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writersdrug · 5 months

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Training for Two

Chapter 5. Back to Square One

Masterlist

Summary: Simon's rapidly growing obsession with you comes to a halt.

Warnings: obsessive behavior, cursing, slight nsfw

The drive back to Simon's house was quiet and dark. Price had turned on the radio, letting classic rock play quietly in the background. He tapped the steering wheel every so often, humming to whatever lyrics he could remember.

Simon sat in the passenger seat, staring at the cars ahead, occasionally glancing at the signs that whizzed by the truck. Each sign that brought him closer to home made him ache. He thought about his bed. He thought about Riley. And, of course, he thought about you. He knew you most likely wouldn't be there - it was after midnight. But he liked to imagine that you'd be waiting there, sitting on his couch with your book and mug of tea, Riley settled next to you, ready to greet him with your smile - the smile that he'd been thinking about in every stolen moment during the mission.

"Alright there, Simon?" Price cut through the silence, dragging Simon back to earth.

He cleared his throat. "Yes sir. Jus' ready to be back."

Price scoffed. He knew Simon didn't consider his house a home. If anything, it was a safe house between missions. "I'm sure Riley will be happy to see you."

"We'll see about that." Simon said with a chuckle. "This dog-sitter might've stolen her from me."

"Nah, she's yours. Been with 'er through it all." Price said as he turned into Simon's neighborhood. "I'm sure she enjoyed the company, though."

Simon grunted. "Seems like it." He said, remembering the picture you had sent him; the way Riley had cozied up to you, the way she seemed so docile and calm in your presence. He imagined you running your fingers through her fur, the perfect ratio of scratching to gentle pets. He wondered what it would feel like on his scalp...

A shiver ran down his spine. How does one become jealous of their own damn dog? It was ridiculous.

"Speaking of the dog-sitter..." Price said, "Johnny mentioned she's a real-"

"Whatever Johnny told you, you can disregard." Simon grumbled. "I told him not to worry 'bout it."

Price chuckled, which made Simon burn with frustration. "Touchy subject, eh?"

"There's nothing to discuss." He replied bitterly. Quite frankly, he didn't like the picture Soap had managed to paint of him. His entire team thought he was whipped by someone he had barely known. Despite it being entirely true, it was the complete opposite of the image he had built of himself - and he had a reputation to keep.

"Right." Price nodded. Simon could tell he didn't believe him, but as long as he didn't try to pester him anymore about it, Simon would take it as a win.

Price pulled into the driveway, and Simon immediately unbuckled. He reached into the back and grabbed his duffel bag, then yanked his door open and got out.

"Y' know this isn't over." Price said, right before Simon could close the door. "We most likely 'ave a week 'fore we get sent out again. Just don't get too comfortable 'ere."

"Never do." Simon replied, shouldering his bag. "I'll wait for your call."

Price nodded, sending Simon off with a wave. He watched as he closed the passenger door and walked up the path to his house, before pulling out of the driveway and heading towards his own home.

Simon sighed as he fished his keys from his pocket. He heard Riley barking on the other side of the door, and a small smile formed on his face. When he pushed it open, she immediately jumped on him, whining and sniffing him all over. He knew she could smell the others on him, and probably wondered why he didn't bring her this time.

"Hey, girl..." he said, yanking his balaclava off and kneeling down to ruffle her fur. "Sorry I's gone so long. Miss me?"

She stood her front paws on his knees and licked his face, still whining and swinging her tail rapidly.

"Yeah, missed you too." He chuckled. "D'ya have fun? Did she treat you right?"

Riley dropped down to the floor as Simon stood. She turned towards his duffel bag and began sniffing, eyes focused on the fabric as she took in all the new and familiar scents.

Simon sighed. "'Bout time for a proper cuppa." He said, making his way into the kitchen. Despite it nearing one in the morning, it would be a while before he was decompressed enough to fall asleep.

He reached into the cupboard for a mug, ignoring the way his back popped. When he placed the mug down and reached for a teabag, he saw a note on the counter. With a furrowed brow, he picked it up and read it.

Hello Simon!

Hope your deployment was fun good! Riley and I had a blast! She learned how to play dead - if you want to try it, just make sure to give her a biscuit for it (she's only had one today, and she was a bit bitter that I left before giving her a second one). Also, she's had her medicine for the day. I gave her last dose around 9 pm.

Can't wait to spend more time with her, but I'm sure she's happy to see her dad! Let me know when you need me next!

Have a nice evening!

P.S. I had to use your washing machine, I hope that was alright. I got a bit muddy trying to teach her the new trick.

He stared at the note for a good amount of time. His eyes wandered over your meticulously neat handwriting. He noticed how often you liked to use exclamation points - the same way you did in your texts and emails. It made him annoyed - but not with you. He was annoyed that he found it... adorable. He shouldn't. You were too bright and happy; your personality should burn him, not warm him up.

He tried to brush it off, blaming his obervant behaviour on the recent mission. Old habits die hard, he lied to himself.

"Riley, c'mere."

Upon hearing her name, Riley meandered into the kitchen and stopped in front of Simon. She sat on her hind legs and looked at him expectantly.

He looked back at her - he felt a bit silly, commanding a retired veteran dog to do simple party tricks. But, it sounded like you put a lot of effort into teaching her this - not to mention, you had somehow dirtied your clothes over it - so he decided to entertain the idea.

"Play dead." He said firmly.

Riley immediately flopped down onto her back, sticking her paws into the air. She even let her tongue hang out of her mouth to really sell the image.

He felt an immediate rush of pride. "Atta girl..." he praised, kneeling down and patting her affectionately. Despite all the annoyance he felt a moment ago, Simon couldn't stop the smile from creeping onto his face.

She twisted and sat up, snuffling and groaning as he rubbed her fur. She barked once, sharp and demanding.

"Yeah, yeah- suppose you deserve a biscuit, huh?" He stood up and grabbed the box of peanut butter and bacon treats, fishing one out and tossing it to Riley. She caught it perfectly, crunching it with an open mouth and licking her lips afterwards.

He watched her with a smile, his arms folded over his chest. Sure, tricks were dumb, something only glorified house pets did for small rewards. But he was impressed that Riley had so effortlessly followed a new command, especially after being out of work for so long. And he was warmed by the fact that, not only did you watch her, but you engaged with her. He was confident he'd found the perfect pet-sitter.

After starting a load of laundry, Simon had taken a cold shower. He scrubbed his eyeblack off with nothing but his hands and the generic body wash from the corner store. He slathered some of his 3-in-one hair gel into his scalp, giving it no more than seven scrubs before rinsing it out. He stood there for a while, letting the water beat against his sore back as the details of the previous mission swarmed throughout his head. He picked apart what he could have done better, what had nearly gotten him killed, and what had probably saved his life.

His eyes flickered to the corner of the tub; there was a cluster of travel-sized bottles, labeled "face wash", "body butter", and so forth. He let himself imagine - who was he kidding, he had no control over his thoughts when it came to you - your body, standing under the stream of the shower. You probably liked hot showers, didn't you? You most likely stayed in there for an hour, going through your meticulous routine, lathering yourself in scented soaps and creams... you'd be appalled if you had seen the three-minute showers he takes, wouldn't you? Maybe you would pull him into your routine, once Simon did eventually get the balls to ask you out, despite how much the thought of being romantic with someone made him scoff. He'd let you wash his face, or shave his balls, or do whatever it is you would do to him.

He suddenly snapped out of his trance, realizing he was holding one of the bottles labeled "conditioner". His thumb was on the edge of the cap, ready to flip it open and take a whiff of the scent - but he quickly stopped himself. He put the bottle back with the rest, then splashed cold water over his face. Quit being a fuckin' creep... he thought.

After turning the shower off and drying himself with a towel, he went into his room and grabbed a pair of sweatpants. He made his way back into the basement, patting Riley on the back as he passed her by the door. He pulled his laundry out and placed it on top of the washing machine, and opened the dryer. Just as he was getting ready to toss his clothes in, he noticed something hiding in the back of the barrel of the machine.

He reached in and pulled it out - it was your flannel. The same green-and-grey one you'd been wearing during your interview.

He paused for a moment, posture rigid as he held the fabric in the air. He wasn't quite sure what to do with it. It was just a flannel... but it was your flannel. He fought with his muscles, resisting the urge to bring it closer and inhale the scent - he tried to reason with himself. Maybe she used my soap, and it would just smell like my detergent. Nothin' special.

He dropped it on top of the dryer, still wrinkly and warm - but, strangely, that felt too rude. It's a fucking piece of clothing, for Christ's sake... he thought. Not her dead nan. He then attempted to hang it on the rack, but that felt too formal. He groaned, rubbing his eyes with irritation. How something so insignificant was causing him so much turmoil was beyond him.

He ended up bringing it back upstairs. Riley sniffed the fabric as he passed her - she thumped her tail eagerly on the floor as she smelled your scent. Once again, Simon was jealous of the dog being able to act so carefree with you - he knew for sure that if he tried sniffing your flannel, he would be a certified creep. Or, worse yet, he might not care, and wouldn't be able to stop himself.

He tossed it over the back of the couch, planning on forgetting you had ever even worn it. He dropped himself onto the cuhions with a groan. Riley immediately took her place in her bed, just a few feet away from him. He grabbed the remote off the coffee table and turned on the telly, flicking through the channels until he found some action/drama that caught his interest. He watched it boredly, drowning himself and his thoughts in the drone of the movie.

Suddenly, Riley barked. Simon looked at her - his gaze was met with hers, mouth opening and tail thwapping against the wall.

"Hmm?"

She let out an impatient, garbled sound. She lowered her head to the edge of her bed, still looking at Simon.

He shrugged internally and looked back at the screen. He settled further into the cushions and let his eyes fall shut. He thought about maybe drifting off then and there - the din of the telly might help keep the nightmares at bay...

Riley barked again, making Simon jolt. He snapped his head towards her - she was standing at the foot of the couch, ears back and panting.

"Wha' d'you want?" He asked in an annoyed tone.

She barked again, shifting her weight from one paw to the other.

"Ya need to go out?" He asked. He stood from his seat, only for Riley to scamper back to her bed and plop down on it. She looked at him expectantly.

Simon huffed. "'M not following." He dropped down to the sofa again. Riley groaned, making a scene of dragging herself out of the bed again and walking over to Simon.

"Now, don't you go 'n start aga-"

She cut him off with a shrill yap.

He pressed his lips into a thin line. He knew it couldn't be time for her medication - you had just given her some at nine. But he was entirely stumped on what she was trying to communicate to him. Was she hungry? She wasn't usually, after she'd had dinner... did she want to play? But... she was acting like she wanted to go to bed.

"What are you on 'bout?" He asked, leaning down to ruffle her fur. She dodged his hand and backed up a bit, yowling out a frustrated sound.

He scoffed. "Fuckin' hell..." he mumbled, pulling his phone from his pocket. Only one way to fix this, he thought, as he tapped through his contacts, until he landed on yours.

He stared at the picture for a moment, familiarizing himself with the details he had spent so long ogling at: your smile, your damp hair, the curve of your cheekbones, the way you marked your spot in your book with your fingers-

Riley barked again, making Simon scowl.

"A'right- just hush." He ordered, sending her a stern glance as she shuffled back to her bed. He started the call - he felt unusually nervous, his gut twisting as he listened to each ring on the line. Maybe he really was whipped, he thought.

Eventually, the call picked up. His shoulders tensed as he heard shuffling on the other end of the line.

"... m... hello?"

Fuck. You sounded tired- no, you sounded like you were still asleep. He quickly pulled the phone away and checked the time; it was nearly two in the morning. Of course you'd been asleep.

"Uh... hey." He said, mentally cursing himself. "Shit, I, uh... didn't even consider you might be asleep."

"No..." You mumbled - were you even awake at all? "No, iz fine... yeah..."

Simon waited a moment, expecting you to say something else - but you didn't. Eventually, he heard the soft sounds of your breathing again.

"Hello?" He asked cautiously.

"Up... 'm up... what's up?"

Simon shifted in his seat, slightly ashamed that he hadn't put two and two together and ended up calling you so late. "Right- jus' a quick-"

Riley barked again, staring at Simon impatiently.

Simon covered the speaker to his phone and sent her a harsh glare. "Oi! 'M workin' on it, hush!"

Your sleepy giggle wafted through the phone and into Simon's ear. "Sweet baby..."

Simon's breath caught in his throat, and he coughed nervously. She means the dog, the fucking dog, you idiot.

"Uh, sorry- jus' got a question for ya."

"Hmm?"

"Well- she's acting a bit funny," he stared at Riley and held a cautioning hand up as she shifted her weight and whined, "she's runnin' around and yellin' at me. Keeps gettin' in 'er bed, then comin' back like- like she wants somethin'. I have no bloody idea. Just wonderin' if she was doin' this with you."

"Oh, yeah..." Simon could hear your smile through the phone, and he desperately tried to push the image of your tired face from his mind. "She wants her blanket."

Simon paused. "She- she's got her blanket."

"No- she wants you to tuck her in."

"She wha' now?"

You laughed again. "You need to tuck her in her bed. She's right under the air vent and she gets cold."

He looked back at Riley. She was now sitting down, mouth closed, as if agreeing with what you said. He scoffed, rising from the couch and shuffling towards her. She slowly thumped her tail as he approached.

"Never 'eard of a dog gettin' tucked in..." he grumbled. He grabbed the felt blanket behind her, swaddling it around her body. She groaned, slowly blinking at him in an appreciative manner.

"Ya spoiled, you hear me?" He said quietly, tucking the blanket in between her and the cushion of the bed. She sighed happily, completely unaware that he was insulting her. She licked his cheek when he bent down close enough, and he grumbled and wiped the spittle away.

You giggled in his ear - Christ, you've got to stop doing that, do you have any idea what it does to him? - as he sat back down on the sofa. "All better?" You asked.

"Seems t' be-" he replied, watching Riley as she settled into her cocoon, "ya turnin' her into a princess."

"Well, she is one." You quickly replied - Simon could hear you stretching your limbs, followed by a long exhale.

He wanted to talk to you all night. Hearing you prattle on was like a balm to his jagged mind. But he knew he couldn't. You were half asleep, after all.

"Well, tha's all I needed- oh, and you, uh..." he grabbed your flannel off the back of the sofa. "Y' left your flannel here."

"I did?"

"Yeah. The green one."

"Oh, bullocks, I knew I-"

"Who are you talking to at this hour?"

Simon felt his heart stop when he heard the other voice. It had hit him like a train, flooding his veins with adrenaline. His brain went into overdrive, thinking of the worst possible scenario. Break in? Crazy stalker? Murderous ex? "Y' aright, love?"

"Simon." You said, and he couldn't tell if you were talking to him or someone else. Were you trying to warn him? To ask for help?

"Talk to me."

"Who the bloody hell is Simon?"

"My client, ya git."

"Oh- sorry love-" Simon heard more shuffling, then a kiss, followed by a grunt from you. He let himself linger in the confusion of what was going on - but, in the back of his mind, he understood it completely.

"Got me right in my bloody eye-"

"Oh, hush."

"Left your flannel at his house."

"My green one?"

"Yeah."

"I thought you were using the grey one!"

"Well, I was, Tyler, and then I wanted the green one!"

"That's it - I'm stealin' all ya knickers tomorrow."

You laughed again - this time. The sound nearly shattered Simon. He felt like it was wrong to hear you laugh so sweetly.

"Well, uh-" he was speaking before he even realized it. "You can pick it up- or I'll drop it off- or, uh, I can drop it- I mean, I'll-"

"You can shove it in the closet until next time, if that's alright?" You said, yawning shortly after.

Simon paused. He needed to get it together. "Yea, that'll work. I'll let you go then - sorry to call so late."

"It's fine, really. But let me know when you'll need me again, ok?"

"'Course I will. I'll send you an email, as usual."

You scoffed. "I know you said we should only text for emergencies, but you can text me if it's something small, Simon."

"Right, will do. I'll text you."

"Is everything ok?"

"It's fine. You should sleep. I'll talk later."

"Ok. Goodnight, Simon."

"G'bye."

He ended the call, staring at the screen for a moment, until your contact photo faded away. He leaned his head back and sighed. His thoughts suddenly came rushing back - except this time, they were about you. How he should have expected you to have a partner. How could you not? You were so bright and bubbly, of course you'd be snatched up. He felt stupid for thinking you'd be single. Maybe this whole idea of you falling for him was stupid. Maybe this was better - he was saved from rejection, even if this situation stung painfully within his chest.

Whatever. Hopefully, your personality would finally drive him over the edge of annoyance and anger, and you'd be more of a nuisance to him. That'd be the easiest way you could let him down.

He looked at the flannel in his lap. It's not even hers. He thought. He crumpled the fabric into his hand and flung it behind him.

Riley's head snapped up at the movement, and she floundered out of her bed, chasing after the flannel.

"Riley, no- don't-" he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he heard her scuffling across the floor. He kept his eyes closed as he heard her come trotting back, before she stopped at the edge of the couch.

She whined and tilted her head. Simon opened his eyes and looked at her.

"That's not even hers, ya ninny." He said. He looked away and turned up the telly, hoping that everything in his head would just disappear into the back of his mind.

Riley stepped around Simon's feet as she carried the flannel in her mouth. She then hopped onto the couch and settled next to Simon, depositing the (now damp) clothing onto his lap. He grunted as she laid her head down on his leg, whining and flattening her ears. She looked up at him with curious eyes, slowly thumping her tail on the cushion.

He exhaled through his nose. He stared at the flannel, then back at Riley. "Ya really like her, eh?"

She licked her lips and blinked, sighing through her nose.

He chuckled, patting her side and looking at the ceiling. "I know. I do too." He closed his eyes.

"We'll be alright, girl."

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Taglist: @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen @jisungswiftie @sweet-tooth4you @kennyis-aloser @hyyyxr @lahniu @dory-98 @naradae @cum-tea-and-towels @boystepper @definitelynotaclown @your-wifes-boyfriend @ghostslittlegf @bossva @poppingaround @katzykat @mileyraes @chocolate-noodles @jupiternighties @sadlonelybagel @rorysbrainrot @reevesdriver @kingshitonly @ghost4love @lilyofhoon

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost #simon ghost riley #cod fanfiction #cod mw3 #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod #cod x reader

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serve-corps · 1 month

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Haruhi x fem RICH reader

Haruhi's secret girlfriend snuck Haruhi out of school for a date <3 part 2 here part 2

The cross-dressing girl sighs as the so-called 'daddy' of the host club shrouds himself in a corner with mushrooms being his only trusty companions.

she deadpanned at the male as he kept complaining about how his precious daughter held such low standards as she confessed how she didn't care if those girls from that school, what was it called? oh yeah! Lobelia Girls' Academy; didn't care if they flirted with her and tried to persuade her to join their school instead.

basically, the prefect and most idolized pupil of that school was a massive lesbian. she had no issues with this, but her friends did. Tamaki was terrified of someone stealing his precious little girl from him.

welp. that ship's sailed. ¯\_( ͡❛ ͜ʖ ͡❛)_/¯ she's already got a girlfriend!

our poor Haruhi, (I'm sorry for the bad joke there) flipped open her phone impatiently as she had been doing for the past 2 hours whilst dealing with clients sat RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER.

our (little shit) Kyoya took notice of this and was jotting it down in his little rip-off death note and further analysed her uncharacteristic anxious behaviour.

oh? this was new....her eyes were flicking to the outside, more or so to the entrance.

every noise that sounded like footsteps made her snap her neck in their direction with wide eyes, her facial expressions weren't giving away anything about her emotions or thoughts.

Now, back to Haruhi. She was only slightly worried which is unusual of her, but if the host club was reacting like this to the thought of her going to a different school, how the fuck would they react to her girlfriend who's been with her since middle school.

things got a whole lot worse when her phone vibrated 20 seconds after she put it down, she snapped it open almost at Mach 20, hoping it was her most prized person. AND IT WAS! her lips twitched upwards a little but fell once more as she read her beloved's message.

"hi daffodil, ill pick u up an hpur early today! dont worry i got consent from dad dearest and he phoned the school bout some appointment (fakest shi-) "

"but do u want me to go to ur class and pixk u up or meet me bo the g8? gimmi the word gurl"

"lets make this date as long as possible, ur dad gave the rec spot, said it was "✨️fabulous!✨️". yeah. i could see the sparkles as he said it bro. "

Haruhi smiled as she read over the spammed texts, as soon as she finished reading one text, another popped up with a buzz, she smile widened a bit and her eyes softened as she read over them. she jumped as she remembered she had to fuckin reply of course.

"ok tea cake, ill meet you outside by the gate, try be quiet. also, turn auto correct back on <3"

she closed her phone expecting radio silence but as soon as it was back in her pocket it buzzed once more, sighing and smiling, she flipped it back open to see her lover's message in retaliation.

"AUGHK BUT YOU KEOW IT PISSEs ME OFF >:("

she chuckled at the ironicness and childishness, she could almost hear how she was whining in real life, a phantom voice. God she was making her schizophrenic.

another buzz and she looked at her screen, in calm a calm manner which flustered her,

"love you daffodil"

her cheeks dusted pink at the message, it was the little things that got her down bad, she shut her phone with a loud clap, shoving it into her pocket and she looked back at the club.

all eyes were on her, shit.

for starters, all the clients left about 10 minutes ago when her middle school sweetheart started messaging her, but none of the host club members left.

some were giving her weirded out looks, some were smirking at her knowingly and some were just seriously fucking confused.

the 2 smirking were Hikaru and surprisingly kyoya, the weirded out was Kaoru, and again, weirdly enough mori the remnants were the confused one's honey, and the one and only Tamaki.

she snapped out of her embarrassment and flusteredness, turning herself to face Kyoya.

"Kyoya Sempai, my dad arranged an appointment for me today so I'll be leaving an hour early. I'm sorry but can you move my duties to tomorrow?" she winced at her own question, knowing this was going to be added to her debt.

"hm... I'll just cut today's costs and add them to your debt Haruhi. a completely understandable deal as you're about to go fooling around, not to an appointment." his smirk grew as he cornered her verbally.

he's been onto her for a few weeks about this but he could never picture Haruhi being romantically attracted to anyone. he must have been wrong because she jumped at the remark as if she was caught red handed trying to eat some fancy tuna without the hosts noticing.

her phone buzzed again and she twitched faintly, but since the hosts were already looking at her, they noticed this time, kyoya already noticed the past few times but this was the fist time the whole gang saw it.

she flipped open her phone and turned around, hunching over her phone in secrecy as she felt as though her privacy was about to be deeply invaded.

she looked intently at her screen and it was a message from her oh so precious girlfriend.

"hey daffodil, I messaged u while I was driving b4 but I'm outside ur school now ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ"

Haruhi's eye twitched at the thought of her girlfriend texting while driving only to remember her car can do text to speech, she also has a slang filter on it, it's a digital car! wowie! que the eye-roll.

she snapped her phone shut, turning back to the group, she slowly inched her way backwards to the door subtly, and casually said to Kyoya,

"right you can think what you want but...! well i gotta get to this appointment because as a commoner i can't afford a cancelation fee from the doctor! HAHAHA." she awkwardly came up with excuses and conversation to distract them until her hand touched the door handle. She yanked it down and swung the door open,

"BYE!" she shouted; slamming the door behind her, leaving all the hosts stunned into silence. a shared glance among them.

the crossdressing bloke sprinted down the halls, despite never being the most athletic, this was the fastest she'd ever run, she even skidded a few times on corners! badass.

Once she got to the doors, she barged them open with her shoulder and continued to run down the steps leading out the door, she undid her blazer and tied it around her waist, loosening her tie until it came off. her footsteps thumping on the tiled floors rapidly as she heard Tamaki shout after her screaming "WAIT! HARUHI!!" she was halfway down the path at this point, the gravel making her almost fall a few times but she quickly picked herself back up again. some students male and female blushing at the 'boy' changing while running extremely quickly.

the sound of a car engine could be heard, she panicked and miraculously ran even faster, hearing multiple sets of gravelly footsteps behind her made her panic and alarmed as she was hoping to avoid any confrontation. She skidded as she turned the corner around the fence, to keep herself stable she placed a hand on the cement to make sure she didn't fall, leaning on it as she rounded the gate seeing a car that she recognized in the distance, (y/n)!

she ran down the pavement, running past people who were drawn to the car, accidentally running into a woman and Haruhi apologised profusely.

She ran towards a crowd of people. people who were looking, not because of Haruhi's rush. Even people on the street were looking. not at Haruhi. people were covering their ears, not because of Haruhi. people were taking pictures, not of Haruhi.

they saw something sleek that looked jaw-dropping, it was attracting attention, it looked amazing and even sounded amazing, let alone expensive.

a Gordon Murray T.33, in white and reflective silver, it was stunning.

Anyway, it was a convertible and the hood was up, a girl that was no older than 17 was casually sat in the driver's seat with (y/h/c) hair as she had the sun visor mirror down applying the finish touches of mascara.

the (y/h/c) girl turned in the direction of where she heard running and a out of breath Haruhi who looked like she was being chased by a tall black-haired male and a set of twins lacking behind.

immediately the girl in the driver's seat pressed a button and the hood of the car retracted back into the boot/trunk of the car, she applied a lip balm while this went on, she was calm yet her girlfriend was getting chased by a bunch of men. she didn't give two shits. she knew they wont be an issue.

Haruhi jumped over the car door into the passenger seat with a hop, skip and a fucking jump. panting like there was no tomorrow and like she ran around the country twice at the very least. she looked at her girlfriend in panic as she was still applying lip balm, not even turning on the car to get ready to drive off, it was still in stationary.

"(your nickname!)" Haruhi shouted in desperation.

the boys were getting scarily close to the car and her girlfriend was meant to be a mystery! they couldn't let them find out she had a girlfriend which they already did, but it'd be so much worse if they found out who it was!

if they get caught they're done for!

"aaugh..." Haruhi threw her head back as she shook her head, accepting her fate that not even her lover could save her from this fate.

just as she had that thought,

you popped and smacked your lips together a few times, making sure the lip balm was evenly coating your lips. you snapped the cap back on, putting it into the side door of the car with a neutral expression.

your face then changed to a focused look, you cracked your knuckles and put your hand on the gearshift.

then, shifted the gearstick to automatic mode and the lights turned on in the car, it revved loudly and people cheered at the sound while some kids covered their ears at the loudness. with as much power as you could muster up, you put your foot on the pedal and pressed it to the metal as hard as you could.

the tires spun a few times as you stayed stationary; wobbling a bit as the tired made a squeaking sound and left marks in the road, but then the car shot off into the road, zooming away from the school going straight to 60mph casually building speed to 90mph! your girlfriend put on her seatbelt then she sat up in the car and stuck her hands in the air with a massive smile. this is why she missed her lover. She made her feel free.

the boys that were chasing Haruhi were left in the dust, even more shocked than normal, not even Kyoya was expecting that as he slowly walked up to the boys who wasted their effort in chasing her down.

"hm..." the male with glasses hummed.

back to the lovely couple,

"so haruuu, how was school?" you asked casually as you lowered the speed as there was no way the boys were still on your ass, going the speed limit to make sure there were no issues.

your girlfriend sighed, "some girls from this other school just kept flirting with me, trying to persuade me to join their school and their host club. I'm so done with it" she said in her normal voice.

the car sped up a bit at that comment then slowed right back down with a jolt, making Haruhi lunge forward a bit and turn her head to her girlfriend who was a bit wide eyed, holding the steering wheel tightly.

you slowly turned your head to Haruhi, keeping your eyes on the road until your face was pointing at her, then your eyes left the road and met her own eyes that showed worry.

"huh?" was all you could say.

"Don't worry, I whispered to them I'm taken....they didn't take it well...they thought it was with another member of the host club...."

you stared at Haruhi for a bit until you both jumped at a long, loud honk which was directed at you as you were now going too slow in the middle lane, you turned your eyes back to the road and drove properly only to squeak out a question,

"Fujioka....are you ashamed of me?" your grip on the wheel was faltering only for your worries to be soothed when she replied.

"oh god no. you're like the best thing I have in my life, other than dad." she said, not showing a care in the world. her head leaning on her hand as she absentmindedly looked outside of the window, watching as we sped by some stationary cars and trees.

you sighed a breath of relief.

"I just don't want people trying to be friends with me to try and get to you, and I'm not even talking about money." she said with a sarcastic eye-roll.

your heart swarmed at the consideration Haruhi had for you, that was her way of trying to be protective.

"I love you..."

Haruhi jumped slightly while turning her face to you, her cheeks only faintly pink because she was caught off guard.

"what's with that all of a sudden?" she said questioning your motive, though the comment wasn't unwelcome at all.

you chuckle to yourself then mutter a 'Never mind', you slowly increased your speed as you have a set time you were meant to arrive at the place you were surprising Haruhi with.

"Just let me treat my amazing girlfriend to something that's also amazing" you huffed as you moved your hand from the gearstick and placed it on top of Haruhi's hand which was resting on her lap, you stroked her hand with your thumb, she smiled softly at this and flipped her hand over so she could intertwine her fingers with yours.

"you don't have to y'know?" she retorted while smiling gently at you, observing every detail about your face, hair, smile, eyes, all of you.

you would never think that Haruhi would be a romantic sap but here she is, head over heels for someone who was always her shoulder to cry on when her mother passed, when times were rough, (y/n) always made sure to comfort her, she was good at it too. one second she could be shivering in fear from a lightning storm and the next she's doubled over and laughing her lungs out of her chest.

"again, Daffodil. i want too. anyways! we're gunna head to Tapas Molecular Bar. its about 10 minuets away from where we are now." you said with a wink.

"oh okay- WAIT WHAT?!" Haruhi reacted panicked as she knew damn well that place was expensive.

"nonononono!- I wont be able to afford that!"

you cut her off by clasping your free hand over her mouth.

"daffodil. I'm doing this for you. you do realise this is my 'I'm sorry' present because I missed your birthday?" you said with a frown, still beating yourself up over not telling your parents you couldn't go with them to Russia for business and celebrated with your girlfriend instead. but luckily Haruhi's friends celebrated with her which you were grateful for.

when will your parents realise it's your company not theirs? they treat it like it's their money.

she leant back in the car seat, hitting her head on the headrest in the process. "but (y/n)-" "No buts!" you said with a grin, going around a roundabout and pulling up to a services area and parking.

Haruhi looked at you confused, weren't you meant to be going to a Michelin restaurant?

"love, in the nicest way possible, I think you'd feel a smidge embarrassed if you went to a food place in your uncomfortable uniform" You already knew her question and giggled at her face.

"you don't have to if you want-"

she sighed, cutting you off. "no I see your point. do you have any clothes- of course you do." she rolled her eyes and you wrapped your arm around her seat and grabbed something from the backseats. you pulled out a folded pair of flared black trousers and a flowy white long-sleeve shirt. fashionable and androgynous.

you left the car and went around it, you opened the door for her to step out; clothes in hand. you shut the door behind her and clicked your car key to lock it.

walking in was simple for Haruhi, not for you. people were trying to get you to go in their shops as you looked like you had money to spend. some men hit on you but you scowled at them with disgust and they got angry and pissed off. leaving you alone.

you walked Haru to the bathrooms and kept a watch for any creeps. 2 tried and failed only to leave the building with 5 more bruises than when they came into the building.

Haruhi left the bathroom in her new set of clothes and you wolf-whistled, looking her up and down, apologising immediately after.

she smiled at you and walked out of the automatic sliding entrance doors, you snapping out of it and chasing after her.

getting back in your car, you finish the rest of the drive towards the restaurant. it was quiet as it was a weekday.

Haruhi and yourself sat in a secluded and quiet corner, not very visible to the public, she tried to order the cheapest thing on the menu but you quickly ordered some for her, seafood and a glass of lemonade/lemon soda with exotic berry flavouring while you ordered some other fancy shit that you know tastes damn good with a light cocktail to wash it down. (they didn't ask for ID in this place because you had to be an adult to book and it's pay upfront. they don't care)

Conversations were had between the both of you, laughs were shared and you just fell deeper in love with your girlfriend with every second. it seemed like she was feeling the same with you. some jokes from middle school were brought up which made you both cackle like witches, some problems currently happening were brought to the table and solutions and condolence were shared.

soon enough, the date was over, sadly. the very kind waiter that you two had today placed the cheque in the centre of the table, expecting the bill to be split. you snatched it quickly before Haruhi put some money in, you wrote down the payment of ¥50,400 (£274.79, $348.76, or €405.10)

Haruhi was left with her hand reaching out to thin air going to grab the cheque before it got snatched with a shocked smile on her face, she didn't even see the price yet but she knew damn well the price was high. she'd pay for the tip at least-

"here, your tip ma'am" your soft voice said to the kind woman.

damn, you beat Haruhi to it. wait... that's a wad of cash! no way! that's more than 15%!

she felt herself die a little inside as you stood with the waiter thanking you profusely and bowing.

you grabbed Haruhi from her seat and rushed her to the car, once again opening the door for her, being a gentlewoman. you drove off back to her home, on the way, however, you forgot to buy dessert at the restaurant! shitballs!

you did some quick thinking and drove across a small stall along a road, pulling over to park somewhere quickly, you jumped out of the car, leaving Haruhi in and locking it. she just sat there confused as she watched you run away.

less than 5 minuets later, you were running back to the car with two large ice creams in your hands, you unlocked your car with difficulty and Haruhi rolled down a window and grabbed the both of them, you then sat in your car, clinking your ice creams with little smiles.

you gazed into her eyes as your hand didn't move, she started brutally attacking her ice cream like it owed her money, usually its the other way around.

she noticed you staring at her so she turned to you and tilted her head in confusion and innocence. you leaned over to her side of the seat and softly kissed her lips, her breath hitched and eyes widened only for her to melt like your ice cream. her lips were cold because of the sweet treat which largely contrasted yours as you hadn't even made a start on it yet. she was pushing you back a bit by pressing her lips firmly back onto yours, so you weren't leaning over her; straining your neck and you both enjoyed it.

you pulled away from her as her lips had warmed a bit and coincidently so did her cheeks, you smiled at your accomplishment at making her look more cute than normal, starting on your melting ice cream.

the silence was deafening for a minute or two, then both of you broke out into a fit of giggles, it always feels like your first time whenever you kiss her, I'm guessing it's the same for her but it just adds to the cuteness.

you finished your ice cream as it was basically liquid yet hers was still in her cone, you felt jealous. eyeing up her ice cream that was somehow by some miracle solid, you leaned your head on her shoulder, slowly shuffling your head closer and closer to her ice cream until she sighed and just put it in front of your mouth.

a bright look crossed your face as you stuck your tongue out and scooped a bit out of the cone. savouring the sweetness, you relax yourself back on her shoulder. She chuckled at what you thought was your pure stupidity. but to her; adorableness.

she turned her head to face you whilst your eyes were shut. they only opened once more when you felt her put her lips on your own, you let out a startled hum only for you to close your eyes again and place a hand on her cheek, now savouring her instead of the treat. this kiss lasted a long time, you were no where near complaining, you just remembered you had a deadline you had to bring your girlfriend home to. you shot up from her shoulder as well as her lips unfortunately and checked the time.

10 MINUETS TO GET HER BACK OR YOURE D E A D .

"shit! sorry Haru! i gotta get you back your dads gunna kill me!!!"

you started up the car and almost sped to her apartment, barely dodging a few tickets here and there but you made it in one piece. you parked your car and opened the door for your beautiful soulmate and held her hand, walking her up the stairs.

just as you got to the door, you noticed something. of course it wouldn't be a classic date if you got ice cream and you didn't clear ice cream off her face., you rolled your eyes at the cliché antics of how the world worked.

in the illuminated hallway Infront of her door, you said "Haruhi, don't move please"

you leaned down and pecked the side of her mouth, clearing away the remaining ice cream. she looked at you with wide eyes and then pouted at you.

"oh c'mon...how could you miss?" she retorted with sarcasm, you were confused so this time it was your turn to tilt your head in questioning, only for her to grab your cheek and go on her tippy toes to plant the softest peck onto your lips, your face turns red at the display of affection as you were very under prepared for that, your mind was scrambled as she rubbed your cheek and chuckled, she tuned away towards her door and yanked down the handle, shouting a " DAD! I'm hoommee!!"

she walked through the door, giving you a wink before she got glomped by her father and closed the door on impact.

you strode back to your car and headed for the location called home which was all your property by the way, your parents just claim it's theirs despite the fact you paid for it.

as soon as you left, you were unaware of the group watching you drop her off back home, most were left stunned for multiple reasons, for the fact Haruhi was so happy for once, it seemed genuine. she seemed different, she managed to get someone romantically and finally, someone was crying because his "daughter" was no longer pure.

despite how hard he tried, kyoya couldn't find out a single thing about you...the only one who matched your description was the self-made billionaire child prodigy who originated from the United Kingdom and travelled globally for work, named (y/n) (l/n). there was no way....she could shut all of their companies down as a host club and their parents in one collaboration... how did Haruhi get with someone like her?

your thoughts on your drive home and for the rest of the night were, 'how in the hell did I get with someone as great as Haruhi?...'

part 2 here part 2

THANKS FOR READING! PLEASE GIVE ME SOME RECOMMENDATIONS!

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pinkrelish · 2 years

Text

𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.

bestfriend!eddie x fem!reader

✶He made it clear he never wanted to see you again, and yet, here you were running into him face-first after he hunted you down.✶

NSFW — parent death, alluding to abuse, light angst, 18+ overall for eventual smut, drug/alcohol mention/use

chapter: 4/15 [wc: 3.5k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11

AO3

Chapter 4: Waffles Heal All Wounds

A diner. That’s where you woke up. The frowning woman knocking on your car’s roof told you so.

Squinting from the sun behind her, you rolled down your window and tried to appear more awake than you were. “Hi?”

She put a hand on her hip where her brown half-apron was tied. “You’re illegally parked.”

You leaned your head out and, sure enough, when you had pulled into a parking lot last night out of desperation to avoid an embarrassing death of ‘cried too hard and hit a tree,’ you parked sideways, taking up three spaces. “Oh shit, sorry.” You fumbled for your keys in the cupholder under a mountain of tissues.

Maybe it was how haggard your appearance was, or specifically the streaks of dried mascara on your cheeks, but she took an ounce of pity on you. “Cops like to stop to get coffee here, didn’t want you getting a ticket,” she said, going inside to flip around the sign on the door.

“‘Preciate it!”

Having nothing better to do until later, and still reeling from the after effects of your massive post-sob hangover, you decided a morning beginning with a stack of syrupy waffles sounded amazing right about now. You adjusted the rearview mirror and scrubbed yesterday’s fuck up from under your eyes, staining your crisp white tracksuit’s sleeve. Doing your best to tidy up your appearance regardless of the nauseating remorse churning your stomach.

“What else did I expect?” you chided your reflection.

The same middle-aged woman from earlier sat you at the booth in the corner. It was your decision to face the wall. After the memories of last night had flooded in, you just wanted to be left alone to sulk; head in your hands, waiting for food you were losing the appetite for the longer you stewed over what you’d done.

When the waitress returned to take your order, you were still hunched over, rubbing your palms into your eyes. “Waffles.”

“Long night?”

“Yeah.”

“Waffles cure everything!” she expelled her wisdom, chipper than when you were causing her problems in the parking lot.

“Doubt it.”

Nursing your headache with soothing sips of fresh coffee, you sat in disillusioned silence. Tinny music cut in from a radio near the kitchen. Someone turned the pages of a newspaper. The door chimed. Chimed again. Tiny birds chirped, hopped, pecked around the concrete outside. A chair creaked as someone sat down a few tables behind you. None of it an adequate distraction from your cynical sentiments about being in the small town you had ambivalent feelings towards. Hating your rather optimistic bout of nerves yesterday at the prospect of seeing him again. Building and building. Excitement, adrenaline over seeing your childhood best friend. Hoping.. Hoping against all odds he’d be just as happy to see you too.

Stupid.

So stupid.

Two waffles appeared before you. A small cup of syrup and a packet of butter, too. Delicious. Unfortunately, you weren’t hungry for more than half of the one on top, surrendering by dropping your fork and knife on the plate, not caring about the loud clang they made, struggling to chew and swallow what was in your dry mouth.

After what seemed like the longest thirty seconds of your life, you drank the rest of your coffee and scooted to the end of the booth and stood up, too busy ruminating on your failures to pay attention to what was in front of you.

RATT.

The band’s logo came into focus a fraction before your nose collided with it. Along with patches on a jean vest. Hints of weed and alcohol despite the gentle, sober breath grazing your face. The invading scent of stale cigarette smoke and worn leather. Old Spice, too. You’d think he’d find something new to wear since you left, but he didn’t, and somehow, the pang of nostalgia was both comforting and vicious. A trap you understood like an old friend.

Standing toe to toe with Eddie, you were shivering in the artificial cool air. He was warm. A welcoming presence once upon a time, now stiff and awkward with your sudden proximity. Bodies touching on accident due to your timing of getting up to leave the moment he approached. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped; the only tell he was equally as flustered as you. When you forced your gaze to meet his, you caught the flick of his eyes lifting from elsewhere lower on your face.

“I’m ready to talk,” he stated.

Relief and fear was evident in your simple, “Okay.” You motioned for him to join you, and of course, he was already moving to do so without your permission.

This booth was not made for two people on tentative speaking terms. Sitting across from Eddie, the top of the table was cramped with your plate and drinkware; underneath, you fidgeted until your legs were between his, so he could stop stepping on your shoes. He knocked your right knee in the shuffle and you clenched your teeth to hide the wince.

“You look rough,” he said, clearly indicating the smeared lines of mascara on your cheeks.

“You look handsome,” you retorted in the same deadpan tone.

Against his will, his eyebrow quirked. Sincere amusement flashed in his dark brown eyes. A charitable glimpse of the boy you used to know. “Haven’t been called handsome in years. If I call you beautiful, can I have the rest of that?” He pointed at the waffles, and of course, you were already pushing them towards him.

And that was it. That’s all it took for you to fall victim to your old ways. Volunteering, practically, to fawn over the most minute of details in how he ate with your fork. Chewing with his mouth slightly open, always. Sipping from your water glass.

Either he’d meant to put his lips over the exact print your chapstick left behind in a sort of pseudo kiss, or he had impeccable aim.

The waitress lingered at the end of your table gripping her notepad and tapping her pencil on it nervously, shifting her gaze from you to the cops at the counter staring you down with a fierce sneer.. Well, not you. They were glaring at Eddie’s existence, who was distracted by the birds outside.

“Can I get you anything?” she asked.

Eddie swept his attention to her, a grand smile on his face and hands clasped cutely on the table. “Could I get a coffee, please and thank you?”

She didn’t look at him. Rather, eyeing his myriad of heavy metal patches. Making assumptions about him and turning on her heel. Treating him differently from how she treated you, regardless of the fact you may as well have been cut from the same cloth. If it bothered him, he didn’t let it show. In mutual agreement, you remained quiet in the lulled purgatory of lapsed conversation, waiting until she returned with his coffee, refilled your own, and walked away to pick up where you left off.

“So..” Eddie stabbed another piece of waffle. “Why’d you leave without telling me?”

“Starting with the million dollar question, I see.” You sank back into the dense cushion of the booth, and when that felt too far away for your private conversation, you rested your forearms on your thighs and picked at your cuticles. “Do you know what my last memory of you is?” Glancing up from the plate, he shook his head, and you’d never recover from the way his curls bounced.

Accepting your burgeoning grin, you wore gladly, aware it wouldn’t last. “We were standing in your kitchen. Riders on the Storm was playing in your room. I had just blown out the candles on the birthday cake you made me and I remember thinking how that was the nicest thing anyone had done for me, birthday or not. It meant even more coming from you. The year before that you picked me flowers, which I still have pressed in a book, by the way, but there was something special about you going through the trouble of baking me a cake and decorating it. We’ve known each other for most of our lives and not once have you looked at me like you did when I took a piece. You were just so.. I don’t know, proud of me.” You exhaled a long sigh until anxiety closed in on your lungs. ”I wanted our last memory together to be a happy one. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

“Did you eat it? The cake?”

“Hell yeah.”

He allowed his smirk to come through. “Good. Didn’t want it to go to waste because of your mom.”

“Right..” you agreed, wiping your sweaty palms on your pants. Your change in demeanor was palpable. An omen like vultures circling the obvious. Eddie’s rings clinked on the table as he set down the fork, tilting his head to get a better read on your expression painted in melancholic hues from the rogue cloud covering the sun.

“You made me strong,” you said, crossing your arms and digging your knuckle into your lip, savoring the mild pain on your gums. “You know I couldn’t cry around her, or else she’d.. whatever. I would just hold it in. All day. And when things got really bad, at night I’d play the BBC Radio’s adaptation of The Hobbit. It’s not the same as you reading to me, but it helped.” Outside, the birds flew away. “I thought about you every single day, Eddie.”

“I thought about you too,” he admitted, tearing open sugar packets. Your heart leapt at each scrape of the spoon against the ceramic mug. “Tried not to.”

Prepared to hear as much, but at a loss for words, you prompted him for more, “Yeah?”

He ran his tongue across the back of his teeth. “Yeah.”

One uttered word wielded like a weapon. You had never seen him angry before last night. Pissed off over inconveniences, sure, but last night.. He hated you, and though you could hazard a guess why, he hadn’t explained his side of the story yet.

For someone who wanted to talk, he hadn’t said much.

“I thought you would be okay.. I mean, I was the one moving to a new state and starting over from scratch, at least you had other friends here.”

“Not like you,” his vulnerability was whispered, “Our friendship was different. You knew that.”

“Eddie..”

Finished eating, he set the plate at the end of the table and ran his hand over his face. Doing the thing he did when he wanted to hide how upset he was; dragging his fingers over his closed eyes and down to his jaw. Working through the sting of knowing a memory he hated was beloved by you. Confused as to what he should be feeling when the night that changed his life for the worse was meant to comfort you through trauma. Was it right to be mad at you?

A difficult thing to parse when so much of sitting across from one another was intrinsic to your time together, having done it casually day after day, cramped together at the small green table in his kitchen, or huddled at the end of the cafeteria table away from the other students, or skipping class to sit at the picnic table in the woods. Longing for the familiar territory of one another’s company and not knowing if it could ever be the same, or if it would last.

“Listen, I don’t remember much about the day you left,” he explained. “Or the days after, really. I kinda went off the deep end, but I do remember telling Wayne I knew you were leaving and I was just taking it hard, so he doesn’t know the full scope of everything, if you were wondering.”

Even when faced with your betrayal, his first priority was protecting your image.

The desire to hold his hand consumed you. It manifested in tears spilling over your lower lashes. It clutched onto your breath. An urge so severe it panicked you, and yet, its inappropriateness kept you frozen. “I never meant to hurt you. I.. F-Fuck.” You stared at the ceiling, gathering your emotions. Imagining a time when you two were inseparable. Laying in the grass, listening to music together.

When you could speak again, you accepted your consequences. “I’m so sorry, Eddie. I don’t know where to go from here, but I’m so sorry for hurting you. I’m so sorry.”

Pennsylvania State University Women’s Gymnastics Team. A chance at a better life. Reading the embroidery on your jacket with the same somber expression as last night, he spoke aloud softly, honestly, “You were right to leave.”

Patting down his pockets for some substance to escape the past, and finding nothing, he changed the subject instead. “I imagine you didn’t drive all this way to give me closure, so why are you really here?”

“Well, I guess that’s as good as a segue I’ll get..” Thankful for the switch in mood, you made a few more uncommitted hems and haws, bouncing your leg against his inner thigh. “She, uh..” You waved your hands, searching for the words, and settling on a lilting, “She.. died?”

Rightfully so, he angled his ear at you and clarified, “Your mom died?”

“Like two months ago.” You shrugged, wide-eyed, waiting for his reaction. He made a drinking motion. “Yep, liver failure.”

“Do you want my condolences?” he asked straightfaced.

You pulled a short, but comical, grimace and offered the truth, “Nah. It’s complicated, I guess. I should feel sad she’s dead, but in some ways, I have my life back.. I never told you, but my bank account has always been under her name. She’s had full control over everything, starting way back when I worked at Benny’s on the weekends. Even up til she died, she used my student loan money to go on benders. I specifically got another waitressing job so I could skim some of the tips without her noticing. She’d still berate me if I didn’t earn enough, so it was a tough balance, but it was the quickest job I could think of where she couldn’t access everything.” Eddie reached into his jacket’s inner pocket to take out the envelope you left for him. “No! Keep it, really. It’s for you and Wayne. Or, at the very least, to pay you back for all the weed over the years.”

Hesitating, he accepted you weren’t going to take it, and put it back. “I never would’ve made you pay for weed.”

You snorted. “What a gentleman.”

“You could’ve made more tips by stripping, just so you know.”

“I take back what I said.”

Deflecting to your mugs of coffee after the short fervency of your eye contact became too heated, you continued, “Her death has been a real bitch to deal with. Not in a sad way. Just, God, it doesn’t quit. One thing after another. I didn’t expect to have literally nothing in my bank account, and do you know how expensive dying is, even after the medical bills? Not only did I have to put together some stupid funeral arrangement for this bitch, I had to do shit like terminate the lease on her apartment. And you wouldn’t believe how bad this woman trashed it. Had to hire help to clean it out, and now I’ve come to find out she’s still paying for shit like the lot in Forest Hills.” You rolled your eyes to the high heavens. “Who fucking knows why. Probably just to waste my money. Anyway, that’s why I’m still here. I’m going through the process of having everything transferred in my name and having them demolish that fucking trailer–which reminds me I need to schedule a dumpster for that because the contractor won’t supply one. Oh! And as a bonus ‘fuck you’ because Hawkins is ass-backwards and hates me, they won’t accept anything by fax. I have to go to court and sign shit in person, so I’ll be back here again in 30 to 45 business days to finish the permits for the aforementioned construction, praying my car makes the drive, and then I’ll be free.”

Eddie nodded patiently, eyebrows raised, giving you the grace to vent to him as he finished his coffee. “It’s not even my life and you make me want a cigarette.”

You laughed, hard, and fuck, did it feel good to laugh again. To reap the reward of his shy smile. His leg resting against yours. His fingers cupped around his mug in the center of the table, where yours were too, doing the same thing. Tapping your mug for the sole purpose of discovering the delicate nature of his knuckles being softer than yours with each beat.

He sat forward, sliding your knee along his inner thigh. “You sure you don’t want your tips back to help pay for all this?”

Quick to respond, you inquired, “Would you like to stuff them in my G-string, or would you rather I lay down and you can rain them on me?”

It was his turn to laugh. Bright like his naturally higher voice, which you adored, and a bit cackling too, as if he were a villain. A full laugh coming from the heart. A dangerous thing, you realized when you looked at each other a bit too long.

Once eye contact had been established, there was no coming back. The affection in your gaze roaming his face. The tenderness in his smile, just like old times. But a reserved version. On guard. Already fading at the rhythm of your pounding hearts.

“I feel like I’ve been going on, and on, and on,” you said. “Tell me what’s been up with you–?” Your watch beeped. 11:00 blinked at you. Swiveling around, you examined the lively restaurant brought to life by the lunch rush. “Have we really been here that long?”

Eddie shrugged. “Got somewhere to be?”

“My first appointment of the day. I’ve gotta be downtown in, like, ten minutes.”

Too soon.

Hope ignited the instant neither of you made to leave. The backs of your fingers touching his, metal to flesh as you learned the sensation of his ring’s edges against your skin.

He said, “I’ll walk you to your car.”

You said, “Okay.”

Neither of you moved.

“Wouldn’t want you to be late.”

“No, that would be terrible.”

He puckered his lips to rid himself of his uneven grin, fixing his gaze on your touching hands. You did the same. Existing in the strange dynamic you found yourselves in. A state of unforgiveness, but willing to blot each other’s wounds for the sake of healing and moving on.

Your watch beeped again. “Okay, I really have to go now.”

After paying, you took one step out the door and did a double-take, bewildered beyond belief. “You still drive that thing?”

Eddie joined your side, following what you were pointing at. “Yeah, it’s the same van.”

“I would’ve thought you had crashed it by now.”

He clicked his tongue, offended, “I’ll have you know I’m a perfectly safe driver.”

“You literally drove it into a ditch the day you got it,” you reminded him. He flapped his hand like a mouth to mock you. You shoved his arm. “I meant to ask, how did you know where to find me?”

Coming round to your vehicles, he lingered at your trunk while you unlocked your door. “Gut instinct.” You raised your brows, asking him to elaborate, and he spun his keys around his finger, dragging his feet on the walk to his van parked next to you. “I just knew.”

“All right then, keep your secrets,” you conceded. “Oh yeah!” He paused, hand on the headrest, about to climb in. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Turning to regard you as if you’d said the bizarrest thing, Eddie’s hair flowed over his shoulders in the wind, a precious pinch of confusion between his brows, and a handsome twist to his mouth.

“You mentioned a boyfriend I could go home to last night, but, alas, I must regretfully inform you I do not have one.” When he remained speechless, you broke. Doubled over with laughter, holding your sides. Giddier than you had any right to be.

Eddie shook his head at you. Then, he thought about it. “You said you’ll be back in 30 to 45 business days?”

“Unfortunately!”

“Okay,” he said, “Okay.”

He was quick to get in his van and shut the door behind him, as were you to start your car and get to your appointment on time, but.. It wasn’t until your third alarm beeped that you realized you had been sitting there, tracing your thumb over your grin, forgetting to drive away.

And it wasn’t until you glanced in your rearview mirror, you saw Eddie was doing the same thing, remembering he wasn’t dreaming.

Taglist: @xxhospital-for-soulsxx @myfavoritesareproblematic @henhouse-horrors @tlclick73 @sidthedollface2 @i-will-duckyou-up @qnsfwthoughts @captainonaboat @eddiemuns0nl0ver @godcreatoreli @harrys-tittie @eg-dr3amer3 @trixyvix88

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson angst #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you

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chiwhorei · 3 years

Text

𝐀𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐚

✞𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬: 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧✞

Pairing: Shouta Aizawa x Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut, Dark Content, 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 3,175 [Link to Ao3]

Tags: Darkfic, sacrelige, coercion, corruption, dubcon and noncon elements, intonations and parallels to incest, but not actual incest (ie. ‘Father’ Shouta), choking, age-gap, oral, Priest!Aizawa, Virgin!Reader

From Chiwhorei: Aizawa is where this all started, so it’s fitting he is the subject of my anniversary fic. To everyone who’s followed me along this journey despite the long bouts of radio silence, to everyone that’s participated and supported this collab, to all of my lovely, devious friends— truly, completely, thank you for this past year. Xoxo.

The pain was so sharp that it made me utter several moans; and so excessive was the sweetness caused me by this intense pain that one can never wish to lose it, nor will one’s soul be content with anything less than God.

** ** **

There’s not a soul awake this late.

The rosary wrapped between twitching fingers feels like a hot lashing against the skin. The glass and metal itch in your hold, the devotional was a gift for your confirmation-- it holds a decade of sins.

Your family has been asleep for hours now. Slipping through the back door as soon as you’re sure. Nineteen. A legal adult. Yet the only way to leave in the middle of the night is in secret. The cool, summer air hits your cheeks, it’s still for a moment. It’s so quiet, you feel like you’ve mistaken the real world for a snow globe. Static— in the moments after all of the glitter settles, all of the quiet, iridescent tears laying at your feet. It waits, patiently, until someone comes by to shake it again.

Moving into a cramped dorm room a few hours away, your childhood home feels bigger every visit. It’s bigger because nothing fills the space inside. There’s nothing but tense words and the clatter of silverware against dinner plates. Your father reminds you of an old briefcase— stern, rigid leather, unmistakably empty; your mother’s rose garden smells like poisoned wine.

Roses and leather, the combination suffocating enough to repel you in the hours you should be unconscious.

The walk from your parent’s house to the church is the most familiar thing in the world. Down to the cracks on the sidewalk and mossy steps leading up to a set of large, cherry doors. So routine it almost feels good for you.

There’s not a soul awake this late, you decide, that must be why you’re here.

That must be why he’s up too.

Pushing open one ornate door just enough to peek inside, you’re met with that distinct waft of incense and dusty missals. It smells like every Sunday morning and Easter Vigil, it smells like home.

Only votive candles light the space around you, flickering with intentions from fellow parishioners. You wonder if there’s one burning for you.

You know where to find Father Shouta, and suspect he’s waiting. He can trace every step from your parents home to the front gate. You open the confessional booth and crawl inside, the wooden space around you is cramped. It smells like incense masking cigarettes. Kneeling into the leather cushion, you face the screen partition.

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was,” the memory has you falter, “three months ago.”

You remember the last hollow confession like it was yesterday. You were back in town for spring break. After mass that Sunday, your dad told Father Shouta how deplorable it was that your friends had tried, in vain, to drag you to the beach a few hours away from campus. “A week of drinking and sex, not for my daughter.”

Shouta met with you that evening and you cried your sins to him. How you had been dared to kiss boys at a party during midterms week, how you drank who-knows-what mixed with cheap beer at a frat house. He consoled you then, he told you that God will forgive all transgressions. “Even the sins of a whore.”

The memory makes you want to cry all over again. Yet, here you are— knees pressed to the very same leather, face against the same dusty screen.

He’s so still, so quiet, you jump out of your skin at the sound of his voice, “What is it that you’d like to confess, my child?”

Your body aches, stiff and tense to the bone. You breathe in, shallow and suffocated, before you speak again.

“Father, forgive me I—” you can tell his posture is just as rigid, he’s only a shadowed outline and the slightest glimmer of color from his eyes. They warn you, but you ignore the familiar feeling on the back of your neck.

“I have been having impure thoughts. I’ve been thinking about a man,” one more deep breath in an attempt to keep your voice neutral, “a much older man.”

If you could hear a smile, Father’s creaks like floorboards.

His silence prompts you to continue, you knot your fingers together and hold them against your stomach, the Rosary tangled in between threatening to cut off circulation.

“The boys in my youth group, the ones in my classes— they’re all nice but,” you leave the second half of the sentence to rattle around in your mind, “but they aren’t you.”

“Impure thoughts are one thing, sinful, but,” his voice is indifferent, cold, “the true sins are ones of the flesh.”

“I- I haven’t,” you start to stutter, trying to defend yourself, “I haven’t done anything, Father.”

Despite himself, he laughs.

“It’s true Father,” you wonder why you hadn’t just stayed at home, “I’ve only ever kissed a boy— it wasn’t even a real kiss. I’m still a virgin.”

From the screen, you can only see him in fragments. Little cutouts of a dark figure and sickeningly bright red eyes. The color peaks through like pieces of a puzzle, chasing through the patterned wood before you can catch that he’s stepping out of his side of the confessional booth.

“It wasn’t a ‘real’ kiss,” each word is mimicked, emphasized by the tap of his shoes against the tiles below, “no, of course it wasn’t. Not with some boy.” Your legs are unsteady as you stand from the kneeler. There’s nowhere to hide, Father has you trapped in a toy box. Just for him to play with.

“Of course that wouldn’t have satisfied you.”

The door to your side of the booth creeks open just as your back hits the wall. You can see his face for the first time in months, you trace the features illuminated with candlelight. Father Shouta’s face is strong, even more sharp with his long, black hair tied back. His presence looms over where you’re sunken into the booth. Even standing and puffing out your chest, he’ll still be able to look down at you.

He bares his teeth. You know this by now, stupid little girl, you know he likes to play with his food.

Long fingers grip the small door frame and curl around the wood like an omen, his body slithers into your personal space until he’s only an inch away.

“Lust, greed, what is it that you want?” Each vowel cradles a hearty dose of poison, the consonants bite away and spit you out. Your skin feels raw under his attention, “You can’t atone for sins you’re not really sorry for.”

Those same fingers slide up either curve of your neck, he crawls from shoulder to jaw, slowly. So slowly it seems like he’s trying not to get caught. He holds steady against your skin, thumb rubbing lightly at your bottom lip. You must have just fallen asleep after your parents went to bed, that stale, poisoned house even lulling the restless. You must be dreaming right now.

“Don’t make me ask again.” His timber hits the three walls and brings you back to the present. There’s no rest for you, only a weak answer to his question. What is it that you want?

“I want to be a humble servant of our Lord.” Your voice shakes, battered against your throat on its way to meet the stiff air.

Father’s lips are on you, he traces the words of Luke over your trembling mouth, there’s only a breath of space between you,

“No one can serve two masters. For you will hate one and love the other; you will be devoted to one and despise the other,”

The hands holding your cheeks move down to circle your neck, each long finger lays a trap. He tightens around the skin, just enough to make you forget how it feels to breathe freely. He could do anything to you right now, and your cries for help would be swallowed by stained glass.

No one can serve two masters.

The scream caught in your throat meets his wicked smile, it fizzles into little more than a whimper. The small booth you’ve been trapped in is burning hot, you feel sweat beading on your forehead. The last ounce of courage, of restraint, tumbles out before you can catch it.

“Who do you serve, Father Shouta? God or the Devil?”

He answers you with a thick tongue finally pushing into your mouth. He smells like perfumed oils and votive candles, he tastes like sugar free gum and Seven Stars.

His grip around your neck is the only thing keeping you on your feet, you’re sure if he were to let go you’d melt into the floor below. Father’s lips against yours are a siren, dulling all other senses, rendering you malleable to his will. Whatever his will may be, whatever it is that he wants from you— you’d let him have it anyway.

He breaks away, the kiss that’s felt like hours disappears far too soon. Your body jolts forward of its own volition, trying to connect yourself to him again. You’re sure you look desperate, but you’re too intoxicated to care.

“I serve only myself.”

Father lets go of your neck and you’re allowed the first deep intake of breath you’ve had since walking into the church. You swallow hard, looking back up to him. He scares you, he always has, but that fear draws you towards him.

Does a moth know what the flame will do to it? Does the moth know their fate?

You feel like crying, really crying, but all that comes out are a few frustrated tears. Father leans over you once more, eyes trailing the tear waxing over your cheek, “You’re a wretched little girl.”

Is that why they fly towards fire, because they like the burn?

** ** **

You step forward in line, it’s almost your turn. Mother first, she’s always thought of Father Aizawa as such a “charming young man''. The notion always made you scoff, in reality he’s only a few years younger than your parents.

Your dad is behind you, he’ll give him a friendly handshake after the service and remark how beautiful the homily was. Today, he spoke of the devil tempting Jesus. You hung on every word.

Mother steps aside and makes the sign of the cross, you’re next. A sheep guided by the dutiful shepherd, a lamb onto his slaughter.

Your chin tilts upwards, eyes locked onto your part-time captor. He only has you for a few seconds this time, but his attention is a hallway— every door is a pitfall. Aizawa’s gaze turns red when he looks upon you again— a bright, bloody, captivating red. You’ve convinced yourself it’s a trick of the light. But you see them in the dark too.

“The Body of Christ,” his voice is a welcome mat in front of an asylum, holding out the wafer and obscuring one painfully beautiful eye.

“Amen.” You know you’re part, but you can’t hear your own voice.

Father watches as your eyes close and your mouth opens, a quiet obedience, nothing at all out of the ordinary. Your fingers tingle with how tight you’re holding them together.

He places the Body to your awaiting tongue. It tastes like a harsh nothing that will stick to the back of your throat for the rest of mass. You take Christ in pieces, letting it start to melt into the roof of your mouth.

Shouta brushes your bottom lip before retracting. It’s subtle, an accident— the smallest touch of chilling skin. No one notices, the earth doesn’t stop on its axis for anyone else. You step aside and follow your Mother back to the wooden pews like nothing out of the ordinary stirs in your heart.

You feel Father’s eyes on the back of your skirt. They feel red.

“Your sweet girl here has offered a helping hand getting prepared for a youth retreat the church is hosting next week.” After mass, the stop to shake Father’s hand is inevitable, a pleasantry every parishioner makes time for before shuffling out for Sunday brunch.

He speaks over your quiet, “Good morning, Father Shouta,” right as your family turns to leave, almost as if he had been mulling over whether or not it was worth a mention. He regards them with a veiled casualty, never once looking at you.

Father’s face is kind when he wants it to be, laying a hand in the middle of your shoulder blades, it's a feeling of comfort you can’t help but lean into, “We’re discussing how to remain chaste in a sinful world.”

The word ‘chaste’ is pinched into your spine and despite yourself, you smile. A heavy heart has found home at the bottom of your stomach, but you can’t let on to the sick churning in your gut. Your parents gleam with pride for their daughter. A perfect example of a good Catholic girl.

“I’ll have her meet at my office this evening, is six okay?” His question sounds like your dowry, talking past you and asking for your parents permission.

Your dad shakes Father Shout’s hand once more, delighted at how his diligent parenting must be the reason you’ve found yourself in holy favor. Said ‘parenting’ is definitely to blame, but not in the way your dad assumes.

*** *** ***

The walk through church and into the sacristy is like a meditation in fear, every step begging you to turn back, to run home like a scared child. You tread steady, feet searing on hot coals until you’re met with the sound of Father Shouta just beyond the threshold.

“You’re late.” Something sinister fills Father’s quarters as soon as you open the door. It’s scary how offhandedly he can lie. You’re at least ten minutes early, the evening toll of church bells will signal the hour. He wants to see if you’ll stutter, if you’ll argue. You stay quiet, busying your hands with the hem of your skirt, fingers lifting it slightly before you remember who owns the eyes sitting across the room. They look golden from here, a honey you could drown in. You cough at the feeling of sugar in your lungs before collecting yourself and awaiting instruction.

Seemingly pleased with your docility, he smiles wide and crooked. It’s bound into a book he will whisper into you page by page. It’s written in a language only he knows.

Shouta motions you farther inside, leaning back in his seat. He corrects you when you move to sit in the chair on the other side of his desk, waiting with little patience as you settle against his side instead. Your posture is stiff being this close, being this alone.

His facial hair is trimmed neatly, small scars litter his face, the most pronounced a jagged trail under his right eye. From the dim evening light, you see a shadow of loose hairs make a pointed crown around his head.

“St. Teresa of Avila,” Father starts, tapping his fingers against a small stack of papers, “what do you know of her?”

You’re disarmed, the question seems so innocent-- not a note of ulterior motive detectible. Even so, your guard remains high. His intentions need no subtext.

“St. Teresa of Avila, the patron saint of headache sufferers,” you’re struggling to see the point, but Father prompts you to continue, “she was a Spanish nun, she wrote about a prayerful life,”

After another moment of measured silence, you grow even more tense, “Father Shouta, forgive me, I don’t understand,”

You’re hushed with a laugh, the small collection of papers placed in your hands. The first leaf is titled with large letters, “The Life of Teresa of Jesus.”

“I’d like you to read the section I’ve highlighted.”

You shake, thumbing through until you find a block of text traced in bright yellow. You scan its contents, but are quickly interrupted by Shouta’s next request.

“Out loud.”

There’s no escaping the toy box.

His stare is unwavering, giving you no room for objection. They’re not soft like honey anymore, Father Shouta’s eye’s are harsh, bloody gemstones.

You know better than to keep him waiting, adjusting in your half sat position on the side of his desk, you begin reading with hoarse inflection, “In his hands I saw a long golden spear, and at the end of the iron tip I seemed to see a point of fire. With this he seemed to pierce my heart several times so that it penetrated to my entrails.”

Wincing, the words sound like a stranger in your ears. After every sentence, Shouta’s fingertips inch closer to the end of your skirt, right above the knee. You’d be stoned for this kind of hemline at home, but with Father it seems to be exactly the sacred skin he wanted to see.

His hands move, unwavering, as you continue with the annotated paragraph, “When he drew it out, I thought he was drawing them out with it and he left me completely afire with a great love of God.” Fingers stop their gentle assault before adding pressure to your inner thigh, he peels apart your legs with a wordless prompting to keep going.

“The pain was so sharp that it made me utter several moans; and so excessive was the sweetness caused me by this intense pain that one can never wish to lose it, nor will one’s soul be content with anything less than God.”

By the last several words, Father Shouta’s lips are centered in between your open thighs, you feel tears frozen in the duct. You want to pull away, to escape, but his lips hold something you’ve never been this close to.

“Piety is a virtue,” you can feel the hot breath against your most intimate planes of flesh, “but our God is one of pleasure too.”

His kiss feels like branding. An aimless, confused lamb seared with the mark of its owner.

You cry out, loud and broken, when his mouth meets the cotton covering your pussy. Shouta uses his pointer and middle finger to move the fabric away.

No one has ever seen these parts of you, kept locked away for your future husband until now, sitting in the heart of your family's church, writhing from even the slightest touch.Hips buck of their own accord, and you’re granted one last open-mouthed lave against your twitching cunt. His tongue peaks out slightly to catch your clit before pulling away.

You move as if possessed, falling to your knees in front of your Father. Your mouth opens, that same quiet obedience, and his finger brushes your lower lip again. “No one” you think, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of fingers wrapped into the back of your hair, “no one can serve two masters.”

“Body and soul, you’re mine.”

But there’s not a soul left in sight.

✞ 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞: All writing is chiwhorei’s original content, please do not repost or modify. Do no read my content as asmr. Do not recommend me on TikTok.©️

#aizawa smut #aizawa shouta smut #aizawa x reader smut #bnha smut #bnha x reader smut #heavenly bodies collab #chiwhorei.bnha #chiwhorei.fics #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #tw: coercion #tw: sacrilegious #tw: corruption #tw: age gap #tw: darkfic

548 notes · View notes

iwadori · 3 years

Note

hello! I love your works so much! Can I request an angst to comfort scenario for #21 on your prompt list?

“It’s my fault for trusting you”

Feel free to use whichever character(s) you like!!

When the haikyu boys neglect you for another girl PT 3

Part One Part Two Part Three Part four Part Five

Word Count: 2.7K

Genre: angst,fluff

masterlist

Akaashi

You and Akaashi were beautiful people

Probably the most attractive pair of young adults that anyone can find

You were both top tier models in the industry

You always had a little rivalry between you but you always promised each other to never let it affect your ‘relationship’

“Beautiful darling, your beautiful” praised your photographer as you finished your shoot giving you air kisses on your cheeks. You thanked him and the rest of the staff and entered your dressing room sighing.

“Rough day?” Asked a voice, startling you a bit. You looked up to see your boyfriend, Akaashi Keiji sitting in the corner of your dressing room on a love seat.

“Gosh Keiji you scared me” clutching your chest dramatically “But yes, the day has been tiring Fabio has really been overworking me lately” you complained. Akaashi walks towards you and gave you a peck on the cheek “Aww poor baby” he cooed mockingly, “but don’t worry ‘bout it Y/N your sucess will be all be worth it eventually” he says making you smile.

“and besides, you’ve got a shoot with me soon anyways” he winks, making you chuckle. You finished removing your make-up as Akaashi tells you about his shoot today and Bokuto’s (your fellow model friend) antics.

You and Akaashi first laid eyes on eachother when you were both up and coming models, you both are under the same company. At first, both of your agents decided to make you spend time with each other to push the narrative of you being a couple anyways. However, since you and Akaashi had great natural chemistry it made your relationship great and made for a great photo too.

As much as the public loved your relationship and the saucy photos you tend to make together, they also thrived of the slight rivalry you guys had together or the times when you guys bother shot with other people (since it was easy for a fan to make a new ship off of two people literally standing next to each other.)

You spent the next day having what you and Akaashi called a ‘rest day,’ you both specifically clear your schedules for every 2nd and 4th saturday of each month to not do any work-related for the day and just bask in each other’s companies (as you were both busy and barely got enough time to see one another.)

You watched multiple movies, made your own homemade cookies and dinner, had pillow fights, built forts. You both were having so much fun, until you both got a call...Just then, the vibe changed you went from your free-spirited fun selfs back into work mode.

Your agent told you that two brands *Insert big fashion designer brand here* and *Insert another big fashion designer brand here* were having some form of standoff. To be honest, you didn’t really care about the context of the shoot(s) in this case, as your agents call ruined your day. They wanted you and Tsukishima Kei, to do some competing shoots and promotional videos for their brand against the other designer.

After getting all your information from your agent, you go back into the living and see Akaashi sitting down thinking deeply about something. “What was your call about?” you inquire sitting down next to him.

“Oh just some silly designer brand competition thing.” he mindlessly replies, still thinking deeply.

“Yeah same. So what’s got you thinking all deeply then?” you ask

“My fellow model is going to be Kiyoko Shimuzu” he sighed, making you blink repeatedly before immediately saying “You can’t do the shoot”

Kiyoko Shimuzu was japans beauty. Everybody loved her, she’s been a model since she was a child everyone wanting a grasp on her looks. The guys wanted her, the girls wanted to be here. Kiyoko Shimuzu was a force to be reckon with.

The real problem at hand wasn’t her stunning looks, popularity and fame. It was her connection with Akaashi. Before Akaashi went big and met you, he was Kiyoko’s boyfriend (well ex-boyfriend now) and they broke up because of long-distance or something like that.

However, to you, Kiyoko’s feelings for your boyfriend have never went away. Whenever you guys bumped into each other at red carpet events or runway shows, she always seemed to linger a bit too long around your boyfriend, which definitely wasn’t to your liking.

Akaashi lifted up his head from inside his palms and looked at you as if you had grown another head. “What do you mean, ‘I can’t do the shoot’” he asked in disbelief

“I mean, you can’t do the shoot” you reiterated not understanding why he didn’t understand.

Akaashi sighs before putting his face back in his hands to think, “Well I know you got to the shoot aswell Y/N who’s yours with.”

“Tsukki” You said nonchalantly say as if it was nothing, making Akaashi look at you again as if you were fully crazy before he had a chance to speak you cut him off saying “Don’t even start Akaashi.”

You and Tsukishima Kei, have best friends since you were kids. You weren’t romantic in any way shape or form, well at least you weren’t. Akaashi always claimed that that Tsukishima was in love with you, that you and Tsukishima were the perfect example of every ‘childhood friends-lovers trope’ ever, which to you wasn’t true. Everything between you and Tsukishima was and still is completely platonic which you can’t say the same for Akaashi and Kiyoko.

“You’re not doing the shoot” he says firmly as if he was your father.

“Oh so you can do your shoot with your literally EX GIRLFRIEND, but I can’t do mine with my best friend... yeah make sense” you say standing up, astounded.

“Y/N chill, If you’re so adamant about me not doing it with Shi- Kiyoko, then I wont” he says pulling your arm down making you land on him “and you better not do it with ‘Tsukki’” he mocked.

“Okay so none of us are doing the shoots?” you ask looking up at him

“Yup” he says

“Pinky promise,” you joked sticking out your pinky in his face.

“Pinky promise” he agreed hooking his finger around yours.

For the next month it seemed you were booked busy, you barely got to see your boyfriend as his agent had him running around all of Japan and even had him booked in some places in Europe for this month. Of course, you missed him, but you understand how busy it can be doing your line of work. You’ve been quite busy too, doing the usual shoots and runways.

Although he was busy, Akaashi basically went radio silent on you. You still expected him to reply to some of your messages or at least call once or twice when he had the chance, since he must have 10 minutes of break time and that's the bare minimum.

It’s been two weeks since you last saw Akaashi (and that was on your saturday rest day) and you were expecting him to come over today so you could have another. Since of course, Saturday ‘rest days’ were basically a tradition for you and Akaashi before you even started dating.

You had no text from Akaashi explaining his lateness/absense, so you just figured he wasn’t coming putting a damper on your day. You spent the day lounging around and shoving your face with your favourite snacks and food.

You get a text from Tsukishima which read:

Tsukishima: 1 Image Attached

Tsukishima: Looks whose boyfriend stumbled on set...

You didn’t respond as you were shocked at the sight you saw, the image was a picture of Akaashi and Kiyoko on set doing shots for the *insert the other rich designer brand* the shoot that you both agreed you wouldn’t do, which was also a LINGERE brand.

You felt betrayed, you both agreed to not do the shoot and it’s not like you did do yours. You made sure to turn it down the day you made your agreement. And he skipped on your traditional saturday ‘rest day’ without even giving you any word of him not planning on arriving.

You didn’t know what to do, do you confront him about it? Or do you wait for him to approach you? Since he would plan on telling you about this right? You eventually messaged Tsukishima a ‘thanks’ and you decided how you were going to handle the situation. Pop up on Akaashi and Kiyoko at the photoshoot.

You knew where it was at, since you had the address already from when your agent first offered you the idea. You drove to the place in a breakneck speed, strutting in there like a woman on a mission (which you technically were.) You decided to wait in Akaashi’s dressing room, not wanting to cause a scene at the shoot which would be bad for yours, Akaashi’s and Kiyoko’s image and would be a waste of the time of the staff and photographer there.

Akaashi finally finished the shoot and entered his room with a sigh not realising that you were sitting in the corner of his room. “Did you have a rough time?” you ask mockingly making him jump and his eyes widen as you were the last person he expected to be there. “Why so shocked, you weren’t expecting me?” you still keep the same mocking tone in your speech.

“Y/N I-” He started

“Y/N what?” You interrupted “Y/N I’m sorry for basically ghosting you for a month? I'm sorry for doing a shoot with someone who I know is still in love with me? I’m sorry for lying to you? I’m sorry for skipping out on our rest day with no explanation on where I am?” you stare at him as he stares back speechless.

“Oh, am I missing something?” you continue “Oh yes ‘Y/n I’m sorry for doing the shoot that we both agreed that we weren’t doing’” you sit down and wait for him to reply.

Akaashi puts his head down in shame, not really knowing what to say. Because of his silence, you roll your eyes and get up fed up with his lack of explanation. Before you fully leave Akaashi blocks your way with slight tears in his eyes “I had no other choice Y/N, I had to do all those shoots and travel other places with Kiyoko because sh-”

“Wait, that’s where you were?” you shout “Gallivanting around the country with HER!” you extend your arm pointing outside the door before you turn trying to leave again.

“N-No No Y/N you’ve got to listen to me” he said putting your hands on my shoulder “She has something, on me and I-I couldn’t I can’t get out of it. It’s deeper than just a simple shoot.” You were confused but you were so upset you just didn’t want to hear it so instead of listening to your boyfriend you decided to say “you’re so full of shit Akaashi” making him gasp at your coldness and the use of his last name. “ but hey I guess thats my fault for trusting you”

You finally left the room and went to go get a breather for a second with tears sparking in your eyes. You leaned against the wall and whispered “fuck” frustrated with the whole situation. Making you jump, Tsukishima said “you should go talk to him you know.”

“What do you know Tsukki” he cringed at the nickname

“I know more than you Y/N, just go talk to him.” he said making you squint your eyes at him wondering what information he held.

When you walked back to Akaashi’s dressing room practicing an apology in your head. But you paused your arrival hearing Akaashi talking to the one and only, Kiyoko Shimuzu in his room.

“Let’s face it Akaashi, now that I’ve got this sex tape of us, I basically own you.” she said to him making your eyes widen.

You decided the smartest thing to do was to pull out your phone and record as much as the conversation as you possibly could. Because you could already tell Akaashi was in a bind.

“The next thing I want you to do is...” she continued acting as if she was thinking “break it with Y/N!”

“No certainly not Kiyoko, you’re going too far.” he said making you smile internally that he still defended your relationship. “Me and Y/N are definitely NOT breaking up.”

“Akaashi are you forgetting that I have something over you.” she pulls out her phone and she plays a video, which you can only assume is the sex tape. You can hear a bunch of moans and groans which made your stomache ache.

Tired of hearing this, you burst into the room and say “What the fuck are you doing Kiyoko”

“Oh Y/N how lovely for you to join us...” she said with a smile, “I was just discussing with your ‘boyfriend’ plans for our next shoots.”

“I always knew you were a bitch.” you say shocking your head at her.

“What do you mean Y/N?” she says with a fake smile, not knowing that you were listening in on your conversation “Actually Akaashi was telling me something he had to tell you... isn’t that right Akaashi.” you both looked over at him and he was scared and speechless.

“Oh you mean how you’ve been blackmailing him for the past two weeks...” you accuse

“You have no proof of that.” She taunted

“Oh do I..” you rebuttal then pressing play on the recording you just took watching as both Kiyoko and Akaashi look shocked. Kiyoko scurries out the room knowing she’s been caught leaving you with a triumphant smile.

You sit down, gesturing Akaashi to sit next to you. “Akaashi, I’m so sorry for not listening to you earlier I felt so betrayed thinking that you went agaisnt out agreement, but I guess I was just being a self-obsessed bitch” you say with you now looking down in shame.

“Y/N” he says with you still not meeting his eye “Y/N look at me” he lifted your chin up so you met his eye “It’s fine, It’s completely fine you didn’t know of course you didn’t know, how would you know of sex tape I unknowingly did back when I was 16!” he exclaims “Its fine, we’re good” he pulls you into a hug and kisses you on the forehead.

After you both calm down, Akaashi explains how Kiyoko started to blackmail him and how the agency loved the idea of them two being together (not the blackmailing) as it created a jealousy storyline between you and her and how every time they met she kept proposing ridiculous demands.

“Also, how did you know I ended doing the shoot?” he asks

“Oh a little bird told me” you tease

“You mean a 6ft2 bird with blonde hair and a shit personality.” he retorts making you laugh

“Heyy don’t be so mean, if it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t of came to save the day.”

“True, I’d give him that.”

Eventually, you and Akaashi go to your agency and present all your evidence and claims that Kiyoko was blackmailing Akaashi. Although they were upset, that Akaashi did partake in a sex tape they knew that they’d be an even bigger scandal if you presented your news that Japans sweetheart Kiyoko Shimuzu was blackmailing Akaashi Keiji. So the agency thought it was in everyones best interest if they got Kiyoko to sign an NDA saying that she will never bring forth or share the Sex Tape to anyone and she’ll agree to be dropped from the agency.

Your life was great now, with Kiyoko off your back and Akaashi being back to his usual self you couldn’t wish for anything more. You ended up doing the shoot persuading the design brand person (whatever the name for it is) to agree to let you do the shoot together instead of with other people. Both brands let you, because who wouldn’t want Akaashi Keiji and L/N Y/N to do a shoot together?

AUTHORS NOTE: this is the longest work ive written for a single character and i am TIRED lol..I’m so glad you’ve enjoyed my other works so I hope you enjoy this one.. to be honest I think with my works I start off strong and end shitly :// However I wanted to do something different today by making them models instead of students so I hope you like it. Now im off to read some fanfic so you guys have a good day!! <3

#haikyuu x reader comfort #haikyu angst #haikyu x reader #haikyu scenarios #haikyuu fluff #haikyu #akaashi scenarios #akaashi x y/n #akaashi headcanons #akaashi keji x reader #akaashi x reader #akaashi angst #akaashi fluff #signedwithane😌

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hopeandvolleyball · 3 years

Text

insecure boys pt.1

genre: angst if you squint, fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: food, weight insecurities in osamus

w/ osamu, atsumu

osamu miya

osamu had gotten home from work a little more than an hour ago, and he figured he’d been spending that entire time looking at the mirror, pinching the newfound softness piling onto his tummy. he’s been squeezing and kneading the flesh for so long it was turning red. lips twisted to the side, osamu sighed. when did he gain this much weight? how did he let this happen? osamu could barely look at himself in the mirror without feeling ugly and ashamed. mumbling under his breath he pulled a looser hoodie over his head, grateful it wasn’t starting to become tight around his middle.

you called his name from the kitchen, an indicator dinner was ready. in all honesty he didn’t feel like going out there, the idea of eating making him nauseous. but he still entered the living room, unable to fully wipe the crestfallen look off his face. even seeing your bubbly frame and pretty smile in the kitchen couldn’t fully heal him from his insecure thoughts clouding his mind. setting the utensils down, you ran up to hug osamu, arms around his waist. he surpressed the urge to push your arms down, not wanting you to feel his plush stomach. your eyes looked at him with pure adoration, sparkles and hearts swimming in your irises. osamu placed a chaste kiss on your forehead.

“dinner will be ready in a few minutes, just gotta plate it and stuff,” you informed him, sounding so giddy. “might not look as pretty as when you make it but-”

“’bout that. ‘m not really hungry, darlin. ate a bit too much while at the shop today,” he lied not smoothly. he felt the familiar nausea creep back up his throat. he felt even worse at the frown tugging at the sides of your lips.

“you’re a bad liar, samu,” you commented, hands on your hips. “what’s wrong love? talk to me, please?” you pleaded. osamu knew he couldn’t keep it in anymore, not from you. it wasn’t fair. his stoic expression began to soften and quiver.

“when did i let myself go?” osamu asked, his voice starting to break. your brows furrowed and lips curled into a pout. you pulled him close to you, slipping your fingers through his dark brown locks as he held on to you with all the force he had.

“what on earth are you talking about, samu?” you inquired as he squeezed you tighter.

“’m fat, darlin,” he whimpered. “i hate lookin’ at myself in the mirror and i don’t know why yer still with me.” that broke your heart, you heart it shatter into a hundred pieces as he spoke. you opened your mouth to speak but he continued. you decided it best to let him rant. “every day ya see ‘tsumu and i can’t help but thinkin’ ye’d want a guy like that. i used to be that and i’m so disappointed-”

“lovebug you own a restaurant,” you determined with a flat expression. osamu blinked, the tears forming in the corners of his eyes disappearing.

“yeah. i know that. what does-”

“so its natural for you to gain weight if your working with food consistently,” you cut him off again. “do you think i expected a good chef to be completely cut? no i didn’t. besides, you wear the weight well.” osamu blinked.

“ye noticed?” he tilted his head to the side.

“of course i did. i never said anything because i didn’t care. you look just as good, if not better, because the added weight means i’m taking care of you. that i’m treating you well.” you leaned up to kiss his temple. “if you want to lose the weight fine, samu. but i’m upset you’d do it by not eating. i want you to be safe and healthy, okay?” your hand caressed his cheek, drenched with newly found tears. “oh samu, i’m sorry-”

“yer fine darlin,” he sniffled, smiling brightly for the first time that day. “thank ya. i love ya more than i could ever tell ya.”

“i love you too osamu,” you kissed his lips sweetly. “now come on you need to eat.” dinner went by just fine, your eyes on him the entire time to be sure he ate his fill, watching him smile and hum after each bite. you loved osamu so much and you wanted to make sure he knew that. after dinner you relocated to the couch, his head finding its sweet spot on your lap. your hand smoothed over his abdomen, rubbing it affectionately. he hummed again.

“‘m gonna fall asleep if ya keep doin that,” osamu mumbled against the fabric of your pants. you giggled.

“do it. you’ve had a long day, samu. get some sleep lovebug. i love you so much,” you gave his sides a pat. osamu hummed again, mumbling affections under his breath as he doze off into a gentle slumber.

atsumu miya

you waited in the living room of your shared apartment for atsumu to return home from practice. scrolling through your phone with boredom etched into your features until the front door creaked open. with bright eyes your head tilted up to see atsumu in the doorway, kicking off his shoes with a sigh. not an extra loud one like usual, which didn’t instantly tip you off. still, your lips pulled in the brightest grin possible.

“welcome back tsumu! i missed you,” you beamed with a giggle. but all you were met with was a dismissive hum from atsumu. frowning you watched him set his volleyball bag on the table and head out to shower. okay. guess he was having a bad day today. nothing atsumu miya’s loving girlfriend couldn’t fix! pulling out your phone you ordered his favorite from his favorite takeout restaurant, waiting for him to finish showering. your knee bounced in impatience, but that all changed once atsumu emerged from his shower, drying his hair with no shirt and gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips. “hey! i ordered your favorite, i figured you could use it. you look like you’ve had a rough day.” you smiled softly. all atsumu did was nod.

“thanks,” was his curt reply. now you were a mix of hurt and confused and upset. what did you do? why was he being so distant? was it because you forgot to text him the picture of the dog you saw during your break? or the fact that you forgot to cook the asparagus he wanted before it went bad? what was wrong with your boyfriend. he went into the kitchen to get a glass of water. pouting you followed behind him, poking his side enough to annoy him enough to look over at you.

“okay atsumu miya. what’s wrong with you?” you demanded, arms crossing under your chest, cheeks puffed up. “usually you walk into this apartment and talk my ear off about anything and everything that happened at practice and today i’m met with absolute radio silence? what’s with that?” atsumu’s brow quivered and he turned to you with dark eyes.

“sorry that ‘m annoyin and wanna fix my behavior so ya don’t fuckin’ leave me,” atsumu spat, returning to his water glass. your expression fell and you felt your heart sink.

“what?” was your broken reply. and of course atsumu didn’t respond. “tsumu talk to me please, what’s gotten into you?”

“omi called me annoyin’ today, which ain’t unusual, but he said if i didn’t get my act together ye’d leave me,” atsumu shifted awkwardly, staring at his reflection in the water. you frowned and placed your hands gently on atsumu’s hips, staring up at him.

“honey, no, i’d never leave you,” you cooed. “yeah you’re loud and obnoxious-”

“not helpin’ y/n.”

“but that’s part of your charm. you always manage to have something to say and i’m always here to listen. you never make things boring. and i love that about you. i love hearing how excited you get when you talk about your day, or the frustrated lilt in your tone when you complain about people not hitting your sets.”

“because my sets are perfect!” he spoke up, voice louder than it had been all day and had an offended squeak at the end of it.

“there’s my tsumu,” you sighed sweetly. “there’s my sweet baby. kiyoomi’s full of it. i’d never leave you for something as trivial about how much you talk. now cmon. how about we have dinner and you can tell me about your day, hm?” atsumu’s eyes were bright and he nodded like a sweet golden retriever.

“and then bo-kun kept missing my sets. my sets! then he got all mopey and pouty ‘bout it and i was like dude get a grip,” atsumu rolled his eyes around a mouth full of food, causing you to giggle. “he got his shit together eventually but damn it was so annoying. and don’t get me started on omi omi...” sighing sweetly you couldn’t help but stare at your over excitable boyfriend. listening to him ramble about his day was the best part about him coming home.

#osamu #osamu x reader #osamu miya #osamu miya x reader #atsumu #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya #atsumu miya x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff

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mickstart · 2 years

Text

SW F1 AU oneshot under the cut that’s literally just me proving 1) I cannot stop rambling. 2) I can write racing. 3) Anakin Drives Like A Feral Gremlin

“Anakin listen to me. Box. NOW.”

The rain lashed down against his car, his visor, as he stayed to the left, the pit lane entry gone before Obi-Wan had even finished speaking. “I can do it,” Anakin insisted, confidence growing with the straight sprawling out before him. “It’s only a few laps. It’s not worth it.”

“It’s worth it to keep the car on the track!” Obi-Wan snapped through their radio. “You can win the next race!”

Turn 1 was here. “I’d like to win this one.”

“Anakin.”

“Do I have the gap?” Anakin demanded. He held his breath for a second – just a second – for that first inch the steering wheel turned, the crush of force against his body, the flick of the back of the car, waiting to see the world spin around him. Even in good conditions nothing but Anakin’s own confidence told him what was going to come at every corner, never holding back on anything but the brakes. He liked his cars twitchy, sensitive, and the Jedi-R2 was the twitchiest they’d ever delivered.

“Obi-Wan, the gap,” Anakin repeated, frustrated by the silence, by the sound of rain and engines and crashing water. The long, curving corner finally ended and he immediately twisted the car again, into turn 2.

“Sorry.” His engineer sounded distracted. “There’s a lot of fuss here. Some idiot is driving around on inters in a storm.”

“Well that sounds stupid,” Anakin said mildly. The green inters protested at the long curve, the car jerking beneath him for a second before he righted it. “I’m sure you’ll manage. The gap?”

“Mace already has full wets,” Obi-Wan admitted. “There’s… We’ll lose the position if we-”

“I’m staying out.”

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan barked over him before he could finish speaking. “Box! This lap!”

“Make me!” Anakin released the radio and thumbed up a gear, R2 coming to life beneath him as they hit the straight. “C’mon,” he muttered to himself, tensing as he dove into the next turn. “C’mon buddy. Me and you.”

He kept up the litany, a prayer to himself and the engine beneath him. Four laps on inters with water pooling on the track. He could do it.

He would do it.

It was at the lowest point of the track, the dip before Turn 14 where the Sith cars had bottomed all weekend and kicked up showers of sparks, where R2 really began to fight him. Just for a second, the steering unresponsive, aquaplaning like he never had before. The corner raced toward him. The grass raced toward him.

Anakin pushed through, resisting the urge to fight it, to brake, to panic. “C’mon buddy,” he repeated. As if hearing him, the wheels mercifully found grip again, the treads (the ones that weren’t really there anymore because Anakin had burned them off chasing this lead) catching on drier ground inches from the turn.

It was not the latest Anakin had ever braked on this corner. Immediately he flicked to the right, and then they were climbing again, the turn following the curves of the land.

It only got worse from there. Left often became Too Far Left. Anakin compensated for the jerking of the car, fighting the spin back down like he was wrestling R2 to the ground. It had been a fight to stay on track before. It was a battle now. If he’d been aware of anything but the track ahead and the car beneath his hands, he would have felt himself grinning.

Every single time he came to the end of his lap, Obi-Wan came onto the radio again. “Box,” in that same, flat, angry tone. Anakin ignored him every time.

It was the penultimate lap where it changed.

“Anakin,” a new voice cut in through his radio as he was coming to the end of the struggle he supposed he could call a lap.

“Cody,” Anakin grunted, trying not to laugh as another bout of aquaplaning bounced him in his seat. Obi-Wan must really have been worried if he was getting Cody to yell at Anakin for him. “Has Obi-Wan finally run out of words?”

“Pit. Now,” their chief strategist ordered.

“For one lap?” Anakin complained, and the pit lane entry was looming ahead of him. “That’s a bit pathetic Cody.”

“Safety is not pathetic. Get in here. The entire grid is on wets and your tyres are dead.”

“They feel pretty alive to me,” Anakin joked, feeling the skidding, the second of no control as he curved past the pit lane entry. “One lap Cody.”

“This isn’t about the wet tyres anymore. You’re not the strategist! If we need you to pit, you pit.”

“So you can screw my race up like in Montreal.” The pit straight, like an oasis in the desert, welcomed him.

“We aren’t discussing this over the radio,” Cody shut it down.

Anakin looked to the Jedi pit wall, waiting to see the one raised finger, the beautiful board telling him he had one lap to survive.

The one raised finger was Obi-Wan, leaning over the pit wall. Even going at this speed, Anakin could tell he was glaring at him, shouting something. He laughed, almost a cackle, and kept going.

It was only turn 1, that beautiful, sweeping corner, when it all went to shit.

R2 aquaplaned beneath him, abandoning the smooth, consistent turn and going straight on. Anakin didn’t have the time to curse before he clipped the rubber of the apex, and then the world was spinning.

He slammed his foot down, jerking the wheel left. Thunder roared, or maybe it was the car, or the crowd. Approval and vengeance and shock, and Anakin echoed it but only in Fury, righting the car and slamming his other foot down. Barely motionless. Stopped for less than a second when his radio burst to life.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan, tense and furious and absolutely seething with all of it.

A purple car was creeping toward Turn 1.

Fuck. Anakin was already moving, inching forward, but there was no time to ease back into it now. He stamped down and R2 responded, as easy as a ballerina kicking off the ground. Spray kicked up as he took off again

Anakin hit the radio. “Car’s fine.”

“Oh good,” Obi-Wan drawled, sarcasm dripping thicker than the rain. “And yourself?”

“Pissed,” Anakin glanced at his mirrors. “Mace is right behind me.”

Obi-Wan didn’t say anything, which meant he was humming to himself in acknowledgement. Then his voice came again. “Anakin take it easier. You can’t keep taking corners at these speeds you just proved yourself the tyres won’t take it.”

“Mace is right behind me,” Anakin repeated. “The championship.”

“Mace has eight of them,” Obi-Wan said, like Anakin didn’t know that, like the envy didn’t twist inside of him, tangled up in awe. “You aren’t going to outdrive him in the wet, not like this. Don’t be silly Anakin.”

Mace was creeping up now, the purple car looming. He would be slower with the wets, but Anakin had just spun and had no grip. His corners were wider, his lines messier. Mace would take him sooner or later. But if he could just make it later, if he could last to the flag.

He struck just after Turn 10, halfway down the straight. That purple car twitched and Anakin knew.

Hitching his breath, he swung R2 to the right as Mace’s Shatterpoint-22 broke its tow and surged to pass.

Mace tried to push through, the two of them side by side on the edge of the track. But Anakin’s sudden move had rushed him. He’d committed himself to his line, no backing out and going for the other side, and now he was up against the grass. Anakin kept his eyes ahead, kept squeezing Mace, kept holding his breath. Even through his gloves, he held the steering wheel so tightly it was beginning to dig in.

Mace was brave, determined, stubborn as hell, but he didn’t trust Anakin. Everyone knew he didn’t trust Anakin. Not wheel to wheel. Not pressed to the grass in a storm. Not when Anakin’s car had lost control seconds before.

Anakin directed his line to defend, to cut off the next corner entirely. Every so often beneath him, R2 lost grip. If he aquaplaned now… well, Padme was not going to be impressed with him, Obi-Wan was going to be very smug about it all, Rex was going to beat him senseless with a hammer, and Cody would have him doing pit stop drills with the crew.

The Shatterpoint car slowed abruptly, cutting back behind Anakin and into his tow.

“Don’t do anything stupid.”

“I told you not to talk to me when I’m racing!” Anakin tuned Obi-Wan out, focusing on the next corner.

R2 and Mace fought him all the way. The car behind him trying to surprise him and the car beneath him trying to do the same, losing grip, twitching and jerking like R2 wanted to buck him out of his seat. Every corner he held his breath, the G-Forces crushing harder than he had seemed to before.

Mace, again, managed to get spectacularly close, trying a bold move around the outside of the next turn. Anakin was bolder. He knew exactly where his grip disappeared going into this corner, and he loosened his control, let himself cut messily into Mace’s overtake. Mace snapped back to a racing line, trying for the inside now but Anakin knew where to get his grip back.

Finally, the last turn. It almost seemed to glow.

Obi-Wan had gone silent for a long time. His radio crackled again now. Quiet, voice full of disbelief and frustration and wonder, Obi-Wan murmured, “Come on.”

Anakin smirked, except it was a little too wide to be a smirk and a little too feral to be a smile. He shot around the last corner, scraping the apex. The car almost seemed to wriggle beneath him.

He took the chequered flag with his heart in his throat, whooping, screaming, Mace charging past him but after the line, after the line.

“Oh you bastard!” Obi-Wan breathed over the radio, laughing, the Jedi crew whooping and screaming in the background.

“Well that’s not getting aired!” Anakin shot back, laughing too.

“I told you not to do anything stupid.” But it was relief in Obi-Wan’s voice and relief in the cheers of the crew and relief singing in Anakin’s stomach.

Then he took turn 1 again and R2 – exhausted, carrying tyres that had no business staying on the car – spun again.

Anakin let it go, let himself spin off into the gravel because it didn’t matter now. They were done. He watched the world spin briefly, vaguely dazed and distant from it all, until he came to rest in the gravel, firmly beached.

“Oh for the love of-” Obi-Wan’s voice cut out.

Anakin sat there, staring up at the rain that lashed down on him and R2 and the settling cloud of grit and dust his adventure into the gravel had kicked up, He heard the crowd roaring, the other cars – the losers that didn’t matter – passing him by. Marshals in orange were running over from the left. Anakin should have felt bad about making more work for them. He shouldn’t have laughed.

He tore at his belts, freeing himself from the car and climbing over the halo. He paused, reached down to press his hand to R2. Thank you. Then he was leaping off of the nose, kicking up more dust in the gravel as he tore towards the track. A marshal tried to stop him. He waved them off. He had counted the cars. The track was clear.

He tore across the track, boots slapping on the wet surface, headed straight for the pit exit.

Jedi Order were already making their way there, stopping just before the white line so they weren’t technically ‘on’ the track. Qui-Gon, still clutching his drink from the hospitality, was at the front. They were all screaming, and they screamed louder when Anakin leapt the last inch across the white line, grabbed out of the air by countless hands and pulled into a crushing hug.

Behind the crowd, watching with their arms folded, stood Obi-Wan and Cody. Cody’s jaw was clenched, which meant the stewards weren’t pleased with anything he had just done. Anakin tugged his HANS off, then his helmet, then his balaclava. Wires and buckles and too many things around him. He pushed his way through the crowd, clasping Rex to him briefly, toward them.

“More wins in a season than you’ve had total since Mace moved to Shatterpoint,” Anakin said, addressing Cody first. “You can’t be mad at me for that.”

Cody’s expression said that yes he could.

“Was that really necessary?” Obi-Wan asked, voice calm in a way that meant he wanted to throttle Anakin and hide the body beneath the factory.

Anakin grinned, thinking not of penalties or controversial radios aired live or debriefs, or anything much at all. “I could have done it earlier.”

#should this just be a thing with OCs? yes #Do I have the patience to make OCs right now? No #but this is me practicing writing racing so hush #sw f1 au

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reminiscingtonight · 3 years

Text

Favorite Record

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 2506

Anon asked: can I order a Wanda x reader inspired by Fall Out Boy's Favorite Record song?

Warning: Brief mention of underage drinking

A/N: One order of Wanda with a side of fluff, coming right up!

Taglist: @mionemymind, @supersourlemon13

“Get in, loser.”

Wanda looks up from her spot on the porch with an unamused look on her face. You’re leaning on your elbows out the side of your car window, sunglasses pushed to the top of your head so you could see your best friend. In her opinion the sun wasn’t bright enough to require the protective lenses but then again you always made fun of her for having “eyes of steel” (“That’s not a saying.” “Would you like me to call you ‘she who doesn’t fear the sun’? That’s such a mouthful”).

She had heard your car approaching her street a while ago, the screeching tires on the pavement announcing your presence long before you came into view. Everyone kept telling you to change your worn out tires but you were going to sell the car in a month once school was out and you left for the west coast anyways, so you didn’t really take their suggestions into consideration.

Climbing into your car Wanda mutters out a soft, “I’m never going to call you to come pick me up again.”

“Pff, who else would you call? Natasha?” You both knew that she would never call the redhead for a ride. Not unless she didn’t mind a dysfunct seatbelt, broken side mirrors, and, of course, being driven by a homicidal maniac who drove at least 30 above the speed limit at all times. It was an unspoken rule among all of your friends that Natasha was never allowed to take any of you out.

You patiently wait for Wanda to pull on her seatbelt before putting the car back into drive and pulling off the curb. The two of you cruise in silence for a couple minutes before you speak up.

“Wanna tell me why I was called to be your getaway driver?”

She rolls her eyes, bringing a hand up to rub at her temples. “We’re going to need some booze before I tell you that story.”

You laugh, shaking your head at her antics. “Sorry babe, no can do. The crew drank the last of the vodka I had stored in the back of my trunk last weekend, remember?”

Some Sokovian swear words are grumbled under her breath as Wanda remembers the night in question. “Fine. Some music then.” Leaning towards the center, she moves to turn on your car stereo.

“Nuh uh, hold it.” You bat her hand away before she can reach it. “No touching.”

“But--”

“Nope. The last time I let you touch my stereo you somehow broke the volume knob, the radio tuner, and the ‘load/eject’ CD button. I had to get the whole thing replaced.”

“Ugh, fine.” Wanda doesn’t even bother defending herself. There was no point in arguing when you were both there when it happened.

You would be worried that she was angry at you but the smile she was trying to hide let you know that she was just pulling your leg.

She leans back into her seat as you press some buttons, music softly coming out of the speakers.

“Where are we going?”

You shrug, noticing but not acknowledging the fact that she jumped over your question. You knew her well enough to know that she’d talk to you when she was ready. “Somewhere. Nowhere. Everywhere… Wherever you want to go.”

Wanda lets out a soft hum at your answer. “How ‘bout Lucy’s Diner? I’ve been craving some milkshakes and fries.”

You nod, the thought of food making your stomach rumble.

It didn’t take long to get there, the two of you languidly strolling into the diner a few minutes later.

Upon sitting down you decide to just order a chocolate shake while Wanda went for a vanilla one with a side of fries.

When your things come Wanda instantly catches you eyeing her plate. “Don’t even try.”

You give her an innocent look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t.” She points a finger at you. “You’re not cute.”

“You love it.” That earns you an exasperated huff.

The dinging of the bell over the door signals the entry of another patron, and when Wanda lifts her head, attention momentarily drawn away, your hand darts out. A wrapper is flicked your way when you successfully snag a fry off of her plate.

“(Y/N)! You said you didn’t want any when we ordered!”

Quickly shoving it into your mouth you shoot her a sheepish smile. “Changed my mind.”

“Then go get your own.”

You pout. “You dare treat your best friend like this? I’m hurt.”

She shakes her head at you before reaching across the table, snatching your milkshake out of your hand. Your affronted look was ignored as she made a show of taking a large sip.

You grumble under your breath when she finally gives it back, half of your shake already gone. A wink is thrown your way and you can’t stop the way your eyes automatically follow her tongue licking up the remnants of the drink that didn’t quite make it into her mouth. You nervously cough before averting your eyes.

Aside from Wanda actively trying to murder you, this was nice. The two of you rarely had time to simply hang out anymore as you were both busy with getting ready for life after high school. You’ve missed spending time with her and the way Wanda was indulging your childishness also let you know that she did too.

After a few moments of silence you notice her movements faltering, a furrow appearing between her brows.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Wanda has a distant look in her eye as if she had a lot on her mind. You don’t doubt that she probably did but she looked like she needed to get it off her chest.

It’s a couple minutes later when Wanda finally lets out a long sigh. You pause, another stolen fry halfway to your mouth. “My parents are heading out of town for another business thing. They won’t be back until July the earliest.”

Quickly swallowing, you frown. “But we graduate in June.”

Wanda nods, eyes now focused on her hands. She looks a little angry and you can’t help but feel annoyed on her behalf as well. “I get that their jobs are important and all that, but I think it’d be nice if they were here for the important stuff just once, you know? They always give us whatever we want, but sometimes it’s just not enough.”

You reach across the table to put your hand over Wanda’s, rubbing at her knuckles. You were well aware of how she felt about her parents’ constant business trips by now. You lost count a long time ago how many times either Maximoff twin trudged up to your house to crash at your place just because their absent parents were off on another conference overseas. “It’s okay to want your parents to do more, to care.”

Absentmindedly humming she flips her hand over underneath yours, tracing a finger along the crevice of your palm.

“I know. I just…” she sighs, fingers stilling against yours. “They promised that they’d be there. And when they told me and Pietro about their plans today I was just so mad that I just left. I think I might have broken my door by how hard I slammed it.”

You pause. “And then… you called me from your room?”

She softly nods, confirming your lay of what happened.

“Wanda.” She looks up from where she was still staring at your hands.

“You were waiting for me on your porch this afternoon.”

Her head tilts in confusion. “And…”

“Maxi, are you telling me you snuck out of your house through your bedroom window?”

Just like that you break the serious mood. You see the tension melt from her shoulders as she chuckles at your words.

“I wouldn’t necessarily say I snuck out of my house. I just didn’t tell anyone where I was going.”

“You also didn’t use the front door like a normal person.”

Wanda snorts. “What are you, my mom?”

“You wish your mom was as cool as me.”

---

When the two of you finish eating you walk out of the diner hand in hand. You’ve done this numerous times before so you’re not sure why this time something felt different. You shake the feeling away. Today was about Wanda, not you. You could figure out your feelings later.

Once you get to your car you wonder if you should take the two of you back to her place or head somewhere else. Almost as if she could read your mind, Wanda speaks up.

“Can we just… I don’t know, drive around? I don’t really want to head home yet.”

She’s nervously chewing on her bottom lip, anxious at the thought of having to go home. You throw an arm around her shoulder, keeping her close. Her head automatically comes to a rest against your collarbone. “Of course, Wands. Whatever you want.”

Back in the car it’s not long before the two of you are playfully arguing over your stereo again. When Wanda starts complaining about the music choice coming from the radio you purposefully switch it to the classical music channel, blasting it as loud as it could go.

“You are such an ass.”

“Noted.”

“I just want to plug in my phone to the aux.”

“No.”

“(Y/N)--”

“No.”

“I will literally only touch the aux cord. I’ll even let you control the music once it’s in.”

“Permission to control the things in my own car? Geez, thanks,” you sarcastically shoot back.

“You’re no fun.” Wanda huffs out, placing her feet up onto the dash.

“Maxi,” you warn. Everyone knew your distaste for people putting their feet on places other than the floor in your car.

She gives you a ‘what are you going to do about it?’ look, not moving an inch.

You groan at her. “You are so feisty today.”

“Noted.” You roll your eyes at her clear attempt to mimic your earlier words.

Two could play that game. “You’re no fun.”

“Take that back. I’m fun. I am so much fun.”

You laugh at her faux look of outrage. Deciding to grant her some mercy, you change back the station.

It falls back into quiet as you focus on driving and Wanda looks at the view out the window.

When you pass by an empty field you’re suddenly hit by an idea. Wanda peers at you curiously when you pull the car over and hop out.

“What are you doing?”

She can hear a song playing on your phone and she has to stifle a laugh when you horribly mimic doing the waltz by yourself. Let’s just say she got a kick out of watching you try to dance along to hard rock music.

Wanda watches you with an amused smile on her face for a couple more seconds before you’re beckoning at her to come join you

“Come dance with me!”

“You look like an idiot.”

“Then we can look like idiots together!”

“You can’t slow dance to Rancid.”

“Watch me.” A laugh breaks free when she watches your moves quickly turn into you randomly flopping your arms around. “Come on, it’s fun!”

Wanda shakes her head at your tactics but gets out, taking your outstretched hand.

You instantly pull her in, twirling her around. Her face is red with laughter by the time you stop. When you start pulling exaggerated dance moves she joins in.

To any bystander driving pass the two of probably looked like you were high off drugs or something. Neither of you found it in yourselves to care.

By the time the song is over both of you are doubled over, stomachs cramping by how hard you were laughing.

Soon you guys are back on the road. By now the sun was slowly sinking in the sky, its orange hue turning purplish.

You couldn’t help but bask in your happiness. You couldn’t remember the last time the two of you went out and did random things together. It was fun.

A part of you knows you’re going to miss this when you go off to college in the fall. Wanda had opted to stay in New York with most of your friends while you were headed out to California. Everyone made promises to keep in touch, but you weren’t too sure how long that’d last.

Lost in your thoughts you’re not paying attention to anything other than the road until Wanda’s suddenly excitedly screeching at you.

“Turn it up!” Her favorite song was playing through the speakers and when you don’t move fast enough Wanda reaches over, fiddling with the volume knob of the stereo. You don’t have the heart to slap her hand away. The grin that overtakes her face when she realizes you’re not stopping her was more than worth it. You could spend forever just watching her face light up in joy.

“At least roll the window up.”

“You’re such a spoilsport. Singing with the window down is the best way to enjoy music.”

“It’s also the best way to get a ticket for noise pollution.” You laugh when she pouts at you.

Knowing that she wouldn’t pull it up herself you pull on the window button on your side. Wanda catches on immediately, quickly pushing down on the button next to her. What happened next could only be described as frantic clicking of buttons from two of you as the window gets caught in a cycle of moving slightly up and then back down, not really going anywhere.

When she uses her free hand to start poking at you you stop trying to close the window.

“Okay, okay, fine,” you chuckle, placing both of your hands back on the steering wheel.

Victorious, Wanda sings at the top of her lungs to the song and all subsequent songs that follow. You grin, her optimism quickly growing on you.

It strikes you then, watching the way her hair flowed in the wind, the way she was so carefree as she jumped around in her seat how much you cared about her. The two of you were always tittering over the edge of what could be deemed “friendly” so it didn’t really come as a shock to you. You think back to your hesitance to leave her behind in the fall, to your hand holding from the diner, to the playful jabs in the car, and it all seems to fit like a puzzle.

The words feel natural when they come out of your mouth.

“I’m in love with you.”

Wanda simply tilts her head to catch your gaze. “Yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

She flashes you one of her soft smiles before her hand finds its way towards yours. Flipping your hand over from where it was resting on the center console, she laces your fingers together. Neither of you say anything, hands intertwined as the car drove underneath purple skies with no destination in mind.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #mcu x reader #song fic #Ace writes

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embrassemoi · 3 years

Text

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 31

Pairings: Sirius B, F!Reader, Remus L Warnings: Language, smoking weed, shitty parenting, mentions of death A/N: more of a filler but it helps establish stuff. *unbeta'd

【 Masterlist | Previous Chapter | ao3 】

Chapter 31: Drowning on Dry Land

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The week before her flight back, Matthew’s parents invited her over for dinner.

Waiting to greet them at the door was Mrs. and Mr. Gaplin. Matthew’s father, a Half-Maj, was a Potioneer while his mother, an Old-Maj, was a Court Scribe. They wore large, kind smiles as Mrs. Gaplin pulled her into a tight, crushing hug.

After pleasantries, she and Matthew kicked off their shoes while his parents ushered them to the dining room.

“How are you darling? '' Mrs. Gaplin asked, floating plates in their direction as everyone began helping themselves to food. “Matt wouldn’t stop talking about you since we knew y’were coming.”

She side-eyed Matthew who groaned loudly. “Did not!”

“Sure thing,” she added, which caused Matthew to slump in his chair as his parents laughed at him.

It was a nice, charming evening; filled with laughter and heartfelt conversations. His parents continued to gloat about Mathew’s achievements that he hadn’t told her. It caused him to almost get up and run out of the room from embarrassment before moving to boast about Y/N. Even Mr. Gaplin asked her regarding her OWLs which pleasantly surprised her.

A few times, Mr. Gaplin pressed a few cheeky kisses to his wife’s face as Matthew made loud retching noises.

“Disgusting!”

Mr. Gaplin laughed. “Ya sixteen. Suck it up.”

“But you’re still my baby!” Mrs. Gaplin cooed, getting up to collect the plates.

Matthew tried to look insulted but she could see the small smile that threatened his lips as jealousy nipped at her toes.

The next few days were spent staying at the Gaplin household. Matthew’s parents insisted constantly that she should stay over so they could utilize the little time they had left before leaving. At first, the idea made her feel intrusive. Although, her mother hadn’t returned to the brownstone house, preferring to sleep in the on-call rooms at the Brooklyn Memorial Hospital. It quickly got lonely and boring before Y/N finally agreed. Besides, Mrs. and Mr. Gaplin were only around for breakfast and dinner - working for the day but never failed to return; always wearing larger smiles than the previous night.

They made her feel welcomed and warm - even taking her and Matthew to the local pictures. They included her in everything, even their trivia and board games after dinner.

It was quite the change compared to her family life.

Then an identical routine ensued. She would wake up, get ready for the day; spend hours with Matthew; then twilight fell as they stayed awake into the early hours of the morning.

The day before she was due to leave, she and Matthew ran up to his room after dinner. He went to lean on top of the small coffee table, rolling up a joint as she collected her possessions scattered around his room; not wanting to leave it for the last minute.

“Fancy some grass?” He asked in a poor British accent.

“Nah,” she shook her head, “But thanks love.”

Mathew’s smile turned bashful as he stood, turning on the radio in the background. She moved to open his window which was just above the roof of his shed as she stepped out with steady feet. Perching herself down on the blankets and pillows they hauled outside the night prior, she stared at the glowing city splayed in front. From the window, The Velvet Underground flowed softly.

Matthew proceeded to hop out, sauntering over as he threw a flirtatious wink.

“Brough this,” he said, tossing the camera he’d taken from her bag. She caught it as he nestled beside her and lit the joint; placed in his mouth. Billows of smoke clouded around them while she snapped a few photos of the view.

“Ya sure you gotta leave?” Matthew whined, embers of the end of the joint sparking with another huff. “Maybe you can smuggle me. Shove me into that trunk.”

She pulled the camera away from her face, inhaling the earthy, pungent scent. Her head felt a bit lightheaded from it. “A hardcore criminal at sixteen?”

Matthew was mildly amused until a troublesome look passed through his features. “Um — name something ya miss most about home.”

Home. What a funny word — place — feeling. Home was supposed to be something that made your heart glow, feel warm and happy — by that definition, a year ago home would’ve been her little house back in Toronto with the beautiful maple trees swaying in the backyard. Or home would’ve been Ilvermorny and its tall ivory walls. But now, London, or maybe just Hogwarts, had become her home. The scrolls around the Herbology greenhouse, the library, sneaking around past curfew; the Black Lake, Hogsmeade — Lily, James, Marlene, Dorcas, Remus, Regulus…

Unsure of what to say, she opted for, “You?”

Matthew rolled his eyes, bringing the joint to his lips. “Real charmer.” Then, smoke surrounded them. “But really.”

“Why?”

“C’mon! I need an answer! — I don’t know… say somethin’ like… lobstah.”

She chuckled. “Lobster? Really?”

“Or coffee from ya regular cafe.”

Deliberating it for a second, lips tugged up. “Coffee Crisp.”

He snorted. “A candy bar? Really?”

“Or Ketchup chips. Haven’t seen them in London yet.”

“That’s fucking disgusting.”

And then the silence returns but it makes Matthew shuffle in his spot. He blurted out, “Go — more brit insight.”

Y/N felt a bit hazy from the secondhand smoke. “More? You’ll get bored.”

“I won’t,” Matthew replied quickly, sounding oddly sincere. “Please, just… go on. Tell me everything.”

“Um… a friend of mine says crikey a lot. I think it just means to be mildly surprised? — They don’t say bloody or blimey as much as you’d think… Oh! Tea — they really drink that much tea. Also —”

Continuing, Matthew shut off again, going completely silent — not once speaking up or adding funny commentary; only staring at her, simply watching.

“Okay,” she turned to take the joint from his hand, “You're freaking me out. Spill, what's up?”

“S’nuthing.”

Whack!

“Jeez! Would ya stop wiv that! Gonna kill me…”

“Spill.”

“Fine! It’s just that…'' Matthew shifted, obscuring his face. Maybe if she didn’t feel so fuzzy, or if there wasn’t the smoke coming from the blunt or her small headache forming, she would’ve picked up on all the little signs. “It’s just —” he sighed, “I wanna hear ya talk — commit it to memory.”

“Obsessed with me? Not new.”

But that seemed to trouble him more. “It’s just… I don’t know if or when I’ll hear it again…” He looks up to the city in front. “Ya my… best friend. Could never forget ‘bout ya, but s’hard — keepin’ in touch.”

She pats him, encouraging and smiling. Her voice was hopeful, so much so that it made Matthew’s lip quirk up. “We’ll find each other. Always.” She said simply. “You and me, we’re like… salt and pepper. Soap and water — Hansel and Gretel!”

“Fuckin’ Dr. Seuss,” he smiled, that worried look fading away.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

The warm summer breeze flowed around them, just as the sun peeked above the airport. Expanse, clear skies with blue mingled with deep purples and pinks shimmered against the metal from the building.

“Gonna miss ya,” Matthew muttered into the crown of her head. Her mother didn’t want him to come, but Y/N simply ignored that request as he came to send her off.

“Don’t get mushy on me now,” she joked but felt her throat become tight.

“Betta get goin’ — Doc’s lookin’ like she’s ‘bout to butcher me if ya don’t.”

She snickered, pushing Matthew’s shoulder as she picked up her bags, walking backwards while waving. “Write me!”

“Course I will! Until next time!”

“Till next time!”

Once the plane took off, awkwardness swelled among the two women. Not once had her mother said anything to her — not to apologize or see how she was doing — although they never really did talk much. Honestly, she half-expected her to leave her in New York with the Gaplins. Easy to dispose of her.

The next few days Y/N, poorly, attempted to fix her sleeping schedule. It was a miracle that she managed to get up before dinner as her head poked into the master bedroom.

She cleared her throat, feeling herself swaying in place. “Um — hi. I’m making dinner tonight.”

Her mother was dressed in a simple, yet sleek dress. She was bent over, putting on high heels as she looked up.

“The hospital is throwing a party for me — the surgery was a success.”

“That’s amazing! Er — will you be back for dinner though? It’s just that I leave soon and... two parties are better than one.”

She considered her for a long time, eyes mostly distracted by her hair slowly changing to a different colour.

“Sure. But I have to go now.”

“Right, sorry, have fun.”

Thudding down the stairs and the door clicking shut, she followed not too long after. Making her way to the kitchen, she picked up a dusty cooking book, blowing off the dust and cracked it open; flicking through the pages.

Deciding on the seemingly easy noodle dish, she rushed out of the house to the local grocery shop for ingredients. It would be the first time they would be spending any time together. It had to be perfect. But she overestimated that no matter how closely she stuck with the dishes’ instructions, the outcome was a disaster.

The noodles somehow were rock hard. The sauce she made looked grey and was chunky, similar to badly mixed concrete and it tasted horrid. At one point, even the stove exploded into flames as she had to grab her wand and use magic to extinguish the fire.

Potions... She could use a cauldron, use multiple ingredients, make some of the most complicated spells and even had tricks of her own to make the process easier but she couldn’t make a simple dish…

Her face screwed together as she glanced up to the clock; she was going to come home soon as the dinner she made was disastrous. She panicked, cleaning up everything in a rush and decided to order food.

Waiting patiently at the dinner table, her eyes fluttered up to the clock in anticipation. She felt giddy, a surge of excitement rattling throughout her bones at the prospect. Her mother wanted to spend time with her! And she should be home any minute.

But then a minute turned to two, then five, ten, twenty, thirty — then an hour ticked by.

And then another.

Y/N got up, her chair squeaking loudly. Losing all her appetite, she went to her room, sleeping in early.

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August 20th, 1976

Going through the potential NEWT courses she could take was the highlight of her day. The possibilities were endless.

Wanting to take Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfigurations and most of all, Potions, left her excited for the school year.

But the more she thought about the upcoming school year or potential courses, she was left to contemplate what ther5 future entailed.

Was she ready to give up magic? Something that fundamentally altered her life and moulded her into what she was? Magic was her essence, something she developed and nurtured — but to put her life in danger…

Rethinking that word again: home… Was London her home? Was she willing to leave, move again to be safer? But practicing magic around the world these days for New-Majs was dangerous. Or the potential danger she would put her mother in if she continued with it?

But magic… Maybe home wasn’t necessarily a place — but rather something she carried. In all sense, magic made her heart glow, feel warm, safe and happy — it felt like what home was supposed to feel like. And the idea of being ripped away from it, forcing herself to live a normal, Muggle life…

Magic was home.

So die, but have what she cared and loved most was by her side or live a dull life without magic — ensuring her life would be miserable.

There was a clicking of shoes in the hallway that snapped her out of her thoughts. Her mother came walking by.

Lips smushed shut into a tight line, still annoyed from the other night but was determined to spend some time with one another.

“I was planning to go to Diagon Alley for the first time — to get my textbooks... '' She stood awkwardly. “Do you want to come with me?”

“I can’t,” she replied, so quickly that it had Y/N almost scoff in disbelief. “Work. But have fun.”

She sighed but still waved her off and said a small, ‘I love you, stay safe.’ Her mother only gave her a look, something unreadable and left without a word. With a heavy heart, she grabbed her purse filled with gold and left for Diagon Alley.

Passing through the Leaky Cauldron was an adventure in itself. The shabby, tiny pub was jammed with wizards and witches zipping by.

Diagon Alley was bustling with so much magic she could feel it pumping through her blood. Students were hypnotized by the shiny new Firebolt on display; others were giggling, running around with shopping bags while older witches and wizards took a scroll. Her head turned in every direction; walking into the Apothecary, a potions ingredients and book shop.

Emmeline was there. She gave a tight-lipped smile which she returned.

Emmeline by every definition was nice, extremely kind and neither girl ever had a problem with the other. James was the problem and Y/N would gladly stay out of their feud.

Passing clamouring students, she managed to get all her supplies but stopped in front of the potion ingredients. She took a few minutes, flicking through the Advance Potions textbook and grabbed everything listed needed for most of the potions.

She made her way around Diagon Alley, going through many shops. The shelves were stacked high to the ceiling with books and materials. She spent more time than necessary there but it was beautiful.

As she was paying for her Herbology textbook, a large boom! rumbled the ground. Y/N took her bags, ready to sprint to the Leaky Cauldron but the shouts caught everyone’s attention.

“WE WILL NOT BURN WITH THEM!” A crowd of witches and wizards shouted. Their wands were transformed into microphones as a few shot fireballs up in the air.

“What’s happening?” A woman asked an old wizard. He only shook his head, grabbing a copy of the Daily Prophet, handing it to the witch.

On the front page, there were moving photos of people protesting, similar to the wizards and witches currently shouting.

‘Protests Break out in Light of Muggleborns and Halfbloods Burned Alive

Voldemort and his followers have been attacking Muggleborn and ‘blood traitor' families with the usage of fire. By burning them alive, or their houses. They bonded the witch or wizard with magic, making it impossible to apparate or leave their houses. Their broken wands were found at the scene.

Since then, protests all around Britain and Scotland have broken out. The Ministry of Magic —’

“WE WILL NOT BURN WITH THEM!” The crowd chanted.

Rage filled every inch of her body as she stomped out of Diagon Alley.

If she wanted to stay in the magical world, she had to be the greatest at whatever she did, because if she wasn’t, someone of her status was never going to get anywhere.

Magic was home, and she wasn’t going to let them take it from her. She didn’t want to surrender. They weren’t going to take that away from her.

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Immediately after Diagonal Alley, she began working; taking in her thoughts from earlier to heart.

Making sure to cover any windows from prying eyes, Y/N fiddle with first with new charms. Still unassured by her abilities in Charms, she considered taking another class before realizing all the different routes it led to. To become a Healer, Auror or Potioneer, she needed Charms.

Multiple charms backfired, causing them to ricochet off the walls, leaving a dent or chipping the wallpaper.

After trying out more than half the Charms in the book, there was one spell in particular that she attempted to cast many times, but without fail, was never able to properly cast it. Frustrated, her hand made a sharp flick and the spell spurted out instantly.

She tried again with the same hand gesture. To her astonishment, the charm produced easily. Quickly, she jotted down the note in her book.

Next, she glossed over her Transfigurations and Defense Against the Dark Arts book until her eyes caught onto the word: werewolf.

She learned briefly about werewolves, but that was in third year. And now that she knew a werewolf, it would be good to rehash it.

A werewolf, also known as a Lycanthrope, is a non-magical or magical being who transforms under the rising of the full moon. However, non-magical beings have a greater risk of dying rather than turning.

As the name suggests, werewolves are closely related to the non-magical animal, wolves. However, they have distinct characteristics that make them easily identifiable from wolves.

She flipped the page.

Wolfsbane flowers are poisonous to the non-magical world but it has been proven to have no effects on werewolves like they do on wolves. Werewolves are immune from the poison they emit and there are reports that Wolfsbane flowers help alleviate symptoms.

She underlined that section.

It’s a uniquely magical illness known to spread by saliva and blood. Werewolves are dangerous, blood-thirsty beasts — she flipped the page.

They cannot choose to transform and will no longer retain their human mind. Given the opportunity, they would slaughter their loved ones — flipped the page.

A mixture of powdered silver and dittany applied to bites help seal bite wounds. It’s also commonly put in liquid and digested in anticipation of full moons to help with the symptoms of transforming.

Y/N’s face scrunched as she continued to read.

There is no known cure Potion used to help treat lycanthropy.

She felt oddly intrusive knowing parts about Remus’ condition. But then questions arose. How were there no Potions of any kind there to help werewolves during their transformation?

Pushing the thought away, she turned to the cauldron, picking a potion to brew. They all were fairly easy, some she’d even done before just by playing around. But one potion that grabbed her attention was Draught of Living Death. Even at Ilvermorny, that potion was notoriously difficult.

Starting up the cauldron, she grabbed hold of the sopophorous bean. However, it kept jumping when she tried to cut it. She quickly resorted to another method, running down to her kitchen and grabbing the handheld garlic press, placing the bean inside, squishing it down as so much juice spurted out, even going all over her clothing.

The potion turned into the light lilac like suggested. But then as she stirred, her potion quickly became ruined as she restarted immediately.

Hours ticked by; several items in her room were Transfigured into cauldrons, as she poured the existing solution into the nine other cauldrons as she conducted her experiment.

Stirring counterclockwise was a sham, so she stirred clockwise. Nothing, the potion went bad. The next cauldron, she stirred counterclockwise and then clockwise, alternating between every stir. It showed promising progress before it turned a bright red after the seventh stir, bubbling over.

The next cauldron, she stirred counterclockwise, then clockwise after the seventh stir as the potion turned a pink pale. That’s what the book said would happen. She quickly cleared the rest of the cauldrons, pouring in the pink liquid just in case.

She continued to stir until it became a clear liquid. Surely, that was good enough but she could never be sure. After all, she didn’t know if this was what it was supposed to look like.

Deeply immersed, she hadn’t realized how late it got.

She laid on her bed, her light on as she read the scribbles on the margins of the books she'd penned. The textbook was outdated and everything she’s written down, there were easier ways to perform spells, create Potions and more. The other books must’ve been outdated too.

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August 22nd, 1976

Today, her attention was drawn to her Herbology textbook as she flipped right to the medicine section. Y/N had sneakily stolen a few of her mother’s medical journals as she scribbled down notes.

She flicked through the diagrams. Wizards and No-Majs were different when it came to their bodies and sickness, she knew that, but their anatomy was still the same.

An opera played in the background as she sat in front of the television. It filled the silence as her mother came from behind her, creeping her way closer to the door.

Y/N called out from where she sat. “Care to join me?”

“Can't, work.” She grunted out.

She placed the pen down, full attention drawn to her. “I only have a few days until school starts… you can’t spend some time?”

Her mom wasn’t looking at her, ostensibly staring at the floor, anywhere other than her face.

“It’s not that interesting, but um - I need help with medical terms and illnesses. You’re the best at that!”

“I can’t,” she said roughly. “Can't you see? You have to stop bothering me when I’m busy.” And then she left again, leaving her alone. Y/N would’ve been more bothered had she not been so focused on her studies.

There was a pattern.

In the Herbology textbook, in the werewolf section, there were a few ingredients used to help alleviate symptoms of Lycanthropy.

Dittany, Powered silver, Powdered Moonstone, Aconite…

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August 26th, 1976

“Do you want to —” “Work.”

“But you always have work… can’t you take some time off?”

“You know it’s important to me. Why do you keep trying to limit that?”

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August 29th, 1976

She was partially through her Potions and Charms textbook. It was all she could fixate on.

Deciding to take a break, Y/N went to stretch, getting up to talk to her mom who again, was getting ready to leave. She opened the honey-coloured wood draw close to the door. She pulled out a set of keys, fixing her appearance in a nearby mirror.

She had already opened the door.

“Hey mom, I was thinking of getting lunch… Will you be back soon?”

But, there was faint muffling outside the door.

“Ready for our date?”

Y/N, desperate, seized hold of her wrist, pleading. “Please, I leave in a day.”

“I'll make it up to you,” mom replied, “I promise.” And then, the door clicked shut.

Again.

She stared at the door, trying to regulate what she was thinking.

What made them worthy of her time when their’s were limited.

Robotically, Y/N turned to walk to her room, her hip bumped into the drawer which hadn’t been fully closed. Her eyes flew to it, about to push it in as she caught a flash of white.

Yanking it open, she swore her heart could’ve shattered. White envelopes filled the draw; her familiar handwriting scribbled on top of each letter. She picked one up, twisting it over to the flap.

It was unopened.

She picked up another. Unopened.

Then another. Unopened.

Unopened.

All of them were unopened, sealed. Hardly tampered with and there was hardly a wrinkle.

Was there something wrong with her? Something so disgraceful that made her so disgusting that people kept forgetting - pushing her away? Like an insidious disease.

Was she truly that unloveable? That much of a nuisance? What made someone else so much more important than her?

It was too much to process but if she had to describe the feeling, it was like drowning on dry land.

Whatever home was, it shouldn’t feel like this: cold, lonely, sad.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

【 Next Chapter 】

Slang dictionary (+ a bit of history bc i didn’t realize how many ppl didn’t actually understand what I was talking about in other chaps):

Coffee Crisp = a very popular chocolate bar sold in Canada. It was a variation of a treat made by a company from the UK. It was briefly introduced to the UK in the 60s but was pulled back because people thought it was too similar to Kit Kat. From what I know, Coffee Crisp is not commonly found in England (I've never seen it in stores) but it’s sold in Scotland.

Candy bar = US term for chocolate bar / chocolate

Grass = during the 60s - 70s, the term 'grass' was very popular slang for weed in New York bc it featured in vogue.

And yes, the British do drink that much tea.

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hells-plaid-angel · 2 years

Text

Sorry for the relative radio silence for the past few days (most of my reblogs were queued) Long story short, after just getting over a bout of pneumonia, I caught Covid. So it’s been my lucky week. I’m fine, I just felt a bit shitty for a few days, but I’m finally more or less on my feet and of sound-enough mind and body to get back to posting and writing. I should be back to my usual intermittent, but not that intermittent posting.

I’ve written about 8k of a hopefully somewhere between 15-25k fic that should be coming out towards the end of the month/ beginning of next month. Without many spoilers, I challenged myself to write outside my comfort zone for this one as it is 1) a one-shot, which I don’t typically write and 2) an established relationship fic, which again, I don’t usually do. Think Dean, Cas and Toddler Jack living in an isolated house in the woods on the edge of a small town, once known to be a hotbed for paranormal activity. Dean and Cas are keeping secrets, that will slowly be unravelled as their son goes missing and their once-peaceful house goes down in flames. Yes, it’s a horror adjacent fic, also featuring lumberjack! Dean (which I feel is an underrated trope) and badass! Cas. So you’ll have that to look forward to.

#life update #personal

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agent-absinthe · 3 years

Text

foreigner’s god pt. 1

marvel. bucky barnes/reader. canon divergent. heavy fic. 5k+

Blaire Briar gets through the day by telling herself that James Buchanan Barnes and the Winter Soldier are two different people. It makes knowing he’s been pardoned and walking free easier for her to process. Only when she’s forced to assist on a mission with him on the team roster her carefully constructed coping begins to crumble. Forced to finally deal with their shared trauma Blaire and Bucky begin the difficult process of healing. The process is made more difficult when Bucky realizes that despite everything he has feelings for her.

warnings: assault, rape/non-con, violence, blood, sexual content, language, No Snap AU

“Sir, I can’t take this assignment.”

Director Coulson looked up at the woman from his desk where he had been staring at the phone, currently on hold with Stark, a record 48 minutes now.

“That assignment requires your skill set, I would think after complaining of not feeling useful you’d be happy for the opportunity.”

“Sir,” she tried again- almost pleading, “I cannot take this. Not with this team.”

He leaned back in the chair and considered the woman in front of him. Special Agent Blaire Briar, who worked mainly as a grunt in Comms for recon teams. Except when her special talent of Energy Vampirism brought her out into the field. Although she wasn’t used often for the skill set, when it was needed she became invaluable. Briar started out as an intern for Shield brought in by Maria Hill on a Stark recommendation- a series of personal traumas set off by Alexander Pierce led to her current position.

“The team was hand picked and is non negotiable. Captain Rogers prefers to work with those he trusts and he says he needs you, this isn’t a request.”

“I have trauma with the Winter Soldier. I can’t-”

“Sergeant Barnes,” Coulson corrected feeling guilt at her desperate expression, “he was pardoned so as far as the government and all other agencies are concerned all reparations are paid. Any personal feelings are just that- personal- and are to be dealt with in your own time.”

“And if I refuse?”

“You’ll be reprimanded and will most likely cost thousands of people their lives if not more. I know that’s not something you want on your hands Agent, so just take the assignment. You’ll be back in comms by the end of the weekend if all goes well.”

This was fucking bullshit.

Blaire couldn’t see straight as she stomped down the hall back to comms, gripping the wall from a sudden bout of nausea that overtook her. The folder was delivered to her in the afternoon by a security personnel and at first she had been thrilled to receive the assignment. There were ruins on a small island off the coast of Ireland thought to contain a training base for Hydra recruits. Files inside the base could provide names of remaining Hydra agents, contracts and agreements that the terrorist organization made, among other intel that could be incredibly useful. It sounded interesting and she was itching to get out there and live a mission instead of listening in on one.

“Whoa, you ok? Jesus, Blaire you look like you’re about to throw up.” Hill’s voice sounded like it came from far away even when she put a concerned hand on her back.

“Tell me this job is worth it.”

“What?”

“I need you to keep me from walking the fuck outta here. I can’t do this shit anymore, I can’t fucking do it. I could be at Stark Industries or- or working with Strange or pouring goddamn drinks at Starbucks getting verbally abused by assholes.”

Her hands were on her knees now as she tried to focus on her breathing and stave off the panic attack building in her chest. She was too young for this kind of stress. Was any of this worth it? The manilla folder containing her assignment was tossed to the floor, open on the team roster page so his name glared out at them.

James Buchanan Barnes

When Maria saw the name she knew what was wrong immediately and knelt in front of Blaire, hands on her cheeks so she had to focus on her.

“Hey, hey, hey breathe for me, Briar. That’s it. Listen, they’re two different people- two completely different people.”

“I know that. I know.”

“You can do this, you’re strong and I know for a fact that you’re too much of a bitch to let something stop you from doing your job, right?”

Briar laughed at that, the laughter dissolving into tears momentarily before she regained her composure, “right.”

“You are the only one that can help them on that mission, you’re the one that’s gonna be calling the shots. Now let’s go ahead and go down to development so we can get you measured for your gear.”

“Are you listening to me, James?” Dr. Raynor asked with a forceful tap of her pen against the notepad to get his attention.

“Not really.”

She sighed and started writing waiting until he looked up with irritation before continuing, “I said done correctly this could be an opportunity for you to cross another name off the list. Emphasis on done correctly.”

Bucky let out a breath he was holding in and turned to the window so he could pretend not to hear what Raynor was saying. The therapist was right and so was Steve when he approached Bucky last week to let him know about who they needed for the recon. He’d apologized to people he tried to kill easy enough, but it didn’t feel like there was a proper way to apologize for what he did to her.

“And what am I supposed to do when I see her? Just walk up and say sorry? It’s like you and Steve live in this perfect little world where forgiveness is just handed out the minute someone says sorry.”

“Steve and I live in the real world where we face our problems-”

“Oh, here we go.”

“-where we face our problems and hope that we can be forgiven for any harm caused. You’ll be working with this girl so you will have to face it sooner or later, make sure Rogers is there when you do it if that will make you feel more comfortable. That’ll be your homework until our next session- try to come to terms with what happened and make an effort to talk to Briar.”

It was just the same shit Steve told him over and over. Dr. Raynor sure as hell couldn’t know what he was going through even Steve didn’t understand this part of adjusting.

Of atonement.

When he closes his eyes and concentrates he can still see Pierce with a smile telling him about a “special” side mission, a “treat really”, that he wanted The Winter Soldier to complete.

Her apartment was quiet when he entered through the bedroom window to begin the first step of the mission. Placing a small hidden camera in the framework of her gaming setup tucked in a corner across from the bed. When he walked into the rest of the home he was stopped by a curious mew and looked down to find a fat, grey cat weaving between his legs. The cat observed him for the rest of the camera placements and sweep of the apartment, disarming any weapons he found. A loaded gun under the sink, a taser between couch cushions, and a knife on the bathroom vanity.

“Your target’s not on her way yet so hang tight. Fix the camera in the living room while you wait, I want it more focused on the couch and turn on your body camera.” Pierce’s voice came over the earpiece sounding almost bored as he sat at his desk and looked through the new feeds.

He gravitated back to her bedroom when he wasn’t given another task finding that the room was pleasant to be in. Warm and dim, smelling like the floral perfume bottle he inspected earlier. The cat followed and jumped to the bed meowing at the soldier in annoyance when he didn’t pet him. Something like muscle memory took over and Bucky lifted his flesh hand out to the cat who purred rubbing it’s face into the palm.

“Good cat.” He mumbled earning another meow and purr.

After a few more minutes of radio silence he sat, the mattress and box spring groaned under his weight and the softness felt foreign. When another minute passed he leaned back in the unmade bed and didn’t move as a purring weight laid on his stomach. It was all so...comforting. Only when his eyes began to close did the earpiece screech on.

“Target’s in transit, be ready when she gets there-”

The front door opening interrupted Pierce, “Tikki! Where is my fat little man?”

Tikki jumped off of him and he could hear the cat meowing to it’s owner as she walked to the kitchen, tossing her bags down on the way. The woman looked normal enough to him, a little heavy for an agent but nothing he couldn’t handle.

“She’s worn out from training but we still don’t know how long her power can last. You need to get the implant in her neck to block the absorption if she tries anything.”

Bucky fished in his utility belt for the dime sized, pronged disk and held it in his fist as he stalked closer to the kitchen. She was singing to herself while stacking up dirty dishes to make room for a take out bag.

“Thank god I got there before they closed and yes they did give me some grilled chicken for you, Tikki. Such a fat kitty, lucky you’re so cute. Sure as hell don’t keep you around to pay rent, you’re a freeloader and you don’t even care!”

Pierce was telling him to proceed, but Bucky stood in the doorway and watched her set a small bowl down in front of Tikki who ignored it to eye him and meow louder, suddenly puffing up as if realizing that the strange man was now a threat.

“What’s the matter you crazy cat? That’s all you’re getting so deal with it.”

A low growl and hiss.

“Jesus Christ, what? Is there a fucking-” She started and turned around only for her voice to die in her throat as they stared at one another.

“Ok, Bucky?” Dr. Raynor repeated.

“Ya ok.”

This was it. They were getting briefed this morning then they’d be flown out, Blaire could barely stand without shaking so she sat at her small cubicle in comms until it was time. She should have known that Steve would try to play good guy and come find her.

“Hey, Blaire.”

“What do you want?”

“Briefing is gonna start soon, thought we could walk down there together.”

“To make you feel better or me?”

The super soldier leaned against her desk and crossed his arms, “you know I wouldn’t put you in this position if I didn’t have to. There’s no other way for us to get through those doors, trust me we’ve tried.”

“Let’s just get it over with.”

She wasn’t trying to lash out at Rogers on purpose but it was hard to control her anger when she felt this shitty. Steve and her used to be good friends, introduced by Tony who thought Blaire could make the soldier blush, they ended up balancing each other out nicely. After what happened with the winter soldier and Shield they grew apart not talking unless Tony had a gathering they were both obligated to attend. It was a loss on both ends when they stopped hanging out, the easy back and forth humor between them almost nonexistent now. It was early enough in the morning that the pair walked in silence without many other agents around until Steve broke it.

“I know I don’t have any room to say this, but Bucky’s a good guy. Begged me to find another way so you wouldn’t have to see him, tried to back out of the mission, he feels like shit about this and he wants to apologize to you.”

Blaire already knew where this was going, “and you’re the buffer?”

“His therapist suggested it. Dr. Raynor.”

That wasn’t something she expected. Therapy was a good sign, taking the therapist’s advice an even better one. Blaire wasn’t stupid she knew that Barnes was under the influence of years of systematic abuse when he attacked her, practically brainwashed and nearly physically impossible for him to defy an order. He was a victim too. That’s what made being angry at him still so hard.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Steve opening the door to the conference room to see Barnes pacing. The hair was shorter and the arm was new, but his body had the same heavy muscle and wide stance. She found that she couldn’t look at him when they finally made eye contact, not directly anyway. Focusing instead on the zipper of his gear or scruff on his chin.

He’s handsome. Why the fuck does he have to be handsome? It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. The world was playing some kind of fucked up joke for her to still be attracted to him. That wasn’t new of course; she found him attractive since she first saw the winter soldier in photos and videos from the attack on Fury in Pierce’s office. She had been standing there staring at the holograms when Pierce made an offhand remark about it, teasing her for her flushed cheeks. Now that she knew he was the one who ordered the attack the memory made her boil with shame.

“Agent Briar.” At least he was trying to be polite.

“Sergeant Barnes.”

“I-” he stopped, his adam’s apple bobbing with anxiety as he swallowed. “I am no longer The Winter Soldier, I am James Buchanan Barnes and you’re part of my effort to make amends-”

“Your therapist knows how to write a good script.” Blaire interrupted.

Steve didn’t make a move to intervene and stayed off to the side sipping a coffee and watching.

“Look, I know that you were not in control of yourself when it happened and because of that you are also a victim in the situation,” she said it slowly trying to sound reasonable, “There isn’t a lot that you can apologize for. Pierce is the one who owes me that and he’s been dead for a few years now so I doubt I’ll be getting it anytime soon.”

“Thank you for understanding, not a lot of people do, but I still have to tell you how sorry I am for the pain that I caused you. I want to try to make things right or as right as they can be.”

“If you really want that then you’ll interact with me as little as possible. Please understand that it’s not personal. I just can’t fucking look at you.”

Barnes nodded quickly, the words cut him to the core in a way he had never experienced. Yet he still apologized, still at least tried to make amends with Blaire and despite her blunt reaction he hoped Dr. Raynor would consider it a success.

“Yeah, of course. I can do that.”

Bucky thought he was doing a good job with it so far too. He stayed in the flank of the group during the mission and got to see her work after she was able to duplicate an energy reading and get through to the bunker. Three Hydra agents crumpled to the floor as soon as they rounded a corner to stop their progress, Briar released the pent up energy she absorbed from them at the next group they came across. Leaving their bodies broken and bloody in a heap against a wall.

“Hey, Cap why the hell did you drag me outta bed on a Saturday? Looks to me like Miss Atom Bomb here’s got it covered.”

“Miss Atom Bomb sounds like way too pretty of a hero name for me, Sam.” She laughed tossing a smile back at the Falcon, “guys on the Strike team just used to call me Leech.”

“Those guys were assholes.”

“Ya, they were pretty awful most of the time. M’not gonna be able to keep it up much longer though, I fill up on too much and I burn out quick. I got a few more bursts in me before I start seeing doubles.”

The bunker ended up being an intel goldmine opening up several leads for the team to follow in their mission to eradicate Hydra once and for all. Being part of that kind of adrenaline high in person had made Blaire even more dizzy than her burn out, no wonder field agents dreaded being behind a desk. It wasn’t until they were strapped back in the plane with the sun rising that she was beginning to feel that same dread. She was dirty and tired but helped more in this mission than she had almost her entire time in Communications.

“How ya feelin’, Briar?”

“Like shit, Romanoff. How about you?”

Natasha laughed and handed her a rations bar, “good to see you out in the field. Started feeling like the boy’s club for awhile.”

“How on Earth will you cope with my loss come Monday?”

“A quick word with Coulson and I won’t have to cope with anything.” She offered. Producing another rations bar from her pocket like a bribe.

“Nat, I can’t. Look at me, I’m not fit for field work-”

“You just obliterated more than 50 guys in that bunker and I’ve seen your hand to hand combat, it’s not bad.”

“Ya but I’m about to fucking pass out now. I mean- it’s complicated.”

The assassin stretched out and settled in next to Blaire trying to think of a way to talk her into it. Wanda and Vision were off trying to live the domesticality that Tony now had, leaving their team bare bones. There was no telling when or if Thor would show back up from trying to fix shit back home, they were missing a super and Blaire seemed the best fit.

“You wanna be in communication so bad then why don’t you be our guardian angel when we don’t absolutely need you in the field? It would get you out of that cubicle more often anyway, sure we could talk Coulson into a pay raise too. Plus you’ll get to listen to my voice and boss Steve around, what more could you want?”

“You’ve operated without a guide in HQ for so long. No one’s gonna buy it.”

“They will if Golden Boy and Wings asks.”

Blaire took the second ration bar and rolled her eyes, “I’ll think about it.”

She ended up taking it of course once Nat wanted something she almost always got it, Blaire sure as shit wasn’t going to tell her no. For the most part it started out really well with the exception of a few hiccups in finding her place on the field when it came to real action. Off the field was a different story- Blaire knew how to operate a team in a way that both got the job done safely and felt like borderline workplace violence at the same time. Bucky tended to be the target for the latter on most missions.

“You don’t listen! Jesus fucking christ I am going to buy a goddamn adult tether backpack for you! And ya know who’s gonna have to hold the leash? Wilson!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa don’t drag me into this. I’m doin’ my job.”

Bucky wanted to dig out the earpiece and throw it, “I still took care of it, didn’t I?”

“You fight like you have handlers still, Barnes. News flash, you don’t! I’m the one who has to file all the paperwork when you go off course on your own and cause mayhem and destruction like its the fucking Winter Soldier Show.”

All Bucky did was ignore her suggestion to not engage with the hostiles ahead until Natasha and Steve followed suit. There were only three guys from what he could see and a hostage was waiting for them with time running out so he did what he thought was best. There ended up being six instead of three and the hostage received a minor injury when he wasn’t able to get to them fast enough.

“Well, it’s over and done with now so could you just shut up?”

Everyone on the line went dead silent for a few seconds.

“Quinjet is waiting at the extraction point for pick up. Good job team, we look forward to your safe return to the hanger. Briar signing off.” Came the calm check out.

Sam landed next to Bucky with a satisfied chuckle, “oh you fucked up big time, buddy.”

“I hate you.”

She wasn’t waiting for them like she usually did when they landed, coming in a few minutes later with a small med team in tow to look over injuries. Barnes waved off the attempts to dab blood off of his brow where he caught a stray punch and focused on getting his gear off. Blaire wasn’t about to let him off the hook just yet, still too blinded by her rage to consider letting them both cool off before talking.

“That’s the third time you ignored me when I told you not to run blindly into enemy fire. What’s your problem, Barnes?”

“I’m not the one with a problem.”

“Are you kidding? It’s like you do this shit on purpose just to piss me off.”

“I do!” He yelled, turning around to make eye contact with her. “The only time you ever acknowledge me is when I get you riled up.”

“Oh, you poor baby do I not pay enough attention to you so you feel like you gotta act out?”

Bucky dropped the rest of his gear and started towards her, already feeling his energy dropping with each step from her defense. He didn’t let it show and only stopped when he was in front of her.

“You’re the one with the problem here. How am I supposed to fix this when you won’t talk to me? You won’t even look at me dammit! I’m the only one making an effort and I can’t let go of it if you won’t.”

Their voices boomed in the near empty hanger as Steve was making his way over to break it up after releasing the rescued hostage over to medical, fearing that he may be too late to salvage their already rocky relationship.

“What do you want, huh? You wanna hit me? Go on doll, take a shot and get it out of your system.” Bucky continued leaning down to her height tauntingly.

“Maybe I do.”

“Great, let’s go.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea-” Rogers started.

“Stay out of it, Steve!” They shouted in near unison before Blaire turned on her heel and began speed walking to the exit with Bucky right behind her.

The night air was shockingly cold against their flushed skin and it made Bucky think a little more clearly as the door slammed shut behind him. Only when he went to say something Blaire caught him by surprise with a haymaker to his cheek. Her punch held more power than he would have thought, momentarily knocking him off balance enough for Blaire to ram him. The impact of their bodies knocked both down to the wet grass as they struggled until she was on top raining half pulled punches down that she didn’t follow through with. Her hits fueled by emotion slowly got weaker and weaker until she slid off of him sobbing.

“I didn’t get mandated therapy. I lost my dignity and my job and my will to live in the span of a fucking week.” She choked out, nails digging into the artificial turf. “Then everyone found out it was Pierce that put out the hit and all that footage was just uploaded to the Hydra file. Oh don’t worry Blaire it’s classified it’s so classified but no we can’t delete it or anything sorry. I can get into it, I can see that file and I only have level green clearance. It’s just sitting there for anyone to look at it. My coworkers, bosses, the fuckin’ guys in coding. They can just type in credentials and watch me get raped.”

This must have been what Dr. Raynor meant by coming to terms. Pulling everything ugly out to the open so they didn’t have to dance around it any longer.

He looked strange without any of the guns and knives strapped to him, but it was still The Winter Soldier. Blaire knew that in an instant from the face mask strapped to him like a muzzle and the silver arm shining against his black modified jacket. She was frozen. Never in her life had she experienced Freeze instead of Fight, but then again she couldn’t remember the last time she was this scared. Thoughts ticked off in rapid fire until Tikki jumped up on the counter with a hiss breaking the spell. She threw the take out bowl of hot matzo ball soup that he easily dodged and turned around to feel under sink for the gun only to find it gone. A hand clamped something down on the back of her neck, his metal one coming down around her mouth like a vice when she yelled out for help.

“Any of your neighbors try to help they die.”

No, that wasn’t right. He sounded local, like he was from New York. That wasn’t possible. The metal crushing her jaw came off when she threw her elbow back with full force catching his ribs. It came darting back out immediately and shoved her to the kitchen floor on her stomach, his heavy weight on her lower back and ass was crushing as he straddled her.

“Fuck off! Better kill me because I’m not saying shit about anything.” She growled trying to buck him off.

There was no answer only his body going still like he wasn’t sure of the next move himself. Then the weight was gone and for a second Blaire thought that maybe she could get away or at least get to her phone on the counter and send a message to Shield. It was when she tried crawling away that she felt his fingers hook into her shorts and jerk them down.

“No!” More panic now than before. The prospect of death was always looming over her working where she did, but not this. Please anything but this.

With the shorts off she was rolled to her back as he straddle her hips, his hands trying to catch her wrists again while she fought. Nails raked down his face and neck, leaving rivets of red and tearing off his mask as they went. When Blaire caught sight of his face she knew it was over. There was no emotion there, just a slack jaw and blown out pupils. He was going through the motions like someone was telling him what to do, a machine being controlled by someone else. When the soldier did catch her wrists and pin them down with his metal hand he went still again, staring down at her as blood dripped off his face.

“I don’t wanna do this.” He suddenly announced maybe to her or to no one.

“You don’t have to! Just leave, just get up and leave. It’s not too late.”

She could hear the faint static buzz of someone screaming from his earpiece and then the slack look was back and her thighs were being kneed open. It was happening so fast and Blaire found herself completely powerless, he had done something to her to stop her energy absorption and without that she was just some intern with a little gun training. No amount of fight, of pleading, would help her now. Somehow that was more terrifying than anything else.

“Stop it! Get off me, get off! I’ll fucking kill you!”

The threats sizzled out into broken shrieks as he thrust into her hard enough to hurt both of them with no prep. Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes from the pain and violation, droplets of his blood now falling faster onto her as he moved. Blaire tried catching his hip with her heel to get him off and keep fighting but the metal squeezed her wrists tighter in warning til they gave way with a crunch, his pace never slowing and only growing sloppier. The pain was too much for her to even scream for help, not that she’d want to. Didn’t need poor Miss Hoffman coming in here waving her cane to the rescue only to end up dead.

She looked past his blank face to stare at her kitchen ceiling focusing on the water mark in the corner she kept meaning to paint over. His flesh hand came up to her face to cover and turn it away as if he didn’t want her looking at him. The kitchen filled with the scent of soldier’s blood making her mouth taste like pennies. Droplets of it felt like scalding water as it fell on her check and neck. How long would it take to scrub his scent off? Her body couldn’t seem to adjust fast enough to allow her any relief but by the grace of whatever cruel god watched the display his hips stuttered and stopped. A sob bubbled up from the sensation- too hot and too full, seeping out of her before he even pulled out.

There was always a point in his missions where the targets gave in and stopped fighting. He watched that happen with this one after he stood. Watched her curl in on herself as she laid there crying with his cum dripping out of her and down the back of her thighs. Then he was back to her bedroom window without retrieving his mask or the blocking device, no longer listening to whatever was coming through the earpiece. Mind going absolutely haywire and telling him he just needed to get out.

“I’m sorry, Blaire. I didn’t know.” Bucky sat up with his own chest beginning to tighten at what she was telling him, it made him sick.

She cried harder and shook her head, “it’s not your fault, Barnes. No matter how much I want it to be so I wouldn’t feel so shitty for hating you. It’s not your fault.”

Without thinking Bucky leaned over and wrapped an arm around Blaire pulling her to his chest. She tensed at first but relaxed and returned the hug when she felt him begin to shake too. So they sat together on the wet turf and cried until Steve managed to herd them back inside thankful they hadn’t killed each other.

Bucky kept a hand on Briar’s shoulder as they entered, “Are we good?”

“Ya, we’re good.” She clapped him on the back and then punched his arm as an after thought, “but if you ever tell me to shut up during a mission again I’ll tell your therapist and make sure you have to go to sensitivity training. This doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

“I’ll only get a rise out of you when I want you to yell at me then.”

He watched her roll her eyes and could have sworn he saw the corner of her mouth turn up into a smile. That made him smile too and Bucky felt a new sense of ease. Unsurprisingly at his next session with Dr. Raynor he found it easier to open up.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes/reader #Bucky Barnes #marvel #rape/non-con #assault #fanfiction #ao3 #eventual fluff #smut #trauma #ok so i havent posted anything on tumblr in a long time but I really wanted to post this #kinda way out of my comfort zone as far as topics since i dont usually write so much trauma #next part coming in a few days since it's already written

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ellohcee · 3 years

Text

Call Me

Okay so I want to throw this little bit out into the universe of one of my favorite instances of Jasper I've written. Context: He's a host for a dinky late night radio show and he has like... 10-15 listeners max and David is one of them, a college student who Can’t Sleep even between classes and his job, so he’s up late late listening to Jasper’s show. He calls in sometimes because Jasper is always offering advice and encouraging people to call in and chat, specifically about LGBTQ topics and David finds comfort and encouragement in their chats. They’ve been talking for a while but he still goes by the name Red.

- - - -

“Alright you night owls, this next one goes out to my long lost buddy, Red.”

David looked up at the radio in surprise, his pencil stilling on the page.

“It’s been a while since we’ve heard from ya and we miss you dude. And I’m gonna get hella gay up in here, but that’s on brand for me, I miss you.”

David’s breath caught in his throat painfully, his heart hammering.

“So I hope you catch this, give us a call, let me know how you’re doing buddy I’m dyin’ here, don’t leave me hanging. Cause I’ve got a question for you and you wont know what until you gimme a ring. Yes I’m gonna be that guy. So call. Please.”

The music picked back up, and true to Jasper’s word, Blondie’s Call Me started playing.

The pencil had slipped from his fingers without realizing as David tried to decipher all of that, especially that last, sincere please. Jasper missed his calls? Maybe he was just worried because David had dropped off so suddenly. It had just been too nerve wracking once he realized he was crushing on the radio host. But what could Jasper possibly want to ask him? Was it good or bad?

He was still nervous and the idea of calling in downright terrified him now, but… he at least owed it to Jasper to let him know he was alive. It must have looked bad, for him to be consistently calling about once a week and then suddenly stop with no warning, going on nearly two months of silence now. Jasper was always so nice and seemingly happy to talk to him, he must be worried. Gosh, now he had to call, he felt terrible.

David had to take several steadying breaths and about twenty good minutes to work up the nerve, but he managed to eventually press call, hands shaking as he listened to the phone ring.

“What’s up caller you’re live, how’s it hangin?”

“Um, hi...” he said quietly.

He heard a soft intake of air and a shuffle. “That you Red?” Jasper asked, sounding hopeful, the excited smile evident in his voice.

“Y-yes, it’s me,” David replied.

“Aw, buddy, good to hear your voice again man, I was gettin’ worried bout you.”

“I’m so sorry I- just- life, you know?” David hedged, feeling even more guilty because he couldn’t give an honest explanation.

“I feel that, it’s cool dude, it’s just good to hear from ya. I assume you heard my call out?”

David’s heart started beating faster, so, so antsy. If it weren’t for the guilt of worrying Jasper he probably wouldn’t have had the guts to call, but he could still be a wreck about it, easily. “Yes, I did. You... had a question?”

“Yeah! You don’t mind me askin’ live?”

“Um, sure, that’s fine,” David said nervously. It couldn’t be too bad if it was something Jasper could ask on air. Right?

“Sweet. So. Last we talked your rough waves from the coming out thing were settling. You found a boyfriend yet?” the radio host asked casually.

David eyebrows shot up in surprise, his face going so very red and he was so very grateful this was a phone call, not in person because that would make it ten times worse. “Um- n-no, I- I haven’t… um, no,” he stammered uselessly. Why was this the topic??

“Awesome!” Jasper said in delight, leading to an awkward pause. “Wow fuck that sounded hella mean I am so sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. Cheese and crackers, foot in mouth Jasp, good one. Anyway! I just meant because- like, stop me if this is too weird, or hang up on me, but I was wondering if I could like… take ya on a date?”

David’s heart stopped in surprise, the blush that had just started receding coming back full force. His stomach whirled in a mix of dread and excitement, trying to go one way or the other as his brain stalled for a good long moment-

“Red?”

David sucked in a breath. “Is- are you- are you serious?” he asked softly, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

“Course dude!! I wouldn’t fuck around with you like that, hell no! I’m for super serious!”

“But… we’ve- you- you don’t even know what I look like,” David stammered, trying to find reason to turn him down, but so, so desperately wanting to say yes. He felt stupid for saying it the second it left his mouth, Jasper didn’t seem at all the type to place a lot of importance on appearances.

“I don’t need to! I’m sure you’re rad as hell, but I’m not a looks guy, okay? I like your personality, and I love shootin the shit with you, and you’re super nice. That’s the kinda stuff I’m into, and if you’re hella cute, which I’m sure you are, that’s a bonus!”

David stared down at his desk for a long moment, his thoughts a mess, one hand over his mouth as he took this all in. He had to take a moment to pinch the soft skin on the inside of his arm to decide that this was really happening and he hadn’t passed out at his desk into some dream where his crush happened to reciprocate-

“Reeeddd?” Jasper teased softly after another long pause, bringing him out of his panic spiral. “No pressure my dude, you can say no.”

“Yes,” David blurted shakily.

“Yeah??” Jasper asked, his voice picking up in obvious excitement and relief, despite his apparent brace for a rejection. “For real?”

“Y-yes, I’d… I’d like to,” David said softly, his face still red.

“Aw man, awesome, shit. Okay uh- no PI on air so uh- I go off air at 3, you’re usually up pretty late, yeah? Think you’ll be around?”

“Yes, I should be.”

“Supes, call back when you hear me sign off and we’ll hash stuff out, okay? Or at least do personal numbers to talk during the day.”

“O-okay,” David stammered, his mind whirling. “I’ll do that.”

“Sweet. Okay man, you sound a little wigged out so I’ll let you get back, and I will be counting the minutes til sign off,” Jasper teased.

“Okay, um, talk to you later? Bye.”

“Ta-ta for now!” Jasper sung.

David disconnected the call, his pulse still racing as he listened to Jasper on the radio once more, turning the volume back up just in time to hear.

“Oh my god, wack, holy shit you guys he said yes- fuck he’s probably listening and I sound like a giant goober- hi Red! Okay, anymore callers before we go back to music? Holy shitballs.”

A quick, incredulous laugh escaped his mouth before David could stifle it, his chest swirling with fear and elation. Jasper- Jasper had asked him on a date- and he sounded just as rattled as David felt. That helped a little to know it wasn’t just him- Jasper had just been loads better keeping a cap on his nerves while they were talking.

“You’re up caller!”

David came back from his thoughts when he heard a familiar voice, one of Jasper’s other regular callers.

“Oooooh Jasper asked a boy on a daaatteee~” she teased in delight.

“I know oh my god dude I’m still weak from it, I didn’t wanna mess up with Red but I like… really want to meet him and take him out, especially once he stopped calling? And no offense Red if you’re still there it’s TOTALLY cool cause that woke my ass up! Holy shit I still can’t believe he said yes.”

David listened all throughout the rest of Jasper’s show, all thoughts of homework lost as he leaned his elbows on the desk, hands clasped in front of his mouth. Anticipation made his nerves spike again while sitting through Jasper’s familiar sign off, where he bid goodnight to his listeners and started the after hours playlist. David waited a minute before taking a deep, deep breath and pressing the call button.

It rang only once before the line picked up, and a hopeful voice answered. “Red?”

“H-hi Jasper,” he replied.

“Hey dude! Hey, sorry to put you on the spot like that but- y’know, I figured it would be less creepy to everyone to just be upfront and ask you, instead of being like ‘hey call me after hours hoohoo wink wink,’ ya dig?”

David stifled a giggle, smiling. “I understand. It probably would’ve made me more nervous to have to wait that long, wondering what your question was,” he admitted.

“That too! I wanted to just… put it out there, figured it’d be best. So! You’re really cool with going on a date?”

“Yes, I… I’d like that. To meet you,” he added softly, flushed.

“Rad, okay, nice. So let’s just exchange numbers for tonight? I know you might not sleep anyway but it’s friggen late and I don’t want to keep either of us up too long.”

“That sounds good, I don’t want to keep you up either,” David replied. He gave his number first when Jasper gave the go-ahead, listening to the other man hum as he typed it into his phone, and a few moments later David heard a buzz near his ear.

“I just shot you a text so you have my number and can add me.”

“Got it,” David replied, pulling the phone away briefly to see a text notification at the top of the screen, a short string of peace sign emojis that made him smile.

“Awesome sauce. Well- shit, I’m really excited but again, we can talk later. Try to get some sleep, okay dude?” he asked, sounding genuinely concerned and losing his usual casual tone. “I worry bout you.”

David smiled, touched by the thought. “I’ll try.”

“Okay, I’ll text you sometime tomorrow- today, whatever, much later. Give you a chance to snooze. Night Red, and thanks for- you know. Thanks. Night!”

“Goodnight Jasper, and thank you too,” he replied softly.

“No prob, catch ya later.”

David pulled the phone away and ended the call, his heart still hammering as he tried to comprehend everything. But he decided to pack it away for later, turning off the radio and closing the long abandoned textbook. Hopefully he could get a few hours of sleep and be a tiny bit more composed when he next spoke with Jasper.

Doubtful, but it was a nice thought.

#camp camp #cc david #cc jasper #jaspvid #ellowrites #but for real this is like #the most best i've ever been able to channel my vision of jasper?#when they meet for their date he's wearing that stupid bowling alley carpet shirt and i just #god it's so jasper #also a great example of me abusing the dash symbol #but it's my staple #also mentioning way too often about the state of david's heart but he's a sleep deprived nervous wreck SO

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douxspider · 4 years

Text

— 𝐩𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞. (2)

‘ARVIN RUSSELL x READER INSERT’

( spoilers for “the devil all the time” ) — After befriending the bloodied blue-capped boy in the cafe Reader works at, a friendship blossoms between the two. However, unfortunate circumstances occur, and no one’s really sure how to feel about anything anymore.

+ this is the second part to peachy keen! (ao3 link)

warnings: implied/referenced suicide, hurt/comfort, grieving word count: 3,575 published: 9/21/20 ao3 link — part 1, 3

— — • — —

“Ellie, sweetie, don’t touch that.”

You were working behind the counter, rubbing raw dough and flour off on your apron, rushing around the shop to tend to the various customers. While specializing in baked treats, you were the main mistress, while Marilyn focused on baking and cooking up breakfast and lunch for eager customers.

Elaine Beck, a sweet girl of eight years, had recently been fostered by Marilyn. Marilyn, when not focusing on Elaine’s schoolwork, would bring her to the shop to watch over her.

You loved children, dearly, but it was difficult having a sweet-obsessed child in a bakery where the goods could easily be yanked. You find yourself aging more and more every time you told Elaine to keep her hands to herself.

Eyeing the clock, you rolled your bottom lip with your teeth, staring out the window before Marilyn caught your attention, pulling out crepes for a frequent suit-clad visitor. “Time goes slower when you’re staring at the hands, sweetpea.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled, shaking your head as you organized dollar bills into the register. “I didn’t mean to seem like I’m impatient for my lunch off… I’m just…”

A hand caressed your shoulder, and Marilyn pulled you in to kiss your head, you groaning shortly after and wiping the back of your wrist against your forehead. “Mary! Your red lipstick never gets off!”

Marilyn gave a hearty laugh, ruffling your done-up hair. “Y’er a sweet thing, sunshine. He’s gonna be here, and you two are gonna have fun on your lil’ church date.”

“It’s not a date,” you emphasized, crouching to pull out the baked muffins, “No one goes to church for a date. I asked to come with to hear about that strange preacher.”

The older woman placed a hot coffee in front of a woman, who doused it in sugar, returning to you with a conflicted expression. “Well, I don’t want you stirrin’ up trouble, sweetpea. You’re important around here. You’re important to me.” She smiled at you, hazel eyes shiny with worry. “Don’t want you getting involved in shady business ‘cause of some boy…”

You stared at her, cocking your head idly towards the back, and she sighed and you both made your way there. “What’s your problem with Russell?” You could not imagine Arvin having bad intentions for you. It had been about a month or so since he had come in that rainy afternoon, and since then being in Ohio hasn’t seemed that bad. He had made no moves or adjustments towards you that were defined as uncomfortable.

“Nothin’, nothin’, he’s a sweet boy. Conflicted, but sweet,” she continued, “Y’ain’t wanna be caught up with those who be unsure of themselves…” Marilyn trailed off, wiping her hands with a cloth that had pies stitched onto it, “Goin’ to church ain’t like you, darling, I don’t want you to be changin’ yourself. You’re good just the way you are and don’t let no fool of a man or lass tell ‘ya otherwise. If this boy makes you happy—”

Interrupting, you said, “It has nothing to do with… with romantics, ma’am. I want to have faith,” you mumbled as you turned away from her, pretending to be busy with cleaning silverware. “I want to believe. I want to have a friend.”

Silence fell, and Marilyn gave you a smile with the fruit red lips of hers. “M’kay, darling. You won me over.”

Grinning at her, the bell jingled, and you peered over to see Arvin walking in, tipping a hat to Elaine, who was bouncing in her booth and talking to him excitedly.

Marilyn moved forward, and you leaned back, holding your hands up. “No kisses.”

She sighed, amused, and gave you a bear hug instead.

You pulled your apron off and hung it up before exiting the backroom and curving around the corner, smiling at Arvin, who met your eye and returned the gesture.

“Nice to see ‘ya on this beautiful Sunday,” you spoke up, swiping the sleeves of your dress.

Arvin’s expression softened, and he moved his hand up to your forehead, catching you by surprise. His thumb rolled over your forehead, wiping at it twice before raising his eyebrows, “I’m guessing sweet ol’ Marilyn McCann didn’t let’cha go without a cherrybomb kiss of hers.” He revealed the red stain on his thumb, and you whipped your head back to see Marilyn giving a knowing smirk at you before fixing up dishes. You looked back to him.

“Thank you for that… I would’ve been so embarrassed walking into a church with that on my face,” you sighed.

“Not a problem.”

“Don’t be gone too long, sissy!” You both looked over to see Elaine pouting at you, “I wan’ my icecream. You promised.”

“I did. I will do just that for you, baby,” you said, poking her nose. “If Mary says you behaved, you’ll get an extra scoop with any topping you want. How’s that?”

“Good!”

Exiting the premises, him holding the door open for you politely. Thanking him under your breath, you walked down the sidewalk towards his car.

“New dress?” He gestured to your fit and you looked down at it before smiling.

“Indeed. You give me such hefty tips,” you pointed out, bumping your shoulder with his, his ears turning pinker while avoiding eye contact with you purposefully. “I also needed to dress nice for church.”

Arvin rubbed the back of his neck as he opened the front door for you. “Well, I don’t really want much. Mind as well give the favor onto someone else.”

Once you both settled into the car, Arvin opened with another conversation. “How’s lil’ Elaine holding up? She seemed chipper than ever in there.”

The car started, and you pondered about the sweet girl. She was only fostered because both of her parents managed to go missing, dropping the young thing at Marilyn’s to be babysat and vanishing. “I don’t know. She hardly ever mentions her parents. I don’t think she remembers them at all, she calls me ‘sissy’ and Mary ‘mama.’ I don’t even live with them.”

“You seem to be the kinda sis that spoils,” Arvin pointed out with a grin, causing a feigned offended gasp from you. “Two scoops of icecream for such a tiny thing? She’ll explode. Poor girl.”

You shrugged. “Keeps her little fingers out of the pies.”

The radio played a sweet Paul Anka song, Puppy Love. You swayed to the beat very slightly.

—You'll be back (you'll be back)...

“So uh… why church, Y/N?”

...in my arms (in my arms)...

Glancing at him, you shrugged. “Why not? I want to see what the rage about that preacher is about.” Arvin winced at this.

Once again...

Arvin licked his lips very slightly, eyeing the rearview mirror before returning his eyes to the road. “Y’told me you’re no girl of faith. No loony preacher is worth that.”

Someone help me, help me please. Is the answer, is it up above?

“I also said I’d do it if God brought me something good,” you pointed out, leaning towards him with a finger up. You then leaned your shoulder against the door, staring out the window, saying carefully, “And he did. I keep my promises.”

How can I, oh how can I ever tell them?

“This is not a puppy love…” you sang under your breath, turning your head to look at Arvin, whose glance quickly skewed back to the road. “Do you like this song?” You asked.

Arvin shrugged, quirking his lips up. “I uh… I’m not really a music guy.”

You blinked, raising your eyebrows. “Not a music guy? Hm, that’s fair.”

“Can’t really relate with all they sing about,” Arvin explained, “usually ‘bout God or a lover leavin’ them. Not my interest.”

Now, some backstory. You wouldn’t let this opportunity go to waste.

“Are you implying the one and only Arvin Russell has never had an inamorata?” You grinned, placing your cheek against your palm.

Arvin rolled his eyes. “Nah, don’t be actin’ like that, Y/N.”

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a ‘I’ve been too busy carin’ for my family to even think about messin’ around with a pretty face,’” he corrected, tilting his head at you. “That’s all.”

You felt yourself grow concerned and conflicted instead of amused. Biting the inside of your cheek, you don’t know if this man had any hobbies that didn’t include beating up assholes that hurt his poor sister. You scratched at the nape of your neck before deciding to speak up, plopping your hand in your lap. “Arvin, is there anything you’ve done just for fun and not just because your family compelled you to? Anything for yourself?”

Arvin looked at you, his eyes round, tightening his grip on the wheel. “I’ve… ah…” he pondered before his face turned more red, and you started to wonder what exactly was going on in his head. Was it something… illegal? Or shameful in the eyes of the town’s Lord? “...I go to the bakery to see you. For myself.”

...Well. You pinched your dress, clenching your teeth together and looking at the road.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, if— if you are, I just—”

“You were the good thing God gave me,” you spoke up suddenly, squeezing your eyes shut, “That’s why I’m going to church. You… you’re the good thing that makes me want to have faith,” you explained, catching him from the corner of his eye, seeing a distant look on his face.

You gave a laugh and half-heartedly shrugged your shoulders. “Now we evened each other’s uncomfortable comments out,” you playfully spoke. “So… no worries.”

Arvin pulled into a long yard while the car slowed into a long drawl. With this, he looked at you, and gave a smile that showed his white teeth.

“I think you’re a funny girl, Y/N.”

—

The preaching was over, and everyone was left outside, mostly indulging in conversation. It was a nice day out— sunny, clouds dotting the skyline, a sweet breeze to ease the baring sun. You were currently trapped in a conversation with a rather old lady who was very prominent in getting to know the citygirl.

You mentioned Manhattan and purposefully avoided your roots regarding wealth and your orphan status. Luckily, you didn’t need to speak much, the lady named Darla was more than eager to give her thoughts on everything.

“The new pastor, Teagardin, he’s a sweet man ain’t he?” She smiled, wringing her hands together, “If I were younger…”

You paled at the implication, giving a nervous smile. “He seems like a sweet man.”

“I’d sure hope so.” You turned around to see Preston Teagardin approach you with a smile. “How do you do, miss? Haven’t seen you here before.”

You nodded. “It’s my first time going to this church.”

Preston tilted his head only slightly. “Is that so? Can I catch your name?”

“Y/N.”

He licked his lips, looking at the old lady and raising his brows to give a friendly, polite expression. “Y/N, ain’t that a pretty name, Darla?” Darla nodded. “Well, Y/N, I wanna see you around here more often. Having a fresh face other than mine in this church is sure nice.”

“Regardless of my city heritage?” You decided to tease. While the comment was meant to be lighthearted, a growing resentment was laced behind your words, exhausted from the odd treatment from townspeople.

Preston gave a small laugh underneath his breath. “Nothin’ wrong with being born urban.” He looked at you, and you heard your name. Glancing to your side, Arvin was approaching, a ginger girl at his side.

The ginger girl made eye contact with Preston, and she quickly shied away from it. You paid it no mind, but it was definitely something that would become relevant later on, you’re sure.

“This is my sister, Lenora,” Arvin spoke up, and you watched his eyes lock onto the priest’s for a moment. Preston walked away.

Lenora looked at you and gave a simper. “Hi, Y/N. Arvin’s talked about you…”

Arvin pursed his lips. “Lenora—”

“No, it’s okay,” you said, amused at the sister-brother banter. “He’s mentioned you before Lenora. I hear you like to read, care to give me a checklist of books sometime?”

Lenora lit up. “That… yeah, I can do just that. Right when I get home, I will.”

You smiled. Arvin cleared his throat, placing his hands in his pockets as he spoke to his sister, “Lenora, why don’t you check on grandma?” Lenora scurried off. When the two of you were alone, Arvin then murmured to you, “Y’don’t have to do anythin’ you don’t want to, Y/N. I know Lenora ain’t the most bright in the bunch, but—”

“I’ve been where she was,” you murmured to him, watching his gaze slowly fall from Lenora’s retreating figure to yours, brown eyes suffused golden beneath the luminous sun. “It’s all right. I actually do like reading, Arvin.” Arvin’s lips moved to the side of his face. Taking in his features, you felt your heart race a bit at what you were contemplating on doing, but you did it regardless. Your hand moved from your side to bury your fingers in his hair, grinning while feeling the slick strands against your skin. “It’s weird seeing you without that hat on.”

Arvin slumped a bit, attempting to swat your hand away. “Alright, alright, I get it,” he sighed. Though, from the look on his face, he was heavily entertained. “I know. I’ll put the cap back on.”

“No,” you spoke up. Your hand survived Arvin’s waving and ruffled the hair, loose strands cascading the frame of his face. “I like it.”

The boy you were endlessly teasing gawked at you while a bashful expression crossed his features. He sucked on his tongue before murmuring, “...That’s… ah, thank you.”

Glancing at your clock, your eyebrows raised. “I have to go. Lunch break is over… was over two minutes ago.”

Arvin gave a sheepish curve of his lips. “I’ll drive ‘ya home.”

The drive back was lighter than the drive there, until the new priest was mentioned. “Y’don’t trust that preacher guy, do you?” Arvin’s voice was bitter.

“...He seems…” you started, wincing, “I’m not sure. He’s a confident man, I’ll say that. I don’t know much about him to make a judgement.”

Arvin stopped the car in front of the diner. It was abrupt, sudden, and it took you by surprise. Your eyes traveled over to your friend who seemed to be seething underneath his skin. “Arvin?” You asked quietly.

A few glances towards you and he finally decided to face you with a lack of a smile. “S’all fine. You’re late, go do your work.”

Unable to correlate words with your sudden concern over his state of mind, you didn’t bother to acknowledge anything. “Okay…” you murmured, stepping out of the car, giving a wave to Arvin who only nodded his head towards you and drove off.

You watched his car vanish into the distance of the town. Wind blew past you, petting at your bare shins, and you rubbed your upper arm before hearing muffled crashing within the shop and a very harsh command of ‘Ellie!”.

—

The day Lenora died was quiet.

People weren’t rushing to the church, rushing to the Russell household, rushing down the streets, no one was rushing anywhere. It was a quiet day. The streets were more bare than usual, but perhaps it was only a lazy Sunday where nothing really mattered aside from church, the one day Lenora had not gone.

Watching her body fade into the ground wrapped snug in a casket, you felt the paper in your dress shuffle with the wind, scribbles of book titles Lenora suggested you before her untimely death.

Brave enough to glance in Arvin’s direction, too shy to cock your head, you noticed his mouth fit into a tight line, eyes swollen but with no sign of tears. It seems like he has already cried his fair share. Grandma Emma was weeping, her shoulders shaking as her brother held them.

The sun had gone dark, and you sat on a bench with Arvin, who had shared little to no words with you the entire day. Cars would woosh past and it seemed like the entire world was rotating just the same without the dear, sweet step-sister of Russell. The story had been tense, a little too much for you, the superstition that she was pregnant with the priest’s baby and had been encouraged to take it out, even at the cost of her life.

You gave a shaky exhale while the night’s frozen air pricked at your bare skin.

“You don’t need to be with me, Y/N,” Arvin’s accent-heavy voice murmured from the right of you, “I’m alright.”

That’s a load of bullshit. You knew that. You knew nothing about this was okay. You’d heard about Arvin’s parents before, you didn’t need anything more to know that this was opening some deep wounds the boy had thought he had stitched closed a long time ago.

“No, you’re not,” you replied.

There was nothing said after that. Arvin didn’t even look at you with an incredulous expression or open his mouth to disagree. There was no movement, no anything, as the world continued to turn, the stars continuing to move above the two of you.

It seemed unfair. It was unfair that the world kept moving.

You pulled out the list of books she had recommended you. Her handwriting was surely girlish, curly with hearts for dots, but it was perfect for her type of character. Lenora was a good girl. You felt your thumb trail against the ink stains. You didn’t know her too well, you’d be exaggerating your pain if you said this was the worst thing to happen to you, but it was definitely a loss on the town’s behalf, and most importantly, Arvin’s behalf.

“She was lonely.” Looking over, you saw Arvin staring down at your lap where the somewhat crinkled paper was. “She never defied her faith, Y/N. She was just lonely.”

Her fidelity was admirable. Some part of you knew Arvin wasn’t talking to you, though, more so at. You gave a nod at him, his sad eyes meeting up with yours, and you knew at that moment his heart had been broken into a million pieces. You heard him sniffle and the street lamps reflected the water building at the top of his lower eyelids. He moved his bruised knuckles underneath his nose and you were a witness to his throat closing on itself.

This wasn’t bold. This was a peace offering. You moved to wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him close to you in a hug.

Arvin was frozen still, tense underneath your hold, halting in his breath. You didn’t care if you were breaking boundaries. You didn’t care if this was something he said he didn’t need. You needed it, too, you needed to see him recover.

Unbeknownst to you, he would actually consider all the little possibilities with this hug. His arms wrapped around your waist as he buried his face against the crook of your neck. You could hear quiet struggling exhales and wetness seeping into your dress. You didn’t care for the dress.

This wasn’t a grown man crying, you noticed. This was a little boy. The way he squeezed against you, lightly rubbing his nose against your skin and giving off quiet whimpers of defeat. The world had wronged him too much. You didn’t know everything, but it felt like the tears falling from his face had infinite knowledge that you didn’t need to be told. This wasn’t the first tragedy for Arvin. For him, he most likely believed it was just another dot on the list of infinite sadness.

“Arvin,” you were quiet to say, “come to my place. It’s quiet. Let me drive.”

Arvin had no disagreements. He was in no mindset to put on his tough façade. You drove the two of you to your apartment, never leaving Arvin’s side as you both stepped up the stairs and unlocked the door.

You didn’t really know what to do from there. You both watched television on your cheap furniture, and as the night went on and mindless conversations passed between the both of you, Arvin had gotten closer. His eyes were sore and at the most random moments you could see a tear roll down his cheek. He gave no reaction to it.

“I’m tired,” Arvin breathed from beside you.

You stared at the television while leaning against the couch’s arm. “That’s fine. I can show you to my room, if you’d like to lay on the bed—”

A presence was prominent beside you. You felt Arvin lean against you and rest his head on your shoulder. “The couch is fine,” he whispered. “This is fine.”

In any other circumstance, you know Arvin would’ve never put you in this position. Though, you didn’t mind this, not at all, keeping in mind you knew he just needed a comforting presence after Lenora. You were more than eager to be his anchor however.

Moving your hand up to his capless head, finding your fingers carding through his smooth hair, you continued to watch the television in silence. This is fine, you repeated in your head. It’s going to be fine.

#arvin russell x reader #arvin russell #you #reader insert #the devil all the time #peachy keen #puppy love #3k #sui tw #my writing #douxdamian #sfw #T #multichap

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dallaswinstonsleatherjacket · 3 years

Note

You should do a dally pop song fic of All Too Well!- Cherry

Thank you Cherry! I tried-

ALL TOO WELL-DALLYPOP

Taglist: @nonbinary-ponyboy-curtis @chaotically-cas @sh4d3s-of-c0ol-deactivated20210 @sylvia-supremacist @darrys-toolbag @otterfire @i1-800-555-trash-1i @queen-of-the-outside @isasbaguettes @steveiskoreanfuckit (lmk if you want to be added)

TW: Swearing, angst (ig), Blood mention

I walked through the door with you

The air was cold

But something about it felt like home somehow

The air was freezing at this point, and Soda pulled his jacket around him as he bent his head against the wind. Dally was beside him, unbothered by the wind, jacket hanging open and an arm slung around Soda’s shoulder.

The door to Bucks was unlocked, and the bar was nearly empty. Soda had barely stepped through the door before Dallas slipped his hand down to Sodas and gave it a light squeeze and then pulled him towards the staircase.

And I, left my scarf there at your sister's house

And you've still got it in your drawer even now

Dally couldn't stop thinking about him.

And the flannel that he knew was tucked in the back of the bottom drawer of his dresser wasn't helping.

The bed creaked underneath him as he stood, pulling open the drawer and pulling the flannel out. He looked at it, the lines appearing in between his eyebrows as he sat on the floor and turned the flannel over. He knew the bloodstains on the front, he had memorized the pattern, he knew how one of the buttons on the very bottom was missing.

And he sighed.

Oh, your sweet disposition

And my wide-eyed gaze

We're singing in the car, getting lost upstate

Autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place

And I can picture it after all these days

Soda's eyes were wide, and he was laughing hard as he had ever before as the car screeched down the road. Dally’s foot was heavy on the brakes, but his hands weren’t on the wheel, and he whooped as they narrowly avoided a mailbox, Soda screeching as they glided by it.

“Wimp”

“I don't want to pay for a mailbox,” Soda shot back, the smile not leaving his face.

“Mmm,” Even Dally was smiling now, humming off tune to whatever was on the radio. Soda closed his eyes, probably against his better judgment, and relaxed against the seat of the car.

And I know it's long gone and that magic's not here no more

And I might be okay but I'm not fine at all

Dallas never cried. Not because he had no reason to, but because he was programmed against it.

But god, did he want to now.

His bed seemed uncomfortable, his head hurt, and he couldn’t hear breathing beside him, comforting him, helping him sleep.

Because he had fucked up. He fucked it all up.

'Cause there we are again on that little town street

You almost ran the red 'cause you were lookin' over at me

Wind in my hair, I was there

I remember it all too well

Soda had memorized everything he could about Dallas Winston.

He had memorized how his hair looked when he first woke up, he memorized his skin, and how it looked when they were laying, tangled in each other on top of the bedcovers. He memorized his grin, and how he looked when he was smug, and how he looked when he had just won a fight, blood dripping everywhere and a grim smile on his face.

And he remembered how it felt, to walk with him, the autumn leaves swirling around as Dally leaned into Soda, an arm slipping around his waist.

Photo album on the counter

Your cheeks were turning red

You used to be a little kid with glasses in a twin-sized bed

And your mother's telling stories 'bout you on the tee-ball team

You told me 'bout your past thinking your future was me

It had been 6 months, a half a year, half a without Sodapop Curtis. And he could still remember every second of it.

And Dally still hadn’t cried.

He was in his old place now, back in New York, escaping Tulsa seemingly just in time before he exploded. He wanted so badly to damage something, to hurt something, to break something of his like he had broken Soda.

Or maybe Soda had broken him. He didn't know.

He really did remember every second. He remembered every minute of every hour he spent with Soda, from the day he met him to the day he left.

And to think he had thought that he was his forever.

And I know it's long gone and there was nothing else I could do

And I forget about you long enough to forget why I needed to

Soda hated Tulsa.

He hated the movie theatre, the dingo, the DX-even his own bed he hated. It was all stained with him, Soda could see it as clearly as if it was blood smeared across his favorite jacket instead of his scent.

And he was trapped in it all, tangled in his stupid life and stupid thoughts when all he wanted to do was drive as fast as he could to New York and fall into his arms again.

Because that's where he was safe.

'Cause there we are again in the middle of the night

We're dancing 'round the kitchen in the refrigerator light

Down the stairs, I was there

I remember it all too well, yeah

Dally had given up, he had moved on.

There was no point in sitting and moping about Sodapop Curtis.

Some girl was tangled up in his sheets every other night, and the nights they weren't he had either drank till he passed out, or was off fighting someone. No one here went easy on him sometimes like Shepard did. There was no one here to pity him, why would they? New York was as rough as it had been when he was a kid, and whether he won or lost each fight, covered in blood with a grimace on his face.

Maybe he deserved this. Maybe this was his punishment.

And maybe we got lost in translation

Maybe I asked for too much

But maybe this thing was a masterpiece 'til you tore it all up

Running scared, I was there

I remember it all too well

Soda could remember everything too. Every little damn thing.

And he could remember Dally yelling.

And he was yelling too, he could feel it in his throat, hoarse and tired and desperate, he was so desperate, because he couldn’t lose him, not yet, not this way. He wasn't crying, he wanted to cry, he wanted to throw a tantrum like he would when he was little, he wanted to scream and kick and punch and knock that look off of Dally's stupid face.

But he turned. He turned away, and told Dally to go.

And Dally did. But that was only the first time.

And you call me up again just to break me like a promise

So casually cruel in the name of being honest

I'm a crumpled up piece of paper lying here

'Cause I remember it all, all, all

Too well

The first time the phone rang was a year after Dally had come back to New York.

He was in his room at the time, the phone was at the end of the hall, and he stumbled out his door and picked up the phone, wincing as he massaged his arm, sore from the snob he met on the side of the street last night.

“Hey,” Dally mumbled, voice hoarse with sleep, running his fingers through his hair and yawning. “Who's this?”

“Soda. Sodapop. Curtis.” The voice was anxious, and Dally nearly dropped the phone, leaning against the wall with his head bent.

“Soda,” Dally repeated, and the word felt heavy on his tongue.

“I just-wanted to see how you were doing-you never call.”

“Neither do you.”

It was silent.

“I thought you were dead-you ran off and never said nothing to any of us-”

“I might as well be,” Dally snapped. “I’m fine, Soda. How are you?” He hated this, he hated himself, he hated goddamn Sodapop.

“I’m fine. Sorry. G’bye, Dal.”

There was a click, and then silence.

Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it

I'd like to be my old self again

But I'm still trying to find it

After plaid shirt days and nights when you made me your own

Now you mail back my things and I walk home alone

Soda didn’t think he would ever feel the same again. How could he?

But you keep my old scarf from that very first week

'Cause it reminds you of innocence

And it smells like me

You can't get rid of it

'Cause you remember it all too well, yeah

The flannel was still in the drawer in Dally’s room. It hadn't been touched in almost a year, a thick layer of dust had settled over it, and it still looked the same.

He didn't know why he kept it.

'Cause there we are again when I loved you so

Back before you lost the one real thing you've ever known

It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well

Wind in my hair, you were there, you remember it all

Down the stairs, you were there, you remember it all

It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well

#starsfics #the outsiders #the outsiders fanfiction #dallas winston #sodapop curtis #dallypop #the outsiders prompts #stay gold

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ao3theskyisblue · 3 years

Text

Take it easy

Summary:

“Are you looking to get infected?” Nancy raises an eyebrow, smiling when TK snorts. “Because I’m pretty sure I can make that happen.”

“I see you’re just going to be a pain in my neck both on shift and off shift, huh?” TK teases, the words said without an ounce of heat, and Nancy shrugs, grinning smugly.

“My lungs are dying, TK. I think I have complaining privileges.”

Written for Day 4 of @911lonestarangstweek : Sickfic + “You need to rest.”

Read on AO3

“Tell me I did not just hear from that lovely nurse Melody say what I think she just said.”

Nancy forces back a loud groan, knowing that she would just be coughing up her lungs again. Looking up from her Instagram feed, she spies TK leaning against the entry of her hospital room, looking less than impressed. She parts her lips to reply, but TK holds up a hand.

“That was a rhetorical question. I forbid you to say even a single word.” The words sound like a warning, but Nancy has worked and gotten to know her partner long enough to see how worried he was underneath the whole tough façade. His arms were crossed, trying to mask how he was itching to wring his hands together, and she could see the residual trembling as he fought back the urge to tap his feet against the linoleum flooring.

“I could have my lungs taken out and still have enough air to fight you, Strand.” Nancy croaks, wincing when she hears how bad she sounds through all the mucus and dry throat, but TK doesn’t bat an eye. She follows him with her eyes as he tentatively closes the distance between them to sit by the chair at her bedside, obviously ignoring the warnings the hospital personnel gave about personal space.

“Are you looking to get infected?” Nancy raises an eyebrow, smiling when TK snorts. “Because I’m pretty sure I can make that happen.”

“I see you’re just going to be a pain in my neck both on shift and off shift, huh?” TK teases, the words said without an ounce of heat, and Nancy shrugs, grinning smugly.

“My lungs are dying, TK. I think I have complaining privileges.” She coughs to the side that TK is not currently occupying, the brutal hacking sound making her entire chest feel on fire as she gratefully accepts the spit tray offered to her along with the glass of water.

“Which is exactly why you are not coming back to work. Did you seriously think the doctors would discharge you like this?” TK lifts an eyebrow skeptically, running a gentle hand down her back as she tries to breathe in without coughing all the air back out again. When she feels no more incoming coughs, she straightens to look at him.

“I can flash my badge and get a discharge back home. Then I’ll just slap on a mask and go back to work. I didn’t break my legs, TK, I have pneumonia. I’m perfectly fine.” Nancy gripes, narrowing her eyes at TK’s scoff.

“You need to rest. Need I remind you why you’re in the hospital in the first place?” TK sighs, lifting his hands up before dropping them down on his lap. “You already had a cold before that call, and then you decided to leap off the side of a bridge like Prince Charming in that third Cinderella movie. Into the lake. Which was freezing, by the way.” TK shuddered, as if taken back to that scene, and Nancy held back a laugh because that would not help her coughing get any better.

“Oh, silly me. I should have dipped my toes in the water one-hundred feet up in the air to test the temperature before trying to save that little girl’s life. I’ll make sure to keep that in mind and grow longer legs in my next lifetime to do just that.” Nancy says drily, and she just smiles innocently as TK glares daggers at her.

“And you say I’m the impulsive one.”

“You literally jumped in right after me, so that argument’s invalid.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t catch pneumonia after, did I?”

They stare at each other blankly, before their lips twitch upwards at the same time as laughter fills up the room. Nancy tries to hold her own giggles back, but it was difficult when she had a partner that gave as good as he got, which made her want to strangle him half the time, and the rest of the time hug him and never let go.

“I still remember the double death glares from the captains,” Nancy manages to get out between their laughter with coughs mixed in between, and TK lifts a hand to cover his face, a wide grin peeking out from between his fingers.

“Little Amelia must have been so confused. I mean, there we were, soaked to the bone holding her in between us while our entire station just glares at us and planning the best way to murder us both.” TK snorts, and Nancy feels a new bout of laughter threatening to come out when she remembers the six pairs of eyes that just stared at them incredulously.

“You’re lucky Carlos wasn’t there. I’m surprised he hasn’t already been lugging around a portable doghouse for you to climb into next time this kind of thing happens.” Nancy snickers, laughing at the face TK makes at that.

“Oh, he chewed me out thoroughly when I got home. In between tucking in blankets and not letting me leave the couch in my homemade burrito, I couldn’t so much as go to the washroom without him glaring at me for even trying to get up.” TK rolls his eyes fondly, and Nancy feels her smile soften at the affection shining through every single one of his words.

“Love looks good on you, Strand.” Nancy nudges him lightly with an elbow, and receives a gentle squeeze on her arm. She knows she’s not going to like the next words that come out of TK’s mouth when his eyes suddenly sparkle mischievously.

“Speaking of love,” Nancy shoots him a glare at that, because she knows exactly where this conversation was going and that was not to describe what it was. “How’s that thing that we were discussing a few days ago going?” TK wiggles his eyebrows teasingly, and Nancy sighs in exasperation.

“It’s not going. Anywhere. We’re friends,” Nancy shrugs, looking down at the hospital linens, slowly picking at them with her hands. It was the truth, they were friends. So what if her insides feels a little weird when they were in a room together, it didn’t mean anything. “And she hasn’t spoken a single word to me since this happened.”

She let out a few quiet coughs, remembering how Marjan had hovered over them – over her at the scene, but then after she got admitted into the hospital, nothing. Not a peep. Not even a text or the occasional meme they send to each other over Instagram.

Maybe she had just been deluding herself the whole time.

Maybe her heart was slowly splitting into tiny pieces.

Asking for the moon was sometimes easier than wishing someone would stay.

TK falls silent next to her, and just when she tries to put on her best smile and change the subject, she feels a hand squeeze hers.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop. You and I both know Marjan wouldn’t give someone the radio silence treatment without a reason. And, she has the night off today.” TK trails off, the suggestion lingering in the air and Nancy sighs.

She just wants to forget.

“You’re right, I’m just a little-” Nancy cuts herself off, pursing her lips at the frenzied thoughts circling her mind.

“-Sick and just want to see the person who makes your heart feel all funny for a while?” TK proposes, and Nancy turns to shoot him a playful glare, ignoring the heat slowly seeping into her cheeks.

“Okay smartass, turn down the notch on cocky bastard a little, will you?” Nancy grins as TK laughs, and she feels a brief moment of satisfaction when he doesn’t move away from her swat to his shoulder. “Now, I know for a fact that you brought food with you. Give me my offering.”

With a small tsk and a quiet mutter of “of course, since you asked so nicely,” TK hands her a cloth bag. She slowly takes out a metal container along with a spoon wrapped neatly in paper towels, lifting the lid curiously. Her eyes widen in surprise at what’s inside, smiling at how pretty it looks.

“Tofu?”

“Tofu pudding,” TK adds, smiling. “Carlos has been into Chinese cuisine lately and found this off the internet. You usually eat it cold, but we thought warming it up a little might be better for you. You get your daily dose of protein while actually enjoying the food, it’s a win-win.”

Nancy picks up the spoon and dips it into the soft pudding, admiring how smoothly the spoon slides through. She lifts it up to her mouth, and although a little bland (though she couldn’t really eat any heavily seasoned food for a while anyway), it was delicious.

“If you don’t marry your boyfriend, I’ll do it for you.” Nancy takes another bite of the soothing goodness, smiling around her mouthful when TK blushes.

“High praise, I’ll keep that in mind.” TK chuckles, and Nancy grins before taking another bite, loving how easy it was to swallow.

Then, another thought crosses her mind.

“Wait, how did you get in here, anyway? I thought they were barring visitors.” Nancy narrows her eyes at TK suspiciously, wondering how the nurses hadn’t come in to kick him out yet. TK just smirks, leaning back against the chair and crossing a leg over the other.

“You clearly don’t know me very well if you think that’s going to stop me.”

Nancy hums, though she really couldn’t complain. He brought her food, after all.

“Fair point.”

Nights were the worst.

She has been a paramedic for close to seven years, and still, she could never stop being offended by her own body betraying her at the most crucial time of the day when she needed to rest without wanting to tear her lungs out and dunk them in an ice bath.

Sighing to give into her fate of a sleepless night yet again, she opens her eyes slowly, blinking against the dim lighting of her secluded room. Picking up her phone, she lets her eyes adjust to the change in brightness before a small smile slowly makes its way on her lips at the cute Buttercup video Mateo sent her a little earlier.

“Can’t sleep?”

Nancy jumps, a muffled shout coming out followed with a series of long coughs, making her wince.

Ugh, even the coughs at night were worse.

“Whoa, hey, easy. Sorry.” A warm hand rubbed her back in soothing circles, much like what TK had done earlier, but these hands left a lingering heat that didn’t disappear when they retracted hesitatingly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Marjan repeats quietly, her brown eyes stretched wide as she looks at her worriedly, and Nancy tries to smile, waving her off.

“It’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting anyone.” Nancy lets out another cough before clearing her throat, gratefully accepting the water Marjan offers her. She takes a few sips, cringing at how her throat burns with each swallow.

The burn provides a welcome distraction from how Marjan was currently standing beside her hospital bed, wearing a simple green long-sleeved turtleneck and matching hijab, with a soft smile that brightened every single room she walked into.

She suddenly felt self-conscious about her own appearance, no doubt sporting dark eye-bags from the lack of sleep and looking paler than a ghost from not eating much other than the food TK or Captain Vega brought in for her. Paul had also swung by a few times, along with the other members of the 126 but she didn’t have the heart to tell them and their openly kind expressions that she couldn’t really stomach a lot right now. That, and how ingesting anything, including water, felt like swallowing porcupine quills.

Still, the urge to hide behind her hair was strong.

“How did you even get in here?” Nancy asks instead, frowning when she remembered that visiting hours were long over, and yet, here Marjan was.

She noticed Marjan shifting nervously, and it was definitely something new. She wasn’t sure she’s ever seen Marjan being awkward or nervous, and certainly not around her.

“TK pulled some strings. And I may have had a little…conversation with the nurses.” Marjan winced a little, and Nancy couldn’t help quirking her lips up in a small smile.

“Conversation, huh?” She hums absently, biting back a laugh at Marjan’s nervous glances back at the nurse’s station. “Is that what you called the ripping-into you gave the tattoo artists?” She couldn’t help tease, her smile widening at the spots of colour spreading across Marjan’s cheeks.

“Well it definitely seems like you’re feeling a little better.” Marjan sighs in fond exasperation, the awkwardness dissipating between them, and Nancy follows her figure as she sits down tentatively on the chair beside her.

“Do firefighters just have no concept of ‘I’m infectious?’ Aren’t you also a qualified medic?” Nancy asks playfully, her heart doing a little jump at Marjan’s wide grin.

“In sickness and in health,” Marjan shrugs, as if she hadn’t just quoted wedding vows at her, and Nancy just stares at her blankly. Marjan lifts her gaze, and she fidgets slightly when she feels those eyes staring straight through her.

“I’ve never seen you with your hair down,” Marjan comments quietly, and Nancy starts, lifting a hand self-consciously to run her fingers through it. “It’s usually always in a bun or a ponytail. You look…different.”

Okay, that fills her with mild panic.

“I can always tie it back up? My mother always hated how long I would let my hair grow, so I always have a hair tie ready-”

A hand grasps her wrist gently before she can tug the hair tie off her wrist, and she looks up to see Marjan looking at her warmly.

“It’s a good different.” Nancy lets out a small puff of air at that, slowly lowering her hands back onto the thin covering. She couldn’t help but notice Marjan still not letting go of her wrist. Something conflicting passed by her expression, and Nancy noticed that she kept on parting her lips to say something before holding back.

Leaning back slowly against the ridiculous number of pillows, turning her head to clear her vision of a few loose strands of hair, Nancy waited.

“I’m sorry.”

Okay, that was something she hadn’t been expecting.

She snaps her head up, turning to look at Marjan in surprise.

Why was she apologizing?

“…for what?” Nancy asks cautiously, frowning when Marjan shifts her hand to squeeze her arm. Her other hand is pinching on the edges of her clothes, and Nancy wonders if it’s a nervous tick.

There’s a sharp laugh, though it was lacking all humour that cuts through the quietness of the room, and Nancy wants to smooth out the creases between her eyebrows as she scowls sadly.

“I gave you the silent treatment. I ignored you when– I just, I’m sorry.” Nancy feels her shoulders relaxing, and suddenly, she wants nothing more than to hug the woman looking like the human version of a kicked puppy beside her.

“But you came,” Nancy says softly, waiting until Marjan looks up before continuing. “You still came, and that’s all that matters.” In a sudden burst of courage, she covers the hand that’s on her arm with her own, smiling at the look of surprise that greets her.

Marjan blinks at her, then down at their hands. With a small smile, she squeezes hers.

And Nancy lets her.

“You know,” Marjan starts, her eyes looking a little distant as if she was re-living a memory. “When you just leaped off the side of the bridge without a second thought, the first thing I felt wasn’t fear.”

Nancy feels her heart drop to her stomach at the look of sheer terror resonating in her eyes, but Marjan still doesn’t look up fully.

“Instead, it was a strong pull, screaming at me to jump in after you, a never-ending urge to make sure you were safe,” Marjan says lowly, squeezing their hands tighter. “So, when I couldn’t do that, when Paul had to physically shove me back, that was when the fear hit.”

Nancy suddenly couldn’t feel the burning pain in her throat. She couldn’t feel the constant ache in her chest, or the little prickles of pain every time she breathed.

No, she couldn’t feel anything other than the warmth of Marjan’s hand in hers, and how hard she was squeezing it.

“There was- there was a moment where I wondered if I would ever see either of you again,” Marjan’s breath hitches at the end, and Nancy feels her own heart break at the way her eyes shine brightly.

“I have so much I want to know about you,” Her heart stuttered at the three words, said without an ounce of hesitation. When Marjan looks up at her with shining eyes, she forces back the urge to wipe away the tears that hadn’t fallen.

“I’m here. And I’m safe. A little battered and bruised, but I’ll be just fine.” Nancy whispers, smiling reassuringly, and feels lighter when Marjan smiles back, albeit a little weakly.

Still, it was a genuine smile nonetheless, and there was nothing Nancy enjoyed more in the world than to witness Marjan’s brilliant smile every day.

“Besides, I’ve already been pushing the doctors to release me already.” Nancy shrugs, ignoring the glare immediately sent her way.

“You need to rest,” Marjan shoots back without a beat, and Nancy rolls her eyes.

“First Strand, now you? I’m fine.” Nancy scowls, though the little sniffle she lets out after doesn’t really help her case. Still, she glares up at the female firefighter in front of her, daring her to comment on it.

They’re locked into one of their usual staring contests, where their eyes speak more than any words they could say. Nancy was determined to not be the one who broke this time, but the piercing look of seriousness was starting to make her squirm.

Marjan finally blinked, making her feel a brief sense of victory before it quickly disappeared when she says, “You don’t need to push yourself so hard all the time.”

Nancy scowls.

Pushing herself, huh?

She thinks back to her years in college, to all the people who didn’t believe. To her parents, who had tried to be encouraging, but she could still see the tiny flickers of doubt. After all, a paramedic? Long hours, average pay, and no account for the danger?

She knows there were many other reasons that she tried her best to shove into the deepest recesses of her mind, but she had gotten where she was today by working hard, without once looking back.

Sitting back from a job she’s known and wanted her entire life didn’t feel right, even when she could barely take in a breath without coughing up her lungs or ingest anything other than water.

There’s another squeeze of her hand, and Nancy is shaken out of her thoughts as a pair of eyes watch her carefully.

“We all see you,” Marjan says softly, and Nancy swallows past the pain. “We all love you, Nancy, and we just want you to feel better before you hurt yourself even worse.”

In the dim lighting of the room they were in, surrounded by the smell of sickness and the low humming of the heater, Nancy suddenly feels lighter.

She squeezes the hand she hadn’t let go of, a quiet chuckle breaking free.

“You all love me, huh?” She couldn’t help tease, but instead of flushed cheeks and the anticipated stuttering, Marjan just looks at her with resolution in her eyes.

“Without a doubt.”

Without a doubt.

#911 lone star fic #Nancy and TK friendship #Nancy and Marjan friendship #911lsangstweek #Lol can be read as Nancy/Marjan #Hints of feelings from Nancy

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