#Accounts Jobs Walkins | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jazzthatonewriterchick · 2 years ago

Text

Like A Big Girl (Quirkless!Dabi x Black!Fem!Reader 18+ One Shot)

“Take all of me like a big girl, baby.”

youtube

Pairing: Quirkless!Dabi x Black!Fem!Reader

Synopsis: In which you get the surprise of your life when your apartment neighbor and crush (who happens to be extremely anti-social) shows up at your housewarming party to celebrate your moving into your first-ever apartment after a breakup.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ One Shot (MINORS GTFO); Non-Quirked; Disfigured!Dabi (he has burn scars); Alcohol Consumption; Marijuana Use; Flirting; Shotgunning; Foreplay; Exhibitionism; Fingering; Cunnilingus; Deepthroating; Loud Sex; Doggystyle; Scar Appreciation; Non-Protective PIV Sex; Creampie; Scent Play/Marking; Spanking; Mild Degradation; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: WE A COLLEGE GRADUATE BIH!!! I'm so so happy & so excited for the future. Even more for the summertime cuz now I'm free to write! I hope y'all like this one. I needed to write something smutty for my favorite crusty villain. Enjoy & fuck Enji!! -Jazz

**********

You’ve never been so nervous before until you’re sitting on your couch with a lukewarm tequila sunrise, waiting for your guests of honor to arrive.

Or rather one guest in particular. You know you shouldn’t be at all. You know you should be socializing and talking to the other guests currently occupying your brand-new apartment in celebration of your down payment and a new accomplishment in life.

You should be laughing, joking, and flirting with the fine-ass men that Rumi insisted on bringing with her to help with catering and cleaning before the party started.

But you just can’t. The motivation to do so isn’t there, and the reason why is embarrassing.

Rumi, who sits next to you on the couch, looks you up and down. Her stark white hair is piled up into a messy bun on her head and the red bodycon dress she chose for tonight hugs her toned body and legs just right. If anyone could get a lay tonight, it’d be her. “You might wanna smile, babe. You’re scaring off your guests.”

She gives you a cheeky grin as she sips her drink–a whiskey smash. You’re so glad you managed to find a bartender to make drinks for tonight thanks to Keigo knowing him from his job. You’re even happier that your job’s salary allows you to pay him $550 by the end of tonight.

“Shut up,” you mumble, bumping her with your knee. But even her brash humor doesn’t make you smile an inch. Rumi rolls her eyes and turns to Nemuri, one of your other hot and longtime friends. “Nemuri, please get this girl another drink so she can get up out of this seat,” Rumi sighs. “I’m tired of seeing that face on her face.”

Nemuri stands from her seat in her sundress and flats, looking like a sexy girl next door. “I’ll get you some water, honey.” She gives you a wink before making a dash to the snack table located in the kitchen, dodging between people and the wafts of marijuana smoke in the air. Just weed. No vapes or E-cigs are allowed tonight which you made clear in your invitations.

“I don’t have a face,” you grumble, glaring at Rumi. “And I have gotten out of my seat. I’m the host, aren’t I?”

“Exactly!” Rumi replies. “Which means you should be walkin’ around and hosting. Not sittin’ here, mopin’ about some dickhead and worryin’ if he’ll show up. Plus, you know how men are: they show up when they want to.”

“Not true,” you scoff. “That’s a fact that is relevant to my ex, but not to every guy in existence.” Even referring to your ex as simply “your ex” is enough to make you want to down the rest of your drink. Not only did you decide to throw this party to celebrate your buying and moving into your first “big girl” apartment as the start of a new chapter of your life, but you also wanted to celebrate being free of the leech you called your boyfriend of three years.

“And I’m not moping, okay?” you sharply tell Rumi. “I just wanna make sure there are enough champagne flutes and food. If I get new guests, that means I need more, right?”

Rumi eyes you down, knowing damn well you’re lying through your teeth. “Whatever you say,” she sing-songs. Nemuri returns with the iced water, handing it to you. “Here you are, honey,” she coos. “What are we talking about?”

Rumi is happy to fill her girlfriend in. “The fact that she’s ready to toss a wedding ring at this man who’s afraid of leavin’ his apartment for groceries. If she says that’s not why she’s got that sour face, she’s lying.”

“Hey!” you gasp, kicking at her ankle with your heel. “It’s not a lie! It’s the truth! This is the first party I’m hosting and it’s a lot to worry about, especially since it’s my new apartment.”

At the beginning of the year is when you found your dream apartment complex. It came with a pool, a tennis court, a gym, and a laundry mat along with central air, free wifi, and vending machines. The neighborhood surrounding the complex was quiet at night, noisy with kids in the morning, and nearby a hub of parks, restaurants, and public transportation. It was the perfect place to begin the new chapter of your life.

And not to mention a man, in particular, you had a slight thing for lives here. So, after putting down a payment, signing papers, and getting help moving in, you were finally living on your own three months later. Only a party could really welcome you into your new four walls. But so far, you aren’t enjoying it as much as you should be.

And that’s all because someone you desperately want to see here tonight is missing.

“And second, Dabi isn’t afraid of leavin’ his apartment, Rumi,” you criticize your friend. “He’s just not a people person.” At least, that’s what Keigo told you when you met Dabi for the first time. “According to him,” he scoffed. “It’s just an excuse to not socialize, really. But he’s always been like that since we were kids.”

You caught that vibe from Dabi as soon as you met him several years ago before you met your ex. You met Dabi through Keigo when he dragged his friend to a club to meet up with you and Rumi one spring night for happy hour.

You had heard about Dabi many times before–that he’s a firefighter; that he has some dark humor; that he is kinda weird and awkward but still a pretty nice guy (according to Keigo). As soon as you got a look at that black hair, tight tee shirt, and buff arms roped his tattoos, you were entranced by him. Though he seemed somewhat out of place and like he didn’t want to be there, he carried with him an intoxicating aura, like he was your favorite cocktail drink.

You were so taken aback at how hot he was that you barely noticed the burn scars. He only had them on his face, neck, and snaking up his arm from what you could see–healed yet puffy skin from second-degree burns coat the left side of his face, cascading down his neck to his upper torso and disappearing down his shirt. Though his arm is roped in tattoos, you can see burn scars there too beneath the dark ink. They aren’t as bad as Keigo said they’d be, but they’re not exactly unnoticeable either.

But when he spoke, all of that went out the window. Keigo had sat him down across from you and Rumi, grinning. “Ladies, meet my friend, Dabi,” he said. “D, this is Rumi and Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you,” you had politely said, sticking your hand out for him to shake. His crystal blue eyes, so intense yet mysteriously guarded, flitted up to meet yours. He stuck his hand out and took yours, causing your heart to jump at how warm and calloused his palm was. “You too,” he murmured.

Lord, if you could have sex with a voice, it’d be his. Though it was raspy like he chain-smoked, it was also deep and traveled from your heart right down to your clit which jumped in your panties beneath your skirt. You had to cross your legs to avoid the feeling as Rumi and Keigo began to chat. Dabi would chime in here and there, but mostly just sipped his drink and looked around the club like a bored and lost puppy.

He was fine as hell and kind of unintentionally funny, but that wasn’t what hooked you. It was two weeks before you moved into your new apartment when he randomly hit you up while you were organizing boxes for move-in day. You were sweaty and out of breath so when you answered the phone, you sounded less than happy. “Yes?” you snapped.

“Uh…this a bad time?” Dabi had asked, his gravelly yet smooth-like-chocolate voice in your ear. Your eyes widened and your heart jumped into your throat. “Uh, no!” you immediately replied. “Sorry, I didn’t know it was you. The ID came up as a possible scam.”

“That’s my fault,” Dabi said, actually sounding apologetic. “I never gave you my number. Listen, I didn’t wanna take up your time. I just wanted to ask if you needed help movin’ in.”

“Huh?” you dumbly asked, your brain short-circuiting. “To where?”

“....Your new apartment?” he said, just as confused as you. “You’re movin’ in this week, right?”

A record scratched in your mind and you physically facepalmed yourself. ‘You dumb bitch!’ you thought. “Oh, yeah!” you backpedaled. “Sorry, I’ve been moving boxes since this morning.”

“Well, lemme come up and I’ll help you,” Dabi replied. You blinked at his offer, shocked at how easily he volunteered. “No, it’s fine!” you said. “It’s just little stuff anyway! You don’t have to–”

“I’ll be up in ten,” he interjected. “I’ve got nothin’ better to do anyhow. Stay there.” Then he hung up, leaving you open-mouthed and horrified at your appearance. Luckily, when he came over, you had dried off your sweat and fixed your hair so you didn’t look a total hot mess.

Though you worked in silence most of the day, Dabi made sure to ask you what to put where and heaved heavier boxes for you, his muscles flexing as he did. When his job was done, he even offered to help you move your furniture around once you got it. Weeks later, he did so, helping Keigo lug your couch up the stairs and put together a table.

He did it all in his free time without asking for a dollar. You knew from Keigo how he didn’t like going out much, so to see him do so for you did something to you. Since then, you’ve always had a slight thing for Dabi. You call it a “thing” because you’re not sure what it is. Even when you were dating your ex, he’d always be at the back of your mind and in your wettest dreams. Since he lives in the same apartment complex as you, you made it a point to say hi to him whenever you could after moving in. But the thing is you barely saw him. He lived on a whole other floor and had an entirely different schedule than you which made being nice a lot harder. That’s why you were hoping he’d come tonight: so you could get to know him more.

“How he and Keigo are friends, I’ll never understand,” Nemuri scoffs. They’re complete opposites!” Rumi smirks up at her as she squeezes a hand on her girlfriend’s ass. “I guess opposites attract,” she teasingly says, pulling a giggling Nemuri close to her.

You pretend to retch. “Ugh, can you two please stop?” you whine. “I don’t need to be reminded that I don’t have a fairytale romance or that I haven’t had sex in two months.”

“Two months?!” Rumi and Nemuri exclaim in unison. You flush, adverting your eyes as you sip your drink. “That’s what I’m saying!” Rumi exasperatedly says. “You’re stressin’ over a guy as weird as Dabi when you should be out and about gettin’ your flirt on. With a body like yours, you’d find someone to keep you company tonight in no time. Someone better than that dickhead you left.”

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose as you begin to see your ex’s stupid face behind your eyelids. “Don’t remind me of him, Rumi.”

It’s been three months since you moved out of your shared apartment with your ex and officially broke it off with him after catching him with another girl. After being together for a year and knowing in your heart that this was the man you were destined to be with, you threw caution to the wind and went half on an apartment with him in a nice part of Musutafu.

The first five months were good, but then you started noticing how lazy he was. He barely cleaned, couldn’t cook, and argued about running errands when you asked him, even if it was just a grocery run. “You know I’m not good with groceries, babe,” he’d whine. “I always get the wrong shit and you yell at me about it!”

What irked you most about him is that he never tried. Not with anything! Not with the cleaning, the cooking, or the sex. That was another thing you started noticing about him: the sex was boring. It used to be amazing between you two, but after moving in together, it started seriously lacking. Though you cut him some slack because of his busy work schedule and long hours, the same old position (that being doggy style) can get tiresome.

But though you tried to spice things up with new lingerie, toys, or new kinks to enjoy, he never seemed to want to participate or be interested in them. Those nights of nothing leading into mornings where he left early for work and left you alone were devastating. You started suspecting something was up the third year of your relationship, but you never ever suspecting cheating.

However, fate forced those rose-colored glasses off of you when you stepped into your apartment one afternoon after a yoga class with Rumi and found your boyfriend getting head from a woman you’ve never seen before. You were devastated, to say the least. Your first instinct was to leave and you found yourself crying to Rumi, Nemuri, and Keigo that night over wine.

“I’m gonna fuck him up,” Keigo had growled, and you had to stop him from getting in his car to do so. “You’re telling me he cheated on you?” he asked incredulously. “You? He’s as dumb as he is a bitch.”

“You can stay here as long as you want, babe,” Rumi cooed, stroking your hair away from your tear-soaked face. “Nemuri and I would be happy to have you…as long as you’re okay with the thin walls.”

And you were (or at least you told yourself you were every time you’d hear Nemuri scream Rumi’s name to the heavens) because you did stay. After Keigo and Rumi helped you get your shit and tell off your boyfriend, you moved out of your shared apartment and bunked with Rumi and Nemuri while you saved up for a new home.

Your ex called and texted you constantly throughout that time, begging you to come back and that he was sorry, but after you ignored each one, he stopped. It took a while to get over him. Even now, you still feel a lump in your throat over what happened–the lies; the betrayal; the utter disrespect to you and your home. But after a while, you managed to push through and finally began home hunting.

Rumi stares at you now, pissed that you’re being so stubborn but also looking empathetic towards you. You don’t like either. “Fine, do what you want,” she sighs, “but I still say to get out of your funk and stop worryin’ about Dabi showin’ up. If he does, he does. If he doesn’t, it’s his loss and he needs to get his shit together.”

You try to ignore her words by gulping down the rest of your drink. When it’s gone, your body craves more to replace your feelings of pure shittiness. “I’m gonna go get another tequila sunrise,” you mutter to Rumi and Nemuri. “Watch my spot.”

You hurry away from your hands, not wanting to see their faces as you make a beeline for the kitchen. You plaster on a smile as you catch the eyes of your guests, wanting to assure them that everything is fine and you don’t feel like you just wallowed in a load of shit in your pretty yellow mini dress.

You finally make it to your kitchen, away from the music blasting from your portable speaker in your living room and the constant chatter. The snack table and counters still have snacks, plastic cups, and jello shots on them along with bottles of alcohol and soul food that you had catered from your favorite restaurant.

You immediately for the fridge where a pitcher of pre-made tequila sunrise mix sits next to some sangria (which is all gone). ‘Damn drunkies,’ you think as you go to fill up your glass. Nemuri appears behind you, obviously following you from the couch. She silently watches you pour your drink before she decides to say something. “Don’t worry about Rumi, hon,” she comfortingly says. “You know how she is: she’s blunt, but she’s only that way because she loves you.”

You lower the pitcher once your glass is full and place it back in the fridge. You don’t close the fridge though. The cool air feels good on your clammy skin. “I know,” you sigh, “but I don’t need to be reminded about how my recent relationship crashed and burned. Not to mention be lectured about Dabi. I’m not a kid.”

“So you are worried he won’t come?” Nemuri asks curiously.

“No!” you immediately protest, then pivot, fumbling with the straw in your drink. “I-I mean, not really. He just said he’d show up, so…I guess I was just hopin’ he’d stop by and congratulate me for the apartment since he helped me move in.”

You had invited him, after all. This was last week on a very warm Saturday morning when the summer heat was starting to rise. It was laundry day and you were forced to lug a pillow sack of dirty clothes in an elevator, sweating in your biker shorts and Spongebob tee. You were prepared for no one to see you that morning, but fate had other plans when the elevator stopped on one of the lower apartment floors. You were headed for the basement where the laundry mat is.

The doors opened, revealing the last person you wanted to see that morning. “O-Oh!” you stuttered, taken by surprise by his sudden appearance. And the fact that he looked so goddamn hot. Dabi stood at the elevator doors in his usual black attire, except he had on sweats instead of joggers. You had to force yourself not to stare at his crotch. “Hey, Dabi,” you greeted him, giving him a smile.

Dabi only gave you a nod as he stepped inside the elevator. You didn’t take it negatively. That was just Dabi–he never said much. He pressed the button to the lobby before the doors closed, leaving you together in the small elevator cart. You could feel the four walls of the elevator closing in with him standing so near, especially when his scent was invading your senses. It was spicy yet sweet like cinnamon with a hint of cologne. It was turning you on badly.

Dabi suddenly tilted his chin at the pillow sack. “What’s with the sack?” he muttered. “You got kids to deliver to or somethin’?”

You quirked a smirk at his attempt at a joke. “Funny,” you chuckled. He smirked back, shrugging passively. “I try.” Just like that, the tension faded. “Just laundry,” you sighed. “About two weeks’ worth. I’ve been puttin’ it off since I’ve been still setting up my apartment.”

He nodded and you both fell into silence again that swelled around you. “Sooo where are you off to so early?” you asked, desperate to fill the horrible silence. “Just the station,” he replied blandly. “Why they decided to have a meeting at the ass-crack of dawn is beyond me.” You nodded and giggled to yourself, only imagining the shit he had to put up with as a firefighter. Dabi has been working for the Musutafu fire department for three years now, commuting from the apartment to work every morning.

You smile at him gratefully. “Thanks a lot for helpin’ me with the move-in process. It made things so much easier.” He once again shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “It’s whatever,” he mumbled. “And no, I don’t want your money, before you say anything. You need it more than I do.”

“Ugh, you ain’t lyin’,” you groaned tiredly, your mind jumping from place to place. “I thought doing all the cleaning would be a lot, but I’m still gettin’ used to handlin’ the bills myself plus rent and groceries and…” You buttoned your lip and flushed embarrassingly, realizing you’d been talking for too long. “Sorry,” you giggled, embarrassed. “I’m rambling. Not a good way to start your morning. Just tell me to shut up.”

Dabi shrugged, not looking perturbed by it. “You have nothin’ to be sorry for. Your ex was a dick, end of story. Plus, hearin’ you complain about him isn’t the worst thing I’ve heard in the morning.” He looked at you, looking deadass. “Try gettin’ an earful of that blonde bitch singin’ in the shower when he’s not laid up with somebody.”

You laughed then, glad you didn’t have Keigo as a roommate. “How are your ears not bleeding?” you giggled. Dabi smiled at the sound of your laugh–a real, genuine smile that made him even more handsome to you. The moment quickly ended though when the elevator dinged and the doors opened to the lobby. “This is me,” Dabi muttered, his smile disappearing.

He began to head out, not even giving you a goodbye or a “have a nice day” or a “you look fine as fuck in those shorts, lemme get your number”. Nothing! Your heart thundered in your chest, realizing this may be your one chance to interact with him for more than five seconds.

Quickly, you jammed the button to hold the doors open. “H-Hey!” you abruptly called out. Dabi stopped and looked over his shoulder at you. “I meant to tell you: I’m havin’ this apartment warming party next Saturday night. It’s like a housewarming, but it’s for my apartment and uh…”

‘You’re rambling! Just get to the point, bitch!’

“If you wanna come, you’re welcome to,” you continued. “Keigo is coming, so I figured I’d extend the invite.” Dabi had an unreadable expression on his face as he stared at you as if trying to make sense of you. “So…other people are gonna be there?” he carefully asks.

You blinked at him. What a weird fucking question. “Well, yeah, but just some of my coworkers and people Rumi and I know. It’s just a small thing, nothing too big. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, but there’s gonna be food, music, a little bit of weed…” You trailed off, hoping the weed would get him since he’s a smoker.

Dabi shoves a hand into his pocket and leans back on his haunches. “I don’t really go to parties too much,” he admitted. “Not that I hate ‘em, but I’m not really a people person.” That definitely meant he wasn’t coming. “Oh,” you exhaled, disappointment blooming inside of you. “I get you. I just figured I’d–”

“I mean, I’ll still stop by or whatever,” he interjected with a shrug. “Don’t I gotta bring a gift or somethin’?” You tried to stomp down the happiness flooding your chest, but you couldn’t help it. “If you want!” you chirped happily. “I like plants…wine…gift cards…Beyoncè tickets…just some ideas.”

Dabi smirked humorously at your little witty joke. “Not sure about that other part, but I’ll see what I can do.” Then, without another word, he turned to leave. “I’ll see you later then!” you called after him to which he gave you a slight wave. Finally, you let the doors close on you, and though his goodbye was anti-climatic, you couldn’t get rid of your smile.

Now here you are, two hours into the party, and he still isn’t here yet. Keigo isn’t either but he at least said he was coming straight from work as a bartender. “Don’t be upset if he doesn’t, Y/N,” Nemuri coos, putting a hand on your shoulder. “I haven’t heard of Dabi ever going against his word, he’s very…different.”

‘Tell me about it,’ you think.

“He’s not a bad guy,” Nemuri continues, “but he’s not as much of a social butterfly as Keigo is, especially because of his accident. He might be afraid he’ll make people feel uncomfortable.”

As soon as the words are out of her mouth, you freeze, your brain processing the meaning behind them. Dabi never talked about his accident, especially to you, but according to Keigo, he got those burn scars not from a firefighting mission gone wrong. He got them when he was a child after playing with matches one Christmas night and setting his home on fire. Supposedly, this was because he was angry that his father aka that redheaded bitch Enji Todoroki didn’t buy him, his siblings, or his wife any Christmas gifts.

Little Dabi found the matches sitting up on the mantel above the fireplace and ultimately set a spark that engulfed their home. Dabi was never the same after that, especially after nearly dying from the flames. Luckily, he didn’t die from his severe burns, but they left the left side of his face and body with burn scars–reminders of what happened. “He blames himself a lot for that night,” Keigo said to you when he recounted the story. “Especially since his family lost so much stuff. To him, he feels responsible for the fact that his family could’ve died in that fire.”

Though he has a great relationship with his family besides Enji, he’s always carried around the weight of that trauma. Literally speaking too, because of those burns on his body. He can never ever get rid of them. He’s forced to wear them and be scrutinized by the world because of his disfigurement.

As soon as Nemuri’s words process, you feel sick to your stomach. “I never thought of it that way,” you confess, feeling horribly guilty. “Fuck, now I feel like a bitch! Here I am upset over him not comin’ to my party when he owes me nothing, and yet–”

“Hey.” Like a light in the darkness, Nemuri emerges in front of you and firmly holds your shoulders. “Stop. You’ll ruin your makeup sweatin’ over this.” She then hands you a napkin and you begin to bloat your Fenty Beauty foundation, hoping your makeup didn’t slide.

“Just take a breath, get yourself another drink, and have some fun!” she encourages. “While I wouldn’t have said it as brazenly as Rumi did, I agree that you need a night to forget about your ex and meet somebody you can spend the night with so you can forget about your ex. Here, I’ll even help you! I’m great at matchmaking.”

You quirk a smile at her volunteering to help you get laid. “Thanks, Nemuri, but I think I’ll pass on scouting for dick tonight. I don’t feel like hooking up.”

And you don’t. All you want to do is drink, dance, and celebrate your first big girl apartment. “But I do feel like having fun,” you say aloud before taking a jello shot and throwing it back. The taste of vodka and artificial orange immediately hits your tongue, just as your favorite Beyoncè song blasts from the living room.

“Oh, this is my song!” you squeal, already moving your body to the beat. Nemuri moves with you, happy to see you happy. “That’s the spirit!” she cheers. You two dance in the kitchen for a while until the doorbell rings. “Looks like more people came to congratulate you,” Nemuri giggles, squeezing your hand. “Go get it quick before the song ends.”

You nod and take your drink with you as you hurry out of the kitchen to your door. You already feel better after the quick dance session and some more alcohol. You feel like you could take on anything now. You swing open the door with enthusiasm, happy to have more guests. “Welcome to my…” you begin to shout, grinning at your guests standing at your door.

But that smile fades when you get a look at not only Keigo but Dabi standing behind him, each with a bag in their hand. As soon as Dabi’s cobalt eyes meet yours, you’re a puddle. “Home,” you weakly finish.

“Wow, what a welcome,” Keigo chuckles. “Thanks for havin’ us, babe. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” He leans in to give you a one-armed hug before releasing you. “Hope you don’t mind I bought the enigma along for the ride.”

He nods at Dabi who looks oh-so uncomfortable and delicious in his black tee and jeans. His icy blue eyes flick to yours before looking away to somewhere beyond your face. “N-Not at all,” you reply softly.

“And us too!” a familiar voice comes from behind Dabi. The voice belongs to his equally as fine brother, Natsuo Todoroki. “Long time no see, Y/N.” He grins at you, running a hand through his snow-white hair.

Another familiar face appears from around the corner though it is hidden behind shaggy, black hair that reaches his shoulders. Tenko, aka Shiggy, with his tattoos and gages. “That’s ‘cause you're deep in those nursing books,” he tells Natsuo before turning to you, dark circles under his eyes. “You got smokes in here, right? I’ve been tattooing people all day and I need a reliever.”

“Yes, and come in,” you giggle, opening the door wider for your four muscular, tall, and fine-ass guests. They each walk in and you close the door behind them. As soon as they’re inside, Shiggy makes a beeline for the weed, leaving you, Dabi, Keigo, and Natsuo standing there.

“Woooow, kid,” Keigo whistles. “Cute place you got here. I knew it was a good idea to put the TV over there.” He nods proudly at the TV in the living room. “So this is your very first place. I really can’t call you “kid” no more, can I?” He actually sounds upset about it.

“Yep,” you laugh. “My first home, first real purchase. I feel like a big girl for real now.”

“You should!” Natsuo chuckles, a smile growing on his handsome face. “Especially without that emotional vampire suckin’ the life outta you. Oh, before I forget…” He nudges Keigo who presents you with a paper bag “Housewarming gift number one,” the second oldest Todoroki kid says with a grin. “Dabi has the other. C’mon and give her the gift, D!”

Dabi glares at his brother, but pulls a little bag from behind his back. You look into both, finding a bottle of wine, a bottle opener, and some cute, multi-colored wine glasses in them. “Thank you,” you giggle. “I’ll drink it all tonight.”

“So where’s the food and the pretty people?” Keigo asks, a mischievous glint in his eye. You already knew the man would be getting his freak on tonight. “All in the living room. Rumi and Nemuri are somewhere around here if you want me to–”

“Nah, kid, don’t worry your pretty head about it,” Keigo interjects, putting a hand on your shoulder. “I’ll definitely find them. You stay here and tend to your new guest…he’s gonna need it.” He nods at Dabi before giving you a wink. “C’mon, Natsuo!” he hollers, taking the white-haired man by the shoulder.

Natsuo gives you an apologetic look as he’s dragged off. “Take care of him, please?” he softly pleads before heading off with Keigo to stop him from harassing people. You turn to Dabi who looks ready to strangle them both. “Fuckin’ bitches,” he growls under his breath.

Standing among the music and the chatter, you realize that now you two are alone. Well, not completely, but enough that it feels awkward without someone starting the conversation. Nervously, you swallow, realizing you’ll have to throw in the towel. “I-I didn’t think you’d come,” you shakily begin. “You said you weren’t a people person.”

“I’m not,” Dabi gruffly declares, “but I did owe you a gift.” Your heart leaps at his words despite his tone. “You really didn’t, but thanks anyway.”

He nods once more his eyes flick up and down your form quickly. When you catch it, your entire body grows hot. Does he think you look good? If he does, will he say it? It doesn’t appear he’ll say anything at all. You clear your throat once more, attempting to break the ice that is quickly hardening. “Uh…so you want a drink or a tour of the place? I’d feel bad if you were just standin’ here.”

“What’s wrong with just standin’?” he deadpans, but you can tell it’s a joke. “Everything, unless you’re a plant,” you tease. You earn a little smirk out of him, but that’s about all you get. So you start to ramble. “The drinks are really good. Keigo knows the bartender, so–”

“What?” he cuts in, straining to hear you. You lean in toward him, placing a hand on his shoulder to get closer to him. “I said Keigo knows the bartender I hired for the party!” you exclaim into his ear. “I also catered soul food if you want to–”

You’re rudely cut off when someone bumps into you. She’s one of your coworkers from the HR department, but because she’s so drunk, she barely recognizes you. “Sorry!” she hiccups. “Bathroom!” Quickly, she runs upstairs to your bathroom, holding her stomach as she does. You turn to Dabi who looks even more uncomfortable now. You keep your hand on his shoulder, wanting him to know you’re here for him. He doesn’t move your hand away. “I’m startin’ to think maybe you’re right about the standin’ thing,” he mumbles. “You got anywhere more private?”

It takes a moment for his words to process, but when they do, you swear you could touch the moon. He’s really here for you. To talk to you. And you know exactly where to go for it. “I know a perfect place,” you giggle excitedly. “Get yourself a drink and I’ll get some smoke. Meet me back here in five minutes.”

Dabi looks relieved that you agreed. Quickly, he moves to the kitchen to get himself a drink, earning some eyefucks in the process, regardless of his burns. Still holding your gifts, you make a beeline to the smoke section and force Shiggy to cough up the rest of the starburst-flavored papers (to which he whines about) and a little baggie of weed.

The crew is sitting on the couch vibing to the music when you come over. Keigo and Natsuo are in awe at Dabi being up and about, pouring himself a drink. “So I see you got him to move!” Natsuo laughs. “It’s a miracle!” Rumi, currently holding Nemuri in her lap as she chats with someone next to her, gives you a smirk. “Where are you off to?” she asks suspiciously.

You smile back at her, unable to hide your giddiness. “To show my guest around. Hold down the fort for a minute.”

“Maybe more than a minute,” Keigo snickers knowingly. Rumi nudges him with her elbow as you flush to yourself. “You’ve got it, captain. Go enjoy yourself and your man.” You turn away, skin still on fire. “He’s not my man!” you call over your shoulder as you hurry to gather something to loosen you both up. “Yet,” you whisper to yourself.

Dabi meets you back at your door like you ask him to with a red solo cup that smells of whiskey and apple in his hand. You motion for him to follow you out the door of your apartment and down the hallway. “It’s right up here,” you explain, pointing up the emergency staircase in case of a fire.

Dabi raises a quizzical eyebrow but follows you up the short flight of steps anyway. When at the top, you push open the door at the end of the staircase, revealing the rooftop to your apartment building. The roof is decorated with comfortable sofas, mini tables, and fair lights that hang among the rafters. The edges of the rooftop are blocked off by clear, plaster walls that serve as barriers between the inside and the outside.

You shut the door behind you and turn to Dabi. “You know about this place?” you softly ask.

He stares around the prettily-decorated rooftop, lips parted in awe. “Not at all,” he admits, bewildered. “I’ve been livin’ here longer than you and knew nothin’ about it, but then again, I barely come out of my apartment.”

“I’m a sucker for rooftops,” you confess. “That’s what drew me to this complex.” You walk over to him, staring out at the view before you: glittering city lights and the sunset that isn’t anything but a line of fuschia that dips beneath the mountains far off into the distance. It truly is a beautiful sight.

You suddenly feel warm as if someone’s eyes are on you and turn to see Dabi unabashedly staring at you.

“Goddamn, you are short,” he snickers.

You smack his arm, flushing. It’s not your fault you were cursed with short genes. “Hey!” you gasp, mock-offended. “Keep talkin’ like that and you’ll find yourself goin’ over this rooftop. Just for that, you’re rollin’ the blunt for us.” You plop down on one of the couches and pat the empty seat next to you twice, motioning him to sit next to you.

Dabi looks hesitant at first but sits down next to you anyway. He still appears tall even though he’s sitting.

“You sure your crib is gonna be okay?” he asks as he begins to set up shop. You wave off his concern, trusting your guests. “Rumi and Keigo won’t let anything happen to it. Especially Rumi; she scares people.”

He smirks at your answer as he begins preparing a blunt for you, taking out a grinder and the little baggie of weed. You prepare the wine and glasses, pouring yourself one and leaving another empty for Dabi just in case. Once finished, you sit in silence and watch him work, sipping your wine as you do. You watch him intensely, your eyes hypnotized by his fingers expertly sprinkling the marijuana into the paper and then working on rolling the blunt to absolute perfection.

He’s so good with his hands.

Your eyes trail up his hands to his wrists to his arms, admiring the muscle beneath the dark ink on his skin. One tattoo, in particular, catches your attention: the number 58 with a green dragon slithering out of the eight. “Nice tatt.”

“It’s my firefighter number,” he explains, eyes still trained on his hands. “The dragon is the symbol for the department. I designed and inked it myself.” You don’t notice that you’ve gotten closer to him, your legs aimed directly toward him. Your body is completely under his silent spell. “You do your own tattoos?” you ask, wanting to know more, anything more, about him.

He nods, jetting his tongue out to lick the paper. It is pink with a glint of something in it. You realize that it’s a tongue piercing and your clit jumps. “Shiggy taught me when we were teens.” He suddenly stops rolling the blunt and points at a few words linked across his right collarbone. “This one is the first tatt I gave myself when I was sixteen. It’s Latin for ‘don’t let the past steal your present’.”

He then begins to recite the words in Latin, his rolling tongue making the inside of your thighs feel warm. “I didn’t know you spoke Latin.” His eyes flicker over to yours, a softness to them. “There are a lot of things you don’t about me,” he murmurs, his tone low and sugary sweet to you.

You don’t know if it’s the alcohol, the privacy, or him, but it allows you to be even bolder. You scoot next to him even farther, turning your body so that your hip presses against his. He doesn’t move away, but you do feel him tense. “Hopefully, there are some you’d be willing to share,” you softly reply, hoping he’ll read between the lines and see how much you want this.

Alas, he doesn’t say anything, but you do notice that his knee begins touching yours. You don’t know if it’s accidental or intentional, but it has you feeling warm and tingly regardless. When he finally finishes the blunt, he lights the end of it and takes a smoke test before passing it to you. You take it gingerly between your forefinger and thumb and take a much-needed puff.

The smoke fills your lungs instantly and you exhale peacefully, watching the wisps of smoke disappear into the starry night sky. “Nothin’ like a blunt to ease the nerves,” you sigh contently, already feeling more relaxed.

“Are you nervous?” Dabi asks, actually sounding surprised by it. His arm is tossed over the back of the couch, right behind your head. “Around me?” You flush, passing the blunt back to him. “Well, kinda,” you laugh awkwardly. “You’re just so…” You grow quiet, trying to find the appropriate word.

He takes a puff of the blunt. “Weird?” he finishes, quirking a brow at you as smoke billows from his mouth. He passes the blunt back to you. “I was gonna say ‘quiet’,” you reply. “I don’t think you’re weird.”

Dabi shrugs, looking out into the city lights. “I just don’t have much to say, but you ain’t the only one who’s nervous. Like I said, I’m not much of a social butterfly; not even at work. That’s Keigo and my brother. They dragged me out here tonight.” His eyes, like twin pools of the bluest water in the farthest Carribean island, flick to yours. “But to be honest, I would’ve come anyway.”

You suddenly forget you’re holding the blunt and quickly place it down on the ashtray on the mini table. “You would?” you ask, hating how breathless you sound. He shrugs like it should be obvious. “Well, yeah. I wouldn’t want that gift card goin’ to just anybody.”

You scowl confusedly at him to which he smirks humorously. “Look at the bottom of the bag I gave you.” Slowly, you do so, and sure enough, you see a silver $150 Visa gift card glinting at the bottom of the bag. You take it out, staring at it. Dabi looks sheepish, planting his hand firmly in his lap as if he doesn’t know what to do with it. “It ain’t much and it definitely ain’t a Beyoncé ticket, but I hope you like it.”

Suddenly, the alcohol, the weed, and the scent of him begin to work their magic on you. All of your inhibitions and all logic are gone as you stare at his gorgeous, scarred face. “I love it,” you whisper, and before you can stop yourself, you lean in and press a soft kiss to Dabi’s cheek. You feel his soft skin and the slight prickle of stubble there before pulling away.

He stares at you, shocked, and you stare right back as reality sets in. ‘Oh, no…what the fuck did I do?’

“Y/N,” he says, your voice like a prayer on his lips. But before he can finish his thought, your phone rudely interrupts him. “Fuck,” you hiss. “I’m so sorry.” You scramble to pick it up and find your ex’s name flashing across the screen. “Dammit!” you snap.

“Who is it?” he asks, his brows furrowed in confusion. You show him, groaning with dread. “It’s my ex. I thought he stopped callin’ me, but apparently not.”

“He’s been callin’ you?” he asks, a bitter tone to his voice. He does not sound happy about this. You slowly nod to which he demands, “Put him on speaker.” You stare at him, wondering if he’s deadass, but he’s not looking like he’s bs-ing you about this. Despite your better judgment and confusion, you do as he says and put the call on speaker before answering your ex with a curt, “What do you want?”

“Heeey, that’s no way to talk to your man,” your ex slurs into the phone. “What’s up with you?” You scowl in disgust at his tone. “What’s up with you?” you shoot back. “Are you drunk?” He snorts in response meaning he’s definitely drunk. “Not nearly enough. Just was thinkin’ ‘bout you bein’ alone in that big, empty apartment…but then I happened across your IG and saw your stories.”

“Yeah, and?” you ask cooly.

“You’re throwin’ a party at the expense of us?” he snaps at the flip of a switch. “You want everyone to know what happened to us?” You roll your eyes. Everything is always about him. “Only my friends know what happened because they’re my friends. And even if I tell people, it’s none of your business and you fuckin’ deserve it for cheating, lying dick.”

He pauses, letting your insult process, but the longer he’s quiet the more tired you grow. “Is this what you called me for?” you demand. “To argue? ‘Cause I’m not in the mood.” He makes a sound over the phone between a sigh and a groan, sounding exhausted. “Can’t we just talk about this?” he asks. “I just don’t get why you had to leave. We had three years!”

You scoff to yourself. The sheer audacity of this guy! Those are three years he decided to ruin; not you!

“Can’t we just talk it out, Y/N?” he asks again, sounding absolutely broken.

Now it’s Dabi’s turn to respond. “There ain’t nothing to talk about,” he malevolently replies. “She already made it clear that she’s not interested in whatever you want.”

Your ex is quiet for a moment, taken aback by the new voice. “Who the fuck are you?” he spits. “Y/N, who is that?” Your brain short circuits trying to find a legitimate answer.

“Her new man,” Dabi growls, “and if I ever see you callin’ her again, I’m pullin’ up to make you see God early. You’re lucky I didn’t do that when I found out you stuck your dick inside someone else who wasn’t the woman you had. What are you, stupid?” You and your ex are silent, astounded by his words.

“And if you even think about comin’ over here yourself, don’t,” Dabi continues. “Take that as my act of kindness to you even though you sure as hell don’t deserve it.” Your ex is enraged, cussing, and slurring into the speaker. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” he snaps. “You think you can just–”

“Don’t call here again, whore,” Dabi growls before he gives you a slight nod and you end the call.

As soon as the call ends, you set your phone down and voice the one question that is burning you alive: “Did you mean what you said?” you ask carefully. “That you’re my new man?”

Before Dabi can even begin to explain himself, you softly, shyly, tell him, “Because I wouldn’t reject that offer.”

Dabi gapes at you, obviously not believing your words. Then a hardened expression sets on his handsome face. “You’re not serious,” he scoffs with laughter. “You’re not.” You scowl at him, disappointed. That wasn’t the response you were expecting. “What do you mean?” you ask, confused. “You don’t think I want this?”

“No, I don’t,” he replies sternly, suddenly standing up. You can see that wall that you’ve been all night trying to destroy building back up. “I think you think I’m a weird ass, introverted loser that you wanna take a ride on because it’ll be fun for the first few weeks while you’re gettin’ over your breakup.” He shakes his head, laughing to himself. “You could never want me.”

You stare at him, dumbfounded. “Why would you think that?” you softly ask, hurt for him now more than yourself. Dabi chuckles dryly. “C’mon now, Y/N,” he scoffs. “Someone who looks like you with someone who looks like me?” He points to the scars on his face. “I’m not the man you think I am.”

“I don’t think of you as anything, Dabi,” you passionately say, standing up now too. “I invited you here because I want to get to know you more. I always have, even when I was with my ex.” He turns to stare at you, shocked at your words. There it is: the truth, laid out in the open with only the stars as witnesses to it.

You move closer to him, gently taking his wrist into your hand. His body feels tense in your grasp. “Your scars mean nothing to me; they never did. Would you believe me if I said I’ve always liked you too?”

You take your other hand and place it on his chest, right above his heart which is beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. “Now that I know you’ve felt the same way, nothing is holding me back anymore.”

You then stand up on your tiptoes and again press a kiss to his jawline, right on a burn scar there. “I can handle this, Dabi,” you murmur against his ear. “I like it rough.” That is all you needed to say to get Dabi to finally unravel.

You can only let out a tiny gasp before he grabs you by the back of the neck and presses his lips against yours. His kiss isn’t soft or careful. His kiss his rough; hungry; slow as he draws moans and gasps out of you. He kisses you like he’s been dreaming of doing so for ages, and you have no doubt that he has. His lips are soft, the taste of whiskey, apple, and mint on his tongue. You let his hands move along your back and ass, squeezing the flesh there and making you moan.

Taking advantage of your open mouth, he slides his tongue alongside your bottom lip before slipping his tongue inside of your mouth. He moans hungrily as your tongue begins to swirl with his, swapping spit and exchanging breath. The act makes your pussy clench impatiently in your panties, wanting to be touched and petted. By him. Dabi then pulls away enough to speak to you, his eyes hooded and dark.

“How long have you felt his way about me?” he murmurs hotly against your lips. “Tell me.”

His hand sneaks down underneath your dress to squeeze your ass. You let him, biting back a whimper in the process. You barely know him and yet you’re letting him touch you like this right in the open. “S-Since you helped me move,” you softly stutter. “But I’ve always been attracted to you since we met.”

He begins to kiss you all over now: your neck; your jawline; your collarbone; your naked shoulders in your spaghetti straps. “Fuck,” he growls against your skin. “You’re too good to be fuckin’ true.” His hands roam up and down your hips and sides, squeezing and fondling. “I’ve been wantin’ your fine ass since we met.”

“How come you never…?” The rest of your question doesn’t reach your lips as he grabs you by your hips and pulls you toward him, so close that air can’t even move between you. Your bodies are pressed flush against each other, so close that you can feel a bulge in his jeans that can only be his hardening dick. He’s turned on by you. The fact makes you delirious.

His lips press against yours again, kissing them so much that your mouth becomes raw from it. He begins to walk backward to the couch, never breaking the kiss, and plops down onto the cushion. He then grips you by the hips and coaxes you on top of his lap where you begin to straddle him. His hands, so rough yet so warm, continue to fondle your thighs and ass, squeezing at the flesh there and making you whimper into his mouth. Instinctively, you grind down into his hardening dick, enlisting a moan from deep within his throat. It travels right down to your pussy.

Suddenly, he pulls away with a soft gasp. His eyes are lust-blown, his lips pinker than usual. “Hang on…I wanna try something.” With one arm wrapped securely around your waist, he moves to pluck the blunt from the ashtray. “You ever shotgun before?” he asks. You blink dumbly at him, confused, and shake your head. “It’s easy. Lemme show you.”

You watch with utter lust as he takes a long drag of the blunt, his eyes pinned on yours. Then, with one hand, he squeezes your cheeks, forcing you to form your mouth into an O shape. He leans in close as if he is about to kiss you again and, slowly, billows of marijuana smoke shoot out of his mouth and into yours. You’re trembling with need and anticipation as the smoke fills your senses along with the sight of Dabi’s crystal blue eyes staring you down. “Nice, right?” he chuckles. “Now try it with me.”

You’re eager to try this new addictive activity as well as please him, so you pucker your lips and puff on the blunt that Dabi holds out for you. Then, after inhaling a good portion of smoke, you slowly blow it out into Dabi’s waiting lips. But you don’t stop there. You lean in toward him and devour his mouth, desperate to have him. At some point, he puts the blunt back down but you don’t notice. You’re too drunk and high off of him. You pull away, leaving him dazed. “I want you,” you whisper, wrapping your arms tightly around him.

“Bedroom?” he asks, a suggestive glint in his eye. “And before you ask, no, I don’t think you’re easy or that I’m a rebound. We already established that we’re two idiots who’ve been pinin’ after each other for months now.”

His words make you smile. Though you weren’t at all thinking about if he saw you as “easy” or if he was just a lay to get over your ex, it’s so nice to hear that all he wants is you. This only makes your need for him grow until it reaches an almost painful point. Your throbbing clit is a testimate to that.

“No bedroom,” you say, giving him an excited, sexy smile. “I want you out here.” Dabi raises a brow, not expecting your request. “Please, Dabi,” you plead. “I-I don’t think I can wait.” To show him that you’re serious, you begin to take down the spaghetti straps to your dress to reveal your bra. You don’t care if anyone sees. You just want him so badly.

The shock in his blue eyes is replaced with sheer hunger when he gets a look at those perfect tits in the pretty little bra you have on. “You little freak,” he chuckles. “Well, at least lemme get a feel of you if you want me that badly. Hop off me.” You listen to him and settle down next to him as he gets up to inspect you.

You bite your lip and watch him as he kneels down in front of you and opens your legs. When he gets a look at your soaked little panties, he almost looks pained. “Goddamn, mama,” he hisses. “You’re so wet for me. You don’t even need these little panties anymore.” His eyes flick up to yours and his hands still at your thighs. ‘Okay?’ his eyes ask.

Wordlessly, you nod, unable to speak. But he isn’t down for that. He begins to brush his fingers up and down your wet slit above your panties, paying close attention to your reactions. “Words, baby,” he growls. “Gimme words.”

“Yes!” you moan, your toes curling in your heels at the feeling of his fingers brushing your wet cunt. “Please, Dabi…please touch me.” He gives you a wolfish grin at your pitiful reaction, but doesn’t keep you waiting. He loops his fingers through the waistband of your panties and pulls them down your legs you reveal your naked, sobbing wet pussy. “Shit!” he hisses, gaping at your sex. “You have the prettiest pussy, babe.”

“Thank y–!” Your words are cut off by a sudden gasp as Dabi leans in and begins suckling on your clit and eating your pussy like a starving man. He is relentless with his tongue slashes, flicks, and long licks up and down your slit. He moves his tongue like he’s a master at eating pussy, paying close attention to your reaction every time he does something new.

You’re loving it. You writhe and grind your hips against his mouth, trying to get him closer. Your pussy pushes around his pillowy-soft lips and wet tongue that writes shapes and nonsense words across your wet lips and needy little clit. “You’re so wet,” he mumbles into your pussy. “Does doin’ this shit out in the open turn you on that much, mama?”

You moan in response to him, unable to form words, especially when he reaches one hand up to pay with your breast. You help him bring down the bra cup to expose your breast, hissing in pleasure as he begins gently pinching the hardened brown nipple. This is insane. You barely know this man and not only are you letting him do this to you, it’s all in public. Anyone could walk up the staircase and see you, or look across or up from the sidewalk to find you like this.

It’s so shameful. So nasty. And so, so good. It feels even better when Dabi begins to tease your entrance with his middle finger, dipping the tip in and out of your wet pussy. “You want this?” he asks, his voice nothing but a low growl. You nod vigorously and he laughs. “So needy,” he teases as he begins to slowly slide his finger inside of you. “Your ex must’ve not be takin’ care of this pussy. He never made you feel like this, did he?”

“N-No,” you gasp, eyes blown as you feel your pussy stretch slightly around his finger. He quickly begins to aim up to brush against your clit as he slides his finger in and out of you. Not only that, but he also begins to suck at your clit, sending waves upon waves of pleasure coursing through your body. This shit is crazy! He’s crazy!

You can feel yourself quickly beginning to reach that peak to your climax. ‘No!’ you think stubbornly. You don’t want this to end. You want to make this moment last. “Wait, Dabi!” you shout, writhing against him. “Stop! Don’t make me cum!” He immediately ceases his movements and pulls away from you, glaring in confusion. “‘Scuse me?” he asks, not sounding happy with your protest.

You nearly laugh at his reaction. “I wanna make this last,” you explain. “I wanna make you feel exactly how you must made me feel. So stand up.” Dabi still looks pissed he couldn’t make you cum, but listens to you anyway. He stands up, mouth and chin glistening from your juices, and you stand with him. Slowly, you begin to kiss and suck your essense off of his mouth, earning low moans from him.

Your hands slide down to his broad chest and you grip his shirt collar. “Off please?” you ask, peering up at him through your lashes. You don’t even have to ask twice. In a flash, he’s stripping himself of his shirt and tossing it somewhere on the rooftop.

You take a moment to admire his beautiful body–so hard and defined with muscle, ink, and burn scars that coat the left side of his body. His nipples, pink and hard, glint with two rings that hang from them and his lower stomach is sinewy with ink black hair. He’s so, so pretty. He must think your stares mean something else because he adverts his eyes from yours. “I know it ain’t picture perfect,” he mutters, sounding ashamed in himself. Your heart leaps with fear, hoping you didn’t ruin tonight for you both. Quickly, you try to fix things by gliding your hands up and down his hard body, admiring his well-defined pecs and abs. “You’re perfect,” you whisper before leaning in to peck his burn scars, running your lips softly over each.

The low moans and “mmm”s Dabi lets leave his mouth are delicious to you. They only heighten your arousal along with the sound of the party still going on downstairs. The music and chatter are muffled, but the fact that it is still near is so exciting to you. You never pictured yourself one for exhibitonism, but you suppose it takes the right person to bring the freak out of you.

And baby, do you want to be the freakiest bitch for Dabi. To prove that, you begin to lick and suck along his hardened nipples, tugging on the tiny silver rings hanging from them. “Fuck, baby,” he hums, watching you as you work. His lips are parted and his eyes are hooded. He is completely entranced by you.

He hasn’t seen shit yet. You begin to kiss down his hardened stomach until you come to his jeans already hanging low on his hips. You stop, your hands at his fly, and look up at him. ‘Okay?’ you ask with your eyes. Slowly, he nods, giving you the green light to finally rid him of his pants. You pull them and his underwear down in one go, eager to see what’s underneath.

You begin to think you bit off more than you can chew (or suck, rather) when you get a look at his cock for the first time. He is well endowed, thick, and curves upward so his dick slaps against his stomach when you finally release him from his trousers. Black hair curls around his stomach and pubic area, but it isn’t like a jungle. But that isn’t what gets you: it’s the cockhead piercing that glints from the head of his dick in the moonlight.

You gape at his cock, not sure what to say or do. “You okay?” he asks, laughter in his voice at your silence. “Uh…” That’s all you can say. He’s just so, so big! How could you get him in your mouth? You’re lucky you can even fit one hand around him as you begin to stroke him softly from base to tip.

Dabi cackles down at you, relishing your fear. “Don’t be scared of it, mama,” he purrs, taking his dick out of your hand and waving it in front of you. You watch, hypnotized…or dickmatized. “You said you wanted to make me feel the way I made you feel, right?” he asks teasingly. “C’mon now. You can do it. Open that pretty mouth.”

Not wanting to disappoint him, you open your mouth and he slowly begins to slide his dick against your tongue. “There we go,” he coos. “Good girl…take it all in.” You try to do so, your jaw and mouth stretching to accompany his size. “I’m guessin’ I’m bigger than your mans, huh?” he chuckles lowly.

“Mmm-hmm,” you hum around his cock, the vibrations causing him to moan. You relish the sounds, wanting more. So you begin to move your head back and forth, taking his cock in and out of your throat. You gag and spit all along his dick, causing saliva to drip down his balls and your chin, making your blowjob extra sloppy. Dabi is loving it. He tosses his head back and rolls his eyes to the back of his head, giving you a sight that is fit for only the finest of porn. He’s so, so sexy. And to be able to make him feel good gives you the motivation to fight against your aching jaw and burning throat as you continue to fuck him with your throat.

“You’re doin’ so good, babe,” he grunts as he begins to roll his hips into your mouth. “So, so good. At this rate, you’ll make me cum.”

You nod your head, coaxing him to do so. You want him to cum. You want to taste all of him in your mouth. But he surprises you when he begins to slow down his hips and pulls his wet cock out of your mouth. “No,” he growls. “If I’m gonna cum, it either has to be on that pretty ass or those titties of yours.”

You stare up at him then, drinking in his spectacular body and dick standing at attention for you. You then decide that if you are to finally cum, you want it to be wrapped around his cock.

‘Fuck it,’ you think. You don’t care that you barely know him. All of that “getting to know you” shit can wait until after you get him inside of you. “Why not inside of me then?” you purr, standing up to take his hands in yours.

He blinks at you, dumbfounded. “Without a condom?” he asks. “I don’t have one on me.”

You shake your head, pecking his lips. “I’m on the pill.”

That’s all you need to say to get Dabi to smash his lips hungrily against yours. “Oh, thank fuck,” he sighs, relieved. “I don’t mind beatin’ my dick to the sight of you in front of me, but I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t want your pretty little pussy wrapped around me.”

His dirty words send shivers up your spine. “And you’re okay with this? I mean, we barely know each other and–”

“I don’t give a fuck,” he growls, already moving you back to the couch again. “I’ll take you out later to get to know you, but right now, I fuckin’ need all of you. Now choose how I’m doin’ you before I lose my fuckin’ mind.”

You gape at him, dumbfounded and so, so horny. You’ve never had a man be so desperate for you before. You waste no time bending over the couch, presenting your ass and dripping pussy for him. You then look back at him, finding him standing there and stroking himself to the sight of you. “Like this,” you whisper. “Fuck me just like this, Dabi.”

Dabi is going fucking feral behind you. It takes everything in him to not shove every single inch of his hard, thick cock inside of you as he moves closer to you and begins to stroke your pussy with his cock. “God, look at you, stainin’ up the couch,” he sighs as you twitch and quiver along his dick. “Anyone could look up and see you like this, about to get fucked by someone who is practically a stranger to you.”

‘I don’t care,’ you want to scream. Anyone could watch if they want. All you want is that dick inside of you now. And then finally, he gives it to you.

He goes slow, taking his sweet time to allow you to get used to him. As soon as his cockhead enters you, your jaw is dropping open and your eyes are blown from how stretched you feel already. No toy could compare to how warm and solid Dabi feels snuggled up in your pussy. Not even your ex could make you feel this full or this good.

Through it all, you breathe in and out, relaxing your body into the couch cushion. Though it doesn’t hurt, you’re feeling beyond stretched by Dabi and you almost collapse from the feeling. You’re so glad to have the back of the couch to grip as Dabi takes a hold of your hips and bottoms out inside of you. “F-Fuck, Dabi!” you whine, gripping the couch. You can’t believe how good you feel. Where the fuck has he been hiding all this time?

He begins to bump his hips against your ass a little faster now, the sound of skin slapping filling the air as his heavy balls hit your clit. “Come on now, mama,” he huffs. “You wanna be a big girl, right? Take me just like one. Make me proud.” He begins to fuck you harder, taking a handful of your breasts and fondling them one at a time.

The feeling is just too much. His dick strokes the most sensitive parts of you as your clit jumps with every slap of his balls against it. And he’s just so deep. He is making you see stars that don’t even compare to the ones coating the night sky above the beautiful view stretched before you. You have no chance to take it all in, too busy taking Dabi’s fat cock as he fucks you into oblivion in your little sundress and heels.

“Feels good, don’t it?” he grunts into your ear. One hand moves to your ass to gently spank your ass, causing you to moan at the feeling. “Bet you’ve dreamed about this,” he growls to you. “Bet you wanted to get slutted out on my dick for so long. Bet you couldn’t wait for tonight. Bet you planned for this.”

He leans down toward you, his lips grazing your ear. “Bet you’ve wanted to be my good girl for so long,” he growls before his hand comes down on your ass a little harder.

“God, Dabi, yes!” you scream out to the heavens, gripping the couch for dear life as he fucks you harder. You’ve never felt like this before: so gone. Your eyes are closed and your mind is completely blank from the blinding pleasure you feel, each wave much bigger than the one before and washing over you.

The pleasure is just too good, and it’s starting to reach a deafening crescendo. You can feel it building in your core, threatening to snap at any moment. “Gonna cum!” you practically sob, your head thrown back. “Gonna cum for you Dabi!”

Dabi cackles behind you, putting a foot up on the cushion to get a better angle as he continues to fuck your pussy into submission. “Me too,” he grunts. “Want you take it. Take all of me like a big girl, baby.”

He presses his lips to your ear, leaning down so his dick is hitting that spot that has you seeing the entire galaxy behind your eyelids. “Fuckin’ cum for me, mama,” he demands. “Let me know how good I’m making you feel. Cream all over that dick.”

And you do. Moans and gasps leave your lips like a chorus as that chord finally snaps. You unravel, cumming all over Dabi’s dick. “Oh, my God!” you scream, your voice reaching heights fit for a shower singing session when you think no one is listening. You cream all over Dabi’s cock buried deep inside of you as he talks you through it, telling you how good of a girl you are as he strokes your outer thighs.

“Gonna cum too,” he grunts, his hips snapping against your ass again and again as he chases his high. “You gonna take all of it, baby, hm?”

“Y-Yes!” you choke out. “Please, please cum for me!” You begin tossing your ass back to meet his thrusts, wanting to feel him burst inside of you. And that does it. He grips your hips for dear life and cums deep inside of you with a raspy, loud moan that makes your stomach leap and your pussy clench around his pulsing cock.

You take every single ounce of his warm, creamy cum that shoots into your pussy, never once pulling away. You can feel it coating your walls, filling you up to the point where you curl your toes and gasp at the feeling coursing through your body. Finally, Dabi’s hips begin to slow until he is sloppily fucking you, chasing the rest of his high. Then with a soft groan, he pulls out, but it isn’t over for you yet. His cock is still hard as he begins to slide the head along your lower back and ass, coating your skin in his cum. “So you smell like me,” he softly says. “So no other man will even try.”

You let out a weak moan as you feel his nut coat your skin and drip down your thighs, making them slick and wet. Finally, he releases you and you slump against the couch, exhausted and spent, but feeling so, so good. After giving you some time to compose yourself, Dabi helps you fix your dress (without the panties) and fishes a napkin out of his pocket to wipe his cum off of your thighs. ‘What a gentleman,’ you think, giggling to yourself.

He seems sheepish and almost shy standing there, now in his briefs. “I didn’t…hurt you, did I?” he carefully asks as if afraid of the answer. You slowly shake your head, still in a daze. “That was amazing,” you sigh. “I’ve never been fucked like that before.” A proud smile stretches across Dabi’s face. “Just what you needed?” he asks.

You wrap your arms around his neck, nuzzling your face into his shoulder. “Absolutely,” you hum contently. “I hope it’s what you needed too.” He hums in agreement, pressing a kiss to the crown of your forehead. “That and much more.” You smile happily into his chest, glad that it was just as good for him as it was for you.

For a while, you two stay like that: hugging in the warm breeze. Finally, Dabi clears his throat. “So…now what?” he awkwardly asks.

“Well, we can’t go back inside like this,” you giggle. You motion to your dress still hiked up on your thighs and his semi-nakedness, though you’re sure that his physique would be welcomed. “And I think we both need to recover after those mind-blowing orgasms,” you purr, your pussy still sensitive from his dick beating it up. You curl up on the sofa and poke your bottom lip out at him. “Cuddle with me?” you coo.

Dabi chortles at you, rolling his clear, blue eyes. “Such a baby,” he chuckles. “You’re lucky I like feelin’ you in my arms.” His sweet words make you flush in the breeze as he settles down next to you. He scoops you into his lap and securely wraps his muscled arms around you, squeezing you to him as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

You feel the same way. You loop your arms around his neck and cradle his head to your beating heart. “So is a date in order after this?” he curiously asks. “I’m not too familiar with this shit, so…”

You can feel the awkwardness radiating off of him. A laugh bubbles in your chest. Leave it to him to feel awkward about dating even though he just fucked you doggystyle on a rooftop.

“Yes, Dabi,” you laugh. “I’d love to go on a date with you.” You feel him smile into your chest and he squeezes you closer to him, making you giggle. You want to stay like this forever, wrapped up in him.

When your phone suddenly rings, you feel like shooting somebody. You whine as you grab your phone, Dabi keeping his arms wrapped around you to make sure you don’t fall. Keigo’s name flashes across the screen.

“That’s Keigo,” you sigh. I hope no one broke anything.” You answer the phone, going back to cuddling Dabi. “Yeah?”

“So I’m guessin’ you made our guest feel welcomed?” Keigo immediately asks. “You two have been gone for, like, an hour.”

“It hasn’t been that long, Keigo,” you scoff though you really don’t know what time it is. “How’s the party? Is my apartment still intact?”

“Don’t you trust me?” he scoffs, but you don’t answer that question. “So you and Dabi are together now? I knew it was only a matter of time until he decided to pull up his big boy pants and tell you how he felt.”

You scowl in confusion, your heart picking up speed. “How did you–?”

“Know?” he finishes and gives a laugh. “Kid, I’ve known this shit for years! It just wasn’t my business to tell. However, you can thank yourselves because you saved time. Now everyone knows you two are an item.”

Your eyes widen, hoping he doesn’t mean what you think he means. “Huh?” you dumbly ask, earning an eyebrow raise from Dabi. “Everybody totally heard you up there, sis!” Rumi yells in the background. “You ain’t slick!” You hear laughter from Shiggy and Natsuo in the background which embarrasses you even more. You feel like hiding in a hole and never coming out. Everyone heard you? Were you that loud?

“We turned up the music, but it could only block out so much,” Keigo chuckles, humored at your embarrassment. “I didn’t know you could get that loud. You ever consider singing?”

“Goodbye, Keigo,” you growl, cutting off his cackle by immediately hanging up. You toss your phone to the side but not before turning off your ringtone. You don’t want anything or anyone ruining this moment for you. “What’d he say?” Dabi curiously asks.

“Nothing,” you quickly reply. You slide off of his lap so you’re sitting next to him and snuggle back into his chest, holding him close. “Just that he’s an asshole.”

Dabi chuckles, wrapping an arm around you as he puffs on the rest of the blunt, smoke billowing into the starry night sky above. “Well, that’s just a fact, babe.”

THE END.

#dabi x reader #touya todoroki #daddy dabi #dabi smut #bnha smut #black fanfic writer #black reader #dabi x black!reader #smutty smut #my fic shit #black coded reader #my works #Youtube

565 notes · View notes

everydayyoulovemeless · 1 year ago

Note

I don't know if you're doing requests, but I recently downloaded Tumblr again and happen to stumble across your account when looking through fallout stuff.

but, my request would be an (sfw, fluff) overboss reader x porter gage. but, here's the twist: the reader could be 16 or 17 years of age. obviously having a child as an overboss of three raider groups could never end well, but the reader knows how to hold their own; they're tough, reliable and gage gives them a chance as the overboss of nuka world, since they were able to take down colter.

the location of this one-shot would be in kiddy kingdom, after the reader convinces gage to go with them (without explaining why). the power in nuka world would be on, so the rides would be active.

could it be that the reader somehow convices gage to ride with them on one of the rides? e.i. the carousel, the spinning cars, Farris wheel, etc. gage could secretly enjoy this, but when they finally leave kiddy kingdom, the cherry on top would definitely be him saying, "listen, boss, if you tell anyone about this, I'll kill you myself."

this is completely random, and I'm unsure if you still write, but I thought this was a cute idea!

Kiddie Kingdom ↠ Platonic!Gage x Teen!Reader

➼ Word Count » 1.0k ➼ Warnings » None ➼ Summary » Reader takes Gage to ride the Ferris Wheel in Kiddie Kingdom. ➼ A/N » This is so cute! I love fluffy Gage moments <33

There weren't many people who had any hope of taking over the park once you were elected to be their new overboss. There was a lot of risk in giving all the power to some kid who just happened to win against Colter. You couldn't blame them, after all, you weren't all too sure what you were doing when you first showed up either, but you were smart and picked up on what needed to be done early on. People eventually began relying on you, and you always came through, soon enough winning the trust and loyalty of most.

“Hey, Gage, I'm headed out to Kiddie Kingdom, did you wanna come with?” You called out as you rummaged through your trunk up in the Fizztop Grille.

“What the hell are you plannin’ on doin’ all the way out there? We cleared it didn’t we?”

“You coming or not?” You asked, moving to take your place on the elevator.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll come, just gimme a second.”

Taking over the park wasn't as easy as you originally thought it'd be, especially since you had to do most of the heavy lifting, but as you walked down the dirt paths of Nuka-Town, seeing the place brought back to its former glory, all the work you accomplished felt worth it.

“Hey, boss, do I slack off on my job?" One of the Disciples called out as you and Gage passed by.

“No?” You answered, not entirely sure how to respond. It wasn't like you had files on all of your grunts, you had no idea who this guy even was.

“I told ya!” He said, hitting the other's shoulder with his hand, “Thanks, boss!”

The whole place was much more lively now that you had the power back up and running. The flashing carnival lights made everything seem brighter and more exciting. You preferred the newer atmosphere to the previous one. It was way too devoid of color and you liked how the raiders now all seemed full of wonder at everything they spotted.

"You gonna tell me why we're goin' here, or are ya just gonna keep me in the dark?" Gage glanced down at you, his rifle held firmly in his hands as he followed.

"You'll see," You spoke, "just be patient."

"Come on now, just spit it out." He pressed, "I feel like I'm walkin' into a trap."

You giggled, "Quit whining, we'll be there soon enough."

There was something so charming about the child-like aesthetics of the Kiddie Kingdom blending with the rustic horrors of the apocalypse. The bright colors and welcoming decorations added much to the impending danger that awaited behind the arches. You remember it feeling so enchanting when you and Gage first stepped foot inside the park's walls—like a Brothers Grimm fairytale.

You made a beeline to the Ferris Wheel once it came into view, "Well, hop on Gage."

"There ain't anythin' that could convince me to get on that giant deathtrap, boss." The raider retorted, "No offense, but that thing looks like it's gonna fall apart any second now."

"Come on," You said, sliding into the seats closest to the ground, "It'll be fun."

"I'm not gettin' on it."

"You followed me all the way out here, you might as well just go on one loop with me. Just press that button there and get on."

That seemed to have convinced him as he rolled his eyes, pressed the button, and slid into the capsule across from you, pulling down the handrails to keep either of you from falling out.

The heavy machinery slowly began to lift you both into the air, swaying and groaning as it did, making its age evident. It went slowly, pausing suddenly at certain moments due to it being so ancient. Gage noticeably tensed whenever it froze like that, gripping the handles with incredible force only for the ride to continue its route upward.

You were both about the same height as the castle when the ride came to a full stop, allowing you to peer out at the rest of the park.

Gage's ragged breaths continuously broke the silence, "You sure it's supposed to stop like this?"

"Yeah, I'm sure it's fine." You dismissed, waving away his concerns, "Look! You can see Fizztop Mountain!"

"That ain't nothin' special, you can see it from just 'bout anywhere in the park."

You undid your restraints and stood to better see everything, causing the capsule to sway and Gage to reach out and pull you back down into your seat.

"Knock that off! You tryin' to get us killed?"

You rolled your eyes, "Calm down, Gage, this thing's stable enough."

The look in his eye told you he didn't believe you, but he didn't argue, just strapped the bar back over your torso.

The Ferris Wheel then sparked back to life and slowly started to bring the two of you back to the ground, threatening to break at every creak and groan, until you were brought back to solid ground again.

You climbed out, jumping around excitedly at the thought of being so high up. "Ah! That was so fun! We should go on another one sometime!"

"Yeah, don't count on it."

"You can't tell me you didn't enjoy it a little bit." You said, walking quickly to keep up with Gage as he made his way back to Nuka-Town.

He couldn't hide the small grin that made its way onto his face, "No, I hated that. Felt we were gonna fall at any minute."

You only gave him a knowing glance and a doubtful hum as you clasped your hands behind your back before he finally stopped walking. “Listen, boss, if you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you myself.”

You snickered before saluting him, “Sure thing, Gage. I doubt anyone would believe me anyway.” And with that, you both started toward the Fizztop Grille again, certain that you'd be able to get him on another ride someday.

79 notes · View notes

psalm22-6 · 2 years ago

Photo

I have a hard time explaining this one . . . it is part of a series called Classics in Slang by H. C. Witwer and in each instalment a boxer named One-Punch McTague reads the classics (like Hamlet and Ivanhoe and Notre-Dame de Paris) and then retells them in “slanguage.” He also fights people with names like Rabit Punch Weird. Apparently Ethel Kingsley is a character teaching him to read and is also his manager (and possible love interest?) ? My disclaimer is that it was kind of hard to track down this installment, let alone the 8 before it so I am quite confused by the particulars of this saga and because the last name McTague is apparently Irish, I’m wondering if the humor is hinging on prejudice? I can’t tell whose slang is being imitated here. Please weigh in because honestly some snippets of this are funny.�� Source: Collier's, 25th December 1926 This instalment on Les Misérables was published on Christmas day (people just love Les Misérables for Christmas)

LES MISERABLES By Victor Hugo & One-Punch McTague ONCE upon a time a burly stranger breezed into a little slab in that dear Frawnce, tired, dusty and ragged from a long game of pedestrianship. The facts that he was afoot caused him to be viewed with suspicious looks, as in them days everybody traveled on stilts, except the upper classes, which hadst their own gnus to carry 'em.

Well, ladies and gentlemen, our hero kept on walkin' till he reached the drum where the bishop lived and knocked smartly on the door. In a trice he was inside.

"How are they breakin', Bish?" the new comer says. "I'm Jean Valjean and I been a galley slave for nineteen years come Arbor Day. That shouldst of rated me a job in that movie Ben Hur, but I get the air wherever I go on the account I'm a escaped convict. I'm as homeless as a milk bottle ! Tough, what?"

"I'll say it is!" agrees the bishop, which was nothin' if not big-hearted. "Sit down and knock off some chow, Big Boy; you look in dire straits!"

Whilst showin' the inner man some consideration, Jean told the bishop the reason he'd done the nineteen-year stretch was for stealin' one loaf of bread. The bishop said nothing — just coughed.

Jean couldn't get no shut-eye that night from thinkin' of the high prelate's kindness to him, so to show his gratitude he grabbed all the silverware in the joint and took it on the run. He was no Nurmi [I swear this is a reference to a Finnish runner who won nine Olympic gold medals in the 20s], how the so ever, and was soon brung back by the cops. But to the amazement of all, includin' me and Victor Hugo, the jovial bishop told the John Laws everything was jake, because he'd gave the heirlooms to Jean for him to get a new start in life. As long as the whole silly affair was only in a novel, what did the bishop care?

Jean turned up again in the village of Oo La La and by improvin' on the shape of mustache cups, the chief manufacture of the town, this go-getter soon become a wealthy millionaire. He called him self Father Madeleine and on that account the yokels laughin'ly made him mayor. Everything was hotsy totsy and Jean was sittin' handsome.

But they was one bird which thought the mayor was phoney and that was the chief of police, Javert, whose old man was so stingy he wouldn't give him a first name. Javert hadst been born in jail and spent his life tryin' to make everybody permanent visitors to his birthplace. Hearin' that Father Madeleine hadst adopted a cunnin' little tot entitled Cosette, Javert went to him and says the followin':

"Well, they fin'ly nailed Jean Valjean. He's goin' to jail at Paris next week!"

"So's your aunt Anastasia!" remarks Father Madeleine, unperturbed. "I happen to be Jean Valjean myself!"

"That's what I thought!" grins Javert. "You fell for my plant like the Jasper you are! Will you go to Paris peaceable and take the rap, or shall I call my minions?"

"I love that," says Jean. "I bet you don't even know what a minion is, you big sapolio!"

But, nevers the less, he checked out for Paris that same night and told all to the police, which was so charmed to see him that they sent him to the galleys for life, with the idea of turnin' him in to a master oarsman as a reward for him givin' himself up.

D'ye think all this bothered Jean Valjean? Hades, no! That very same Xmas he come to light again in Sacre Bleu, the French hamlet where he'd put little Cosette to board. He paid her bill and left without stealin' anything, as he was gettin' absent-minded, and they moved into a handsome garret in gay Paree.

Jean never bounded around in the day time as he was duckin' the galley cops, not cravin' to go back to that tiresome rowin' racket no more. But at eve he done all his prowlin' with the other dips which pass in the night, and one gloamin' whilst droppin' a gulden in a beggar's hat he got the thrill which comes once in a lifetime. The beggar was the gumshoe, Javert. More grief!

Scamperin' home, Jean grabbed Cosette and they done a fade-out, with Javert and a battalion of dicks hot on their French heels. They come to a high wall and Jean Valjean hadst to laugh. He'd climbed so many hoosegow walls that this one was a pipe for him. Over he leaps with Cosette in his arms and lands in a convent.

"Nuns the word!" says Jean to the good sisters and stayed there six years as landscape gardener. Javert done nothin' but gnash his teeth all durin' that period.

Jean then went through the motions of changin' his name to Fauchelevent and havin' a yen for the bright lights he again went back to Paris, where Cosette grew up to be a traffic stopper of the first water with more curves than a corkscrew. One of her first acts was to sink to the neck in love with a young youth rejoicin' in the name of Marius, the son of a gil which rejoiced even more in the name of Baron Pontmercy.

Then along comes a passin' revolution and what with bullets and knives flyin' back and forth like sparrows, Paris become another Chicago for a time. Marius was foreman of a street barricade, or a barracuda, as we call 'em, and the first day of the fun he captured Jean's old-time hindrance, Javert, as a spy. The dick was sentenced to be shot at sunrise and was prayin' for a eclipse, when along comes Jean Valjean and asks permission to be allowed the pleasures of bumpin' off this pest personally.

Holdin' his gun in his hand, Jean led Javert behind a bush and there cut the copper's bonds. A boob for the ages, what?

"Beat it!" says Jean. "You're as free as advice for a cold!"

Javert fled a few feet and then turned back with a wild cry.

"I can't be annoyed runnin' you down all my life!" he hollers. "Cook me and be done with it!"

"Who's writin' this book — you or Victor Hugo?" snarls Jean. "Vamp!"

When Jean dashed back to Marius he found that the sheik which hadst won Cosette's heart and hand hadst got himself wounded. The poilus was shootin' everybody right and left, with no regards to lovers and the etc. They was only one chance to escape and that was through a sewer, but Jean Valjean hadst never learned to hesitate. With a maniacal howl he tore off the manhole cover and plunged beneath with Marius on his shoulder!

[from here on out the scan is cut in a way that obscures a letter in the middle of each word down the page so I put in parenthesis words that I’m not sure make sense or can’t see]

The ters raged about him, but he rag right back at 'em and done a [Edeto] the mouth of the river. When come to the surface with Marius, [whoes] he see sittin' on the bank waitin' him but Javert! That simply [poisd] Jean!

By [?] time this funny sleuth was beginni to slightly annoy Jean, so after [?] Marius to a medico he went with Javert to his room. Javert stayed outside thinkin' matters over. Whils the was officer of the law he couldn't leave Jean Valjean escape and on the other hand he couldn't pinch the guy which [had] spared his life. The thing was a [?]-off all around, so Javert run back the river and crowned a life of nonsense by jumpin' overboard and drownin. The big stiff was all damp, anyway.

Marius, wiry youth, got better and wed Cosette, and Jean called 'em both to his side. “As long as Javert has kissed off, kiddies, there’s no kick left in life for me no more, there bein' nobody to chase me!" he sobs, and so did I when I read this. "That bein' the case, I'm goin' to One side, please!" And executin' a back somersault, he fell to the floor deceased, and legend hath it he’s dead to this day!

#les miserables #my research #lm inspired #speculation and mysteries

57 notes · View notes

radpandamiracle · 1 month ago

Text

Candace Marie Hughes bank paid cfd Kos paid cos paid loced gvfc walkins and walkouts paid loc vgfc monies and monies monies accts. Accounts paid auto earth printings papers papered stampings accounts federal and fed and federal fed and fed federal sazxxxxds on federal notes oaid on on federal notes papers pllljnhb on paid spent paid spend paid loced hbgvggfffff islets and coasts and koasts and islands accounts paid cardes plasticed cardings paid accounts paid loc loced vvvgfc accounts sendings to Candace Marie Hughes and 18 and 17 paid on earth in sky on sky earth paid paid loc loced paid job of Candace Marie Hughes paid loc Candace Marie Hughes Candace Marie Hughes candace marie hughes candace marie hughes paid loc appearings autoed paid recognition loc loc paid loced appear outoed paid paid loced loc outoed Candace Marie Hughes appear paid crime gunnings and crime gunned outoed paid loc Candace Marie Hughes job paid loc must return to Candace Marie Hughes and earth and paid. On. Paid. Loc. Mail KIY Key card dh to Candace Marie Hughes. On. Paid. Loc. Remove kover. Paid. Loc. Remove cover. Paid Loc. Parked. Paid. Loc.

0 notes

jobs-in-south-africa · 1 year ago

Text

#Job: #Customer Service Clerk - Welkom. To resolve enquiries from walkin customers in a Retail Banking branch issue account items and provi...

To resolve enquiries from walkin customers in a Retail Banking branch issue account items and provide superior customer service to all customers Key Responsibilities Determine customer needs through interaction with client Attempt to resolve custome... Location: Welkom http://dlvr.it/Sx7mVG

0 notes

internshipdiary · 1 year ago

Text

April 11, TUE

• Scanning of SSS Premium records documents of employees.

• Submitting copies of receipts to accounting for receiving.

• Submitting documents to company client for receiving/sign.

• Preparing payslip for distribution.

April 12, WED

• Scanning of PAGIBIG Premium receipts of the employees.

• Preparing Company ID for the newly hired employees.

• Calling the applicants for their requirement completion.

• Calling the applicants if interested to newly endorsed position.

April 13, THU

• Interviewing applicants

• Arrange DTR of different departments

• Scanning of documents

• Filling up pre employment verifications

April 14, FRI

• Printing list of the day's applicants for initial interview

• Assigned in the front desk to entertain walkin applicants

• Calling applicants to remind them of their interview schedule

• Fixing building attendants rotational schedule

• Assisting in collection of requirements of the applicants

April 15, SAT

• Scanning of documents (LOANS AND CONTRIBUTIONS)

April 17, MON

• Scanning of documents

APRIL 18, TUE

• Interview of applicants

• Checking their paper

• Filling up pre employment verifications

April 19, WED

• Interview applicants

• Calling applicants to schedule their interview and exam

April 20, THU

• Interview applicants

• Encoding of NBI personal details of applicants

• Rechecking ATM Cards to be distributed

• Rechecking HMO Cards to be distributed

April 21 FRI, 22 SAT (HOLIDAY)

April 24

April 25

April 26

April 27

April 28

April 29

April 30

May 1

May 2

May 3

Went to Pass Control to submit documents (regarding employees monthly passes) for receiving.

May 5

Assisting in conducting orientation of selected applicants

Interviewing applicants

Arranging 201 files

Familiarizing with registering newly hired employees in biometrics (fingerprint)

Filling up assessment forms of applicants

May 6

Assisting on conducting a job fair

Queuing the applicants

Interviewing the applicants

May 8

Scanning documents

Filling up pre employment verification

0 notes

cxnscience · 2 years ago

Note

SPILL IT: Why won't you just move next to PV?

truth serum asks

"It's... not that I wouldn't like to in theory, I guess, though I'll admit the whole focus on, uh, magic powers and whatnot or whatever these folks've got goin' on is a little... concerning." Picture all the destruction that must allow for. Geppetto can't handle that much excitement and none of them are interested in fighting or villainy or... or any of that nonsense. "But it's not that simple. Think of everything that'd change for Pinoke, he was just startin' to make a friend or two in school, and what if Mister Geppetto's business does even worse over there? And the technology'd be so hard to catch up on, and..."

"And... suppose he's bein' honest about the sorta things I could do here. I dunno first thing about managing finances and I'd - I'd be expected to qualify for a real job, and they'd want me to be walkin' into places and talkin' to folks day in and day out, and that's terrifying! Folks really start to expect things outta you once they notice ya! And you've got all those laws you've gotta learn, yeah, but then there's unspoken rules, too, and it's a whole lot easier to not have to bother with none of it, isn't it? Cause nobody expects anything outta me. I always tried my best not to envy 'em on account of that. Sides, it'd just feel wrong bein' on the same playing field as proper people."

#anonymous #✰ give a little whistle ( answers )

0 notes

vsonker · 2 years ago

Text

Hiring 100+ Accounting Professionals…!!

Walk-in | Hiring 100+ Accounting Professionals…!! Dec 12, 2022 Hiring 100+ Accounting Professionals…!!Experience required for the Job: 7.0 – 11.0 yearsAnnual Salary of the Job: 0.00 – 0.00 LacsDaily Timings : 09:30:00 – 18:00:00Interview Date : 2022-12-17 – 2022-12-18 Walkin Venue :4th Floor, Mangal City, AB Road, Scheme 54 PU4, Vijaynagar Square, Indore, Madhya Pradesh – 452010. Dear…

View On WordPress

#account walking interview #walk in interview

0 notes

aggressive-positivity-network · 3 years ago

Note

Do you have any autistic Scout headcanons? :P

Hell yeah!

I’ve actually thought about this a lot. A lot of people might think that Scout has ADHD, but I think he either has both ADHD and autism or just autism.

This is both because labeling Scout as having just ADHD is kind of a low-hanging fruit, and I also want to explore his symptoms a little more. So, in a word, I do, and thank you for asking about them!

*****************

Scout’s Spectrum:

So, where exactly does Scout fall on the autism spectrum?

First of all, he probably has both ADHD and autism, but wasn’t diagnosed with the latter until much later. This means that some of his symptoms were taken into account, but not all.

The ones that were paid attention to ramped up out of control, and the ones he didn’t hear about were stuffed away.

His ADHD symptoms include impulsiveness, need for stimulation, hyperfixations, forgetfulness, and insomnia; his autism symptoms include trouble with social skills, stimming, near inability to remember names and faces, lack of eye contact, hyperfixations again, and sensory processing issues, especially with noise and touch.

He used to have a lot of meltdowns when he was younger, usually about wearing new clothes and the amount of noise his eight brothers generated.

However, he was teased and pushed into masking nearly all the time, and made his whole personality about his ADHD, since that was what everyone accepted.

As he got older, he usually wrote off any autistic tendencies as either his ADHD or just “little habits” of his.

During his middle school years, he used energy drinks to bounce back from being exhausted every day after school. This would work, except those energy drinks would upset his ADHD, and would make it much harder to focus on even basic conversation.

After a while, he got such bad grades and had such a hard time making friends that Scout just stopped going to school altogether.

Baseball helped his focus, and the quick movement and thinking made a lot of sense to him. He never had to wait very long for the next development, and the instant gratification and community it provided supplemented what he never got at school.

With sports on his side, he rarely ever drank any energy drinks (the coach would never let them on the field), and he drank bucketfuls of water during every meet and game. Those teenage years were probably the healthiest he ever was.

However, with the amount of rumbles he got into with his brothers, and the turf wars that constantly raged in those neighborhoods, it was only a matter of time before his crime caught up with him.

After his first incarceration, he was booted from the team, which led to a downward spiral of unhealthy coping mechanisms - which included fighting someone tooth and nail whenever he could.

Even if he lost the fight, it not only catered to his impulsive nature and impatience, but also gave him roughly the same sense of friendship and camaraderie that baseball had.

One thing led to another, and by the time Mann Co. found him, Scout was a monster in hand to hand (and bat to bat) and had racked up quite the criminal record.

A perfect mercenary, ripe for the picking.

On The Team:

Scout very quickly adopted the “stupid, scrappy Boston boy” persona.

It was the only thing that made sense, and it kept him from having to try too hard in both the battlefield and socially.

Besides, that meant that he could be as silly, forgetful, and fidgety as he wanted, and no one would bat an eye.

And if he ever needed to take a break from the team, he figured everyone would appreciate the quiet.

The only thing that ever gave him away was him occasionally dissociating right when battle began, especially if the day had been stressful.

It was usually how he calmed down after a fight when he was young, but now he sometimes slid into that state when he was overwhelmed.

However, a yell from one of his teammates would usually snap him out of it.

Medic noticed this pretty early on, and wanted to look more into it, but Scout would keep making excuses not to get a mental examination.

He would blame it on zoning out, being tired, drinking too many Bonks - whatever it took for people to stop asking.

And, eventually, they did.

Even Medic stopped asking after a while - he couldn’t get a thing out of Scout.

This “try so little that when you do try it’s above average” charade worked for a long time. In fact, it went on for so long that Scout forgot how much he was actually capable of.

He began to internalize the stupidity, the exacerbation, the many comments on how dumb he was, everything.

The only time he ever gave his all was on the battlefield - moving fast, memorizing strategies, doing complicated footwork, knowing exactly how much force it took to crush someone’s skull with his bat.

That was one of the only things that he felt good doing, the only thing he could really work on without him being “found out.”

That and drawing, though he never showed the actual pieces to anyone. It was all stick figures and crooked lines with everyone else.

Sometimes, though, Scout wouldn’t be paying attention and he’d let something slip.

One time, Engineer was looking for his screwdriver, and couldn’t seem to find it anywhere.

Scout, not looking up from his comic, said, “Under the couch cushion, hard hat.”

Engineer bent down and reached into the couch, and his hand came back with his red and yellow striped screwdriver.

“Well I’ll be damned…”

At first Engineer thought Scout had just hid it, but Scout explained, still not paying attention:

“Last time we went out on th’ field, you had it on your belt, like always. But I was walkin’ by your workshop, you were usin’ a quarter to tighten a screw or somethin’. Your screwdriver had to be somewhere between the battlefield and your workshop. Engie, you’re like freakin’ clockwork. Every day, after a fight, you go to the kitchen, get a water, go to that couch, between the second and third cushion from the left, and sit there. Then ya go back to the fridge to get lunch and a beer, and ya go to your workshop until somebody needs you for somethin’. Your back loop in your tool belt is looser than all the others, ‘cause the screwdriver pulls against it when you sit down. The shank was probably in between the two cushions, and when you got up, it fell in. Demo, Pyro, and Heavy all sit on the second or third cushion at some point, so it got shimmied down. And since that’s the only time you sat down, ‘cause you woulda heard it if it dropped on the floor, and I…uh…”

“I’ll be damned,” Engie repeated, and felt the back tool belt loop. It was indeed loose.

Scout finally looked up, and realized what had happened.

“Uh, uh - l-lucky guess, huh Engie?”

Engineer squinted behind his goggles. “Yeah…real lucky…”

What ensued was Engie trying to get Scout to turn into a B.L.U Spy by chasing him around with his wrench. After a few good hits, though, Engineer saw that it was the teammate he knew and loved.

“But…how didja…?”

Scout threw his hand up, the other rubbing the back of his head where he’d been hit.

“I toldja Engie! Lucky guess! Jesus!”

Ever since then, Scout chose his words more carefully.

The Breakdown:

But, unfortunately, Scout could not pretend forever.

There was one week where Scout’s assignment count was so high that, if he wasn’t in a fight, he was on a mission.

Usually, Pauling wouldn’t trust him with so much, but no one else was available - or willing - to do the jobs.

Even when she was getting concerned about the amount of hours Scout was putting in, he blew it off.

“It’s no sweat, Miss Pauling! Their practically givin’ me the pay day. Those yahoos don’t know who they’re messin’ with.”

Over time, though, Scout had a harder and harder time staying focused and alert.

He’d sleep through alarms, stare off into space, zone out completely during briefing (not that he didn’t already do that), have a hard time hearing people in battle - even through his headset - ignore Spy’s taunts, and even forget to bring his bat onto the field.

Nothing seemed to help - Bonk!, warming up, stretching, cold showers, setting reminders, nothing.

And the team was starting to notice.

At first it was with the regular frustration - maybe Scout was just being lazy.

But as time went on, and his condition grew worse, their scorn turned into worry. They implored Medic to do something, but he had no way of getting through to Scout.

The doctor wasn’t above simply sedating him and dragging him into his lab for a check-up. However, he had a feeling that this was more than a physical issue.

The worst came when Scout was doing a routine battle with the B.L.U team on the field.

Everything had started out okay - he even remembered to bring his bad this time - but suddenly, everything was ear-splittingly loud.

He couldn’t focus on more than one sound at once, much less communicate the best course of action to his teammates.

He ended up hiding in a dilapidated shed, in a dusty, dark corner, somewhere between zoning out and panicking.

Scout’s head was in his knees, he was shaking, close to crying, when a sudden splitting of wood roused him.

A B.L.U Soldier had kicked his way into the shed, either having heard Scout or to hide from the other team.

Scout was stunned at first, but something of a blind terror filled him. He picked up his bat, screamed, and started pummeling the surprised Soldier.

At some point, he threw aside his bat and began to swing punch after punch, just like he did in his gang days when he had felt overwhelmed. Still screaming. Still crying.

By the time Scout had dissolved into a rocking, sobbing mess, the Soldier was long dead, with a gigantic pool of blood staining Scout’s shoes.

No one even knew where Scout was until a few hours later, when Spy heard a faint note of “Sexbomb” coming from Scout’s Walkman.

Scout had crawled into the shed’s framework, between the outer and inner wall, and was playing a specific verse over and over and over again, looking like he was on another plane of existence.

Spy immediately called for Medic, who had to lift Scout out by the underarms through a jagged hole in the side of the building. By then, the fight was over, so they could take him directly to the lab.

Medic’s Evaluation:

“I’m guessing zhis is your first mental breakdown?”

“Mental…doc, I ain’t crazy. Wait, you’re not goin’ to put me in a straight jacket, are ya?”

“If you’re not doing anyzhing later.”

Medic started to laugh, but quickly realized this might not be the time.

“No, Scout, everyvun has a mental breakdown at least vunce in their lives. It’s a…how do you say…a vake-up call of sorts. Vhen your body has no other options left.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“For zhe past few months, you health, both physical and mental, has been deteriorating. You eat less. You talk less. Your attacks are lackluster. You have bags under your eyes. You flinch vhen somevun yells for you. You stare off into space. Your routine, vhich usually has at least some changes, has become stringent, as if you can’t possibly expend any more energy into extra activities. You have avoided Demoman on zhe battlefield, even though you usually use him for cover.”

Medic flipped through his notes.

“I have pages and pages of your decline. However, as a scientist, I believe it is caused by zhe same source. And, though I usually respect my patient’s right to privacy vhen it comes to these sorts of matters, I believe you’ve been keeping something from me. Something that I should know as your general practitioner…your doctor.”

Scout shrugged, already shutting out the conversation.

Medic sighed.

“Maybe I tried to talk to you about zhis too soon. After all, you’ve just had a very sudden and exhausting episode. But…perhaps…”

Medic took a sheet of printer paper from his clipboard and a spare pen from his pocket.

“…zhere is an alternative.”

Scout was still unresponsive, but Medic continued.

“Zhere is a patient in my vaiting room vis a metal pole through the chest. It vill take me at least an hour to properly remove it, and a few minutes more to heal zhe area. Vhile I do zhat, vhy don’t you draw how you feel?”

Medic smiled.

“I know how much it grounds you.”

It wasn’t until Medic left that Scout actually picked up the pen, but he began drawing immediately.

For the first time in a while, he wasn’t trying to hide his strokes or scratch up the cleaner lines. No more stick figures. No more pretending.

Five minutes later, he was fully engrossed.

Medic started to walk in at one point, but, seeing how relaxed Scout was, decided to give him a few more minutes.

He deserved it.

#tf2 #tf2 scout #scout tf2 #tf2 headcanons #headcanon requests #tf2 mercs #autism #autistic community #autistic culture #red team #blu team #valve games

161 notes · View notes

fuwushiguro · 3 years ago

Note

I see PT!Kirishima and raise you PT!Bakugo!! 👉🏾👈🏾 Menaces. That's how to get me to show up at the gym daily🥵🥵🥵

Notes: Oh Bakugo would be a mf slave driver at the gym!! Need five minutes to rest?? NOT ON HIS WATCH

Warnings: Dry Humping, Cowgirl Position, Exhibitionism

PT!Katsuki Bakugo x f!Reader

"I'm sure you have other clients who'd rather be doing this Bakugo." you huff. It's hard to talk when your strict gym trainer is demanding that you bring your knees to your chest as high as humaly possible while you step between the tyre holes he's scattered all around the open field.

"I don't want my other clients. You're my girlfriend and I need ya to tell me how this course is before I advertise it for real." he explains with a smug look on his face.

Yes, you are indeed his girlfriend. He was your personal trainer before that though. He was always strict from your very first day. The good old days when you used to train in the nice, air conditioned gym. The days of yesterday. Because today, he's making you test run his bootcamp course with him. It's a more intense workout for people looking for a challenge, which you aren't. You're fighting for your life. Not only is it incredibly difficult, but it's raining and the field is a slippery muddy mess.

"It's too hard Bakugo!" you whine.

Silence.

You miss when he used to increase the speed and incline on the treadmill, although you used to complain about that too. When you'd lift weights and he'd call you a pathetic weakling. Part of you wanted to cry. But when you felt a wetness grow between your legs at his mean words you knew he'd awakened something in you. He didn't miss the way your thighs squeezed together either. That's how you found yourselves fucking for the first time. A mess of tangled tongues and limbs in the locker room. You were surprised it wasn't a one time thing, but he asked you on a date. He'd be a fool to let a pussy that good slip through his fingers. Those were his exact words.

"Those knees need to be higher, princess." he smirked.

You stopped completely at that, boy his face was a picture. His entire face seemed to drop as he was awestruck that you had the audacity to stop what you were doing.

"I'd like to see you try, prick. Walkin' around in that big puffer jacket with a coffee in your hand while I'm dying over here!" you challenged.

"Tch." he muttered.

He put his drink down and removed his jacket as he approached you. He wasn't the type to turn down a challenge, ever. You'd be eating those words. But he fell right into your trap. While he was readying himself to show you up. You grabbed his wrist and used the slippery field to your advantage, spinning him around and making him fall. But you didn't take his brute strength into account and he pulled you down with him. You laughed as you rolled around in the mud, completely covering yourselves in the gross brown earth.

He found himself on top of you, kissing you softly. He was teasing, but you both smiled into each other's mouths. He began to rut his hips against you. The restrictive clothing you were wearing wasn't enough to stop you from getting wet for him, and it definitely wasn't going to stop his cock getting hard.

"If yer not gonna do what the fuck I told you, I suggest you make yourself useful and climb on my cock." he smiled. You nodded as you allowed him to pull your leggings off. He pulled his trousers down just enough to free his cock. You scrambled to position yourself right for him. He hissed, fingers gripping into your love handles hand helping you lower yourself down on him.

"Oh God... Bakugo-"

"Fuck," he whispered, "you're so tight." he told you. The compliment rushing straight to your core.

"Fuck me, please!"

"I don't fuckin' think so baby," he laughed. You raised an eyebrow at his speech. Isn't this what he wanted? "This is part of your training. And we aren't goin' anywhere until you use me to get yourself off. Three times, at least."

this is part of my ON THE JOB event

#katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha drabble #bnha drabble #mha smut #bnha smut #tw exhibitionism #katsuki bakugo smut #katsuki bakugou smut

337 notes · View notes

tamagoincident · 3 years ago

Photo

To Lure a Bird

arthur morgan x reader

summary: The Van der Linde Gang plans to rob a train, too bad you hit it first. You, being the reasonable person you are, coerce rough-looking men to run a job with you in exchange for the stolen money, and everyone gets more than they bargained for.

chapter: 1/10

link: AO3

Chapter One - A Mutual Enemy

On the evening you first heard of the Van der Linde Gang’s presence in Valentine, you stood at the bar of Smithfield's Saloon disguised in men’s clothing. Not a typical Friday for you, as you tried not to make it a habit of sticking around places where reckless men became more reckless the further they disappeared into their cups. But years ago you’d helped the bartender, a giant man named Ernest, drum up enough money to pay off his debtors, and he held you in the highest of regards ever since. It was the only place you could drink without being disturbed. Ernest made sure of that.

“What’ll it be, the usual?” he winked at you, his large hands already reaching toward the whiskey.

You smiled and nodded.

“I have information you might want to hear,” he continued, pouring the liquor into a glass and sliding it towards you. You caught it easily.

“Oh?”

“There was a young lady here last night. Overheard her talkin’ to some fancy pants New Yorker who kept braggin’ ‘bout the luxury train he’ll be taking back to the North. She seemed awfully intrigued,” Ernest said. “And get this, it weren’t the only instance I’d seen her, neither. Few days ago she’d been traipsin’ around the outskirts of Valentine with a bunch of scary lookin’ out-of-towners.”

“Figure they’re planning on robbing the train?”

Ernest shrugged. “It’s easy pickin’. You know how naïve high society can be.”

Maybe easy enough for a one-person job, if done quickly and with care. You’d only robbed a train once with two people you used to run with. You didn’t run with them anymore. It hurt you to think of it.

You held up your glass for a refill and leaned forward, brimming with interest. “Tell me more about this train.”

—

The train tracks rattled underneath Arthur’s feet.

“Get movin’,” he said to Sean, pointing towards the trees hidden in the darkness. Arthur climbed atop the wagon they’d rode in on and placed in the middle of the tracks, which bore five hundred gallons of oil. He widened his stance for balance and pulled a bandana over his mouth and nose. “Here she comes.”

Arthur squinted against the blinding brightness of the incoming headlight, cocking his rifle as it approached. The train’s horn bellowed into the night.

It saw him. Good.

It came to a hissing and screeching halt. A uniformed man stormed out from the front cab. “What's goin' on here? What's—aw hell,” the engineer wailed, kicking the dirt underneath his feet. “Not again! Gettin’ real tired of this shit.” Behind him, a shadow of blurred movement. Charles, ready to strike him unconscious.

Arthur jumped off the wagon. “Hold it!” he yelled to Charles, who paused his assault and instead restrained the man with a pistol aimed at his head. “What d’you mean, ‘Not again?’”

“If y’all are trying to rob us, we’ve already been hit,” he wheezed.

“You’re bluffin’.”

“You and your boys are more than welcome to board and check. Reckon it’s a waste of time though.”

Arthur swore. “Let him go, Mr. S.”

Charles let go. The engineer stumbled forward, sputtering and coughing. In between heavy breaths he said, “Happened near the Heartlands. Strange feller in a mask robbed us blind and then pointed a shotgun at me, gruntin’ at me to start the engine or he’ll call for his gang to kill everyone on board.”

“Why in God’s name would he do that?” Arthur said.

“Beats me. But now that I think of it, he was probably expecting y’all. Here, he gave me this—” he moved to reach into his coat pocket, but ceased upon the chorus of rifles cocking. Sean and John had appeared to find what the holdup was.

“Don’t move a goddamn muscle,” Arthur growled. “Mr. S., if you could kindly grab whatever’s in that fool’s pocket.”

Charles complied, plucking out a wad of paper. He handed it to Sean, who read aloud:

Don’t want the loot, only your attention.

Have your lady informant go back to the saloon and talk to the bartender.

He’ll tell you where to find me.

Cause any trouble and you won’t see a cent.

Sean laughed bitterly, waving the note in the air. “Got us good, didn't he?”

“Give me that, you idiot.” Arthur snatched the note and tilted the lettering towards the train's headlight. “Goddamn it—”

A bullet whizzed by Arthur’s head. The engineer dove to the ground for safety.

“Get on your horses!” Arthur yelled to the gang and whistled. Once in the saddle, he spurred the horse on and rode hard into the trees, past the storm of bullets, and evaded capture.

He was the last to arrive back at camp, after making sure he hadn’t been followed. He passed Dutch’s closed tent and found Sean blackout drunk near the fire. John sat close by, clearly on the same trajectory as the Irishman, with the amount of empty beer bottles at his feet. Arthur cleared his throat. “Where’s Charles?”

John glanced up, eyes bleary and lined with red. In the firelight he looked small and exhausted. “Asleep.”

“You should be too.”

“Well, I ain’t,” John mumbled tipping the beer to his lips and draining it. He tossed the bottle aside with a crash.

“Need me to tuck you in Marston? How ‘bout a bedtime story?”

“Real funny, Arthur."

Arthur sat down across from John, allowing the sound of crickets and snuffling horses to fill the silence between them. When he spoke, his tone was softer. “Don’t think I’ve seen you this shaken. Not even when you was freezin’ your ass off after them wolves got to you.”

John’s gaze dropped to his lap. “I’m a bit rattled, s’all. I got a bad feelin’, Arthur.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t you think the law showed up a little too fast?”

“Maybe,” Arthur said. “I’m more curious about the son-of-a-bitch who knew we was gonna rob that train.” He turned, pulling the note he’d stashed into his saddlebag and brandishing it.

“See? You’re worried too. S’not just me.”

“I’m not worried,” Arthur cast the notion aside. No use in admitting to being worried unless there was really something to lose sleep over, especially in front of John, who looked like he was fixing for an excuse to leave again. Arthur didn’t want to be the person to give him one. He would gladly take a bullet before he watched Abigail’s face twist back into sorrow and disappointment on account of John flying the coop.

“We gonna be okay, Arthur?” John asks.

“Can’t tell the future anymore than you can, Marston,” Arthur said, crumpling the note in his fist. “What we can do is find the bastard who pulled the wool over our eyes, and deal with the rest as it comes along. I’ll talk to Mary-Beth tomorrow. Ask her to go back up to the saloon.”

John watched as Arthur tossed the paper into the fire, the edges curling into black.

—

You waited across the tracks from the abandoned trading post in Roanoke Ridge, taking shelter behind a sturdy tree (you’d almost hid behind one crawling with poison ivy vines, what a sight that would have been). The instructions you’d given Ernest to pass on had been clear: Whoever is sent must be on time and arrive alone. You checked your pocket watch. Already a half hour late. Out of desperation you remained a few minutes longer. The sun was almost at its peak in the sky, and you were getting hot with your scarf obscuring the lower half of your face. You cursed yourself for wearing such bulky trousers and long sleeves.

In your mind, the heist had been preferable to wasting away in the heat. With a little theater and luck, you managed to rob the train heading north. You still couldn’t believe your good fortune. Keeping your voice low and husky, the passengers and engineer had mistaken you for some hardened outlaw. You’d threatened them with your non-existent gang that was supposedly trailing close behind. In reality, the only thing riding alongside the train was the horse you’d borrowed from Ernest.

You scanned the landscape with binoculars, on the precipice of calling it a day, when you saw a pair of figures ascend the hill behind the dilapidated structure. The taller of the two was wearing a fading grey shirt that you imagined was once white, which stretched across his broad shoulders. He staked a far contrast to the companion at his left, a leaner man with dark hair that extended past a deep scar on his cheek. Both looked tough and mean. Exactly the type of men you’d hoped for.

Though two against one, the odds weren’t good if things went south.

You dropped the binoculars and reached for your rifle. Steadying yourself, you squinted through the scope, drifting down the length of their bodies until their dusty leather boots came into view. You cocked the gun, exhaled, and took the shot, aiming inches away from them.

“Shit!”

“Thought I’d said to come alone,” you called out. “If one of you gentlemen doesn’t get going, the next two bullets will be right in the forehead.”

“Jesus Christ,” the dark-haired man yelped. “Is that a woman shooting at us?”

“Woman or not, doesn’t change the fact she’s got a goddamn rifle!” the other fired back. “Alright, miss, my friend here is gonna get on his horse and leave. Ain’t that right, Marston?”

“Rode all the way out here for nothin’,'' he complained loudly and whistled. When his horse came around, he placed his foot in the stirrups and swung his leg over the saddle. “If you ain’t back by sundown, I’ll come lookin’ for you, Arthur. Hear that, lady?”

Arthur waved a dismissive hand. You waited until the horse disappeared behind the hills before coming out from the brush. At this distance, you could discern more of his features. The first of which you noticed were bright blue eyes that writers and painters alike had mused over for centuries.

He directed them at you. “There,” he said. “Happy?”

You lowered your rifle. “We’re off to a poor start, I’m afraid.”

“Don’t want no trouble. Just didn’t know what we was walkin’ into,” he said, moving closer, hands up slightly as if to not appear threatening. “You were real vague in that note of yours.”

You reaffirmed your grip on your rifle. “That’s close enough,” you said. Any closer and he’d eclipse you, your neck within snapping distance of those strong hands.

“Then, how about you tell me how this is gonna go?”

In the days leading to this moment, you’d thought of the ways you were going to approach this. Never did you imagine getting this far. “Do you have any idea why I may have invited you here?”

“To gloat, perhaps? About beatin’ us to that train?”

An involuntary upward twitch at the corner of your mouth. “Not quite, sir. I value my time and yours, so I’ll keep it short. I need you.”

Arthur pointed to himself. “You... need me?”

“Yes, you.”

He dipped his head, obscuring whatever expression he was making beneath the brim of his hat. Rubbing his neck, Arthur said, “Can’t imagine why you’d need me, lady. Accountin’ for the fact you don’t even know me.”

“I’ll rephrase. It’s not you I need exactly, it’s somebody like you. And your friend, for that matter.” You paused. “I used to have partners, too. One is dead, the other is in need of rescue. She was kidnapped. I want to hire you to help get her back.”

“Why not go to the sheriff? Seems a hell of a lot easier than getting up to all this trouble.”

“The sheriff?” you scoffed. “You really think he’d risk himself and his men to help me save a working girl from outlaws? Most likely he’d look into my background, and then I’d be arrested before I could even blink.”

“So all we gotta do is save your friend from her kidnappers and what, you’ll pay us?”

“You’ll get the money from the train, and I’ll throw in seventy dollars on top of that,” you said.

“What’s the catch?”

“Pardon me?”

“The catch,” Arthur repeated. “Seems too easy.”

“Didn’t say it’d be easy. Are you familiar with the O’Driscoll Boys?”

A spark of recognition. He was, in fact, familiar. “Yeah, I heard of ‘em. Your friend Emma… them boys captured her?”

You nodded. “A former client of hers runs with that gang. He found us in a hotel room, shot Henry, and knocked me out. When I came to, Emma was gone, and I was alone.”

“Under ordinary circumstances, I’d be glad to help,” he said. “You see, there’s someone I’d need to run this by and he’s already got it out for their leader, Colm O’Driscoll. This’d be the perfect excuse for him to do something goddamn stupid.”

“Please. If you’re familiar with them, you can imagine how awful it must be for her. I’ll even give you half the money upfront,” you said, decocking your rifle and slipping it back over your shoulder by its leather strap.

“Can’t promise nothin’, but I’ll talk it over with some people tonight. Meet me at that saloon in two days, same time. If it goes in your favor, I’ll take you to see the man who makes all the decisions.”

“Are you going to make me wait again?” you asked.

“You’re the one asking for favors, miss.”

“I’m offering a job.”

Arthur’s lips set into a hard line. “A job that might get us into a world of trouble, adding fuel to a fire that’s been burnin’ for a long time now. Frankly, you don’t know what you’re getting into.”

And because you didn’t want to push your luck, you fell silent. You watched him call for his horse and mount it.

“I’ll be on time,” he mumbled as an afterthought, and rode off in the direction he came.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfiction #rdr2 ao3 #rdr2 fanfiction #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x y/n #reader insert #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan/reader #tlab

49 notes · View notes

vannrichmond-archive · 2 years ago

Text

MORE THAN MY HOMETOWN

when → this week or last week. idk 7 days tho. where → vann’s hometown

It wasn’t like he was running away from his problems. He didn’t think of it that way. If anything, it was a vacation. No, it wasn’t that either. By his own account, this whole thing was weird. He’d planned on spending the weekend ignoring anything and everything Colt could possibly direct at him, and luckily for the Richmond boy, or unluckily, a fateful phone call made this whole thing all the easier. Name on the small pixel screen, “dad.” And he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. However, his father never called so he did what any son would do, answered the phone.

“Hello?” He asked.

“Hey Vann.” The man replied, so this was going to be weird.

“What’s up? Someone die?” He asked, it was the only reason the man would call, no matter what. They weren’t super close, they’d never been. Maybe for a minute when he was a kid as they fixed his old truck, but then when the man charged him for the truck that whole relationship changed

“No, nothing like that.” He said in his somber tone. The same one he’d had the last 30 years. “Are you busy?” He asked, in the way that Vann was familiar with.

“I’m always busy.” He had a job, he never understood why people were always keen on him never being busy. He was businer that most people on most days, and yet everyone thought all he did was sit around twiddling his thumbs.

“I need a body in the tractor for seedin’. Your mom is already in one, and I don’t like our new help.”

There it was. What he was waiting for. He needed something, but maybe it was good timing, and maybe sitting in a tractor would be therapeutic. Or it would bore him out of his mind, but he didn’t want to think about that. So the tractors all did everything by themselves these days, and they drove via GPS. Sure he was just a hot body in a vehicle but maybe that could sort him out. “Sure. When are you startin’?” And the his father told him the plan and that was it. He nodded to no one, and hung up.

The next morning, he loaded Beau up in the truck and drove the embarrassingly short drive to his parents 1000 acre farm the north side of Savannah. He really should have visited more. It wasn’t a drive. When his mother learned of where he moved, she was excited that she’d get to see him more, but if it was possible, now she saw him less. That however, was by design. She knew him and his father didn’t get along, and she knew not to force it. She might have been the only woman in the world that was smart enough to never force something with him. It didn’t get you want you wanted, and most of the time it got you the opposite of what you wanted. But here he was now, in her driveway as she all but ran out of the house.

“Oh Vann!” She was sobbing into his neck, like it’d been years since she’d seen him. But in all reality, the last time he’s seen them was thanksgiving at his old ranch and he couldn’t walk. June was there. Maybe he’d let time get away from him. That was a thing very unique to Vann. He lived most of his life disconnected. That was not just social media, and really the world, but from everyone. It’s not that he hated everyone, it was just a lot more peaceful than the alternative. And then when you did see people, they tended to give you their full attention. There was something to it that he liked, but his mother’s reaction now, he knew it’d been too long. Without prompting he wrapped his arm around her, and signed, knowing he was in the wrong, “hi mom.” He said in her ear, giving her a squeeze, and he could feel the woman relax. Like she’d been building this tension, full of worry for him, and now that she saw he was okay it could relax. “Look at you! You’re walkin’!” He felt bad he should have come sooner. “Yeah, almost regular.” He laughed, “I think the robot parts make it stiff.” He joked, “extra cold in the winter.” He shrugged, but her arm was wrapped around his waste, and he knew he wan’t getting out of this mandatory catch up no matter how hard he tried, but he wasn’t trying. It was nice. Someone caring about the little things, and not pummeling him for the whole picture. He loved that about his mother, she focused on what he was ready to talk about, rather than all the things he wasn’t.

Literal hours later and his dad already had him in the tractor. This one was different than the one he’d driven last. It had more gadgets than he knew what to do with, but common sense and prior knowledge had him off sooner rather than later. It was times like this, that he wished he had one of those cool phones, the one you could get the TV on, because sitting in a tractor that could drive itself was quite literally, poke your eyes out boring. So instead of having something entertaining, he did what he did best. He thought about June.

She didn’t make any sense. Not that he was actively moving on, he probably never would. He knew himself--when he got attached to something that didn’t just leave. He couldn’t just let things go, maybe that’s why it was so hard. Or made it was so hard because he didn’t remember her leaving. Something his mom had said to him the last time they’d talked, she didn’t answer, that was answer enough. But then she had the balls to find him, track him down like a god damn bloodhound and tell him it’s not goodbye. Felt a whole lot like goodbye to him, but maybe that was just him, and it was different. How so? He didn’t know. What he did know is if it was the other way around, and she was on after some guy and they’d been engaged? It would be a hard stop. He didn’t know how this other dude wasn’t losing his ever-loving mind. Maybe he didn’t know. Vann however, didn’t spare a thought for him. He did wonder however, how long was he supposed to be waiting, and if this was another one of those, no answer is your answer sort of situations. Maybe that’s what he needed from her. A definite end. A clean cut, tell him it was over so he could stop fixating on her. But the bump of the tractor got his attention back as it turned to go back down another row. No. This definitely wasn’t the best therapy. This wasn’t therapy at all, he was just remembering why he hated all of this, because it was poke your eye out boring, and god forbid you had something on your mind, gave you days to fixate on it.

Hours later and he was out. It was midnight and he was only a quarter done. Thing about these kinds of tractors, with the lights it was practically daylight and the ran off the GPS, so you really didn’t need to see. More or less he was stuck forever, but tonight he was done with what he set out for himself, that and he was falling asleep. He couldn’t be asleep and in the cab. The only good thing about this was he could sneak into the house, and not have to hear anything from anyone.

Going to sleep without eating anything was a mistake. He woke up bright and early at 5 starving, but if he knew his father, coffee was done and toast was on the table. And after he was dressed he found just that, accompanied by his old man sitting at the table with the newspaper. "Good morning.” He said as he went to the coffee pot, grabbing a cup only to pull the chair out across from him and sit down as he took his first sip. Coffee wasn’t his favorite, he’d always been more of an energy drink kind of guy, but this would be fine for now, it was only a couple of days. “Your mom has been worried sick about you, you know.” He said rather casually. “I know, I’m sorry.” This was the longest he’d been without seeing them but they were the last thing on his mind, hell everything had been the last thing on his mind, but that’s what happened when you were more obsessed with feeling nothing rather than feeling what you should be. “I think I should be about half done by the end of the day.” He said, after he’d buttered a piece of toast, “hopefully sooner than midnight, but I had a goal so.” His father nodded, as much as they were different, they were the same. Put his mind on one thing and you could bet he would get it done. If not he’d try and kill himself doing it. He didn’t like to fall short, though, again—lately he’d been learning how to do that all too well. “That’s good.” The man said, “I think you have friends who want you to go over.” Vann laughed at that, “like I need permission? They asked if I could hang out?” Both men laughed yet again, it was funny. Vann in his childhood was always a professional when it came to sneaking out he never asked to go anywhere, he just got in trouble for it when he got back. “I guess if I get done in time.” Though, he wasn’t in a particularly big hurry.

Back in the cab on the tractor, he didn’t really want care if he went, he didn’t even think about them. That was a whole moment he wasn’t particularly interested in, but he found himself finishing early and his mother back inside say she’d cut his hair a little so he didn’t look so shaggy, and somehow, he found himself in her chair, and the woman coming at him with scissors.

Before he knew it, he was in his old truck, the one he swore still smelled like her, the main reason he sent it back home, but there he was driving it to the football field much like he was back in high school. There was an intense feeling of deja vu as he drove, it felt like yesterday, but a the same time it also felt like a lifetime. Before he even realized it, he was pulling into his old parking spot, and walking out onto the field, only to be met with an overwhelming echo of whoops, and the voice of his old best friend rang above the rest, “now walking onto the field, number 9, All-American Quarterback three years in a row, Vann Richmond!” The group continued to holler which inspired the man to job over, fist pumping the air until he met them. More hand clapped to back hugs than he could count. It was a welcome homecoming.

“We thought you were going to stand us up, Richmond.” A friend said, and Vann couldn’t help but laugh, “what a coincidence, because I was.” He shook his head, and they all knew that was nothing but true. “You want a drink?” Another one asked, and he nodded, “obviously.” And a longneck was thrust into his hand, Vann popped the top and took a drink. This was nice, apparently his father had some sort of plan in this. Maybe he did need a body in the tractor, but at the same time, this was way too coincidental for him. “God Vann,” He looked up at a different familiar voice, “Kate.” He said with a smile, she held her arms open for a hug, and he did as he was silently told, wrapping his arms around her giving her a light squeeze, “don’t you age like a fine wine.” She said, and Vann could only shake his head and laugh, “I can appreciate a good lie, but you ain’t gotta lie to me.” The girl shook her head and laughed herself, “you’ve always been delusional it would seem.” He held his hands up in surrender, “okay okay.” He said, not wanting to press that. “You look good Kate,” he started, “how’s it goin’?” He asked, not really curious, but it was the polite thing to do, after all she was one of the two girls he’d ever been in a relationship with, he owed her that. Small talk catching up, or as much as Vann would share catching up over, they found themselves back with the rest of with the rest of the group.

“Can you even throw one of these anymore, Richmond?” A friend asked, holding up a football, “I haven’t touched one in a decade, so probably not.” He laughed, but before he knew it, it was coming at him, and instinctually, his hands went up and caught it before it quite literally hit him in the face, “apparently once naturally gifted, always naturally gifted.” He held the ball up like it was a trophy before throwing it back. They went on like this throwing the ball back and forth like they were back in high school for hours, before eventually the lights on the stadium went out, and they were all practically forced home. When he got there, his dad was waiting up-- unusual. “Did you have fun?” He asked and Vann nodded, “actually yeah.” He shrugged the man smiled at him before he groaned as he got out of the chair, “good. You better get to bed. You have a lot to do.” Vann groaned at his father before walking through the door to his room, not even honoring that with a response. What a thing like that for him to say, but it was on brand. As he lay there, it hit him, for the first time in a long time he wasn’t thinking about anything. His hip, her, all the ways he was letting people down. None of that crossed his mind. Almost like he was breathing better. Fuck. Maybe his dad had been onto something after all.

Three more days of dull tractor sitting, this time however, the boy got smart and brought a book, and he was done. The spy did end up getting blown up, and he could do over a hundred acres of back lot in 5 days. he liked to think of it as his personal best. But the chore done, friends he’d forgotten he missed seen, multiple tractor dinners made by his mother, the required number of grunts pointed in his father’s direction, and there was nothing else to do. Half a mind to finally leave, and his phone rang.

He recognized the area code but not the number. That however, wasn’t all that surprising he wasn’t one to save a number in his phone. If he didn’t already know it, it was almost always lost on him. But he answered it anyways, “hello?” He answered, and the voice on the other line replied, “Vann?”

“Yeah?” He said, mildly confused.

“I cannot believe this is still your number, it’s Kate.” And instantly the voice was recognizable. “I can’t be bothered to change it, and I don’t even know how.” He laughed, and she did in response, “what’s up?” He finally asked.

“I heard a rumour about you.” She said, and he rolled his eyes, “I’ve also heard a few rumours about me.” He said in response, “what’s yours?” He asked, almost expecting the worst. People knew too much about him, but that was a hazard of his life at this point, nothing he could do to stop it. “Heard from a friend of a friend that you’re pretty handy with a heel horse?” She asked, almost a hopeful tone in her voice, “my son’s horse, I don’t know. And I know it takes more than a day, but I was hoping maybe you could just, come and see? Give me an opinion.” Vann was quiet for a second, he would have rather her say she heard he was hooked on coke and dying. For him right now, the actual worst thing she could have said, she said, but instead, “yeah sure. I’m free tomorrow.” He held back the sigh, and he could hear the smile in her voice, “I don’t mean to embarrass him, but you are his favorite cowboy. He’s going to die.” Me too. Vann thought to himself, but laughed a bit, “you know what they say, don’t meet your heroes.” He shrugged, but Kate didn’t agree, “no, it’ll be good. Thank you.” He nodded for no one, “see you tomorrow.”

He spent the better part of the night, and the next morning trying to not vomit. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to be getting a horse, especially in front of someone. He wasn’t ready for it. But how as she to know he was absolutely terrified of getting on one? Ans god, who was he? Old habits died hard, and apparently one of those was showing off for her. But he said he’d do it, and if nothing else, he had always been a man of his word, and he was in his truck, driving to her house, and the deja vu was like nothing else. He’d gone to the address she’d texted him when they’d hung up, and pulling it, it was nice. He was impressed, she’d done well, not that that should surprise him. He left town to chase a football dream, she’d stayed there, and got married. He’d been invited to the wedding, but never went. He was too busy on the road, and well, he didn’t necessarily want to see his ex girlfriend get married. They hadn’t talked much or really at all, which was half of the reason this caught him off guard.

Getting out, he looked around for half a second, trying to quell the feeling in the pit of his stomach, he hadn’t ate that morning for a reason. But before he could force the issue, she was there, by the bed of his truck, “you still have this truck?” She asked, and Vann laughed, “absolutely. You can’t get rid of a classic.” He shrugged, “but it has been rottin’ in my parent’s yard for awhile, I was surprised it started.” Which was true, but he shut the door and let her lead the way to the roping pen. “So his is the palomino one,” she pointed to the quarter horse tied to a pole, already saddled. There was a bit of a crowd, much like a Saturday full of friends roping, something he hadn’t done nor was prepared for, but he found himself walking up to the horse. “So what’s wrong with it?” he asked, “well it’s just, got something missing.” That wasn’t helpful but he nodded and walked over to the horse. This was a kids horse. It wasn’t going to hurt him he’d be fine.

Fighting the initial vomit reaction, he found himself on the yellow horse, walking around. His personal best, but here he was, trying to show off for someone he was not ready to show off for. Hell, he needed to be doing this in the privacy of a private pasture, but he wasn’t and he asked the horse to trot on and it did. This wasn’t bad, this was fine. His stomach didn’t lurch like he expected it too, so he just continued. Picking up the pace a bit he started posting around the pen only to sit down and the horse kind of stopped, but didn’t. Not how he liked a heel horse to anyways. He continued this a few more times before swallowing the nerves building up once again, he asked the horse to lope. Once again, it did as it was asked, and he got a little more relaxed as he went a few laps around the pen, and he asked it to stop as he would one he finished and it didn’t do that, and he was just a little disappointed, but what could he really expect? He did a few more drills before stopping and walking it over to the edge of the fence where Kate, and a 10 year old boy he could only assume was her son were watching. “It don’t stop worth a shit.” He said, “that’s your first problem. It doesn’t feel like it has any wait in it either.” He shrugged, “if I have one in the box, I need the cow to go, the head to go, and then I’m behind, and I don’t know if this one does that.” The boy shook his head, “not really.” Vann nodded, “yeah, didn’t think so. I’d do those things.” He smiled before getting off. He was getting late, that or he wanted to vomit in peace, “you wanna stay and hang out a little?” Kate finally asked as he gave the horse back to her son, “no, sorry I can’t.” He shrugged, “do you mind taking a picture with him? He’d die?” Vann laughed and nodded moving over to the the kid, getting down a knee so they could be the same height, and his mom snapped a picture. “Do you mind if we post this? I know you haven’t been active on social media in well, forever, but--” He shook his head--he personally, had never been active on social media, it was never him but he didn’t tell her that, “nah, I don’t care, you’re fine.” He said with smile before getting up. That wasn’t so bad, he wasn’t dead. Vann gave Kate a quick, obligatory hug, and he left. And maybe what surprised him most, was he didn’t stop the truck on the way home to vomit on the side of the road.

@vannrichmond was tagged in a new photo @vannrichmond was tagged in a new reel

“You have fun sweetie?” His mom asked as soon as he walked in the door, Vann rolled his blue hues at the nickname “it was fine.” He said, not sure how he felt, but it didn’t feel bad. Definitely not the person he thought he’d be getting on a horse for, but he was the definition of showing off for a girl, even if it was just to keep his reputation in tact. She didn’t know what he’d been through the last few years, and honestly that was nice. Someone who knew him, or at least used to, and didn’t know about the dark parts. It was nice being treated like his old self, instead of the one people tip toed around. “Are you staying for dinner?” His mother interrupted his thoughts, “yeah. I’m leavin’ in the morning.” He had horses to do in the morning, and couldn’t miss another day. People were already bitching.

The morning came fast, and he was packed and ready just as the sun came up. And not surprisingly, so was his father. “Thanks for your help.” He said as Vann quietly made his way through the kitchen, “yeah, no problem.” Vann said in response, “let me know if you need help harvestin’.” He said, hoping the answer was no, “I will.” The man said instead, “good help is hard to find, I mean I had to call you, didn’t I?” The both laughed as his father walked over, giving him a few good pats on his son’s back. “Take care of yourself okay?” Vann nodded, “yes sir.” His father wasn’t an emotional man, but he wasn’t blind either, “you look good.” Vann nodded, “I feel good.” He confirmed the man nodded and that was that. Vann gave his father a quick hug before finally going out the door.

Driving back to Iron River, he couldn’t place the feeling. He hadn’t felt this genuinely care free since he could remember. He didn’t go home, and he never knew why, there was never just a desire. But maybe he needed to start. Maybe he missed it more than he realized. They always said you can’t go home again, but god, why did that feel so good?

#-- | self para #this is so bad #no one read it #also long #dont read it

2 notes · View notes

fdaytalk · 5 years ago

Photo

#Still searching on #Newspapers and #Websites for latest Jobs Notifications. Get Job Alerts at Instagram @fdaytalk - Lets Makes #Easy District Health And Family Welfare Samiti, #Kurukshetra Post Name: #Finance cum #Logistics Consultant, #Account Asst, Block Account Manager, ANM Min Qual: Degree, PG, CA/ICWA No of Posts: 10; Late Date: 26-07-19 Stipend : ₹52,500/- Info: www.fdaytalk.com/july2019/ #Govtjobs #DHFWS #Jobalerts #jobs #jobsearching #jobseekers #jobsearch #walkin #govtexam #india #Latest #anm #nurse #dhmo #healthcenter #ca #chartedaccountant #icwa Follow us for daily job alerts #fdaytalk FB: facebook/fdaytalk https://www.instagram.com/p/B0ASoF5F-56/?igshid=1d6899oa02yym

0 notes

hrh-selene-r · 5 years ago

Text

Luck be a Lady (1/4)

Devil in a White Dress

The Logan boys have it in their heads a plan to rob the Charlotte Motor Speedway, but in order to do that they need someone with experience in breaking into a high tech vault. In their need, the Logan brothers visit non other than Joe Bang to recruit him into their heist. Problem is, they have to convince him; and knowin’ them Logan boys’ family curse, he ain’t gonna take no chances doing’ this without another professional. They need someone who can get into places and blend in, someone with experience who knows how to improvise and to tie up lose ends....Someone like you.

A short fic that started as a one shot and ended up being a short multi chapter fic, where our sweet boi Clyde, falls for a woman that’s more that what she seems. The question is, can he handle it?

Clyde x Reader

6.8k Words

Warnings: mentions of theft | Reader uses an alias

White

The room is an off-color white, not quite bright, as to somehow make it sterile, and cold. It’s the color of day-old snow on the pavement. Hell, even the chairs are a weird gray color, makin’ the room seem monochromatic. It’s all white, unsettling and uncomfortable.

He’s all too familiar with these walls and how isolating being here feels. Say what ya want, but six months under was enough to scare Clyde straight, and there ain’t no way he wants to come back here. But if he’s gonna do this, he’s gonna do it right. And doin’ it right meant getting someone who knows how to blow up a Bank Vault. Which, ironically, brings him here. The one place he doesn’t want to be in; with his brother, visiting none other than the famous Joe Bang.

Watching him eat a couple of hard-boiled eggs, and listenin’ to him talk about special salt for his blood pressure before finally getting to the part where his big brother Jimmy explains the plan to bust him outta jail in broad daylight, to blow up a bank vault, and get him back in jail before anyone notices.

At first, Joe can’t believe these two. How exactly are they gonna pull this off anyway? He chuckles at Jimmy Logan’s proposition, thinkin’ the idiots must have a screw loose.

“You Logans, must be as simpleminded as people say.” Joe said all condescendent like.

“They say that?!” the brothers ask in unison; surprised and offended as they quickly look at one another before turning back to a sniggering Joe Bang.

“Who?” Jimmy asks, not being able to let go of the slight tease.

In Joe’s mind, them Logan's plan was crazy, but it could work out. If the take’s good and the job seems doable, he might just be able to replace his stolen little nest egg, and then some. Amused, he decided it’s time to talk shop. “So what’s the take?”

“It’s bigger’n you can bury under an oak tree.” Jimmy assures him.

“And the split?” Joe asks back.

“Even Split.” Jimmy answers only to be rebutted immediately by Joe “No. No way.”

Why? Now Clyde’s Curious, he’s been lettin’ his brother do most o’ the talkin’, on account of it bein’ his crazy cauliflower plan, and all. “ Why not?” Clyde asks, confused; wantin’ to know why Joe didn’t think it was a fair deal.

Joe looks at him for a moment. “ I got a brother. I got two. I’d need ‘em involved to protect my interest.

“Fine.” Jimmy sighs, conceding to his demands, figurin’ that a smaller slice is better than no pie at all.

“Alright, What’s the location?” Joe asked them. Now he’s willing to play ball. They just gotta iron out how to actually make the plan work.

“Charlotte Motor Speedway.” Jimmy answered. Three words, no further explanation needed.

A pregnant pause fell on the conspiring men as Joe pursed his lips, giving out a deep sigh through his nose, and leaning back in his seat.

Thinking his pause meant hesitation, Clyde started to get anxious. They needed Joe Bang, if they’d have any shred of a chance at pullin’ this dang thing off. He leaned forward in his chair and asked Joe “ Don’t think you can do it?” Challenging him and hopin’ he just might take his bait.

“Now I didn’t say that, did I?” Joe answered him defensively, his tone a warning to Clyde not to underestimate him but also treating him with respect; despite just practically offending him by doubting his skills. He has a reputation to maintain, after all.

“Then what’s the problem, Joe Bang?” Jimmy asks, growing impatient, not getting what Joe’s huffing about now.

Joe breathes out a huff, not believing these two idiots and the fact that he has to explain everything.

“Before I take any job, I look at it the same way as it takes to make a bang: positive versus negative. Now you mix a little bit o’ this with a little bit a’ that and you get a reaction. A reaction is Power, but it’s moving fast and it’s moving away from ya and it keeps moving until it hits somethin’.”

“Like a vault wall.” Clyde interrupts.

“Sure, like a vault wall. So, you wanna make sure you always get more positive than negative, or else ya gotta get outta the way fast….Pullin’ off a job like this; I gotta weigh in the positive versus the negative….You Logans can just think of it as a plus or minus..” Joe explains to the brothers, leaning back into his chair.

“We get positive and negative.” Jimmy answers him, irritated with joe; feelin’ like he runnin’ them around in circles with the whole dang explanation.

“Okay, so it’s all cash, that’s a positive. But a place like the track?....It’s gonna have twenty times the amount o’ security of a regular bank, so that’s a negative, but there’ll be a whole mess o’ people walkin’ around there, and that’s a positive; it helps us blend in. There’ll be metal detectors and cameras, you know, recording every dang inch of the place. That’s a negative; we can’t bring anything through them gates. No explosives, no guns.” Joe thinks out loud listing off the various pros and cons of the job, mentally making a list to see what are the chances of them being able to pull off this job.

“No, we don’t. We don’t want usin’ any guns.” Jimmy tells Joe, a bit flabbergasted, that he’s even considering such a thing. Never in his life has he held a gun to threaten anybody. Hell, he don’t even know if he’s capable of shootin’ at somebody. No, no guns. They just complicate everything.

“Absolutely no guns.” Clyde agrees resolutely, shaking his head while looking at Joe seriously in the eyes. It’s not that he’s not familiar or inexperienced. The mas is an iraqui war vet, for cryin’ out loud. He did two goddamn tours over there; of course he knows how to use a gun and how to kill someone. But there’s a time and place for everything, and he won’t kill someone unnecessarily if he can avoid it. He’s a vet now, and that time in his life is over, he’s a bartender, and a small business owner now. He knows what it’s like to kill and he ain’t gonna put that burden on Jimmy. No way, no how. So absolutely no guns.

At the brothers’ refusal Joe leans back in his chair and huffs a sigh from his nostrils. They just don’t make it easy, do they? “Well, I guess for you Logans that’s a positive.”

“So you’ll do it?” Jimmy asks him hopefully; getting to the point of the conversation and the reason for their visit, wanting to get this over with; the more time spent here the more suspicious they look.

Joe on the other hand doesn’t hear him, he’s too busy still thinking about the job in his head. He has to make sure this’ll work out well, ‘cuz he ain’t doin’ nuthin’ to risk increasin’ his sentence, not when he is so close to freedom. So...he may have to outsource, bring out the big guns, so to speak. “The problem, gentlemen, is security. We’d need to find a way to get in.” He explained slowly, his voice deep in his chest and rumbly as he concentrated in thought.

“Access.” Clyde elaborates, glancin’ at Jimmy for a quick bit.

“Exactly!” Joe points his finger at Clyde, eyes wide as someone finally gets it.

Jimmy stares back and forth at both men. What was he painted onto the walls? “ I can get access, I HAVE access.” Jimmy argues, not to be considered useless.

“You were just fired.” Clyde reminds him, turning to look at him. “ ‘sides don’t ya’ think it’d look suspicious if ya’ll went around snoopin’ for ways to access the tunnels or if you’re caught by the cameras creepin’ around?” Clyde asked Jimmy as if it was the most obvious thing, further proving Joe’s point.

Joe leans back in his chair and raises his arms, palms up. “He’s right. You’re too close to it, someone in security or a worker might recognize ya. We need to avoid exposing you to the staff as much as possible, particularly the staff that works in the tunnels that can recognize your face.” Joe scratches his growing stubble and begins to mumble as he thought of a solution. Well, we got no choice. We’ll probably have a better off chance of pullin’ this off with ‘er anyway. “ So…...We’re gonna need someone for the job…..”

“Who do you reckon?” Jimmy asks him.

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

Mercer County Airport wasn’t crowded, it was just not that modern, you guess, at least not compared to other places you’ve been. But what else could you say about the small County airport? Hell, if it weren’t because you owed Joseph Bang a favor, you wouldn’t have been anywhere relatively near West Virginia, let alone walking into a parking lot of an airpot there.

But, Life is a funny thing, it can take you to a lot of places you’ve never expected to be. And right now, life took you through an airport parking lot and to an old 1969 red Dodge Charger that was calling your name; conveniently parked in the lot, along with other vintage vehicles in good condition.

It’s true that it’s extremely out of the ordinary to see these types of cars together, let alone in the same lot, but you supposed that they’re probably cars on route to go to the auto show that was advertised in one of the touristy pamphlets you saw while walking out of the airport. Something about NASCAR.

Must be your lucky day, because you can’t see a guard anywhere near here; in fact the whole lot seems to be devoid of people, and you’re not gonna look at gifted horsepower in the mouth.

You supposed with a smirk, that if you’re here for a job, might as well enjoy your time here. A bit of business with pleasure can’t go wrong. Still, Joe better thank you for the trouble that you’re going through, helping him out. The wind blew your hair over your dark cat-eye sunglasses while you try to subtly open the car door, being careful not to attract any unwanted attention. This job better be good, you inwardly complain as you open the bottom part of the dash, below the steering wheel, and start to hot wire the collectible car. You try to do it as quickly as you can, before the security guards can catch a whiff of you and send your cute little ass to jail before you can even hear Joe out.

That won’t do us any good. You wouldn’t be able to show off the cute little white dress you’re wearing, if you’re in a cell, after all.

Your giggles are drowned by the roar of the car’s ignition, as you start getting in, putting your travel bags in the passenger seat and adjusting your mirrors. Adios Mercer Airport is the last thing you think about before putting the car into gear and getting out of there.

Getting the window down, you can’t help the feeling crawling through your back and up your shoulders. It’s that feeling of freedom, of anything being possible as the wind blew threw you (H/C) hair, and the open road stretched before you as the car starts speeding.

Now, Joe wasn’t specific or detailed in his call. Actually, he was very vague. All he said was that he was calling up his favor and that he wanted me to be his brother Fish’s date for a fair that’s happening in town. Now, he wasn’t going out with Fish, that much she knew; if anything he was talking in code. The message was simple: “You owe me a favor and now I’m calling it. Come home, and look up my brothers, they’re the point of contact.” So she gave Fishy a call and set up a meeting at a bar called ‘Duct Tape’. So here she was, in West Virginia, going at 75 mph in a modified and revamped stolen Charger, with nothing but a gps set to take you to this so-called bar, and the open road.

You’ll have to be careful not to attract any unwanted attention, it can be a rural small town, but a cop, is a cop, is a cop. So you’ll have to stop by somewhere nearby to change the plates; exchange them with another car’s, and you better do it soon, you have an appointment to keep and an old friend to meet.

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

The air outside was a bit humid and calm tonight as John Denver played from the jukebox, Earl was outside havin’ his usual smoke, the ceilin’ fans are blowin’ air down from above to the drinking patrons, the clinks of glasses and crashes of the billiards table mixed in with the music.

Clyde supposed he couldn’t complain, at least not for now, all he had to make sure was to get this heist over and done with, he thought as he cleaned up and rearranged some glasses in the bar. He was really just tryin’ to look busy, to not give away the fact that he was actually keepin’ an eye on Sam and Fish Bang while they played pool a few feet away. Now, he and his brother already talked to ‘em durin’ the county fair and got ‘em to agree to help ‘em out with the whole heist and all, so what were they doin’ here? ‘Cuz they weren’t exactly regular customers in his bar.

It wasn’t until Jimmy walked in that Clyde finally got his answer. The brothers were waitin’ on someone. A colleague of Joe’s, he said; they’re supposed to meet up in this here bar to negotiate with Jimmy, talk shop as it were. Now, Joe was very clear that he wasn’t gonna do any plan or heist without another professional, to help out. So it’s not like they have a choice in the matter. They needed this guy on their side.

This, of course, left him a bit apprehensive. After all, he’s seen what Joe’s brothers are like. What would a friend of Joe Bang’s even be like? This famous so-called swiss army man. He was probably another convict or a thief. Clyde could picture it now; he’d most likely be a thought biker type of some sort, or a bearded tattooed man with a tear tattooed on his face, maybe someone with a penchant for violence….And they were plannin’ to meet in his bar, during his shift.

Great.

That is the last thing that Clyde needs in his bar. Plus, won’t it look suspicious if they’re seen associatin’ in an almost conspiratorial manner? The cops would find out. I’d be just his luck too if trouble comes his way because of this. He’s waitin’, afraid it’ll happen too.

The Logan Family Curse

He’s been hollerin’ in both Jimmy’s and Mellie’s ears about this, comin’ up on years now, but it’s just not goddang normal. Hell, he never takes his damn horseshoe ring off, just in case. Now, Clyde hasn’t always believed in the so-called family curse; he didn’t believe it in high school and he didn’t believe it when he did two tours in Iraq (otherwise he probably wouldn't ‘ve done them in the first place).

But ever since the freak landmine accident that cost him his hand an’ part of his forearm, he couldn’t stop thinking that this kind of stuff just don’t happen to normal folk. So he started digging up info about his other family members, and bit by bit he started to put the pieces of this whole thing together. The proof that not only does he have the Logan curse on his head, but that it exists. Ever since then, he’s been wearin’ the same lucky horseshoe ring, thinking it’d be best to ward off any type of bad luck an’ evil out there as much as he can.

It’s just not smart to tempt the devil, and he’ll avoid it where he can.

Clyde is taken off his internal reverie as Sam approaches him at the bar. “Another round, my good man.” He tells Clyde. He, of course, obliges and hands Sam two bottles of Coors, uncapped.

Meanwhile, Jimmy sat in his usual bar stool, drinking his beer, talkin’ to Clyde while he worked the bar; re-filling drinks and cleanin’.

“You got everythin’ planned?” Clyde asks Jimmy

“Just about. Just ironin’ out some things.” He answered confidently even though Jimmy still hasn’t finished planning squat. But he can’t let Clyde know, he’d panic, quietly, but he would still panic.

“Welp, you better do it fast, got the auto show comin’?” Clyde reminds him earnestly.

As Clyde starts to put some glasses away on the high shelf, busying himself with never-ending work, so much so that he doesn't notice that the front door opens and in walks a woman.

“Be right with ya.” He said after he heard one of the bar stools near Jimmy scrape on the wooden floors.

Now, you found it hilarious that the bar was called the Duck Tape...you spent all this time thinking it was weird to name a bar “Duct Tape” but here you stand at the front door; corrected, ‘cause it could, in fact get weirder. You, of course, pay no mind to the ambience or the music hanging in the air once you enter the bar. You were here to meet with Fish and Sam; strictly business, or at least that’s what you thought while looking around the bar.

There were a few patrons, a few people sat in the u-shaped bar, while the bartender looked like he’s doing something on the shelves above it. You decide to not be a bother while he’s up on his step ladder and you just quietly walk over to the bar, sitting two seats away from another patron. He’s young looking, around his mid-thirties with short brown hair, and a goatee and the beginnings of a beard. He’s wearing a white t-shirt, but under it you can see that he was about fit, or fit enough. Or at least, that’s what you could gather since he was actually getting up, probably to go to the bathroom or something. He was good looking though, even if he had a bit of a limp, you noticed as you gave him a passing smile, doing your best to be friendly to the locals.

It’s seemed to be a quiet night all around. To the right there were some men drinking together, probably buddies; you saw Fish and Sam were already here, playing pool on a table nearby, probably waiting for you to get here. All in all, you really didn’t seem to miss anything going on.

That is until you turned your focus to the bar, and said bartender working in front of you. How oblivious did you have to be to not notice this man? You asked yourself as you saw that the bartender there wasn’t using a step ladder at all.

Well, Hello.

He was just this tall mountain of a man, with black shoulder length hair. His back was towards you, so you couldn’t see much, but what you could see, you enjoyed. His body was wrapped up in a cotton button-down short sleeved shirt, and those dark wash jeans that gave you a nice view of a tight ass that you can stare at all day if he lets you (you wouldn’t mind grabbing it either).

Through his shirt you could see his shoulder blades through his back; flexing and moving as he finished placing the glasses high up, giving the rippling view and showing that he may be wide, but his waist was defined. So he was likely well built. A gym freak, health nut maybe? No, his waist would be more defined if he was, so would his muscles. His form suggests that his muscles are built to be strong, not for show.

Maybe this mountain man chops wood. All in all you liked the view, and you always did have a thing for tall men (Everything just tended to be more proportional). So really, you wouldn’t mind spending some time in the bar, looking at him as he worked, getting a drink to relax, and enjoy the local sights before having to deal with Fish.

Uuuugh!

Why does this have to happen when you're here because of a Job? You’d rather just not deal with them at all if you could. Don’t take it the wrong way, the Bang Brothers aren’t bad people, per se. In fact you don’t mind Fish at all, and they’re good hearted boys; they mean well, but it’s obvious to any adult equipped with a brain that the smarts in the family went to Joe. The man’s a chemist after all, and Fish and Sam...well, they mean well, and Fish is okay. With a makeover he could be cute. But it’s not a mystery why he’s not a hit with the ladies. Or why Misty had an affair behind his back.

You rearrange your posture in your seat, twisting around over to the billiard’s table, just to make sure that both Sam and Fishy were still there.

“What do you like?” Clyde asks in a friendly way before finally turning around, and just like that…...It’s as if life punched him stupid in the face and left his vision all blurry like. It was as if for an instant time stopped and he was left still, dumb and frozen, just staring at you. It’s a good thing you were looking over at the billiards table because otherwise, he’d looked like a creep.

Now, to be fair, Clyde’s seen all types of folks come ‘n go around these parts, especially when you work at a bar. But Clyde could swear that he’s never seen someone quite like you. In your short white cotton dress, cinched at the wait with a thin brown belt with cute little brown cowboy boots; and your hair, loose in the most beautiful shade of (H/C) he’d ever seen. Now this isn’t enough to go by, and it’s true. It wasn’t until you turned your face to answer him that he finally managed to see you, that left Clyde truly entranced. Your beautiful (E/C) eyes, your hair framing your face beautifully had him enchanted; but the most beautiful part, in his opinion, was that bright smile that you gave him. It was one of those smiles that pulled up at your cheeks and made your nose scrunch a bit and maybe he was crazy but it lit up the whole goddamn bar.

Clyde doesn’t know if it’s because it’s been a while since he was with a woman, but goddamn, it was like you came right out of a dream; an angel with a white dress and everythin’.

All in all, he was so dumbstruck in awe, that he didn’t notice that you sweetly gave him your order. It was as if for the briefest of seconds he felt like he was underwater.

Snap out of IT!!!

Clyde clears his throat blinking quickly to get him out of his stupor. “I’m sorry?” he asked you as if he’s trying to make sure he got your order right.

“Can I have a vodka with Orange Juice, please?” you ask him again sweetly, not minding at all that you had to repeat your order.

“Uh, yeah. Comin’ right up.” He said politely, trying to give you a good impression, but also being professional. The last thing a lady like you needed was a guy harassin’ her and bein’ inappropriate with her. It didn’t help the wait that you were looking at him, all sweet-like, like ya had a secret that he didn’t know.

And maybe you did; or maybe you were just checking him out as he showed off, making your drink, with added flair that belonged in a more modern bar, not the duck tape. Still, you were grateful for the opportunity to watch him work.

Of course, the pleasure was all yours. Watching him closely, enjoying the show he put on for you.

The man himself was six feet tall, maybe six foot two, but his body was well built all around from what you could see. His hair was dark, wavy and gorgeous....how is that even fair? You don’t know, but it does complement his goatee and frame his face, accenting his big nose and his full, pouty lips. It gives him this rugged, country boy look. His eyes are brown and look soulful; gentle, offsetting his almost intimidating physique.

You notice that he’s wearing a black t-shirt under his navy-blue button down as he moves through the bar and even flips the shaker to efficiently mix the drink over ice, even though it’s not typically mixed, not knowing that he did it was to cool your drink as a special treat for the lady in white.

He tapped the glass connected to the shaker and poured the mixture in a clean high-ball glass sitting on a napkin, and delicately handed it over to you. You took the opportunity and deliberately brushed your fingers against his as you smiled at him, noting his lucky horse shoe ring sitting in his fourth finger. What a peculiar thing to wear you mused as you do a quick study in your head; nearly hitting yourself for not noticing earlier the most obvious thing about him until he was right in front of you, fixing your drink. An amputee bartender...that’s a first. You start to wonder how was it that he lost it. maybe a car crash? Some type of accident most definitely. Either way, this wasn't something that you saw everyday.

“Thank you.” You tell him kindly, just being polite.

“Ya welcome, miss.” He replies leaving the statement in the air. You look around a bit dramatically and look back at the bartender.

He’s polite and his voice. Hmm!

Maybe it was his tone, or maybe it was the fact that he looked like rural sex on a stick, but you’re starting to want t o know more about him. And being the weirdo that you are, you start analyzing him from top to bottom; you can’t help it, you were just too curious about this sexy mystery man. Too bad I can’t tell if he’s married you think as you start to really look at him, seeing what you could find out.

Male, late twenties to early thirties, over six feet, caucasian, dark hair, well built and athletic, soft spoken, polite, but articulated. A bit shy, definitely not a social butterfly, from what I can see. Body language and tone suggests a bit of an inferiority complex and lack of confidence despite his height, meaning that he’s self conscious. Maybe he was picked on for it. His build suggests he was maybe an athlete in high school or college, perhaps military training. That could explain the lost arm, but I shouldn’t get ahead of myself.

Your thought process makes you look at him sideways, supporting your head’s weight in your left hand as he cleans in front of you while you contemplate his life story. You wanted him to talk to you, you wanted him to make the first move; for him to give you a way to talk to him. But from the looks of it, you're gonna have to make the first move. Luck favors the bold, you remind yourself before taking a deep breath and look at his face.

“Is the bar always this busy?” You teased at him, a smirk on your lips as you're trying to make conversation. The brothers are still playing pool, so you have time. Why bother them and interrupt their game when you can play one of your own right here? And with far better company at that.

Clyde doesn’t miss a beat, hearing the small tease in your tone, still not really believing that you’re talkin’ to him. “Well, you’re very lucky. Bar’s not usually full until the weekend, so you can get my attention easily.” He replies teasing you right back with a small innuendo as he met your smirk with one of his own.

“Really? Lucky me then. And what’s your name?….You know, in case I need to catch your attention. Or are you just ‘bartender’?” You fire right back. Okay, so the boy knows how to flirt a bit, this is promising, you thought as you played innocent with him, leaning back a bit and puffing out your chest and smiling, which if the lighting isn’t tricking you, causes him to blush a bit, on his cheeks, right below those cute little eyes.

“Name’s Clyde. At your service, Miss....” His answer held the promise of servicing more than a cocktail, or at least you hoped it did.

“Vivienne. The name is Vivienne.” You introduce yourself, moving your head slightly, flipping a bit of our hair as you do so, showing more of your angelic face to Clyde, and he can’t help but give a small smile and the sound of your name. Vivienne, Vivienne Clyde repeats your name, trying it out in his head, almost as if to see if it fit with what he saw in front of him. “Or ya’ll can call me Vivi for short, everybody does.” She smiled at him, a southern twang in your voice and the way you speak. It’s not from around these parts that’s for sure. Maybe it’s a different part or state. Heaven knows Clyde isn’t the most traveled fella, and even the parts where he’s travelled too ain’t that exotic.

Vivi takes a swig at her drink, gesturing to the ring on his right hand. “Are you superstitious? Or are you just always lucky?”

Clyde takes a look at his ring before smiling, slightly amused at the thought of Clyde Logan, of all people, being lucky at all. “A bit superstitious. Rather not tempt the devil y’know.” He answers lightheartedly, not wanting to elaborate on how was it that the Logan Curse made him believe in it. At least for right now, he just counts himself lucky to get you interested in him at all, don’t get him wrong, but Clyde isn’t an optimistic man; he can’t afford to be, not with this curse over his head. Knowing his luck, you’ll get bored of him quickly and move on to another fella. But he might as well enjoy this while it lasts. “You?”

“A bit, but who isn’t really? I mean, it never hurts to throw a bit of salt over your shoulder, right?” You answer with a smile, your right eyebrow raising as you did so with a little playful shrug, causing his smirk to develop into a full smile, making his cheeks pull up a bit and his eyes shine at your lighthearted demeanor. You’re guessing that it’s not easy or common to break him and get a smile out of his somber, pouty expression, given how he seems to hold himself so seriously; so you considered this a little victory. Clyde just thought of it as part of your charm.

And just like that he was hooked.

When you were done with your first drink, you decided to take it up a notch. Maybe it was the liquid courage, or maybe it was your own bravery, either way you end up inviting him to drink with you, appealing to his good nature.

“It’s my first time in West Virginia, and it’s bad luck to drink alone.” you say, pouting your lips at him.

“Well what about that first one?” he counters.

“That one doesn’t count. And if it does, then I need to do something about it. C’mon, have a drink with me. That way you can help me negate the bad luck.” You told him. At first he didn’t think it right, him bein’ working an’ all, but how could he say no to you? How could he say no to those captivating eyes and those tempting lips?

So Clyde agreed, saying that he can’t leave a lady like you with bad luck in all good conscience, and deftly took two shot glasses down from the shelf and filled each of them with Bourbon Whiskey.

Taking the shot, you smelled it and looked at him funny. “Bourbon?” You asked him, to which he nodded in response. “It’s the good kind, top shelf, to commemorate your first time drinkin’ in West Virginia, on the House.”

“Well then, cheers. To good luck and good health.” you say raising your glass to meet his with a small clink before downing the contents in two quick swigs; the liquid burning your throat and the back of your mouth as you shook your head blinking as you did so.

“You good?” He asked smiling, this time his smile showed you a glimpse of his teeth. You nodded vigorously as you got ready for another round.

Just two seats away, Jimmy saw the exchange and he couldn’t believe his eyes. This lady was downright flirtin’ with his little brother, not in an overtly sexual way, but in a sweet teasing way. And what’s even more shocking; Clyde is flirtin’ right back. Well, his version of flirtin’, which isn’t to say much, cause his brother tended to be of a more serious type.

Now, he didn’t recognize you, or at least he can’t remember you from anywhere, and be that as it may, Boone County ain’t that big. People tended to know everybody in town. So, you’re either a relative of someone or you’re from out of town, maybe even a city girl by the looks o’ your hair. He ain’t ever seen someone have hair that pretty; like them models you see in magazines or movies. But still, this is a big thing, so he decides to not interrupt, and let his brother enjoy her company while he enjoys his beer.

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

You spent the better part of the next two hours with him, talking, drinking and joking around. Honestly, you had even forgotten about Sam and Fish, and the whole reason why you were in the bar in the first place, preferring to spend your time like this than to deal with them.

Unfortunately your good time’s cut short as Sam Bang approaches the bar to order another beer and ends up looking in your direction when he heard you talking to Clyde. “Vivi?” He asked, turning away from the bar in your direction. Effectively ending your moment with the handsome man.

Both you and Clyde turn in Sam’s direction, you sigh loudly from your nostrils as you regard his appearance. “Hi Sam, how’s it going?” you ask him, causing Clyde’s once sunny mood to darken in shock as he looks back and forth between you and Sam; asking himself just how did you know him.

Sam turns around towards the billiards table and shouts. “Hey yo Fish! Vivi’s here!” getting his brother’s attention.

Upon hearing his brother Fish walks over to see what the commotion is about. “What?...Hey Vivi? When did you get here?” he asked and then gave you a small kiss in the cheek showing how familiar you were. You reciprocate the kiss with a polite smile before answering. “Oh just a while ago. I decided to get a drink while you boys finished your game.”

Okay, what the hell is goin’ on? Clyde thought jealously, watching with suspicious eyes as Fish’s arm wrapped around your waist as he gave you a kiss on yer cheek. He needed someone to explain this ‘cuz he couldn’t understand what was happenin’. One minute, yer talkin’ to him, flirtin’ all nice like, and now your talkin’ to Sam and Fish Bang like ya’ll good friends or somethin’. Was he in like a Twilight Zone? All he could do is pray that you weren’t related to them or that you were Fish’s girlfriend. Anything but that.

Likewise, Jimmy was also taken aback by the apparent run-in between you and the brothers, but he figures that maybe ya’ll are relatives, ‘cause there is no way in hell that one of them is in a relationship with someone like you.

Not able to take it anymore, Clyde addresses the group. “You know each other?!” he asks cautiously, his tone sounding a little louder than necessary, his eyes darting between Sam, Fish and you.

“Well, yeah.” Sam is the first to answer, lookin’ confused to ‘ve been asked that in the first place. “We’ve been waitin’ o her, on account of her bein’ our swiss army lady and all.”

“Wait, what?” Jimmy chimes in two seats away, giving away the fact that he was actually eavesdropping on their conversation.

“What?” Clyde equally in shock makes the same question, not processing what Sam said just now.

“Yea.” Sam answered simply.

Fish hits Sam’s arm, catching his brother’s attention. “Sam c’mon, man. It’s 2017. Weeee’re what?” he said slowly, hoping that Sam will get the point that he’s trying to get across to him. Sam, being Sam, just shrugs; not getting the point that Fish is getting at, causin’ Fish to let out an exasperated breath. “We’re woke, man. It’s Swiss Army MAN.” Fish said as if it was the most obvious thing, clearly embarrassed at his brother’s faux pas.

Understanding the situation as an embarrassment, Sam’s lips formed a small o as he offered an apology towards you. “Oh. I aporogize Vivi, on account of my political correctness.” which you just shrug off, not caring about the insignificant point enough to bother to correct him.

What you did care about was the fact that they were plain out in the open talking about the job in front of Clyde and the bar patrons, as if it was the most casual thing. Besides, What did they mean by Swiss army man? She was definitely out of this internal joke by the looks of it.

“Swiss army man?” You asked, trying to get it but failing miserably.

Sam just nodded and answered your question with a simple “Yeah.” as if that cleared things up for you.

Meanwhile the Logan brother’s can’t believe what’s happenin’ in front of their very eyes.

You didn’t seem like the type that can help ‘em out. Hell, you seemed like one o’ them instagram girl with how pretty you look, not a thief or professional criminal! Jimmy just couldn’t wrap around in his mind just how you, pretty, innocent and girly-lookin’ You could help ‘em; just what did you know?

Clyde, like his brother, was equally taken aback by this whole thing. Just a short while ago, he’d been talkin’ to her for two hours; drinkin’ and flirtin’ somethin’ nice. It seemed like she liked him, and Clyde most definitely liked her. Everything about her was beautiful and sweet. AND it turns out that she’s a criminal. Was she a thief? Was she a killer? He just can’t believe it, and just his luck too. Did she already know who he was? She was just jerkin’ his chain, flirtin’ with him to pass the time? From the looks of it, you were this sweet southern girl, without a bad thought in your mind; not a professional criminal. (Not that he had any ground on to judge you) He just couldn’t wrap his head around it.

And apparently, neither could Jimmy. Getting up from his chair, he approached the three o’ them pointing a finger directly at you.

“You’re Joe Bang’s so-called ‘colleague’? The one he called?” Jimmy asked incredulously .

“Hi. I’m Vivienne, but everybody calls me Vivi.” you introduce yourself to Jimmy with a friendly smile pullin’ at your cheeks. “ And you are? How do you know Joe Bang called me?”

“This here’s Jimmy. This thing is his whole Idea.” Fish takes the opportunity to explain to you.

Jimmy scoffs while shakin’ his head, not believing this. I guess looks’re deceiving, huh. He thinks to himself in his head as he reaches out to offer you his hand to shake it.

“Jimmy Logan. That bartender you were talkin’ to is my brother Clyde.” Jimmy introduces himself, his tone is defensive, willing to protect his little brother from ‘er. He figures that if you’re a friend o’ Joe Bang, he’d have to be careful with you.

You caught his tone and the sudden tension comin’ from both brothers, but you decided to play it off, used to people underestimating and being uncomfortable with you “Nice ta’ meet ya Jimmy”. You greeted him as you were friendly and shook his hand. You were hoping that Mr. Clyde “the Bartender” Logan would’ve been a good time, after all, your chemistry was so good; and then fate kicks you in the butt, making him find out who you were.

“Likewise.” Jimmy replied politely.

You put your right hand on your cocked hip. “So...Mr. Logan, what’s the job?”

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

Hi guys!! I hoped you liked the first chapter. Fist of all let me just say that I apologise for the word count on this first chapter. I usually write about 3k words, maybe 4, but I wanted to establish the tone of the scenes and and ended up writing a lot.

Like it says in the summary this started out as a one shot but then turned into a short fic, which incidentally lets me add more details. Like my other fics; I don’t have a set word count. I got with the flow of the prose until i feel it’s enough.

So let me know what you think, i’d love feedback.

all my love

Selen R :)

Taglists are for friends (let me know you’d like to be added)

89 notes · View notes