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fromthedeskofelizabeththird · 4 years ago

Text

Habanero

You're a good girl, well behaved.

Absolutely not the type to rail random guys in nightclubs.

Until you are.

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Aizawa x Reader, eventual polyamorous Erasermic x Reader

Rating: Gen

Trigger Warnings: None in this chapter. Unless you count Mineta ig

AO3: Here | Want to support me? I have a Kofi

Chapter: 7/16 (all chapters)

“And the villain came towards me...he was so much bigger than me! I thought I was going to die!!

You scribbled notes on your clipboard.

“Interesting.”

It was now two days after the USJ incident and UA had reopened its doors. Its students had returned to classes as normal and they weren’t the only ones. You had spotted Shouta limping through the corridors and taking classes, as if his arms were not still in casts.

You were grateful now more than ever of your incredibly busy schedule, for you didn’t get a chance to stew in your own thoughts. You had taken each member of 1-A in for trauma counselling, going over the incident and getting a feel for their coping mechanisms. They were stronger than you’d given them credit for, with most requiring nothing more than a feelings diary and follow up appointment in a week’s time.

Their reactions to this had varied widely. Iida, Todoroki and Yaoyorozu asked if there was a word count requirement. Bakugo made no secret of the fact that he thought it was bullshit. Uraraka and Midoriya seemed weirdly excited about it and promised to do their best.

The final student to arrive in your office was Mineta and he had spent most of the session asking for a hug. You were familiar with his type and well prepared. Every time he reached towards you, you pushed your tissue box further across the table and into his open arms.

“Now, Mineta,” you said, picking up the final journal of the set, “I have a very important task for you…”

From the expression on his face, anyone would have thought you had given him the world.

“Of course!"

“This is a feelings diary,” you said. “I’m going to make an appointment a week from now, where we can go over everything, but until then I’d like for you to complete this. For the next week, every time you feel a negative emotion, like fear or anger or anxiety, I’d like you to write about it here. See how there are sections for location, time and what’s going through your mind? You don’t have to worry about filling every box, but it’ll help us make the most of our time together.”

“Anything for you, Miss (Last Name),” said Mineta, holding the book to his chest as if you’d handed him the holy grail. “But...I do have one request.”

“Oh?”

“Please cheer for me at the sports festival!”

Regardless of their reactions to the session, almost every member of class 1-A had asked for you to cheer for them at the sports festival. You had agreed each time, more than a little bit touched that they would think to ask.

“Of course!”

You were sure you spotted Mineta raising the journal you had given him to his nose as he left the room and you let out a sigh, getting up from your desk to pour yourself a glass of water. Getting through your meetings with 1-A had taken up most of your day and you were grateful for a moment’s peace and quiet.

The silence didn’t last long, though, for someone knocked at your door only a matter of minutes later.

“Come in,” you called out, wondering if one of the students had forgotten something. Perhaps they had further questions about the task you’d given them.

The person who came in, however, wasn’t from 1-A. They weren’t even from the hero course. It was one of the students in general studies and you searched your brain for his name. You had certainly seen his file, but couldn’t remember why it stood out to you so much.

What was it?

Oh! That was it!

Shinsou

He still stood in the doorway, examining your office in curiosity.

“I wasn’t sure if you were open…”

“Of course! Take a seat."

He obeyed, flopping down into the chair opposite your desk and sitting in silence. You had seen his type before too- the ones who reached out for help, but needed some degree of coaxing to vocalise their problem.

“Candy?” you asked, holding out the bowl of hard boiled candies you kept beside your computer monitor for such occasions.

He reached in and picked out a sour cherry, though didn’t eat it, instead turning it over in his fingers as he stared at the floor.

“Is it true,” he said at last, “that if we make an impact at the sports festival...we can change classes?”

“Were you thinking of swapping?”

“I guess.”

You clapped your hands together, turning to your computer.

“There’s a form we need to complete together,” you said, loading up the file. “It’ll only take a couple of minutes.

He shrugged and unwrapped the candy.

“Whatever.”

He mostly nodded his way through your questions, crunching at the candy every time you filled out a box. He seemed dismissive of the choice he was making, though you got the impression he was anything but. In many respects he reminded you of Shouta.

“And that’s that,” you said, reaching for your stamp and putting it to paper. “Give this to your home room teacher as soon as you can and they’ll make the relevant arrangements.”

“Thanks,” he said, taking the paper and folding it in half.

He didn’t move for a while, running his fingers over the paper as if unsure that it was real. Finally, he got to his feet and snatched up another candy from your bowl, this time sour apple. He unwrapped it and turned to the door, though stopped before he could reach for the handle.

“Um,” he said, “that is…”

He took a deep breath and gave you an overly formal bow.

“Pleasecheerformeatthesportsfestival.”

With that, he hurried out of the room, shoving the candy in his mouth as he closed the door behind him.

You watched the door for a short while after that, finally giving in to laughter.

You hadn’t fully agreed with Nezu about holding the games, but at that moment you felt you understood his decision better.

You couldn’t wait for the sports festival; couldn’t wait to watch the students you had come to know give it their all. You promised yourself you would cheer for them -all of them- until you had no voice left.

You only hoped your feelings would reach them.

_______

That evening, as you cooked dinner home alone, Hizashi went to see Shouta. You had been more than happy for him to check in on him in your stead, still overcome with guilt at the kiss. Not to mention that there were certain aspects of his recovery that were inappropriate for you to help with, much like today.

Hizashi whined as he rifled through Shouta’s bathroom cupboards.

“Unforgivable,” he whispered under his breath, to which Shouta groaned.

Hizashi was in the process of helping him wash his hair, an offer Shouta protested more than once, only to give up and stare into space as Hizashi sat him down on a stool at the bathroom sink, draping a cape over his shoulders as if the pair of them were at a salon.

“I can forgive a lot of things, Eraser,” said Hizashi, turning to Shouta with a heartbroken expression and numerous identical bottles in his arms, “but this?”

“They were on sale,” shrugged Shouta. “I stocked up.”

“These are 3-in-1! Shampoo, conditioner and bodywash? It’s like you’re doing this on purpose.”

“I am doing it on purpose. They’re cheap.”

Hizashi shoved them back into the cupboard, rushing over to the bag of products he’d brought with him. He had only brought the bag because it had a portable shower head. He’d never dreamed he would have to bring out the big guns.

“Let’s see,” he said, picking through the bottles within. “I think...this one.”

He planted it onto the sink next to Shouta and fixed the shower head to his tap. Shouta leaned over to read the label. Magnolia Sunrise . He recognised it, but he wasn’t sure where from.

He flinched as Hizashi turned on the tap and fiddled with the temperature, though closed his eyes the second water ran through his hair. It was soothing, but he’d never admit it.

Hizashi took in his relaxed demeanour and smirked, thinking how ridiculous this might look to an outsider. He switched off the water and gathered a little of the shampoo in his hands, working it up to a lather and then reaching towards Shouta’s hair.

“Eraser,” he said as he massaged the shampoo into his scalp.

“What?”

Hizashi had wanted to take care of his friend, that much was true, but he’d be lying if he said that was the only reason he had gone there. He had agreed with Nemuri not to act until after the sports festival, but a lot could happen in two weeks. He still believed you to be Shouta’s rebound and feared that if you checked in on him too much or spent too long at his house, the rejection would hit you far harder when it inevitably occurred.

Not only that, but he still didn’t know anything about the mystery woman, which bothered him far more than he would ever admit. He had known Shouta for half of his life and up until recently would have insisted he knew just about everything about him.

It was a long shot, but he hoped that if he asked the right questions, Shouta would reveal everything of his own accord. Not only would Hizashi be able to use the information to track down the girl, but it would also make him feel better about not knowing she existed. He couldn’t believe that he had missed out on such an important development in his friend’s life. He had always believed that he would be involved in every step of the journey if Shouta ever developed feelings for someone.

“Do you ever think about...dating?”

“Dating?”

“Yeah, like going to mixers and things, picking up dates.”

“Not really,” he said. “Why?”

“No reason,” said Hizashi, turning on the water again. “Y’know...it’s just that we’re at that time of our lives where people start thinking about that sort of thing. Even Nemuri talked about going to speed dating not so long ago.”

“Dating takes time and I don’t have much of it,” shrugged Shouta. “It doesn’t make sense to burden someone with a relationship when I’m not going to be around a lot of the time. And that’s assuming they’re not as busy as I am. If we were both busy, we’d never see each other.”

“But what if they were super special somehow,” said Hizashi, thinking of the triple breasted woman at Ego . “What if…what if you met them and knew they were the one?”

“I dunno. Why? Are you thinking about dating?”

Truth be told, Hizashi thought about dating a lot. He wanted someone to spoil with gifts and serenades, someone he could gush about on his radio show. He wanted someone he could sing with in the shower after fucking them in it.

“No,” he said, rinsing Shouta’s hair. “I just wondered, you know.”

Shouta didn’t say anything to that and he continued to wash his hair in silence.

“Eraser.”

“Yeah?”

“What do you think about (Name)?”

Shouta cracked open an eye, wondering about Hizashi’s motives. He had taken care not to drop hints at anything that had happened between you, though wondered if he hadn’t been careful enough.

“She’s a capable guidance counsellor,” he said. “Why?”

“N-no reason!”

Hizashi continued to wash his hair in silence. He hadn’t expected him to divulge anything, yet felt disappointed anyway.

“Now,” he said, “time for conditioner...and then we can go straight on to blow drying!”

“No funny business.”

Hizashi feigned innocence, as if he hadn’t brought curlers, making the most of Eraser’s inability to stop him.

“I don’t know what you mean!”

“Mhmm.”

__________

While Hizashi put rollers in Shouta’s hair, you sat up in the bath to reach for your shampoo.

Magnolia Sunrise.

The same shampoo that Shouta had seen on the morning of the reset.

_________

The games began two weeks later and you could barely hide your excitement. You had seen how hard the students were working for their futures and how proud their teachers were in turn. You couldn’t wait to see the fruits of their labours.

You had only ever seen the games on television and being on site was more exciting than you could possibly describe. Within an hour of your arrival, you had already picked up an array of masks and candies, ready to distribute them among your nieces and nephews. You also picked up a few boxes of candied apples. Tensions were running high and you were more than a little aware that it went both ways. Events such as this produced shocking highs and even worse lows. Candied apples wouldn’t fix everything, but it was a start.

1-A had gained the eye of both the general public and professionals as a result of USJ. Unsurprisingly, their stadium was the busiest. You were grateful to have a seat in the first place, let alone one alongside the teachers, with a clear view of the action.

The first trial was an obstacle course and it left you on the edge of your seat. You watched in a combination of shock and delight at the incredible improvisational skills of each and every student, so far removed from the kids you had given diaries to.

After the trial, when Midoriya, Bakugo and Todoroki crashed into the first three, you took a quick bathroom break. You had treated yourself to an iced tea before sitting down to watch the event and, as a consequence of the nervous sipping you had done, needed to pee pretty badly.

You bumped into Nemuri on your way out of the washroom.

Nemuri, much like Hizashi before her, had not only agreed to take a step back from interfering until after the games were over, but knew an opportunity when she saw one.

“Oh, (Name),” she said, “I found you just in time!”

“Is everything okay?”

“I passed Mic on the way here,” she said. “He said he needed your help!”

“He did?”

You knew that both Hizashi and Shouta were providing commentary for the games. You also knew that the commentary stands were quite far away from your current position.

“Yeah, he said it was pretty urgent!”

“I...uh...okay!”

If Hizashi truly did need you that desperately, you probably shouldn’t keep him waiting.

_________

Hizashi, needless to say, had not needed you at all. Nemuri had counted on him being as opportunistic as she was and snatching up the chance to have you and Shouta spend more time together. She had not, however, counted on Hizashi’s objectives being different to her own.

He and Shouta were going through the listings when you poked your head around the door.

“(Name),” he said, “it’s good to see you!”

“Hey,” you said, “need a hand?”

You assumed that, as he had asked for you directly, there was no need to specify that Nemuri had asked you to go. Hizashi assumed that, as you were a kind sort of person, you had come of your own accord.

If you had used different phrasing, perhaps the outcome would have been different.

“No, no,” he said, giving you the thumbs up. “Everything's a-okay, dear listener!”

“Are you sure?”

You wondered why he had asked for you specifically, only for it to turn out to be nothing.

“Positive! Certain!”

“Well, okay,” you said. “Just...let me know if you need anything.”

You left the commentary stand and descended the stairs, the rumble of the next round beginning. The next trial appeared to be a cavalry style battle and you picked up the pace to get back to your seat. Cavalry battles were always fun to watch and you were curious to know how the students would use their quirks.

Unfortunately, you passed Nemuri en route, who had just finished distributing ribbons to the students.

“Ah, (Name),” she said, “did you talk to Hizashi?”

“Yeah,” you said with a shrug. “Turns out he didn’t need me after all.”

Nemuri cursed under her breath, realising that she had underestimated exactly how oblivious Hizashi could be.

“I just spoke to him,” she said, tapping her earpiece. “He changed his mind...there is something he needs after all.”

“Oh,” you said. “Uhhhh...okay...guess I’ll go back.”

Just like that, you returned to the stairwell, biting back curses of your own every time you heard a crash from outside. You all but sprinted back up the stairs, hoping that whatever Hizashi needed wouldn’t take too long and you would still make it back in time to catch the rest of the cavalry battle.

Hizashi muted his microphone the second you came back.

“(Name),” he said, “what…”

“How can I help?”

Once again, you didn’t mention Nemuri. This time Hizashi panicked, no longer certain that your offers came from a place of selflessness. Could it be that you just wanted an excuse to spend time with Shouta? Would you just keep coming back every time he sent you away? A week ago, he would have loved nothing more than for you to sit with them in the stands, but now he feared the worst. He had to get you away from Shouta and quickly.

“I...um...yes! There is something you can help with! I want some of the...uh...the All Might mochi. Could you fetch some?”

The mochi stand was far from the stadium. The queue for it was at least a mile long. You had observed this yourself when you picked out treats that morning. You took his money, albeit begrudgingly, praying that the queue would have died down now that the second event had started.

Unfortunately, you were out of luck. Everyone in Musutafu seemed to have had the same idea. You watched the television screens as you took your place in line, mourning the amazing view of the action you would have had from your seat.

You decided to buy yourself some of the dango once you got to the front. You needed something to make yourself feel better.

The vendor sold out, though, before you could get even remotely close to the front, the cheers from the arena adding insult to injury.

You trudged back inside, resigned to the fact that you were never going to see the cavalry battle, only for someone to call out to you from a short distance away. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw who it was.

Masayama Akira. Commercial director of the Silver Edge group, an umbrella corporation that owned and managed a great number of agencies in the country.

Your ex.

Success suited him, you considered, eying his tailored suit and Italian leather shoes. He had always dressed well, believing that sometimes the illusion of wealth was enough to cultivate success, but you had been away from him for so long that you had almost forgotten.

“You...you look great,” he said, coming over to give you a one armed hug. “How are things?”

You didn’t look great and you knew it. You were hot and sweaty from running up and down the stairs and then standing out in the sun.

“W-what are you doing here?”

You hadn’t expected to run into him at the festival. Neither of you had attended before.

“I’m here on behalf of the group,” he said, sounding a little sheepish, “officially, anyway.”

“Oh, you wanted to get an eye for future investments?”

“No,” he said. “Actually, I was hoping I’d run into you.”

It was the last thing you had expected him to say and you prayed it didn’t show on your face. You hadn’t committed to his suggestion of going to dinner, nor had you made any attempt to contact him since the day of the USJ incident. You didn’t trust yourself to be around him. The breakup had wounded you and you weren’t naive enough to believe you were healed.

He looked good, though. You couldn’t deny it. You couldn’t stop thinking about how he looked without his clothes; the noises he made before he came; the way he would place his hand on the small of your back in public.

You’d missed him; missed the sound of his laugh and the softness of his kisses. You had caught a whiff of his cologne when he hugged you and every memory you had tried to bury came rushing back. You remembered movie nights; the cooking classes you had taken to become a good wife; the ugly socks and gloves you had knitted for him.

“I know you’re busy,” he said, “but I really would like to take you to dinner.”

“I’d love to,” you said before you could stop yourself.

“How about this week?”

“No good,” you said. “We’re organising internships for the next couple of weeks. What about the week after? They’ll be on their assignments by then and things should have calmed down.”

“Sounds good. Shall we go to the usual place?”

Your usual place was a French style restaurant near his apartment that was almost too bougie, with wisteria flowers growing around its windows and doors. You had to admit, you’d missed their house red.

“Do we still have a table?”

“Do you even need to ask?”

You laughed at that, only to jump out of your skin as a boom erupted from the stadium.

“Shit,” you said, turning back to him apologetically. “I can’t stay, I came to get some mochi for my coworker and there wasn’t any left and now I’m late and-”

“The All Might mochi?”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I knew it was popular, but I didn’t expect it to be gone.”

Akira grinned.

“You mean this mochi?”

He lifted his other arm, showing off the distinctive white box with red, white, blue and yellow mochi within.

“Yes,” you said with a gasp, “you’re so lucky!”

He glanced from the box to you before shoving it into your hands.

“Here. Take it.”

“I couldn’t possibly…”

“Don’t think too much about it, we’ll just go Dutch at dinner.”

“I…” you stared at the box. “Okay…”

Your fingers trembled as you took it from him. None of it felt real.

“I’d better go,” said Akira, motioning for the stairwell. “I’ll text you later!”

You waved him off, stomach fluttering. You felt like a high schooler again, having a short conversation with your crush.

You took a deep breath and hugged the mochi to your chest.

“It’s okay, (Name),” you muttered to yourself. “It’s just dinner. It doesn’t mean anything.”

__________

You were still feeling a little giggly when you returned to the commentary stands with the mochi and Shouta glanced from you to Hizashi as you handed it over.

He thought back to the conversation he had had with Hizashi before the games, that he had mentioned your name not too long after he had brought up dating. He considered how enthusiastically you had been to keep coming to the stands, the flush across your cheeks as you handed over the goods, how quickly the pair of you had set up Support Mic .

Just like that, unbeknownst to everyone, Shouta added two and two together and made blue.

_______

A/N

IF YOU’VE READ THIS FIC ALREADY YOU KNOW WHAT’S COMING IN THE NEXT COUPLE OF CHAPTERS AAAAAAAAAA

IF YOU HAVEN’T

#aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #eraserhead x reader #shouta aizawa #habanero

75 notes · View notes

justahopelessssromantic · 5 years ago

Note

Sorry for all the request but I just came up with another one for angel. Where y’all are doing a gender reveal party with his family and urs and also the M.C also but your toddler will help u Pop the balloon??

*Never apologize for requesting Daddy Angel 😂. Anyways here it is and I hope you like it! I had a little fun with this one if you can’t tell haha. Like always I hope you enjoy and let me know what y’all think ☺️*

*gif not mine*

Warnings: Fluff and a little steamy

You laughed along with your sister and mother as you watched your son running around your backyard engaging in a squirt gun fight with his father and a few of his many tios.

Angel had a devilish look in his eye as he made his way towards you, squirt gun locked and loaded. You gave him a look as in ‘don’t you dare’ but he had no intentions of abandoning his mission.

Your son looked between his father and you. Sensing what was about to happen he quickly ran in front of you holding his arms out as wide as he could in hopes of shielding you.

You smiled down at the boy and rubbed his hair as Angel smiled too, proud of his little guy for defending his mama.

He taught him well.

Still his gun was ready to shoot and someone had to take it. He aimed at the tiny chest of your boy drenching the middle of his shirt with water.

Your son squealed at the burst of cold water but still stood firm. He gave his father a glare with which Angel responded by putting his hands up in surrender and setting the gun on the ground, laughing.

“Don’t worry Mama I’ll always protect you,” he said, triumphantly as he turned to face you.

“My very own little hero,” you cooed, heart melting from the sweet little being you and Angel had created together. You rubbed your swollen bump, happy to be expanding your family by one more.

You bent over and scooped your little man into your arms and onto your hip. Resting his head on your shoulder he rubbed your belly with a huge grin on his face.

“Daddy told me we always protect our queen and mi hermano pequeño” he said proudly having fulfilled his duty, still rubbing over your bump with his tiny hand.

“Really now?”

“And that it’s my job as the big brother to help teach him all the things Daddy taught me.” His smile grew showing off the little dimples in his cheeks.

“Hey are you telling Mami all my secrets,” Angel teased as he came up behind you wrapping his arm around you and his children, one hand on your bump the other on the back of your toddler, chin resting on your shoulder.

“I told you to stop telling him it’s a boy, he’s gonna be so disappointed if when we pop the balloon the confetti comes out pink.” You chastised him softly as your little boy hummed to his little sibling in your belly.

“Well he’s not gonna be disappointed because it’s a boy,” he said confidently, “Trust me, mi dulce.” He kissed the side of your head, “But speaking of you ready to find out you're having a little brother?” Angel addressed your son, scooping him into his arms.

“Or sister,” you reminded, shooting Angel a glare as he rolled his eyes.

“Alright everybody shut up!” Angel called out to the crowd, consisting of both your families, “It’s time for the big reveal!”

Everyone gathered around as your sister brought the big black balloon with question marks all over it out and handed you the small pin.

“You said I get to do it right?” Your little boy exclaimed excitedly wiggling in his father’s arms.

The crowd laughed at the little one's excitement and you smiled over at your husband.

“Yes baby, but be careful and you let Papi help you.” You passed the pin to Angel who carefully helped your son with it.

You stepped up behind them so that everyone had a good view and said to the crowd and your son, “Okay on the count of three,” you covered his ears so the noise wouldn’t bother him too much as the crowd began the countdown.

“One. Two,”

POP!

Blue confetti came flying out everywhere and landing on the grass all around you. Your son squealed in excitement and wrapped his arms tightly around Angel, as Angel looked at you with the biggest smile on his face. He pulled you close and kissed you before setting his son down and kissing the top of your stomach.

However happy your little family was not everyone else seemed to share the the joy in the crowd. There was an audible groan of disappointment from the many patched members.

By the end of the party most everyone had gone home, some of the members of the club stayed back to help clean up after the joyous event.

You were lounging in a chair, hands resting protectively over your belly as you watched Angel and your father having a hushed discussion, your father patting him on the shoulder before heading home as well with your mother.

Then you watched as EZ came up to Angel and begrudgingly handed over a large stack of cash, before making his way over to you.

“What’s that all about?” You asked your brother in law, eyebrow raised.

“We had a bet going within the club, about the gender.” He explained, “Angel won. Fuck he was right about your first one and then always going on and on about how this one was also a boy. I just really wanted him to be wrong.”

You laughed, you knew exactly what he was talking about. Almost since the moment you two found out you were expecting again he was constantly going on about how he was sure it was another boy.

That night you tucked your son into bed kissing him on the forehead. Shutting the door all but a crack you walked out into your kitchen pressing your hands into your lower back to relieve some of the pain from being on your feet most of the day.

“Come sit,” Angel said, patting his lap as he sat at the table, two piles of money stacked neatly in front of him.

You strolled over to him and settled down into his open arms across his lap sideways. His hands instinctively found their way to your ever growing bump as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your comforting scent.

“So EZ told me you had a bet going about the gender of our child,” you smiled as he hummed into your neck as his response.

You glanced over to the two piles set out before you and pointed to the much smaller pile, “So I’m guessing this one’s your cut, and that one's mine?” You finished by pointing to the larger pile.

“Actually that one's your Dad’s,” he said tapping the smaller pile with his index finger.

“But he couldn’t be a part of the bet, he’s the one who-”

He smiled as he watched your face, seeing the exact moment when everything fell into place in your mind.

“No! Angel Ignacio Reyes, you didn’t!?” You scolded looking him in the eyes to see if he was for real, “I just know it’s a boy, it’s just a feeling, mi dulce. Father’s intuition,” you mocked him.

“I really did think he was a boy, I just needed the proof for my plan to be solid.”

You gave him ‘that’ look and he went on to explain further.

“It took a bit of convincing, your Dad’s a tough negotiator,” he added, “But even without his cut there’s still enough for that new tv I was talking to you about. And of course that was another stipulation, that he can come over and watch all the games here.”

You were going to have to have a little talk with your father the next time you saw him.

“The plan was foolproof baby,” he continued relaying the details of his great scheme, “All I needed to do was annoy EZ enough for him to come up with the idea of the bet all on his own and then with enough of my gushing about how right I am and annoying all the other guys it wasn't long before they were all betting against me. It was like taking candy from a baby.” He grinned at you.

“They underestimated me. I’m more than just a pretty face, mi amor.”

“That you are.” You stood from his lap opening the cupboard and pouring yourself a glass of water from the sink.

“Just think of it (Y/N). The flatscreen will look so great on the wall,” he turned in his chair sideways so he was looking at you again, “And you are gonna be able to see every detail. The games are gonna look fucking amazing, and (Y/S/N)’s movies are gonna be so bright and colorful he’s gonna love it! And it’s a spectacular model for gaming.”

You stared him down drinking your water as he gave you his sales pitch, which had so far been rather unconvincing.

He smirked at you as he licked his lips, “And maybe we can even make a few movies of our own, have a private viewing.”

You almost choked on your water, almost, but kept your cool exterior.

Setting your glass down you swayed over to him. He ran his hands over your bump and then behind you to rest on the small of your back as he brought you down straddling him.

Running your hands up and down his chest you whispered, “How about we make one now?” You teased, biting your lip.

He groaned already growing hard beneath you. Smirking you leaned in kissing him feverishly as he slipped his tongue inside your mouth while you started grinding your hips against his.

Fuck you knew exactly how to mess with him.

You broke your kiss smiling sweetly. His eyes had darkened and he was ready to pick you up and carry you straight to the bedroom.

“Not so fast, baby.” You removed yourself from his lap and for a second he thought he was gonna get to take you right here and now.

Until you reached over onto the table taking the two piles of money he had counted and stacked so neatly into your hands.

“Babe, what are you doing?”

“Oh just consider this my inconvenience fee.” You gave him another sweet smile.

“Come on querida. Of course I was gonna share, we could get that new mixer you’ve been wanting too.”

“Oh I will be getting that new mixer,” leaning in you kissed his forehead, “Goodnight Angel.” With that you left him and made your way down the hallway counting your money.

“Can we at least talk about getting the tv?” He called out.

“Goodnight Angel,” you sang again as you turned around blowing him one last kiss before disappearing into the bedroom.

He shook his head and chuckled to himself, you would be getting your mixer and much to his and your father’s dismay you would not be getting that new flat screen tv.

Tagging: @cind-in-real-life

Everything Taglist: @jad3djay @fairygardenss

#angel reyes #angel reyes imagine #mayans mc #mayans mc imagine #requests

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ukbathroomshoponline · 4 years ago

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benebathroomsonline · 4 years ago

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sinksandtaps · 4 years ago

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leadingcateringequipment · 5 months ago

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hopelessromanticspoonie · 5 years ago

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The Angel’s Share - Ch. 2

Chapter: 2 of ?

Rating: PG-13

Summary: We are introduced to the female lead in the story, Katherine Adams, AKA Kate, who runs into Sir Thomas Sharpe.

Permanent Taglist for hopelessromanticspoonie: @just-the-hiddles @nonsensicalobsessions @vodka-and-some-sass @myoxisbroken @brokenthelovely @blah666 (could not be tagged)

Taglist for The Angel’s Share: @rjohnson1280 @alexakeyloveloki @villainousshakespeare

If you would like to be added to either taglist, please comment or send an ask!

Co-written with the ever-amazing @yespolkadotkitty! She’s a rock star!

“You owe me a drink for this. The good stuff, not the bottom of the barrel well booze that you give Frank when he’s three sheets to the wind.”

“Well, maybe it’ll be Crimson Peak, if you give it a good review. Thanks so much, Kate. I can always count on you!” Eddy sang her praises into the phone, punctuating his statement with a cough that sounded more canine than human.

“Please don’t mention it,” she grumbled snarkily, ending the call with her boss, the owner of The Dapper Tap, and sliding her phone into the ridiculously tiny clutch that she had dug out from the recesses of her less-than-tidy closet. She felt almost naked without her standard large black purse slung over her arm, holding all of the essentials and then some, but that wasn’t proper for the launch of a new line of whiskey.

Proper could kiss her arse.

She passed the cabbie a handsome tip as she got out of the cab as gracefully as she could manage. Thankfully the event wasn’t held in the heat of the summer day, and her flowy red dress would provide a bit of a breeze as it brushed against the tops of her knees with each quick step toward the building.

“Name, please?”

Her feet, clad comfortably in black sandals because she was not being paid enough to wear heels, had taken her right up to the entrance to the historic-looking red brick building without her noticing. She startled and lifted her distracted gaze up from where it had been trained on the lush green grass, taking in the attendant standing guard at the entrance. Dressed in a suit that had to be far too hot, he looked about as pleased as she did to be there.

“Katherine Adams, representing ‘The Dapper Tap’,” she stated clearly, brushing her caramel colored hair out of her face as she stifled a sigh.

The young man, he was practically a boy, checked a clipboard he had pulled out from behind his back before waving her through. “You’ll find everything straight on through the hallway and out the other side.”

“Thanks,” she nodded once, skirting past him, noticing he wore an earpiece. This was clearly an event with proper security.

Whoever had thrown the event, Eddy hadn’t mentioned it amid his coughing fit, had pulled out all the stops. Coming out onto the lawn that had been indicated to her, the spectacle was quite a sight to see. Music from a small band set-up on a wooden stage drifted to her ears, bouncing off of vine-covered walls and only faintly muffled by the guests already in attendance. Small, but tall tables with wrought iron and wood stools were scattered around at regular intervals, offering a place to rest a glass while exchanging handshakes and business cards. The occasional waiter parted the crowd, carrying finger foods to dull the effects of what would most likely be too much whiskey passed around amongst those in attendance.

Best get on with it. Pasting on her best customer-service face - a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes - she thrust herself into the small, obviously curated group of attendees, searching for a familiar face amongst the crowd as she made her way to the bar where the liquor in question was served. She plucked a napkin from one of the various small stacks dotting the bar, glancing quickly at the finely printed script on its soft surface.

Crimson Peak, the finest barrel-aged whiskey produced by the Sharpe estate.

“Straight, please,” she told the waiting bartender, preferring to taste the varying flavors of the alcohol without the diluting effects of ice or mixers, although that would surely help the heat concentrated on the back of her neck from her thick mane of hair.

Cupping the glass and placing a few bills pulled from her bag into the tip jar - as a former bartender, she knew the importance of tipping - she turned around and headed to an empty table, chewing idly on her bottom lip as she slowly inhaled the bouquet of the amber-colored liquid.

It wasn’t unpleasant, with layers of oak and smoke that tickled her nose. Pulling a sip into her berry-stained lips, she allowed her gaze to roam the grounds, searching for the man responsible for the expensive sales pitch in question. His unforgettable face, all high cheekbones, guileless blue eyes and a poet’s mouth, had been plastered over tabloids several times over recent years, his nights spent on the arms of beautiful society girls in the doorways of exclusive clubs in Mayfair and West India Quay serving as pressing news for countless sycophants everywhere.

And then he’d dropped off the face of the World. Or so it had seemed.

Why he had reappeared now, hawking his wares, was anybody’s guess. It wasn’t her prerogative to question the comings and goings of people born with silver spoons in their mouths. She had a living to earn; a life to live. And it didn’t include hobnobbing with the upper classes in venues that cost more than a month’s worth of her wages.

Her mission was simple: meet the man so she could prove to Eddy that she’d showed up, sit through what would surely be a presentation full of hot air (him) and eye rolls (her), take the sample bottle that would probably be offered, and hop in a cab home in time to watch her favourite late-night detective drama before bed. It was rare that she had a Friday night off, and she wasn’t going to squander it staring up the noses of the gaggle of holier-than-thou guests milling about on the lawn, likely talking about croquet and the best way to roast a pheasant in your Aga these days.

There.

Stuck in what was surely a dull conversation with a portly man with the ruddy face of a man who seemed to know his liquor, and a tittering socialite whose smile stretched too wide over her heavily made-up face, stood a fallen angel in a masterfully cut suit.

His midnight-black hair framed his face, a riot of waves and curls that looked soft enough to sink her fingers into. His blue eyes met hers across the expanse of lush green lawn, his irises the striking colour of the ocean at dawn. His sharp features, softened by a mouth made for sweet nothings and sin, could have graced any number of magazines. His tall frame was draped in what was surely Armani, the tailored navy fabric skimming his long limbs, the crisp white shirt flirting with a carefully revealed triangle of his flat chest.

Sir Thomas Sharpe. The socialite’s date of choice some years ago.

His gaze held hers and he glanced down at the ruddy-faced man. “Excuse me. I’ve seen someone I must catch up with.” His beautifully enunciated words carried to her across the stretch between them, and he headed towards her, a friendly smile tipping up the corner of his mouth. Serious, he was handsome, but the smile elevated him into downright stunning.

Shame this was one tall drink of water that she’d never sip from. Even if he had been her type, which he most definitely wasn’t - far too posh - she wasn’t his, her curves a little too pronounced and soft in comparison to the athletic, ultra-toned models he was used to cavorting with about town.

“I owe you one,” he murmured as he approached Kate. “Thanks for saving me from being quite literally bored to death.”

Kate looked up at him, unimpressed. She cocked her head slightly, genuinely curious. “What percentage of the time does that line work? Fifty? As much as seventy, maybe?”

He frowned. “I beg your pardon-”

A glass being clinked over the PA system interrupted whatever he had been about to say. ‘A glorious pearl of wisdom, no doubt’, Kate thought with an internal eye roll.

“Ladies and gentlemen. Please take your seats in the drawing room where Sir Thomas Sharpe will give a short presentation on his single estate whiskey, Crimson Peak.”

“Looks like you’re up, Sir,” she said, her distaste for the title dripping from her words much like the condensation on the outside of the glass she held carefully in front of her. She gave a slight mock bow at the waist, gesturing for him to go ahead of her into the grand stone archway of the - hopefully air-conditioned - building.

“Miss,” he began, in that James-Bond-dipped-in-chocolate voice, but she shook her head. “I truly didn’t-”

“Good talk, GQ. See you in there.”

And she strode away without a second glance, lifting the glass to her lips for a sip. The rush of oak and woodsmoke on her tongue faded away to the dance of an aftertaste, heady, with a hint of sweetness, like a half-remembered song.

Funny, she’d expected it to be awful. Not soulful.

It made her wonder.

#thomas sharpe #thomas sharpe au #crimson peak au #modern au #thomas sharpe x ofc #romcom #crimson peak #no incest #lucille isn't mad #the angel's share #meet-cute #hopelesswrites #yespolkadotkitty

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jamesahrens · 5 years ago

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brandithecrystalgem · 6 years ago

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Intruder Alert!

O-KAY! So, this is my addition to the From Wakanda, With Love series. I’m posting a little early because I’ve been roped into going out this weekend!

I had one helluva time writing this, as I haven’t written any fiction in like...10-ish years, and I haven’t written any fanfiction since the days of the msn group message boards. But, as much as I doubted my skills through this whole process, ya’ll will probably see more from me every now and then, once I really figure out this style of mine. ALSO! Tips, criticisms, feedback, alldat is welcome.

So, without further ado - here it is!

Characters: Erik x Black OC

Warnings: None, really. A bit of cursing in the dialogue, brief mention of smut but nothing that’ll get you steamy.

Word Count: ≈ 1700

Prompt: #27 - The only time I’m ever at peace is when you’re not here, breaking everything in my house.

It was the perfect Saturday.

The frigid Cambridge winter finally broke to give way to a balmy spring, and with the opening of a curtain, the sun’s soft rays lit up the once dreary apartment. Erik, clad only in black sweatpants, sat wide legged on his couch. A copy of The New Jim Crow lay unopened on the wooden coffee table as he lounged with his eyes closed, head bobbing gently to the sounds of Maxwell’s Ascension pumping through his speakers. He felt Gouda, his 2 year old tortoiseshell cat, walk across his lap, and assumed she was making her way to her preferred spot on the windowsill. His eyes popped open in surprise when he felt her plop down and curl up next to him. With a gentle smile on his face, Erik closed his eyes once more and began to delicately pet his favorite feline just as his playlist switched to Groove Theory’s Tell Me.

It had been months since he had a weekend where he didn’t have any obligations to fulfill, or errands to run, or papers to grade, so he was going to enjoy it by doing absolutely nothing. Midterms were over so the frantic emails he’d usually receive from his students had died down, at least for the weekend. Not that he’d be responding to them today, anyway.

Erik’s head gently swayed to the music as he began thinking about what he’d be eating for dinner. The night before he’d run out to a butcher’s shop in Boston to get, what he considered, the best short ribs in the entire metro area and a bottle of A.P Vin pinot noir, a wine he’d come to enjoy during his unnecessarily frequent “networking” events the department chair “strongly suggested” he attend.

He already had the rest of the ingredients necessary for his red wine braised short ribs, and he was finally getting the chance to use the dutch oven he bought during a Black Friday sale. He briefly opened his eyes to check the time on the clock above the tv, making a mental note to start preparations for his meal in about two hours.

Yes, it was the perfect Saturday.

A knock at the door took Erik’s attention away from his food fantasies and caused one of Gouda’s ears to perk up in awareness. He wasn’t expecting anyone, so he opted to ignore the knock. He figured it was the annoying ass white man who lived across the hall coming over to complain about his “urban” music as he had many times before. Erik had half a mind to get up and increase the volume on the iHome out of pure pettiness, but his position on the couch was far too comfortable to abandon.

A minute went by before another set of knocks came, louder and longer than the first. Erik’s eyes shot open as he and his feline companion both turn to look at the door, because surely whomever it is has lost their minds.

Begrudgingly, Erik stood and made his way over to the door to look out the peephole before sighing heavily and dramatically. So much for his perfect Saturday…

Opening the door he’s met with Simone Michael’s bright, devilish smile. The yellow romper she wore contrasted beautifully with her deep brown skin, and her hair sat on top of her head in a giant puff. The large tan leather tote she carried everywhere except for formal events was clutched under her right arm, one of the straps falling. Erik thought she looked adorable, however, she did not fit in with his perfect Saturday plans.

The pair met back in the fall semester at a grad student networking mixer. Simone was an architectural student who happened to live a few apartments down the hall. Even with the geographical convenience, she and Erik saw each other infrequently due to their busy schedules, but still managed to build a mutually beneficial situationship. Truly, they had fun together. Erik knew he could always hit her up for a good time, whether in or out of the bedroom. Still, as fun as she was, Simone was also loud and clumsy, and therefore in direct opposition to the serenity he pictured for his day.

Her glossy lips pursed together in a smirk when she realized Erik didn’t seem at all happy to see her..

“So...you gonna let me in?” Simone asked with a tilt of her head and batting of her eyelashes. With another heavy sigh he opened the door wider to move to the side so she could come through. She glides in just as D’Angelo’s How Does it Feel begins to play through his speaker, her hips involuntarily swaying to the guitar riffs as she sits her bag down. If Erik hadn’t been thinking of ways to get rid of her without doing irreparable damage to their relationship, his hands would have very voluntarily found their way to her hips as she moved.

“What’s with these dramatic ass sighs?” She asked over her shoulder, hips still swaying. “Don’t think I didn’t hear that other one before you opened the door.”

With a roll of his eyes he headed back to his position on the couch, eyes scanning for Gouda only to realize she’d finally ditched him for the windowsill. He plopped down on the couch and stretched his leg out, purposefully taking up most of the sitting room.

“I was trying to have a nice, peaceful, relaxing Saturday.” Erik said, closing his eyes again, hoping she’d get the hint. “Oh, so you need some help relaxing, then?” He could hear the suggestion in her voice, she did not get the hint.

“No Simone, I don’t need ‘help relaxing’ ” he huffed. The sound of cabinets opening and glasses clinking made his eyes pop open and head snap towards the kitchen. “The hell are you doing?!?” He hoped she didn’t stumble upon his bottle of wine, because he’d definitely kick her ass out if it meant saving his short ribs.

“Well…” she continued opening cabinets until she found the box she was looking for, “you’ve been stressed and clearly need to unwind, so I’m gonna make you some tea! You know, for ‘relaxation.’ ”

With a sigh, Erik relaxed back onto the couch. “Simone, baby. I just want some peace, so Imma need you to go back down the hall.”

“Oh so, Im infringing on your peace or something?” She asked, only mildly offended.

“The only time I’m ever at peace is when you’re not here, breaking everything in my house.” He told her outright.

“You are so damn dramatic, Erik” She scoffed. “A bitch drops one glass in the sink and suddenly I’m breaking everything in your house.”

“What about the chip in my coffee table?” He pointed directly at the chip with his eyes closed, having memorized its exact placement.

“My phone fell on it, AND CRACKED, might I add! Besides, it gives the table character.” She defended as she put the kettle full of water onto the stove.

“And what about the rip in my hanging tapestry?”

Simone’s smirk returned as she sauntered over to the couch, resting her forearms on its back. Sensing her presence, he opened his eyes and glared at her with poorly restrained annoyance.

“If I remember correctly,” she started, “you had me pushed up against the wall and we both had a grip on your little tapestry. So” her index finger moved back and forth between the two of them, “WE ripped it.”

Memories of that night made its way to the forefront of Erik’s mind, and his signature smirk almost found its way to his lips.

“Alright, that’s fair. You got that one...but what about my succulent pot that you knocked over?”

Simone made her way around the couch and crawled in between his legs until they were face to face.

“That wasn’t even me, the cat did that one”

Erik’s eyebrows shot up. How dare Simone try to frame Gouda for her clumsiness, the AUDACITY of this girl. “The cat is here every damn day and nothing gets broke, explain that!”

Her hands cupped his face, with thumbs running across his patchy beard before she shrugged. “Iono, cats be catting sometimes.” She felt his jaw tense under her palms before letting out a small giggle and gently kissing him on the lips. He attempted to move his face out of her embrace and defend Gouda’s honor, which led to her arms resting on his shoulders and only extended the lifespan of her giggles. Erik was fed up. “Nah, you gotta leave. I didn’t even want you here in the first place, but now you disrespecting family? NAH, bye!”

He nearly started pouting when she didn’t even flinch at his words.

“Now Erik, you and I both know that if you didn’t want me in here you wouldn’t have opened the door.” He scowled as a response, soliciting yet another giggle from his intruder.

The tea kettle began whistling calling Simone back to the kitchen. When she returned she had two mugs of mint green tea and was met with Erik’s perpetual frown. “You gon need to fix your face.” she told him with a chuckle as she sat the mug down next to his long forgotten book.

She sat her own mug down and made her way to her bag by the door, grabbing her tablet, and returning to curl up in Erik’s lounge chair that sat perpendicular to the couch. She sipped her tea and began working on some urban design sketches before looking up at him and saying, “Go on then, relax nigga!”

Frown diminishing only slightly, Erik grabbed the mug and took a sip before returning to his original wide legged position. This time, the sounds of Alicia Keys’ Diary washed over him mixed with the soft tapping of Simone’s stylus on her tablet. He looked over at Simone expecting her to drop the charade and start up her routine shenanigans. After a few minutes of watching her mind her own business, he let his guard down.

Erik took another sip of his tea before placing the mug back on the table and relaxing back into his position on the couch. His eyes fluttered shut before a small smile pulled at his mouth.

An *almost* perfect Saturday will have to do.

Taglist: @hoopshoney @purple-apricots

#WithLoveFromWakanda

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pjdredful · 6 years ago

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The AV Club

Chapter 8

“Get it together, losers. Move!” The all too shrill shout makes me pull an ear bud out and glance around for the source. For a second there are just too many people from the Winter Formal Committee milling around for me to get a good look and then they part before her in a hurried and nervous wave of bodies. There are bullies and bitches in every school in America. There are bullies everywhere. At work places, in grocery stores, in parking lots and at summer camps. It’s just a sad fact of human life. There are jerks everywhere you go. So I’m not surprised that there is yet another one here in my school but I cringe a little internally when I see the face attached to the voice. Oh God. Mo notices my utter lack of movement and stops fiddling with the light board to stare too.

“Evie…is that…” I just nod once and swallow a little convulsively. Audrianna Saveedra. My worst nightmare in the flesh. It isn’t that she’s just a bully. But she’s my personal bully. Orson was always a dick but he never once came close to the horror and humiliation of Audrianna. It’s almost too much for my brain to compute, her being here of all places. Deep brown eyes scan the group assembled for a minute, as if she’s judging us all already. Her gaze passes over me and I let out a slight breath of air that I know no one can actually hear. Maybe its relief that she seems to not recognize me that makes me start to ease back against the hard metal of the folding chair. Or just sheer stupidity.

The laser like focus redirects and swings back my way and I’m pinned by her stare. I pale just a little when her lips curl up in a very Grinch like smile before she clicks her way over and stands right in front of me. I try really hard not to flinch but it happens when the hem of her skirt brushes my knuckles gone white from gripping the box of mics and cables perched precariously on my lap. “Why Evelyn Rossi, I thought that was you. I didn’t know you went here.” Liar. I know she’s lying because her smug little pig nose crinkles just a bit in too much amusement. God. I can’t even believe I once thought she was cute.

“Yeah. What uh. What are you doing here Audri?” It’s too casually said. Too familiar and that makes her smile even more. See I was hoping it would seem nonchalant and cool but it actually came out a little more nervous than intended. All it ended up doing was reminding her that we have a history and that I remember all of it. Mo looks back and forth between us for a minute, unsure if he should say something or not.

“I go here now. Daddy has a new pet project going and it just makes sense for the family to be closer. Blessing is more than two hours away you know.” I know. I give her a non-committal hum and a slow nod, still watching her like she may lunge viciously at me any second. Like a snake swallowing a scared little mouse. And I’m the mouse. “You know…” She leans forward a little conspiratorially and I lean back just a hair. “If I had known you were going to be here I would have brought my camp album.” Whatever color had finally risen to my cheeks vanishes in an instant. I’m sure that album is filled with all the horrible things she did to me at camp every year. Including my spectacular and totally blindsided expulsion from the closet thanks to her.

Mo finally clears his throat a little pointedly and she turns her dark haired head towards him with a jerk making the long perfectly styled locks fling casually over her shoulder. I wonder if she practices that. “So you’re here at this committee meeting why?”

The predatory smile widens and I have just a fleeting second to think ‘shut up or she’ll notice you!’ in Mo’s general direction. Of course. He’s not a mind reader. And I don’t think he noticed my face before his words tumbled out. Either way, it’s too late now and we both know it from the look in her calculating eyes.

“I remember you. You’re that Jewish boy from camp. What’s your name again? Slowmo? Momo? Homo?” My teeth grind together at the last part. Not because I think she’s calling him gay. I know exactly why she’s mentioning it. A reminder that she knows all my secrets and most of my past.

“His name is Mo.” She gives a slow nod as if to say ‘oh yes of course, how silly of me’. Like that makes it alright or something.

“Ah. Mo. I think it should be obvious by now don’t you? I’m here to organize this committee. Properly.” Properly. It’s those little snide comments that she says without so much as a flicker of emotion that gall me. The implication that we’re just too podunk to have a school dance and do it right. And okay yeah maybe I think it galls me a little bit more that this is the third committee meeting in a week and we still haven’t picked a theme or know what the hell we’re all doing yet. “We can’t do anything so tacky as…I don’t know…Under the Sea or….whatever the little theme was last year.” Under the Sea. Which is just dumb because it’s a winter ball. Why would Under the Sea be a good theme for that?

Several people shift nervously and glance at each other. It’s probably pretty likely those are the ones that were pushing it the hardest. It makes me want to champion the theme just because Audrianna doesn’t think it’s good enough. “We haven’t actually picked a theme yet. So…” I trail off rather stupidly because I don’t know what possessed me to speak in the first place or what the hell to say next.

“Hm. So I gathered. Well if you two are done playing with your….” She makes a vague gesture to the collection of sound and light equipment in boxes around us. The disdain on her face is clear as she realizes that this is all the equipment for the dance set up and it won’t be up to her standards. “We should just get started. I think a fundraiser should be the first order of business.” Audri clicks away with a twirl of her skirt and starts calling the meeting to order.

“How exactly did she just walk in and take everything over without a fight?” I just look at Mo and shrug a shoulder. He didn’t have to deal with her much but he should remember her from a few of the camp mixers that shoved camps Little Hawk and Buffalo Trails together once a summer for a night of awkward slow dancing and sugary fruit punch. “Oh right. She’s Audrianna.” My one consoling thought is that she doesn’t have a gaggle of minions. Yet. Still our county is small and the towns in it are even smaller. Which means that Audri can have her cronies up to see her reigning the school with an iron fist at any time. I smirk but it’s not at all confident and becomes less so when Audrianna starts the group brainstorming for fundraiser ideas.

There are a mix of them. Some stupid. Some okay. All of them met with an impenetrable cold stare letting everyone know they fail miserably. It’s almost funny and that little bit of nervous tension in my gut causes me to do something so dumb that even I want to smack myself in the back of the head. I laugh. All eyes drift toward me and I immediately stop laughing. My toe taps the floor experimentally and Mo elbows me with a whisper. “Stop looking for a Hellmouth to fall into.” He’s right. There’s never a Hellmouth when I need one and really what would I do if one actually opened at my feet?

“Is there something amusing Evelyn? Are your fellow students’ suggestions just not good enough for you?” Oh you bitch nugget. Until I laughed she was thinking that exact thing. It was written all over her face and we all could see it. But it’s just like her to turn it around on me. There is no better way to gain support than by making someone else the bad guy. I clear my throat and roll a shoulder in a shrug before sitting up a little straighter. I have to fix this. Somehow.

“No. Not at all.” It’s a little too quickly said and a few snorts and irritated looks are thrown my way. Mo starts to sit up himself like he wants to say something but I just clear my throat and sink a little lower in my seat. Eyes start drifting back to Audrianna, already looking to her for guidance. Gross.

“Well then any suggestions? Since you seem to think no one else here has a better idea.” I never said that! Of course if I sputter and try to deny it she’ll only wave it off. The damage is done and I can see it in the accusatory looks directed at me.

I’m not really so great under pressure so I fidget a little more and squeak out breathlessly. “Car bake thing?” Car. Bake. Thing. My face burns at the condescending laughter she sets off in the group. It’s not that I don’t know what they are. Car wash and bake sale. They are the staple of every high school booster club or fundraising experience. But put on the spot like that, the way she’s making me look like I’m the snob…I just couldn’t make the words come out right.

Audri stops laughing after a minute and purses her lips as if having to explain something to someone as dumb as I am was distasteful to her. “I think you mean car wash and bake sale.” I resist the urge to mock her tone and roll my eyes. Whatever. Thankfully she takes her focus from me and sighs to the group dramatically. “I was told the school doesn’t even have enough in the budget to hire a DJ for the entire dance. We’re going to have to get creative people. Think big. Think grand.”

The alarm goes off on my phone and I silence it quickly. I slide the box of cables over into Mo’s lap and grab my messenger bag from the floor. Mo looks at me with a slight frown. He knows I’m going to meet up with Lirae to talk to her guy or whatever about following Tony around but I think he’s kind of annoyed at having to be stuck with Audrianna for the rest of the meeting. I give him an apologetic look mouthing sorry before trying to sneak out the door. I can just barely make out the sound of laughter as the door closes behind me, no doubt sparked by some mean spirited comment. And I’m pretty sure I know exactly who made it. I shake it off and jog the rest of the way from the tech room to the field. It’s not that far really and there isn’t any need to run but I need to get rid of some of this anxiety churning my stomach.

I can see Lirae perched on some bleachers at the very top, her silver aviator’s flashing in the sun when she turns her head. The wind lifts a curl, pulling it out of the loose pony tail and dragging it across her face. Lirae’s head twists toward the wind and the lock blows back away from her. It was effortless and simple and somehow a thousand times hotter than Audrianna’s perfectly timed hair swish. I take the steps up carefully and drop myself on to the bench next to her. “Hey.”

Lirae looks up, leaning back on the rail behind her and smiles. “Hey yourself. How was the meeting?” I don’t want to talk about it so I just wave vaguely and make some unintelligible mutterings. “Oh yeah that’s totally how those things go.” She laughs in amusement and leans in to nudge me playfully with her forehead. “You ready to go?” I like that she just accepts my non answer with a quiet joke. She doesn’t push me. It’s kind of part of why I like her so much. Everyone always wants me to just talk about things and stuff. Like all of the time. Not Lirae. She gets me and just lets me be me and it’s nice. Comforting.

“Yeah. Mo says the boys will meet us after at the clubhouse. Orson is still pissed the door won’t stay up and wants another crack at it.” I could tell him why it won’t. My dad is a contractor after all and I’m totally a daddy’s girl when it comes to hanging out in the garage. But it’s more fun to watch him struggle to be a manly man. Lirae chuckles and I lean into her side a little more. We’re not exactly cuddling but we’re sitting pretty close and having a lot of little casual touches. Not unusual for us but it seems a little more charged these past few days what with the kissing and all.

“Are you going to let him keep trying to get it right or just butch up and fix it for him?” It’s my turn to laugh now and I shrug.

“I dunno. I kinda like watching him get it mad at the door like it’s defective.” It’s not like the door is fancy or anything. It was just a standard door we managed to pilfer from one of my dad’s renovation work sites. It would have gone in the trash anyway but only because it was old and kind of ugly. But that is perfect for the shack. At least it matches the structure. We make our way down the steps carefully, reaching the bottom at the same time. Lirae tugs me around by the arm when I start to head to the gate instead of the parking lot in the opposite direction. The momentum of it spins me around too fast and I put my hands up to keep us from crashing together. We do anyway and my reflexive jump back causes me to misstep. Lirae’s arm comes out like a whip, snagging around my waist to keep me from falling. And that only serves to make us over balance and topple back against a very hard concrete trash can. It hits my hip painfully but at least it saves us from falling completely to the ground.

Although we’re now kind of awkwardly leaning against the trash bin without moving and in my case barely breathing. So close. Soooo close. “This is totally your fault.” I open my mouth to argue that and snort.

“How?!”

“You bumped into me!”

“Because you grabbed me!” I laugh even though this is awkward and my hip hurts like a son of a biscuit. Her laugh echoes mine and her brow comes up before she pointedly looks down between us.

“Oh yeah? Well it looks like you’re the one grabbing me now.” I blink once in confusion and let my eyes drift down between our chests. And that’s when I realize I’ve had my hands on her boobs this entire time. How does this keep happening?? I pull my hands back quickly and clear my throat. Boobs. Nope. Don’t think about it. Boobs. Damnit! My face is burning and I know by the tone of her laughter that I’m beet red.

“Well that wouldn’t keep happening if you weren’t so…breasty.” I don’t…that’s not even a word. I just shake it off as she laughs and pulls back enough to let me wiggle away.

“Oh so it’s my boobs’ fault you keep touching them. Classy, blame the victims.”

“They keep touching me!” My defensive tone makes her laugh even harder and I duck my head to try and hide my own smile. Fine I give up. I throw my hands up in defeat and Lirae takes one with a little squeeze. “Okay. Are we going now or are you going to continue to assault me with your bosoms?”

“Dude…you just said bosoms.” She laughs again tugging me toward the lot. I let her lead the way when I realize we’re headed to Orson’s truck. Well. More like his grandmother’s truck. It’s an old Ford Bronco II that has seen better days. It belonged to Orson’s granddad and she never had the heart to sell it so it was her daily driver. I hop in to the passenger seat and buckle my belt. It is hot as hell and I crank the window down as Lirae gets the truck started. “So what do you think?”

Of? I look around and frown. “What do I think about what?” Are we still talking about her boobs? Because those are good.

“My new ride.” Who’s new ride? Hers? Which? This car? I open my mouth but close it with a click before starting again.

“Grandma sold the truck to you??” She nods full of pride as she pets the steering wheel. It’s seen better days yeah but it’s a pretty solid ride. The idle is smooth and strong and not at all like Mo’s Taurus. I run a hand over the burgundy dash board and smile. “It’s great Lirae. This is so cool. But like how did you pay for it?”

She shrugs and I can see the slightly embarrassed but clearly pleased expression in her eyes when she turns away to put the truck in gear. “My um foster mom bought it for me. I got a 4.0 and I’m gonna get to graduate this year with everyone." It's huge for her. HUGE.

She’s never stayed anywhere long enough be able to show any kind of accomplishment or get any kind of validation or reward for doing anything. Things changed for her when she was placed with her current foster mom, Janine. It wasn’t like things changed overnight or anything but slowly Janine has managed to convince Lirae that she wasn’t about to get rid of her any time soon and that she did have a safe place she could call home. I lunge as far as the belt will let me and wrap Lirae in a tight hug. “That’s awesome! Why didn’t you tell me you got a 4.0! I need to start cheating off you in World Civ by the way. We should celebrate!” My tone changes going from excited to playful as I bob my head a little “I know what’chu want girl.” Yup she knows what’s up.

It’s kind of really adorable that she blushes at whatever I just said. “If you say ice crea…” my tone doesn’t change even a little.

“Ice cream cake, y’all!” Lirae covers her face with her hands for a second then shakes her head with a laugh. Who doesn’t love ice cream cake? The devil, that’s who. “Yeah girl. You know you want it.”

“You’re a dork.” That is one hundred percent true and I give her my best cheesy grin as she starts to pull out of the lot.

“Whatever. You love it.” She doesn’t say anything to that but she doesn’t have to. It takes me a second to realize that Orson is probably going to be annoyed that he didn’t get the truck for himself. “Does Orson know?” She flicks her eyes at me then away going a little quieter as we drive. It makes me start to wonder why she’s acting like talking about him is awkward. We talk about him all the time. Or we used to anyway.

“Yeah. He’s cool.” She’s a little shifty about that but I let it go because I’m not sure I really want to delve into that whole thing right now. Lirae changes the subject on me as she lowers the radio. I look back from the window at her and raise a brow. “So listen. When we get there. Do not, Evie, DO NOT freak out.”

I blink once at that. “What? Psh. No. I’m not gonna freak out, why would I freak out?” I’m totally going to freak out. And probably only because she told me not to. I think she knows it too because she rolls her eyes and takes a left on to the main drag before speaking again.

“Because that’s what you do. Freak out.” I don’t say anything for a minute, just deciding if it’s actually worth it or not. I shrug like it’s nothing, making a dismissive wave with a hand because it’s no big deal. “Evie, I love you but you still look at me like you’re gonna freak out.” Well. She has a point but it’s probably not for the reason she thinks. And I’m going to totally ignore the fact that she said she loves me because if I don’t I’ll fixate on it for the rest of my life. So moving on.

“Okay first of all it is not at all my fault you were a juvenile delinquent in your former life. And not to put too fine a point on it you did totally shake me down for my pocket change the first day we met. Furthermore, I only look at you like that because I’m usually trying not to get caught staring.” At her chest.

Lirae reaches out and smacks me playfully as she drives. I can’t help but notice that she’s laughing and it makes her face look totally different. I like it. “Okay if you bring up that lunch money thing up one more time…”

“You’ll what?” I’m honestly curious. “Ditch me for the star football player?” We just keep tap dancing around the whole weird love triangle thing. God, I can’t believe I actually used the phrase love triangle in reference to myself. It feels like so much bad romance novel even I want to throw up a little.

“Shut up.” I snicker at her response but let it go as I watch the town slide past us. Truthfully it’s not really that funny because she and Orson are pretty tight and like I said before, they’re more on again than off again. It’s a worrisome situation for me. I don’t even know where I fit in. I mean I know we have on occasion recently made out but I have no idea what this is beyond that. “I’m serious about not freaking out though. If you look too nervous he’s going to think something is wrong.”

I frown slightly. “What exactly am I going to be freaking out about?” She goes silent. I frown deeper. She doesn’t say anything at all she pulls into a parking lot of a rundown strip mall. It’s not the best part of downtown but it’s still light out and there doesn’t seem to be many people even around. We park and Lirae pauses after opening the truck door sighing as if she thinks it’s better to just get it over with now. That does not at all make me feel better.

“I don’t know. I guess nothing.” It’s too casual and that makes the hairs on my neck stand on end a little. I get out of the truck, making sure to slam the door a few more times when it keeps popping open again. It finally catches with a click and I spin on a heel nearly plowing into Lirae. “Okay he might maybe kinda hit on me.”

Oh. Well. I clear my throat and give a slow nod. “Oh.” I’m not really sure what to say to that. “Why would I freak out about that?” She gives me a look, her lips going tight before she rolls her eyes at me and starts walking.

“Just come on already.” I have to jog a second to catch up to her. We’re almost at the door to the beauty supply and nail shop before I realize it’s our goal.

“Uh…are we in the right place?”

Lirae smirks as she pulls the door open and saunters in like she’s been there before many times. I follow along behind her trying not to look like I obviously don’t belong. I’m halfway sure I’m pulling it off when Lirae stops in the middle of an aisle and puts a hand on my chest to keep me from continuing on. “What is wrong with you?”

“What?”

“Why are you walking like that?” Like how? I blink at Lirae and clear my throat.

“I don’t know what you mean. I’m just being cool. Like. Chill. Lo-pro.” Lirae gives me a very slow blink and turns away. I am apparently NOT pulling off any of that. This is probably what she meant about freaking out. Note to self, pimp-limp does not equal cool. I have to jog again to catch her before she waves at one of the nail ladies and ducks behind a beaded curtain leading to a hall. We pass an open doorway to what looks like a storeroom before stopping at a closed door. Lirae knocks a complicated staccato before opening the door and waltzing in like she owns the place.

“Hey Chuckles.” The guy she’s talking to looks over his shoulder from his game of dominos and grins widely. He has spinners on his gold teeth. I didn’t even know that was a thing. For a second I’m mesmerized by them wondering the how and why of it all.

“Hey Rae Rae!” He’s easily six and a half feet when he stands and pulls Lirae into a bear hug that lifts her feet from the ground. I can feel my lips pulling down in a frown and I have to force myself not to have resting bitch face. “Damn girl I thought you forgot how to get here. Where you been at?”

“Nah just been busy doing that whole school thing. This is my girl Evie. Evie, this is Chuckie. We go way back.” I know that she didn’t mean it like I’m her girlfriend. It was probably totally just a ‘this is my friend who is a girl’. And really it shouldn’t make me all flustered and bubbly inside but it kind of does. I just wave at Chuckie when he gives me a nod still trying to decide why I’m there at all. “How’s business been?”

He narrows his eyes at Lirae and then at me again before he shrugs and settles on to a futon couch against the wall. “It’s alright. You lookin’ for work again?” The way he says it is just a little predatory and it makes me wonder when she worked for him before and what she did. Lirae gives him a shrug and settles on an overturned bucket leaving me to stand awkwardly a little behind and to the side of her.

“I’m good on that but I could use some help with something. It’s personal.” She doesn’t have to look at the other guys still sitting at the small folding table. They all lay down their tiles and get up without complaint. Lirae must know them from before as well because they wink or reach out to nudge her playfully as they leave the office, closing the door behind them with a solid click. Chuckie’s attention goes directly to Lirae as soon as we’re all alone again.

“What’cha need?” His tone is oddly quiet and professional and that just weirds me out because he looks anything but professional. It’s probably the tattoos he has on his face instead of eyebrows that’s throwing me off.

Hazel eyes drift to me and I give her a nod. Lirae reaches into her back pocket and takes out a business card. It’s Tony’s. “We kinda need this guy followed. Nothing big. Just see where he goes, what he does, who he talks to. No contact.” Chuckie takes the card and reads it then leans back in his seat.

“What’s the dude look like?” This time she slips her phone out from where she stuck it in her bra and flips to a picture of Tony. How did she even get that? I frown slightly and raise a brow that she just smiles and shrugs off. I may never find out how she managed that. “I know this building. I got Marcus running this block. Lots of customers in those corporate plaza offices.” I don’t know why his statement makes this all suddenly more real but it does. We’re really doing this. This isn’t just investigating the paranormal. Now we’re investigating people. Lying bastard Tony people, but a real person none the less.

“You’re not going to ask why?” I wasn’t planning on speaking at all but the question just came blurting right out of me. He gives me a look as he hands Lirae back her phone, his fingers lingering a little too long for my comfort.

“Don’t need to. If Rae Rae is asking it’s for a good reason.” Okay. Well. That answers that. He definitely isn’t going on my Christmas list any time soon but at least he’s not into asking too many questions.

Lirae smiles at him and punches him in the shoulder. “So what’s it gonna cost me?” Chuckie looks her up and down like he’s wondering how far he can push her with me sitting right here.

“We can call it square if you go out with me again.” Oh. OOH. Oh shit. They were a thing. THIS is why she didn’t want me to freak out. My eyes cut to Lirae but she’s looking directly at him giving him a look I can’t quite see from my spot.

“You know that’s not happening. How much?” Well at least I know he’s not really competition. I hope. It’s hard to compete with someone who’s a foot taller than you and wears your body weight in gold on his teeth. Chuckie waves at her like it’s her loss for not choosing the date. Though date may be putting it politely.

“We’re cool, Rae Rae. I got this.” So that’s not so bad. We don’t have to pay him any money but I get the feeling that he’ll be asking her out again. His calculating dark eyes flick over to me then back to Lirae. He’s probably wondering if I’m here to keep him from asking again. I’m not so sure he’d be wrong if he thought that. “So what is it? Mr. Football? ‘Cause you know I don’t care about your little boyfriend. I know you ain’t in love with him.” Wow he’s still going for it. I thought he would at least wait until next time to bring it up.

Lirae stands and tucks her hands into her back pockets and she starts for the door. She pauses to look over at him with a lazy smirk on her face. It’s…kinda of super hot. “That’s exactly why he’s not my boyfriend anymore.”

“So then?”

Her smirk gets wider and she shrugs as she swings the door open. I think Lirae is enjoying this as much for his reactions as mine. “Said he wasn’t my boyfriend, didn’t say I wasn’t taken.” She clucks her tongue at him and winks as she pulls me along behind her. I have just enough time to give a half wave and a squeaked out ‘thank you!’ before we’re too far down the hall for it to matter. Okay then. So she’s taken. I let that tumble along in my brain, my feet moving on autopilot through the shop. It isn’t a big place but all the shelves are stacked high with all kinds of cosmetic chemicals. The smells give me an instant headache and I groan.

My hand goes to my messenger bag instinctively reaching for the bottle of Advil tucked in a pocket. I’m relieved when we exit the shop but my headache only intensifies as dusk deepens around us. I thought it was the smell of the place but even outside my head throbs evilly. This is not the kind of headache Advil can fix but I pop two in my mouth and dry swallow them quickly.

“Hey… you okay?” I give her a nod and blink a few times to clear my focus. It’s still too bright out for the street lamps to go on despite the growing shadows as the sun sinks on the horizon. Unease settles in my stomach and I glance around at the dilapidated shops in the strip mall. A thrift store, a tattoo parlor that could give me hepatitis just from looking at it, and a pawn shop. Everything else looks empty and abandoned. This isn’t the greatest place for us to be right now. In the back of my mind I realize it must be my beacon radar going off.

“We need to go. Like now.” Lirae glances around quickly but doesn’t see anything out there that would make me react like this. It doesn’t stop her from taking my hand and starting toward the truck a little faster though. The wind kicks up and drags a plastic bag across the pavement in front of us. It rises off the ground in an updraft and floats a few inches into a narrow walkway between two buildings directly in front of the truck. My feet stop suddenly and Lirae gets jerked back a little by it. “Wait.”

There wasn’t movement exactly. I can’t really be sure what made me stop. I just know that there is something there. A few more tense breaths pass before the sun finally dips low enough for the lights to click on. A hum of electricity starts but the bulbs only flicker for a second before going dark again. Lirae looks up at them but I haven’t peeled my eyes from the darkness of the walkway. I need light.

The second I think it the lamp splashes light into the walkway. That’s weird. The source seems to be lower than normal. I glance up but the street lamps aren’t lit. Then it dawns on me. It’s me. I’m the light. Oh crap. “Oh shit, Evie. Your eyes.”

“I know.” And so does whatever is watching and waiting.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know but we need to get out of here before more come.” My free hand comes up and wraps tightly around my sigil trying to ground myself before I go full on spotlight again. We start forward together toward the truck and whatever is in that alley. It’s almost a relief when we get into the car unmolested and slap the locks down on the doors but that feeling vanishes when the wind slams into the truck with a hard gust. Lirae and I scream a little in surprise. Okay. I scream a little in surprise. Lirae just jumps and gives me a ‘don’t do that!’ look. “Just go!”

She doesn’t argue, she just puts the car in reverse and backs out faster than she normally would. Something dark flashes in front of the headlights but it was too fast to make out. Lirae mutters a curse and peels out of the lot. I start feeling better the further we get from the strip mall. Gradually my light dims and my headache eases. I still haven’t stopped clutching my sigil but I don’t think I can let go even if I wanted to now. My hand has cramped around it from gripping so tightly. “I thought that thing was supposed to keep this from happening.”

She looking at me from the corner of her eye as she drives and I sigh. “It’s a little touch and go sometimes.” She snorts at that and without looking at me, reaches over and squeezes my hand. That reminds me.

“So you’re taken?” This is so not the time for this. I know it and she knows it. But here it is because I need to be distracted from what almost just happened. I need a distraction from the heavy weight that comes with the knowledge that my time of safety is running out quickly and I need answers now.

“Maybe.” I raise my brows at that but she laces our fingers together in my lap. Okay. Maybe I don’t need to hear it again. We drive in silence for about 45 seconds more before I realize that yeah I kinda do need to hear it again.

“So like…”

“Oh my God! Yes Evie. I’m taken.” She didn’t say by me but I decide not to push it because her side eyed glare at me says I might not like her next response. I grin happily at her, content with just holding her hand as we ride.

“Kay.” My easy surrender earns me a suspicious look but then she smiles a little nervously at me. Like this is new for her too. I guess maybe it is. We’ve never talked about it but I’ve never seen her with a girlfriend before. Well I’m pretty sure my brain is going to overheat now from obsessing over every single word between us today. I may think of nothing else ever again.

#my writing #the av club story dredful tales

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