. "We have fifteen minutes. We should probably go, we have to get all the way across campus."

Ben nods and shoves the rest of his one piece of toast in his mouth and picks up the other to carry with them while they grab their bags and clean up the table.

No one really knows what it is about the first week of the semester, but Grace, as well as every other girl she's seen so far, has fallen victim to the idea that you need to look put together and organized knowing damn well that by two weeks from now, she'll be showing up in pyjamas. But today, for the time being, she's actually wearing jeans and makeup to class.

They walk across the beautiful campus that overlooks the city from a hill. It's January, but the sun is rising and there's hardly any snow left on the ground, not that there ever was much to begin with at UNC. Grace grips her coffee cup with both hands to try and warm them- it was probably an oversight to leave her gloves back in her dorm.

They make it inside and find their classroom, walking in and looking around, scanning to see open seats. Grace's eye lands on a table with two seats that no one is sitting at, and makes a beeline for it, placing her bag down before realizing her brother isn't at her side anymore.

"Hey, man, how's it going?" She hears as she looks back over her shoulder, seeing her brother grabbing the hand of a boy sitting in the back row. She sighs and sits down as he sits in the back with someone she's assuming he knows from his frat or soccer or something,

"I'm pretty good. Don't know why I took an eight am but here I am I guess." Ben's friend, Rafe, says as Ben takes a seat next to him.

"Honestly, same." Ben laughs slightly, pulling his laptop out of his bag and placing it on the desk.

"Hey, uh..." Rafe starts, leaning closer to his friend and lowering his voice. "Who's that girl you came in with?"

"Why?" Ben asks, taking on a defensive tone as he digs around in his bag, looking for his textbook.

Rafe instantly shakes his head, leaning back in his seat. "Just wondering." He says quickly, looking forward at the long-haired girl sitting a few rows in front of them. "I didn't know you had a girl- I just thought you would have told the team."

"What? I don't." Ben looks up at him to see his friend staring at his sister. "That's just Grace. My sister." He admits, leaning back in his chair as well.

Oh, his sister. Rafe thinks to himself, nodding slightly in response to his friend, that was now watching him, watching his sister. Time to look away. "You have a sister?"

"Uh, yeah, dude."

"You never talk about her," Rafe says, glancing back at her.

"Not much to say I guess." Ben shrugs in response. "Uh, we're twins, I don't know she likes to read apparently. She's a history major, she lives here on campus. I don't know what really there is to add."

"Oh, really? I was thinking of doing history."

Ben laughs. "Dude, as if Ward would ever let you even think about taking anything other than business. Pretty much the only thing you can do with history is write or teach, that's boring as hell."

Rafe sighs, he knows Ben is probably right. "I mean, like, I wouldn't hate that. At least it would be my choice."

"Yeah, I mean, whatever you want man. Why not, right? Being a prof makes bangin money too. People respect you and shit-" Ben rambles on but Rafe isn't really listening. His eyes are trained again on the girl sitting closer to the front of the room, as her hair cascades over her shoulders when she leans forward more, writing something down in a notebook.

"Right?" His thoughts are interrupted.

"Oh, yeah, totally." Rafe nods, completely unaware of what his friend was talking about by now.

"Okay, so we've got some new faces in here today." A man who Rafe assumes to be the prof says, clapping his hands together to get everyone's attention as the room quiets down. "You, in the back there. You missed introductions on Monday, so basically we all shared our names, our majors, and what year we're in if you'd like to share as well."

He's looking dead on at Rafe in the back, and everyone's heads turn to look at him. "I, yeah, sure. I'm Rafe, uh, this is my first year, so I haven't made any big decisions yet, but I'm thinking about majoring in history." He says, making eye contact with Grace and giving her a slight smile.

"Right, yes, Rafe Cameron. You're on the soccer team with Ben here. Your dad is Ward, right?" The prof asks and Rafe nods.

"Yes sir."

"I've met your father, he's a really nice man, hey?" He grins and Rafe nods again slightly in response, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Anyway, let's get started, shall we? Did everyone get the readings done?"

——

Grace gets up at the end of class, placing everything in her bag and her headphones back in, assuming that her brother would take off with his friend.

"Shouldn't we wait for Grace?" Rafe asks Ben as his friend turns to the door.

"Nah, I'll talk to her later." He shrugs in response. "Come on- we've got practice this afternoon and I want to have a nap first."

"Hold on one sec," Rafe replies, holding his hand up at his friend signaling for him to wait, and watching as Grace turns around evidently surprised to see them still standing there looking at her- waiting.

"Oh, hi." She says, removing one of her headphones.

"What did you think of the first real lecture? Did you write down every word?" Ben asks her and she laughs a little.

"No, but I'm glad we're getting into something interesting at least." She replies, avoiding eye contact with his friend, who's watching her intently.

"Hey, uh, I'm Rafe, by the way." He says to her before Ben can get a word in.

Grace looks briefly at her brother, who is staring at Rafe with an indecipherable look on his face. "I'm Grace." She says, looking back at her brother's friend and smiling politely. "You said you want to take history? That's my plan too." She adds, making an effort to move the conversation along so they don't just all stand there staring at each other.

"Yeah, I mean, maybe. My dad wants me to take business because he owns a company and I'll have to take it over eventually and all that crap." Rafe shrugs as the three of them head for the door.

Grace nods at that, shoving her hands in her pockets as they walk out the door and down the hall. "My boyfriend was supposed to take business too, or that was originally his plan in high school. He decided to go into chemical and electrical engineering instead and he's loving it, but I guess it's a bit different than your situation but I still think it's important to do what you want, not what other people want you to do." She shrugs, as Rafe looks at her brother, giving him a 'what the fuck, man?' expression.

Ben raises an eyebrow at him, the silent exchange finished with his confusion, and Rafe quickly continues his conversation with the girl who wasn't watching them, eyes straight ahead as she walked. "Yeah, I guess you're right. My plan right now is to sell it as soon as my name's on it, so my degree won't really matter."

"Yeah, you probably don't need a degree in business for that." She agrees, laughing slightly as she shakes her head.

As the three approach the end of the hall, Rafe takes a few quick steps forward to grab the door, and Ben smiles at him, laughing slightly and patting him on the shoulder as he walks through. "Thanks, bro." He steps outside, leaving Rafe to stare at the girl who took a turn down the hall instead of following them out.

"Not going back to dorms?" He asks her, making her turn as she continues to walk backward staying with the flow of other students.

"I have a class in C building in ten minutes- this way is much faster. It was nice meeting you!" Grace smiles with a slight wave, popping her headphone back in as she turns around and continues down the hall. Rafe smiles back and raises his hand in a quick wave, sighing as he's stuck holding the door for a few more people before he can follow Ben.

"Dude, you didn't think to tell me she has a boyfriend?" Rafe asks, jogging slightly to catch up with his friend.

"Sorry, didn't think you'd be into my sister. Didn't think it mattered- that's not like, the most important thing about her, you know." Ben scoffs, shaking his head.

"Well, of course not. Would've been nice to know, though." Rafe grumbles, adjusting his bag on his shoulder.

"You're not hooking up with my sister. Listen, even if she wasn't dating that loser I wouldn't let you. That's like, fucked up." Ben says sternly. "What would you say if I said I was into Sarah, huh?"

"Dude- gross. She's like, seventeen." Rafe shakes his head, scrunching up his nose at the thought.

"Exactly." Ben agrees.

"Okay, well, that's different."

"You're digging yourself deeper and deeper man- you've just got to let it go." Ben insists, turning to walk towards his car on the opposite side of the parking lot from where Rafe parked his bike. "I'll see you at home!" He shouts back.

"See ya'," Rafe replies, walking in the opposite direction. He pulls the other side of his backpack over his shoulder, holding tightly onto the straps as he makes his way back to where he parked his bike- completely unaware that he was being watched through an upstairs window in C building by his friend's sister.

ahhh finally part one!! i’ve been working on this one for a hot minute so lmk all your thoughts and everything- i don’t have the whole thing planned out so also if anyone has any requests on where this should go, pls lmk!!

taglist: @madelynie @slut4drudy (message me or reply to this to be added!)

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