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carrotmakar · 4 years ago

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undrunk

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: When Y/N receives Harry’s wedding invitation with a picture of him that she took on it, she’s sent back to the night where she threw everything important to her away.

Warning(s): a relationship that’s not really a relationship, overall sadness, a flashback, alcohol, language, mistakes, and i didn’t go back and edit it, sorry :/

A/N: Okay I tried something just a bit different with this one so if you have any thoughts, please don’t hesitate to let me know)!! This is my second submission to nat’s ( @harrystylescherry ) song based writing challenge!! This one is based off of Undrunk by Fletcher, so if you haven’t heard that, I recommend giving it a listen either while reading or before!! If you couldn’t tell by the first submission I did, The Weekend and by this one, when I picked these prompts I was feeling just a bit messy, so just know that going into this!!! Also, a quick thank you to fay ( @glowunderthemoon ) for making this amazing visual!!!

Masterlist | Request + Inbox | Patreon

A reminder to reblog the fics that you like before there are no more for you to consume!!

“Technically, he wasn’t an ex-boyfriend, but he was an ex-something. And ex-maybe. An ex-almost.” - unknown

There aren’t a lot of things about life that Y/N will openly admit that she regrets. She believes that she should live life to the fullest, and that has landed her in some pretty sticky situations. She doesn’t truly regret them, though. She doesn’t look back on them and wish that things had gone differently, mostly because the experiences that she’s gone through have made her who she is.

There is one thing that she wishes she could go back in time and undo, however. The one single night in her life that made everything take a full one eighty and sent her entire world spiraling.

It’s something that she’s tried her hardest not to think about since it happened, but when she got his stupid wedding invitation in the mail, with a picture of him that she took when they were still “seeing” each other, all the memories came washing back.

The moment she saw his smile brighter than ever, from the day they went to the pumpkin patch and he was so giddy to have something to decorate for Halloween that his dimples were popping and his smile was so big that it was almost contagious. The memory hit her like a truck, and now she’s sitting with her back against the counter, trying her best not to let the tears fall, because the second that they do, she knows that she won’t be able to get them to stop until there are no more tears left for her to cry.

As the seconds pass, she begins to think about how much she fucked everything up, and it’s suddenly like she’s right back to that night.

<i> “Y/N, come on, we’re gonna be late!” Harry yells from the other side of her door. She texted him not even twenty minutes prior telling him to let himself in the door once he got to her place.

“Harry, you just got here!” she responds, looking in the mirror as she applies a layer of mascara. “Plus, I’m almost done, go sit down or something!” She hears him sigh dramatically before trudging off to sit on the couch until she’s done, or at least that’s what she assumes that he’s going to do. Knowing him, he’ll just go stand in the kitchen. She chuckles lightly at the thought, he’s such a weirdo she says to herself as she places the applicator back in the tube of mascara and screws it shut.

Standing, she takes a look at her outfit. The black material of the dress falls to her mid-thigh. The form hugs her curves nicely and the cut of the top shows off just the right amount of cleavage. She smiles at her reflection before slipping on a pair of silver heels and grabbing her purse, slipping her ID and her phone inside.

She saunters over to the door, and right before she twists the knob, she takes a deep breath. Tonight, she’s going to try to finally take things to the next level with Harry, and she needs to summon all of her courage to try that. They’ve been sleeping together for months, but Harry refuses to acknowledge that they’re anything more than friends. It’s tiring, and Y/N really needs to know if he’s worth holding onto or if she needs to let go and find someone else that will give her more than a fuck.

She twists the handle and swings the door open before making her way to him. Like she assumed, he’s sat on the couch, legs spread in a way that would look obnoxious if any other man were doing it. She doesn’t hesitate to stand between his legs and look down at him. He meets her gaze for just a moment before letting his eyes travel down her body. His tongue pokes out, running across his bottom lip. Her eyes follow the movement, watching as the skin becomes wet with his spit. It takes everything in her to will her mind away from other things that make his lips shine like that.

She opens her mouth to ask how she looks, but he circles his hand around her wrist and lightly tugs her down so that she’s sitting on one of his thighs with her side pressed against his chest. He dips his head to place a kiss to her lips, molding them together as he breathes in the scent of her vanilla perfume that she frequents whenever she wants to smell good but not have it be too overwhelming. He smears his lips across hers, fitting her bottom one between his two as he pulls her closer and deepens the kiss just a bit.

When she whines into the kiss, he pulls away from her mouth, looking at her with hooded eyes. “You look absolutely fucking gorgeous,” he gushes, squeezing her closer to his body. “My girl is so pretty, I can’t even believe it.” Y/N’s cheeks heat up at him calling her ‘his girl’ and there’s nothing more that she wants than to really be his.

Clearing her throat, she stands up as she pushes all thoughts out of her head. She doesn’t want to work herself up too early in the evening and then psyche herself out before she can even get the full courage that she needs to bring up the idea with him. She reaches for his hand and he gladly lets her take it in his own, squeezing it lightly before she pulls him up off the couch and over to the door.

“Come on, Harry,” she mocks his tone from when he yelled through the door earlier, “we’re going to be late!” He chuckles lightly, shaking his head as he willingly follows behind her.

He pulls his keys from his pocket and clicks the button to unlock his car. Once he hears the click of the doors, he pulls the passenger side open and ushers her inside the vehicle. After she’s safely inside, he shuts the door and walks around the car, slipping in himself before starting the car.

“Are you not drinking tonight?” Y/N asks, finding it just a bit peculiar that he’s driving to a club when he hasn’t done so… ever. He always has someone else drive him because he always gets wasted when he goes out.

“Nope,” he states, shaking his head. “I want to remember tonight.”

The words have butterflies erupting in her stomach, but they also have it twisting into knots. There’s an unknown about why he wants to remember tonight. Is there something that he plans on doing that is too good for him to forget? Or does he want to end things and doesn’t want to forget to do so?

She inhales shakily, pushing the thoughts from her mind as she sees the club come into view. Harry parks and opens her door for her, taking her hand and leading her into the building.

Once they’re inside, he drops her hand and speaks directly into her ear so that she can hear him over the music, his breath making her skin prickle. “I’m gonna go get us drinks, yeah? Go find somewhere to sit,” he pauses for a few seconds, placing a hand on her waist. “Or go dance, know how much you love to do that.” She can feel his smirk against her skin, and it makes her melt as she stands there.

When he pulls away, she makes her way towards a table near the corner, knowing that Harry will want a bit of solitude when they decide to just sit down and have a drink or two together. She takes a seat and pulls out her phone, wanting to look busy so that nobody would come up to her and try to talk. The only person that she wants to talk to right now is Harry.

A few minutes pass and she begins to grow just a bit bored. She knows that he had to go order them drinks, but it normally doesn’t take this long.

When she looks up, scanning the room to find him, she sees something that makes her heart fall and her stomach clench in the worst way. He’s leaning into a tall blonde, his hand on her lower back to hold her closer to him just like he does with Y/N. The sight makes her sick, but what makes it even worse is the way that he laughs and his eyes light up more than they ever have when looking at Y/N, her heart cracks.

Her first instinct is to go over to him and interrupt, but she doesn’t have any right to do so. He’s not hers. As much as she wants him to be, he’s not, and that’s something that she has to live with.

So, instead of going up to them, she puts her phone back into her purse and goes onto the dance floor, finding someone to dance with and not wasting any time in molding their lips together. It feels wrong, kissing someone that isn’t Harry, but he doesn’t want her, so she’ll just have to do everything in her power to forget about him, even if it’s just for the night.

After a while of dancing and drinking things that she probably, definitely shouldn’t be drinking, she meets his eyes across the room and the look on his face makes her realize that kissing strangers while he was flirting with someone else probably wasn’t the best idea.

He just shakes his head before walking out. His head is hung low, and if it wasn’t for the low lighting that she swore had to be playing tricks on her, she would have thought she saw tears streaming down his face.

After she got home that night, she tried to text him, but all she got was a green message instead of a blue one. He blocked her.

All she had left of him were the memories that he had left and one single text message that she had received from him before he blocked her.

Thanks for letting me know that you didn’t want what I did, it’s what I needed to let go.

When she falls asleep that night, there are tears streaming down her face and her pillow is soaked beneath her.

Oh, how she wishes she could go back and erase every time she’s ever gotten drunk. That would solve a lot of things. If she hadn’t ever gotten drunk around Harry, they never would have started sleeping together. Which means that she never would have fallen in love with him, she never would have gotten jealous of him flirting with someone, and she definitely wouldn’t have kissed the first person that she laid eyes on to get back at him.

If she could just get undrunk one time, she wouldn’t be looking down at the wedding invitation that’s now stained with tears, wishing that it was her standing next to him in the engagement photos.

#undrunk #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing

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rosesvioletshardy · 4 years ago

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can we do it? - billy /four - prologue

my billy fic is finally here! it took me a while to figure what i wanted it to be called so i’m sorry it too a long time for this to be posted.

i really hope you all like this fic and i apologize if it’s not as good as my other fic

summary: one team. seven people. two lovers. things are about to get crazy and zero and four don’t know if they can do it with everything that’s going on

masterlist

# of words: 2943

warnings: mentions of blood, death, flirting ??,

inbox me or message me if you want to be added to the taglist for this series

“Took you long enough”

“Well sorry we were being chased throughout italy possibly in the brightest car possible thanks to six” one told her not liking her attitude as he tried to look over to see if anyone was coming

zero quickly got into the car managing to fit into the back squished next to two other women as five was trying conduct surgery on two

“it would’ve gone better if one didn’t act like a fucking dick to the lawyer”

“well he wasn’t cooperating so we had to go to plan b”

“I thought me hacking into the servers was plan b?”

“well that was plan c if plan b didn’t work”

“for fucks sake”

The girl had rolled her eyes already knowing that everything has gone to shit and that something or someone will most likely be hurt in the end, except for two where it wasn’t her fault.

Zero that was her number. She was the first to be recruited after almost being arrested for hacking into the servers to expose some of the wealthiest people of all time for what they have done that the country was keeping quiet about. She was given the option to do something better for the world and she took it. The only downside was she would have to leave her life behind. That meant faking her death and leaving her twin brother, her parents, and her friends behind. She didn’t like the idea at first but she weighed out all her options and realized that she would do more good in the world if people didn’t know who she was anymore. They ruled her death out as suicide and the hardest part of it all was having to watch her family and friends bury an empty coffin six feet under the ground.

Now she was in Italy, a mission she thought would probably go great and all until it all went to shit. she had been sitting near the lawyers office waiting for her signal to hack into the lawyers but one had different plans afterwards when told no

“Please tell me she’s stopped bleeding? I’d like to keep this car clean and pristine, and hopefully keep it” six asked looking into his rearview mirror

“That’s impossible five is trying her hardest to get the bullet out but it isn’t working. Have you seen how surgeries go? I’m sure there’s going to be blood everywhere. Also you’re not keeping the car, you’re going to need to get rid of it”

“we’re going to need a hospital” five said

“it’s getting a little intense in here don’t you think?” one asked everyone causing the women to glare at him

“Where did the other guys come from?” two asked loading her gun

“i told you down from the room you and one were in. they haven’t updated their shit in a long time they must’ve added new rooms”

“i was talking to one”

“i was covering the door. You were shot from a window”

Zero couldn’t focus on whatever else was happening and decided to look for the other members of her team before putting herself back into the conversation

“It’s true. That lawyer has had guards since he graduated and began working. I fucking told you guys this already.” “Well some people don’t listen” two grits through her teeth

“All that matters is that we got this phone, zero here. Do your little penelope garcia hacker thing”

Zero took the phone from him and began doing her thing. When she plugged his phone into her laptop, she began typing away to try and unlock it. It was too encrypted for her though she had managed to get past the first part of the security system that was keeping her locked out. What she didn’t know was that she also need an eye verification and pictures wouldn’t do it justice unless she had a program that can easily make a 3d model of it

“Please tell me one of you have a device that can make a 3D eye because i truly need it to get past the second part of this wack ass security system” zero had asked not tearing her eyes away from her laptop

“No but we do have something better” two told her trying to ignore the pain she was going through

“Hey six, you wanna you know, drive faster? Because i think they got us” one asked him sarcastically as more guards pulled up next to them

“Yeah hold on to something” six told them pressing on the gas causing them to almost collide with the busy traffic ahead of almost crashing and causing multiple crashes and explosions

“i feel like i’m going to throw up” zero said holding her head and trying to convince herself she’s fine

“Me too.”

“What the fuck did you guys do in there anyways? Why are you covered in blood?”

“The head, neck, and face are very vascular so it’s a lot of blood.” “We know basic anatomy one”

“Are you telling me you killed a mafia guy? In italy?” zero asked him leaning over the seat ready to kill him

“I didn’t. Two did. Anyways you should know what his client did”

“I do, I'm the one who told you his shit.”

“Everyone just shut up for one second there’s a BMW chasing us” five yelled

“Is now a bad time to tell you that we have a helicopter on our tail but don’t worry i’m trying to intercept their signal with some Italian children’s tv”

Six continued to drive, while one kept looking out the window praying to god that the mission doesn’t end entirely more fucked up than it already is. Two was under intense amount of pain as five kept digging into her to find the bullet that was inside her

“Can i just take a moment to thank you? There is nothing else I’d rather being doing with my life”

“I don’t care”

“Hey be nice. If it weren’t for you we wouldn’t be in this shit show right now” five said not looking up

Six made a turn that caused him to think fast and steer the wheel and almost hit a truck that drove against them before it hit one of the BMW that was chasing them. They continued their course on trying to get away before six had almost hit a group of nuns who didn’t so easily forgive him and then hitting a pedestrian on accident claiming he had the right of way. Five was getting annoyed with him while she tried to fix two and zero closed her eyes to prevent herself from throwing up. She was good at reading and driving but in this case, a high speed car chase, it wasn’t agreeing with her and felt like everything she had since being in italy was going to come up from her

“Nice call on the Day-Glo green. It blends right into the Italian architecture”

“Is it too flashy? You don’t like the color?”

“SIX WATCH THE FUCK OUT”

“BABY, BABY BABY!”

“PUPPIES” everyone yelled out at once as six swerved around almost hitting a few dogs, a woman and her baby, and other civilians as they all ran away. They continued the chase until this time someone on a motorcycle started to chase them

“Oh no he’s got a gun”

“Move, zero duck” two told the two women with her and she started to shoot

“She okay?” one asked about two current state

“She’s lost a shit ton of blood”

“This isn’t a shit ton”

“I am the judge of what’s shit ton. You see? Blood. Red.” five told her showing the bloody rags from trying to stop the bleeding

“I can hear it pumping out, please staunch it or whatever you call it” one asked as soon as blood squirted onto five’s face and two yelling in pain. As it happened everyone groaned in disgust as zero tried to move her stuff away to prevent anything from getting messed up. She had managed to dig up more information about the generals and what they were planning to do. Zero continued to listen to her team's bickering as six tried to avoid hitting people on Vespa's.

“I’m starting to feel it” six said swerving and making a turn

“I’m feeling fucking carsick. Now i know how zero feels”

Zero smiled to herself as she got up a map of the city to hide themselves in for a bit so she can continue in peace using the eye two had cut out

“One for four?”

“Yeah, go for four”

“We need you”

“‘course you need me. I’m here”

“Remind me where the fuck is “here”?” six asked looking around

““Here” here. Like here?”

“Specificity please?” one said annoyed

Zero had looked out the window and found where he was talking about

“Here. right fucking here!” he yelled out to the sky

“He’s at the top of the Duomo”

“Top of the Duomo, like we talked about. Look up” four and zero had said at the same time. This caused everyone to look at her with a questioning look

“What he said it in the meeting after one said for him to do his thing and plus i saw someone on top of it and he’s the only person insane enough to do that shit”

“Exactly sweetheart” he said smirking as she turned red as one looked through the rearview mirror

Six continued to drive seeing as they were being chased leaving four behind and having to detour. Zero never understood four and how he wasn’t scared doing stuff like that. She never really got to have a proper conversation with him before too.

“So some good news and bad news. I’ve managed to change the channels so instead of watching us being chased and shit, but the helicopters are still onto us”

“Well this will be a day for the history books”

“Hey guys. ‘M coming north. Down on Via de..Via de... There’s so many fucking vias in Italy”

“Should’ve brushed up on your Italian architecture before deciding to climb it” zero told him

“Well maybe you could give me a layout of Italy and i’ll show what i know”

“Uh guys i know you’re horny and all but now’s not exactly the time” one told them as four and zero turned red not meaning for it to sound that dirty

The group had managed to go the wrong way and miss four again leaving him behind causing them to think of another plan quick

“Round the corner. That’s it, keep coming, keep coming.” he said before cutting the rope and letting the poles let loose

“One i’m going to need that fucking eye now if you want this shit!” zero had yelled

One grabbed the eye out of his pocket and put it in view so everyone could see it. Six groaned in disgust

“Who knew the optic nerve was so long? Surprised his asshole didn’t come with it. This isn’t going to work. Pull over” he said as six hit something causing it to leave one’s fingers before giving it to zero

“He’s right there’s an empty alley up on this next turn” zero yelled

As soon as the eye left one’s fingers it landed under six’s feet causing him to yell

“Don’t you fucking squish it!”

“Fucking grab it!”

“You squish it, the mission’s over!” zero yelled. It wasn’t entirely true seeing how she could somehow manipulate it but she needed the real thing. Four overheard everything and all the yelling and commented on how everything was stressful

“can you guys just stop arguing, we need to get this shit done”

“tell that to six and his driving that caused the eye to fall”

Six pulled over to the alley and one handed the eye over to zero waiting for her to download everything from the phone into the computer.

“Who’s eye is that?”

“It’s the lawyers”

“Did you scoop it out or-”

“God, no! I didn’t scoop it out, two did” one told him as two hit her head against the door in pain

“Almost there. Don’t worry.”

“All of rovach’s transmissions are going to lead us straight to the four generals in less than 30 seconds now.”

“I’m getting lightheaded”

“You’re not the one holding it” zero had said glaring at him

“guys? cops are looking right at us” five warned looking back

“Don’t you dare move your foot off that brake or i swear to god”

As the information finished downloading and zero had thrown the eye back to one and yelled at six to go while trying to read about the four generals and where they could find them

“Zero, please tell me you can lose that police chopper?” four asked

“On it. While we’re at it, one? Now’s a good time to get three”

At this point four had started to leave again to find three, who was sitting in a truck trying to learn Italian waiting for his cue. six and zero worked together to try to lose the chopper. They both had a plan in mind but they knew one wasn’t going to like it. As six continued to drive, they began shooting at the team again causing one to yell at two to shoot. Two was already frustrated seeing that she was getting operated on and trying to shoot back wasn’t comfortable especially if she had to turn around. How they were all still alive was beyond zero’s thoughts right now.

“I’ve got a plan but i don’t think you’re going to like it.” zero said ducking avoiding bullets that were going through the car at the moment

“anything’s better than this right now” one told her back

“Well it involves the Uffizi”

“Fuck, no”

‘Yeah, the museum next to where we got those mochaccinos” six interrupted knowing what zero thought of

“I remember the mochaccinos! i’m saying fuck, no!” one yelled back at the both of them

They ignored what one had told them and went into the direction of the Uffizi as six turned the radio on to calm down. One didn’t appreciate it though and ripped the radio and threw it out. At this point everyone’s blood pressure had risen and they were all bound to do meditation soon if they didn’t calm down. as they entered the Uffizi entrance they knew that their faces were going to be on the news everywhere if they didn’t work fast so zero could erase everything.

“You said whatever i needed to do, right? so, i’m just gonna do it.” six said backing up before putting it back in drive

“i can’t believe i died for this shit”

“i’m not exactly that religious so if anyone needs me i’m going to be praying” zero said trying keep her vomit down

Six had driven into the museum, trying to avoid all the statues and art while having way too much fun. He managed to destroy a few statues and Zero was holding onto the door praying that she will get to have an Italian getaway or just any getaway that didn’t involve them ruining anything. when she opened her eyes, she found them in front of the statue of David. they drove off as soon as three called them to tell them about two black suburban's coming their way and four telling them he’s going to them on his skateboard before hitting them with a grenade and six commenting that they’ve got a superhero on the squad.

Entering what looked like under a bridge, zero knew this would end here as two yelled at one about not having anymore bullets in French

“i don’t speak that” one said scared

“shit’s about to get crazy” six commented

“NOW?!? I’m conducting surgery!” five yelled

“i’m trying to lose a thousand cars”

“She’s going to die, you know?”

“you can live for days with a gunshot wound in the stomach. She’ll be fine”

Five had started to yell at one in Spanish as soon as he said that asking if he was suddenly the doctor

“I don’t speak that either”

“Two ran out of bullets and five was asking are you suddenly a doctor”

“Yeah thanks for the input Duolingo. Up top!” one yelled at zero and six as he hit another guy with the car

Five went back to being quiet as zero looked over to see that she had gotten the bullet out of two. “Oh that feels so much better”

six continued to drive as one praised his driving before they were getting shot at in the front making it impossible to see. they had pushed the windshield out of the way before six stepped on the brake causing them to swerve and get hit. when they had opened their eyes and tried to calm their breaths, they saw that six had been impaled by a rod. zero felt sick to her stomach and climbed out of the car before the rest got out. Three and four had stopped as well before they saw zero on the ground crying and shaking before seeing what happened.

“where’s-” four asked before seeing six’s state and going back to help five and two

one picked zero up and tried to carry her body to where the others were. he knew how much six meant to her and made sure he was somewhere he would feel at peace no matter how he was.

“c’mon, do this for him. he wouldn’t want to see you like this” one whispered to her making sure no one heard him

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dinoyoongi · 5 years ago

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Confirm or Deny (5)

SYNOPSIS: You’re a member of the rising group FRNZEE. You’ve been dating Namjoon for years when Dispatch releases an article exposing your relationship. Your company confirms the relationship. Big Hit denies it.

PAIRING: Namjoon x Reader

GENRE: Romance, Angst

WARNINGS: Strong language

WORD COUNT: 3503

AUTHORS NOTE: A bit shorter than the others but I felt this was a good spot to end the chapter on. There will only be one more part to this before it’s over! I want to thank everybody for your patience - I’m definitely not as quick a writer as some others on here and when I do sit down to work on this, writer’s block hits me like a garbage truck every time. This chapter is kind of rushed and Namjoon-less but it I hope you’ll all like it just the same! Thanks for all the love. ❤️

___________________________________

BREAKING: Y/N officially departs FRNZEE & terminates contract with Hot Star Entertainment!

After two months of speculation of whether Y/N would return to FRNZEE after being attacked outside the KBS building, it's been confirmed by Hot Star Entertainment that Y/N has officially terminated her contract with the company. Y/N was recently involved in controversy after her company confirmed dating rumors between Y/N and BTS' leader RM that the latter denied. She had been removed from the group's comeback and was on hiatus from all activities when she was attacked by BTS fans outside the KBS building during a taping of Music Bank that she had attended with her manager out of support for her members. Despite official statements being released by both Big Hit Entertainment and RM – who uploaded a handwritten plea on Weverse begging for his fans to stop the bullying – Hot Star Entertainment felt that Y/N's mental health was being compromised and released her from contract.

“Like they give a shit about my mental health,” you snicker sarcastically, dropping your phone a little too forcefully onto the kitchen counter. From your peripheral, you can see your mother's lips turn downwards in disapproval at your foul language but she fortunately chooses not to scold you, recognizing the delicate situation. It's not as if this is a blindside. Nobody was pulling the wool over your eyes right now. You had been aware that they were permanently removing you from the group and from the company only one day after you returned home to Daejeon.

You're only surprised that they waited this long to announce it. You imagine it wouldn't look too good for them if they kicked you out of the group right after you were assaulted – no surprise there. Their image is all they care about.

“Has anyone tried reaching out to you?” your mother asks from the stove, stirring a steaming pot languidly.

Your eyes fall down to your still-lit phone, catching the small red balloon icon that signifies missed notifications. Calls, texts, voicemail, emails; you don't need to open them to see who they're from – you've spent the past week dodging any incoming forms of communication from everyone including your members, your former manager, the CEO of Hot Star, numbers that you don't recognize that you assume to be reporters and even all seven members of BTS.

Out of all the names that showed up on the screen on your phone, Namjoon's appeared the most.

His unread messages and unopened voicemails feel like an anchor on your chest. Is he reaching out to pity you for what happened with his fans? Is he reaching out to get back together with you? Is he reaching out to cuss at you because you dragged his name into your articles again? Is he reaching out to hammer that final nail in the coffin and be done with you for good?

All of these scenarios are equally terrifying so you pretend that the messages don't exist. However, there are times when you miss him so much that your chest physically aches and the thought of loading up your phone's inbox to listen to his voice is so devastatingly tempting. Playing his albums or watching him on YouTube isn't the same. You don't miss RM – you miss Namjoon. Your Namjoon.

You're not completely depriving yourself of him, though. Two months ago, the day of your attack, he posted a message messily scrawled onto a napkin to his Weverse account. Despite his username displaying as RM, your heart can tell just by his words that it's Namjoon. You've stared at the message so many times over the past few weeks that you have the words ingrained into your head.

ARMY,

Today, somebody I care about was seriously injured. I want to deny that our lovely ARMY would do anything to cause harm to other people. That's not Bangtan. That's not what we teach, what we stand for. But that was our logo on their phone cases. That was our lightstick in the pocket of their bags. That was our faces on keychains that hung from their straps. At the risk of upsetting some, I speak on behalf of the rest of the group to say to those who harm other people in the name of Bangtan – both physically and verbally – you are not ARMY. ARMY is better than this. ARMY is too good for this.

Please ARMY, let's always be better.

It's a simple message but one that you know was difficult for him to write. Having known the boys for the majority of their career growth, you know that the admiration they have for their fans is one-hundred percent not an act. Knowing that some of them assaulted you in such a humiliating manner had to have felt like a knife in the gut.

“Nobody,” you lie to your mom who quirks her brows, waiting for your response. “Nobody has tried contacting me at all.”

“When are you going back to Seoul?”

You sigh, dropping your eyes onto the kitchen counter. “Mom, why would I go back to Seoul? There's nothing there for me anymore.”

“What are you going to do then?” your mother asks softly. You hear the spoon she was stirring with drop the table, followed by a heavy sigh. “Is that it? You're done with your music career?”

“It isn't as if my contract just expired and I can shop around for new agencies. I was the center of a very huge scandal. I was the butt of jokes and online bullying for so long. I don't think there's an agency out there that would poke me with a ten foot pole at this point.”

“But you trained for so long. You didn't go to university. Y/N, what -”

Your body slides from the stool, your feet slapping against the linoleum so hard that your mother flinches from the sound. “I'm suddenly feeling kind of sleepy. I'll just go take a nap before dinner.”

She calls your name as you lug yourself upstairs towards your bedroom but you pretend not to hear. You're not angry with her – absolutely not. If you're angry at anything, it's your life. It's this situation. It's the world. It's a fact that most idols audition and join agencies for two things and two things only – money and fame. And while those two things can be really great at times, that's not why you decided to be an idol. You decided to become an idol because, well … there was really nothing else you could do.

Throughout your life, whenever anybody asked you “what do you want to be when you grow up?” you never gave the usual answers that your classmates did – police officers, veterinarians, doctors, lawyers, judges, the president. Your answer from the first time you were asked until the last remained unchanged: an idol. Music was everything to you. There was nothing that you could study for, nothing you could major in that would give you a sense of happiness and fulfillment like music did. Like music still does. It was the upbeat songs, the quirky choreography, the super cute but super outrageous outfits, the camaraderie and bonds formed between group members and the thrill of satisfaction when all of that came together for a comeback. That is what you've always wanted. There was nothing that came even close.

And now that you've had it, now that it's slipped right through your fingers … what do you do? What are you supposed to do with your life?

Heaving yourself onto your bed, you groan in frustration. Your phone chirps from the pocket of your hooded sweatshirt, alerting you to a text message. Waving the device in front of your face, you sigh when you see Ji-na's name.

Ji-na: please be strong. keep your head up. don't skip meals. i love you and i'm sorry.

Your chest throbs are you reread the words again. And then for a third time. If you were being honest with yourself, you stopped being angry with Ji-na and the rest of the group the moment you arrived home. If you were to put yourself in their shoes – would you have reacted the same way? An idol's career is already typically short; seven or eight years if you're lucky. Would you be willing to risk that for another person? The knee-jerk response might come easy to some but only those who have been in your shoes, trained as long and hard as you and your members did, can answer that question. But despite not holding onto any anger, you can't erase the betrayal from your heart. Ji-na was more than just a member of your group. Ji-na was your best friend. Ji-na was the hand that you reached for when FRNZEE was getting mobbed at airports. Ji-na is your first dibs sleeping buddy when you had to pair up in hotel rooms. There was very little that you couldn't and wouldn't tell Namjoon but if there was – Ji-na was the one you confided in. Ji-na was everything.

And going through this without her and Namjoon seems incredibly impossible.

Your eyes leave the phone, slipping over to the corner of the room where your suitcase and bags are haphazardly strewn about as you were too lazy to commit to unpacking. The one thing propped neatly against the wall is a sparkly, medium-sized gift bag, intricately tied with rainbow ribbons. Ji-na's birthday is coming up in week but you've had her present ready for months. Instead of leaving it at the dorms, you brought it home with you. At the time, you were so caught up in your anger and woes and self-misery that you had every intention of sending it back to the store once you settled in but now?

It seems you have a present to hand deliver.

_______________________________________

- TWO WEEKS LATER -

You've only been gone for two months but it seems like Seoul has already changed so much. The first big difference? There's now a doorman stationed in the lobby of the dorm apartments. You can tell that he recognizes you immediately by the way his cheeks flush red but he still refuses to let you go any farther, keeping you a safe distance away from the elevator. You get it, you really do. He was probably hired to keep out nosy reporters and fansites and journalists but knowing Hot Star the way that you do now, you have no doubt that he was also explicitly warned not to let you in. Sighing, you pull your phone from your bag, typing a few quick words to Ji-na before hitting send.

It only takes three minutes for the elevator to open with a loud ding and a flash of pale skin is hurtling itself at you. Ji-na wraps her arms around your neck so tightly that you cough from the pressure until she loosens her grip. You try to ignore the moisture that you see building in her eyes when she pulls away.

Grabbing her hand, she tugs you toward the elevator. “Come on. We have some talking to do.”

“Ah -” the doorman interjects, nervously stepping in front of you. “I'm sorry, Ji-na. She's on the no clearance list. She can't go up.”

Ji-na scoffs. “Even with my permission? Even though I'm bringing her up with me?”

He grimaces. “I'm sorry. It's my job.”

“It's okay, Ji-na. I just wanted to drop this off anyway,” you say, thrusting the bag in her direction. She stares at it for a few hard seconds before hesitantly accepting it. “Happy Birthday. If you're ever near Daejeon, let me know, okay?”

You turn on your heel to leave but a painful grip on your hand stops you. Ji-na twirls you around to face her, like a scene straight out of a cheesy drama. She's toe to toe with the doorman, facial features locked in what you know is supposed to be intimidation but on Ji-na it just looks like an angry kitten.

“If you won't let her upstairs, let's compromise. Your office?” she quirks an eyebrow, head jutting toward the door behind his podium. He contemplates this offer for a moment before relenting with a sigh, dropping a pair of keys into her hand.

“Don't tell your management about this, okay? She's not even supposed to be in the building at all.”

Ji-na throws him an obnoxious salute before yanking you into the room.

_______________________________________

Your heart-to-heart is long and full of anger, accusation, revelations, tears, laughter, giggling and so much more. While you're not ready to completely forgive her for leaving you behind that day, you've accepted the reality that Ji-na is one of the only friends that you have and you're not ready to let her go. She understands your continuing edginess with the situation and promises to do everything in her power to regain your trust and make it up to you.

You expected to leave with a heavier heart than you came with. Instead, most of the weight has lifted.

You only exit the doorman's office after Ji-na receives a text from one of her managers about a project meeting the group has soon. Her arm is around your side as she walks you to the front door, squeezing you tightly. “Please come visit a lot more. We have some off time coming up – would you mind terribly if I came to stay with you in Daejeon?”

You roll your eyes but your smile stays wide. “No, I wouldn't mind terribly. Just give me a heads up so I can stock up on soju and shrimp chips.”

She throws her head back to laugh loudly, bumping her hip to yours as the two of you take a few more steps toward the front door. “Yes! You know me so well! And you also have to make sure that you have tons of-”

“Y/N.”

The voice is jarring but immediately recognizable. Lifting your head, you meet the eyes of your previous manager. The last time you had seen him, he was loading your belongings into the back of a car that would send you right home. He gapes at you, gaze wide and shocked. Behind you, the doorman audibly groans.

“Um, he has nothing to do with this,” you hurriedly declare, throwing your thumb behind you in the groaning man's direction. “He was in the process of kicking me out, I swear. He's very good at his job. You guys should give him a raise. Okay, bye.”

You squeeze Ji-na's hand one final time before moving to scurry out of the building. For the second time today, fingers wrap around your wrist and pull you backward. You sigh as you yank your hand away. “A simple 'wait! stop!' would suffice. Why is everyone so grabby today? Look, I was just dropping off a birthday present for Ji-na. I promise that the doorman didn't let me go upstairs.”

“Y/N, I don't care about the doorman. I have something for you,” he says quickly before reaching into the tote bag that hangs around his shoulder. He rummages somewhat frantically for a few seconds before producing a business card, raising it into the air with pride and beaming as if it was the cure to a zombie outbreak. “You remember me telling you about one of my old co-managers for a different group who quit Hot Star and started working for P NATION?”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. This was not the greeting that you expected out of your former manager.

“Um … I think so. He's one of Hyuna's managers now, you said.”

“Yes!” he screeches, his chest heaving as if he has just finished running a marathon. You exchange a glance with Ji-na who looks equally perplexed. “Yes, he works with Hyuna. And he called me last week and said that Hyuna heard about everything that happened to you in the news. And so she started looking you up on YouTube and she thinks you're really talented and wants your contact information.”

It takes a few seconds for your brain to register everything that he has just said considering how quick, breathless and jumbled his words are. Ji-na is elbowing you excitedly in the ribs.

“I've tried asking Hot Star for your address but they wouldn't tell me anything. I was literally coming here to ask Ji-na to try to reach out to you so I could pass the information along but here you are! It's like fate!”

Ji-na throws her elbow much deeper this time, accompanying the jab with a sharp screech. You can see that there's something exciting happening but your brain isn't putting it all together yet.

“Um, why does Hyuna want my contact information? You said she heard about my situation in the news so she must know that I'm not with FRNZEE anymore, right? Or any company, for that matter. We can't collab or anything like that.”

Manager and Ji-na groan in unison, so in sync that it seems rehearsed.

“Y/N, please, are you really this dense? Do I need to dumb this down for you?”

You grimace but bat your eyelashes hopefully. “Would you?”

She sighs, slapping her hands down hard onto your shoulders. “Hyuna was kicked out of Cube for a dating scandal. Psy – who founded P NATION – signed her right after. You were kicked out of Hot Star for a dating scandal. And now Hyuna is contacting you. I mean, I'm just speculating here but there's no way this is a coincidence.”

Wait.

If she's saying what you think she's saying then …

Hyuna wants to contact you … to sign you … to P NATION?

All you were here to do was to drop off Ji-na's birthday present. After this, you were going to stop into a few cosmetic stores to stock up on some harder-to-find products and then treat yourself to a well-deserved oreo bingsu before heading home. Talking to Hyuna – arguably one of the most popular and influential females in the k-pop industry ever – about possibly signing with Psy's new agency was not in the forecast.

Realizing your stunned state, Manager smirks smugly, lifting your hand to drop the business card into before wrapping your fingers around it and letting it fall.

The card feels like fire in your palm.

“Y/N,” Ji-na's voice breaks through your haze. You glance up at her silently, her warm smile only heightening your nervousness. “Go home and call her. Listen to what she has to say or what she has to … offer. Okay? And then call me and tell me every little detail.”

“You guys, that can't be right. Hyuna and Dawn's scandal was different – they both admitted to being in the relationship. Nobody bullied or laughed at them. I … I'm a joke. Why would P NATION want to sign me? Do you think they're just going around plucking up poor little k-pop idols who are mistreated by their labels? No, they're smarter than that. They-”

A hand – belonging to either Manager or Ji-na, you're not sure which one – whacks you upside the head. The strength of the blow is painful but it has its desired affect – it shuts you right up.

“Stop it, Y/N,” Manager scolds. “What happened to you wasn't fair and we all know it. You worked so hard for FRNZEE and maybe this is your good karma. Maybe this is ...”

“Fate!” Ji-na squeals hysterically.

___________________________________

An hour later, you're sitting in the corner of the cafe by yourself, a heaping bowl of bingsu untouched in front of you. Instead, your eyes focus on the card that you've set down onto the table. You wonder if this is a prank; if someone from Hot Star is getting one last act of cruel revenge on you before parting ways completely.

But what if it's not?

What if this is what was always supposed to happen? Everything that has happened to you, everything that you've been through, everything that you've lost … was it for this? Half of you jitters in happiness at the prospect of being signed to a label that houses some of the greats – Psy, Hyuna, Jessi. But the other half of you mourns what you had to give up for this.

Namjoon.

Was this opportunity supposed to make you grateful for losing him? Are you supposed to feel like your breakup served some kind of purpose now?

It didn't. Most of the happiest moments you can remember are either with Namjoon or because of Namjoon. If the choice was your idol career or Namjoon then …

Why do you have to make a choice? Why can't you have both? Why is that wrong?

For the first time, you shift your eyes away from the P NATION logo and onto the phone number scrawled messily onto the bottom of the card.

Lifting your phone, you dial with trembling fingers.

< -- PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER -- >

#bts #bts fanfic #namjoon #kim namjoon #RM #rm fanfic #namjoon fanfic #bts namjoon #namjoon x you #namjoon x reader #rm x you #rm x reader #namjoon angst #rm angst #namjoon imagine #rm imagine #bts imagine #bts x you #bts x reader

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imaginekpoplikethis · 5 years ago

Text

A charismatic roommate - Roomate Au - Kim Taehyung - Part 1

Henlo I’m back. Hopefully for a while. There’s a lot going on and this is one of the only ways to keep my mind off things.

Hope you enjoy

Part 1 - Here

——

Today was supposed to be a special day. An anniversary of sorts. This particular day last year you had finally sprouted wings and left your parents’ home to take on a sense of individuality, the idea of having to work for yourself driving you to experience such a stepping stone head on. You had moved into a share house situated near your university. Your new home had all the necessities needed to live comfortably. If anything, you had managed to score a deal with the house. The number of rooms came to a total of seven. A kitchen and living room combined two bathrooms and four bedrooms. The rent was a miracle and you were elated when you had initially found this place.

That was until your roommate suddenly decided to move out. This meant you were the only one living in a house that could have four other people. Your initial reaction was that of shock and then worry hit you like a truck. The owner of the share house had let you know that if no one else moved in within the next few months she was going to turn the house into ‘the cafe of her dreams’. You were sure you were not going to find any other places to live since the academic year has already started. This is precisely the reason you found yourself posting on your universities forum, looking for a potential roommate. You didn’t dare tell your parents of your predicament, fearful that they would drag you back home despite the hefty journey it would take to travel to university from their home.

Surprisingly enough, you received several replies within the first week though after much consideration you chose not to accept any. This was mainly due to the fact that you knew of these people. For example, one happened to be the captain of the swimming club and although many would die over the chance to room with such a handsome man, the rumours and his personality almost had you deleting his reply and acting as if you had never seen it. He was in no way rude but the size of his ego was simply nauseating. He even happened to be in your class and had wasted no time in trying to romance you at the beginning of the year. The memory of your encounter with him almost made you scream out loud.

Your other replies consisted of three third year girls, notorious for their partying habits, a supposedly sketchy boy from the year above and another boy in his final year. All had fallen short of your expectations and so you notified them that you were in contact with a potential roommate and would let them know if the deal fell through. Of course this was a lie but you were not about to let them know you just didn’t think they’d be appropriate roommates. Around two days after your rejections, a new candidate privately messaged you, inquiring about the bills that would need to be paid. Glancing at the name of the user, you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

“KT? Ah, as in Katie? That’s got to be it…”

Typing a brief but detailed reply, you hit send and stood from your seat at your desk, preparing yourself for a shower. You weren’t expecting a reply for at least a few hours so you turned off your laptop and went about your evening plans. It seemed the whole exchange had slipped your mind since you found yourself waking up the next morning and jumped out of bed at the thought of a reply. As you had expected, a reply was sitting in your inbox.

‘If its fine with you, I’d like to view the place and move in as soon as possible. Could you let me know which day is good for you?’

Smiling to yourself, you let KT know that if need be, they could visit and potentially move in tomorrow afternoonto which they quickly answered that it would be perfect for them since they didn’t have much. Thus the twenty four hour wait began. You couldn’t help the excitement that had taken shelter within you and pondered over what kind of person this ‘KT’ was. You mentally slapped yourself for not asking what their actual name was but decided you could eventually ask them tomorrow. For now you had a class to get ready for, one which you finally realised you were late for. Cursing under your breath, you decided to skip on breakfast and ran straight to the bathroom, brushing your teeth and rushing back out to gather your belongings. Quickly fixing your appearance at the hallway mirror, you eventually left your apartment and began your rush to your university.

Finally Friday... this was the longest week of my life.

—— You had made it to the gates ten minutes late with a few other students also rushing to their classes. Fortunately for you, your lesson took place in a lecture room at the front of the campus so not much more time would be wasted. A text suddenly came in and you glanced briefly at your phone screen, noting it was from your friend Iris Inquiring about where you were. Deciding against replying back as you were bound to see her in less than a minute, you trudged to the door, ready for the walk of shame to your seat. As you were going over the different apologies you could make to your lecturer you failed to notice the boy beside you slightly panicking. It was the sudden hand on your wrist that brought you back to your senses and your startled eyes came into contact with the glass door inches from your face.

“Whoa, great timing! I’m truly impressive.” You snapped your eyes to the boy who had saved you from a day of embarrassment, a grin plastered on his face.

“It’s too early in the morning to be walking into doors, haha.” Your face flushed and you let out a huff of amusement whilst quietly taking him in. He was quite handsome, probably the most handsome person you had come face to face with in a while. He also seemed to be fairly charismatic if his overly joyful attitude this early in the morning was anything to go by.

“Thank you… I can’t even begin to explain how embarrassing that would have been.” A small, appreciative smile spread on your lips and his grin only widened.

“Don’t worry about it, it happens to the best looking of us!”

Now you were slightly lost.

“You mean the best of us?” He stopped for a moment and just stared at you in confusion.

“Wait, it’s not what I just said? Is that why the old lady laughed at me the other day?”

As you tilted your head in even more confusion, an alarm startled the both of you and he grabbed his phone out of his pocket, eyes widening drastically at the sight displayed to him.

“No, I’m gonna be super late!” That seemed to snap you back into reality and you prepared to head into the building when he turned around and ran straight into the door. The sound seemed to echo throughout the mostly empty campus and you couldn’t help but feel second hand embarrassment.

The boy didn’t turn around, just exhaled slowly and opened the door, halting only to hold it open for you and then he was off.

He’s got one heck of a personality, I’ll give him that…

——

“He actually smacked into the same door he saved you from? Sounds like a sacrifice to me… but seriously how does that happen? That’s the kind of stuff that only happens in fiction, not real life.”

You were currently eating lunch with Iris, both of you having no more lessons for the day, and you had just finished filling her in on your encounter with the boy from earlier that morning.

“Maybe this is fiction and we’re in a book.”

Iris looked at you as if you had grown two heads.

“Just kidding but trust me, it happened. I had enough second hand embarrassment for both of us.”

Noticing you both had finished your respective lunches, you gathered the rubbish from the tables and stood, Iris following suit.

“I can imagine... Well at least he’s cute. You probably should’ve gotten his number.”

You scoffed at the idea of asking a boy for his number.

“Me? Ask for someone’s number? If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re a stranger or something. You know I don’t have the social skills to do that.”

Iris’ laughter had a small smile spreading on your face.

“I know, I know. I really I wish I was there, I could have gotten it for you.”

“Nah, it doesn’t matter. I’ll probably never see him again. Anyway I need to get home and clean the house before ‘KT’ comes tomorrow.”

You both stopped to bid farewells, stepping in for a quick hug.

“Right! Tell me how it goes. I wanna know who this ‘KT’ person is.”

“Will do.”

——

You couldn’t help the nervous jitters that wracked your body as you waited for your potential new roommate. It was already twenty minutes past the initial time you had decided to set up the room viewing and ‘KT’ had yet to appear. You had in fact messaged them ten minutes prior and the lack of reply had you worried something may have happened. Despite your thought process, you didn’t want to jump to conclusions and actually call them. At least not yet. Speaking to strangers over the phone wasn’t really your strongest social skill so you normally tried to avoid doing just that. However, as the minutes waiting began to increase, you hesitantly reached for your phone, quickly going over the ways you could explain the sudden call if they happened to pick up.

Just as you unlocked your phone, a rhythmic knock on your door made you jump up from your seat and shuffle towards it.

“Finally, I was really starting to freak out.”

Mumbling under your breath, you placed your hand on the doorknob and eagerly

opened the door. A petite girl stood before you, a look of surprise adorning her round face.

“Um... hi. Are you viewing the room?”

You cursed yourself for letting your anxiousness seep into your voice but she didn’t seem to notice, to your immense relief.

“I’m actually here for a housewarming party but I guess this is the wrong place...”

She pulled out her phone and unlocked it, glancing up at you somewhat apologetically.

“Er... if it’s not too much trouble could you help me find this place?”

Nodding, you took a look at the address she had pulled up on her phone and stepped out to better direct her.

“If you turn this corner, the place you’re looking for is the second building.”

She shot you an appreciative smile.

“Thank you so much! Have a great rest of the day.”

Smiling back at her, you nodded and reciprocated her farewell before turning back into the house. Just as you were about to close the door, a voice called out to you.

“Wait! I’m here and I’m sorry I’m late but I’m here!”

Releasing a sigh of relief, you swung the door back open and stepped back out, only to collide with a body and fall to the ground.

“Ah! I’m so sorry, I didn’t think you would step completely out... Wait, I know you!”

Yeah right, I don’t know anyone this chaotic.

Lifting your head to get a good look at the wrecking ball that was ‘KT’, your eyes widened when they made contact with the same boy from yesterday. The first thing you could think to do in this current situation was blurt out whatever came to mind and apparently he had the same idea.

“You’re the cute girl who almost walked into the door!”

“You’re the pretty boy who ran into the door!”

Both of you slapped your hands over your mouths, a deep red spreading over your faces.

I can’t believe this sh-

——

You found yourself sitting in front of ‘KT’, also known as Kim Taehyung, two cups of coffee set in front of you both as you waited for him to give his final impressions of the share house.

“Woah! So you have this whole house all to yourself? It’s awesome!”

“Not really, I’m actually meant to be rooming with at least two other people hence the term share house. My last roommate bailed on me and the owner of the house can’t really run this place with one person living here.”

He nodded in understanding, his smile gradually growing.

“So in total... five people can stay here?”

“Yeah, as you saw there are three rooms for one person each and one room with two beds.”

“Cool! I haven’t heard of many mixed share houses... are there any rules?”

Besides the obvious rules such as not entering a room that isn’t yours without permission you could only think of one.

“Not really any special ones except there’s no mixed rooms. So you either have to share with a guy or pick the single room.”

“That’s fine. I think I’ve made my decision.”

He began to drum his hands on the table, imitating a drumroll. You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you due to his goofy attitude. He enthusiastically pointed his thumb at himself and gave you a close eyed boxy grin.

“Say hello to your new roommate! I mean... if that’s fine with you, haha.”

A grin almost as wide as his own plastered itself on your face.

“That’s absolutely fine with me. So are you bringing stuff over today?”

“Yep! My friend is bringing stuff over in his car later tonight. So I’ll be done moving in by tomorrow afternoon.”

Standing from your seat, you grabbed the empty cups and made your way to the sink.

“Great. You should probably go and talk to the house owner. She has spare keys and a contract you need to sign. Don’t worry she’s sweet.”

“Will do! Thank you Y/N, you’re really kind.”

Your cheeks burned with the compliment.

“Thank you Taehyung, you too.”

——

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marshmallowprotection · 4 years ago

Note

Idk, i just wanted to do this.

“Bora, it has come to mine, and everyone else’s attention, that you have not seen a doctor in years, so I would like to schedule an appointment for you to see one. When would work best for you?” Jumin said to bora at the dinner table. It wasn’t the first time they have eaten dinner together, maybe the eight, it took a while just for bora to eat her meals with him, or any meal that wasn’t a protein bar.

Feeling her nerves start up, the urge to panic began to bubble up, Bora desperately does not want to go to a doctor, those few times she has been were scary. Strange people kept trying to touch her, inject her with things, but the worst is how her parents treated her afterwards, making the tired girl scrub the floors till exhaustion took over her body. They said it was for ‘wasting their money on her’

“I’m alright, but thank you Mr. Han,” bora says respectfully, she pushes what is left over from her meal around on her plate, avoiding jumin’s stare.

“ I think it would be in your best interest to see a doctor, the doctors are highly skilled and some of the best pediatricians in the country,” jumin tries to talk the small child into seeing a doctor. Lucien said that the last time she had been to a doctor was five years ago, and for someone of her age, it is unacceptable and neglectful. Besides, any person can tell she has health issues that need to be addressed immediately. Jumin pretends not to notice how she walks with a small limp, or how her left eye tends to drift to the side when she is tired, or how she is constantly cold, how easily she gets winded, someone who is fifteen should not have to deal with all of these health problems.

Playing with the sleeves of her hoodie, she avoids all eye contact. She just needs to come up with an excuse, anything to get her out of this situation, but she just cant leave the table without being excused,” I’m really okay Mr. Han, I’m as fit as a fiddle” ‘yeah, maybe a broken fiddle’ the young girl thought to herself as jumin gives her a look of disappointment, they both know she needs help, but she won’t admit to it.

“Bora, I know we have known each other for a long time, but please, just let me bring you to a doctor, or if you feel more comfortable one can come here for you.” Jumin looks the nervous girl in the eye.

“Thank you for the offer Mr. Han, but I respectfully decline. I will be heading to my room now if that’s alright?” Her asks standing up, taking her dirty dishes in her hands, wanting to just wash and put them aways before going to her room. Maybe she could even sneak out tonight.

“ Alright bora, but if you get sick, or if your condition worsens, I will send for a doctor. “ he says taking a sip of his drink, jasmine tea. He tries to not drink in front of Bora, it would make him a bad influence, and he was still unsure what her boundaries are. Pushing her too much wont cause progress, only setbacks.

One am always seems like a good time to go on a walk, especially when the neighborhood is as safe as the one the penthouse building was in. Bora, dressed in two hoodies, a scarf, and sweatpants made her way down three blocks before her phone began to blow up. It was none other than the rfa group chat, well more specifically seven spamming her in their private messaging inbox. ‘Oh, I guess he knows,” she thinks to herself while answering the frantic texts from everyone.

Her phone starts to ring, only to see zen’s icon pop up, bora smiled. Zen is the person in the rfa she feels most relaxed with, he just has a vibe to him that puts her at ease right away.

“ hello?” Bora asks, not knowing why everyone is freaking out so much, she is just going on a small walk.

“Bora? Where are you? Are you okay?” Zen asks frantically, he can’t stop imagining the worst scenario.

“Yeah I’m good, a bit cold but I’m doing well. Why?”

“Bora, you can’t just leave the apartment whenever you feel like it, there is a hacker on the loose and its dangerous out there, and cold. Please tell me you at least are dressed warm.”

“ okay, I’m wearing something warm.” She lied through her teeth, hearing a low humming of a bike in the background she takes a seat.

“Where are you? I’m coming to get you.”

“I’m at the convince store on 27th and 3rd. But I can get home myself.

“I’m on my way, you’re lucky you’re close by.” With that he ends the call as bora sits in the cold. Now that she isn’t moving, the cold is getting to her. Bringing her knees up to her chest, bora begins to shake. She wished she didn’t stop moving.

Soon enough the sound of a motorcycle got louder and louder till it was in sight. Seeing the infamous silver ponytail flowing underneath the helmet, she immediately knew it was zen.

Stopping right in front of bora, zen undid his helmet,” I thought you said you were wearing warm clothes?” Zen asks the shivering girl.

“These are my warm clothes,” she says as zen takes his gloves off to give them to bora. Helping her put them on, he realizes how tiny she actually is. On of his hands complete;y envelopes her hand, but what really shocked him was how she only came up to his chest, a nearly one foot difference. Putting the spare helmet on her head, zen leads her over to his bike.

“Now remeber bora, you aren’t allowed on this bike, but this will be the one exception. Dont let go of me.”

The ride back to the penthouse was short, but bora was shaking like a leaf. It had gotten colder and the combination of the bike and the cold taken everything out of the poor child. Helping her off of the bike, zen guides her back into the penthouse.

“Bora? What were you thinking?” Jumin asks when she walks through the door, being escorted by zen. Elizabeth comes up to greet bora, and zen immediately begins o sneeze,

“I’m gonna head out, that white hair ball is making my allergies act up again” he says between sneezes. Giving the girl a quick head pat zen takes off, leaving bora to face Jumin.

“It is not the time to give you a lecture, we will discuss this in the morning. For now get changed and get to bed. “ he says as bora just nods and rushes off to her room, Elizabeth the third following not too far behind.

*next day*

Bora wakes up insanely hot, but she is shivering. Her head feels like someone hit it with a truck, and lets just say, it looks like there are two Elizabeths hovering over her.

“I told her that if she every got sick, I’d call a doctor. Please do it quickly, she isn’t a fan of doctors.” A deep voice says in the background.

“ oh! I think she is awake,” another unfamiliar voice says and she feels a calloused hand on her forehead.

“Hello, bora? Can you hear me?” Jumin asks the semi delirious girl as her eyes wander around.

“Hi, I’m sorry, I just i- i mean- i just had a - just had a bad memory moment. I’m sorry.” The sick girl nearly cries, but who could blame her, she was so sick that she could barely mutter nonsense as the doctor made her drink medicine.

“I don’t want to see a doctor,” bora says quietly as the doctor finishes packing up his things, not realizing that the doctor had already come.

“Okay bora, just close your eyes” it’s always easier to play along when people get like this, but seeing her wrapped up in multiple blankets, with pillows laying all around her so she wont roll out of bed was cute by itself, but Elizabeth made her way over to bora, and climbed in between her hair and neck. Now that is adorable.

//sorry this was really long and not good, I’m just really tired and i needed to get this out of my head

Thank you for sending me this! Bora is very nervous and feels so much trepidation when it comes to asking for help. She feels like she can get through it without speculation and grown ups telling her what to do. She knows she needs to slowly work on herself but it's hard going from having nothing to having everything. And, it's not easy to just eat when you've got a small stomach and a tiny appetite. That takes time. That's one of the many things she has to accept and be able to work on.

She feels a lot of shame with it, with her health, nobody ever really let her be a kid. Or, a kid who needed to relax and have a sick day. It's not easy to have so many people worried about her, either, and it takes time to learn that she can't just up and leave when she feels bad.

#mod kait #ask #anon #bora kim oc #runaway MC

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the-mad-starker · 5 years ago

Text

Starker Smut: Homemade

Length: 8.2k

AO3 Link

Prompt: Omega mommy Tony and alpha son Peter who finally starts his rut. Tony ends up pregnant, and Tony loves feeling the life inside him, that feeling amplified by knowing that the pup(s) have part of Peter in them. When Tony starts lactating, Peter likes to nurse while he fucks his mama, caught between the safe, warm, feeling he gets from drinking from his momma and the desperate, near-frenzied mindset he gets fucking him.

Ive been MIA. Lack of motivation + IRL stuff = one very sad mads. So I finally finished this mommy kink fic yayy. Also using this as a fill for Starker bingo, X-ing out my Incest square 😱 anyone curious about my card can see it in the AO3 post.

Notes: ABO Dynamics, Incest (normalized sex setting), Omega Tony, Alpha Peter, intersex, marathon sex, knotting, breeding, impregnation, pregnant sex, lactation, ruts, lingerie, and so much mommy kink

Note 2: Not explicitly stated but throwing in the underaged warning here.

Also before anyone jumps me for breast feeding info/correction, I was too lazy to do a thorough research into this so I'm tweaking it in this omegaverse lol

💗💗💗

Tony's actually in a meeting when he gets the text.

It's from Happy, his loyal but too serious bodyguard slash chauffeur.

Boss, i just dropped the kid off at the house. He literally begged me not to tell you, but he isn't feeling too well. - HH

Tony frowns at the message and thinks for a half second before he shoots a text to his son.

Hey, kiddo. How's class going? - TS

There’s silence for a few seconds before his inbox is flooded in Peter's usual lightning fast but short sentence texts.

…

...Happy told you, didnt he

im sorry, i wasnt feeling good

They said I should just go home

And I told Happy not to tell you

he promised but I guess he lied

I'm fine, really just need to nap.

Sorry, mama.

It's the last line that gets him because lately, Peter has been trying to stop calling him mommy or mama. he wants to be more formal, more grown up and just call Tony mom, but it slips when he's feeling particularly vulnerable.

Meaning his baby needs him right this instant.

Tony excuses himself from the meeting and texts Happy to bring him home. Smart man, the beta is already waiting for him when Tony strolls out of the building.

He makes it to their home in Queens in record time but doesn't text to let his son know. Peter, despite being a clingy child, has some guilt about pulling Tony away from his job. The omega doesn't know where it comes from since he has always reassured his boy that he would move mountains for him.

Tony loosens his tie, slipping off his shoes when he enters their home.

There's a scent neutralizer in the air so the omega can't tell from scent alone if his son is in distress. Scent neutralizers in the ventilation but the walls aren't soundproof. The only ones that are soundproof are Tony's bedroom for… reasons... Not that he needs it. The omega hasn't had a partner for heats or otherwise since Peter was a baby.

He approaches Peter's bedroom and pauses when he hears sounds from inside.

A soft moan. His hand stills on the doorknob before he decides to knock.

He gets a soft yelp and the sound of something crashing on the floor. Tony raises a brow but schools his expression when Peter cracks the door open.

"Mama?" Peter whispers incredulously. He licks his dry lips and blinks too rapidly. "Aren't you supposed to be in a meeting…?"

Normally, Tony would have a sassy reply instantly but something… It's… It's hard to pinpoint really, but the scent is familiar and it makes Tony's insides clench and his legs feel weak. He hasn't responded like that in so long and the last time–

Tony's eyes widen when the realization hits. It's all processed in less than a second and his instincts surge to life inside him.

"A little birdie told me you aren't feeling well," Tony says coyly, leaning closer.

He gets more of that scent, spice and musk… Knows by the way Peter's lips quiver that he's catching his omega mother's scent at the same time. Peter's eyes dilate, the pupils expanding and eating up the brown of his irises. Brown eyes that he shares with his omega parent.

Does Peter even know what Tony's scent means?

If he's presenting today, the deeper notes in Tony's scents might still be a mystery. In that case, his body would be responding but Peter wouldn't know, consciously, why he's so aroused. Why Tony's scent is turning him on so much when just yesterday, his nose only registered comfort and security.

"I told Happy–" Peter groans, "Mom, I'm okay, I just need a minute."

Tony smirks but when he tries to nudge the door open, Peter holds it steady, a soft whine of, "Mama, p-please–"

He abruptly stops talking when Tony caresses his cheek, subtly posing his wrist right next to the boy's nose. He's feeding his presenting boy the scent of a viable omega. It's a dirty trick but he just wants to help and possibly ease his son's suffering.

"Baby, I can smell it," Ton says gently, "You're becoming a man… An alpha."

"Mama…" Peter groans, breathing the scent in with greedy lungfuls of breath.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" Tony encourages his son to speak honestly.

Peter swallows, so unsure, but he whimpers when Tony continues stroking his cheek, soothing and arousing at the same time.

"It does," he admits, "but… but… I…"

Tony's poor baby is struggling.

"Do you want Mama to help, darling?" Tony coos to his son. "I can make the hurt go away."

"You can?" Peter looks at him with wide eyes, full of trust and innocence.

It makes Tony's heart beat so harshly against his chest. His body responds too, but he's already been dripping slick since he smelled his son's arousal. The scent of an alpha in entering a rut. It's even more potent for a first time presented. It's even more arousing that it's his baby boy, his sweet Peter.

"Open the door, baby," Tony encourages, "I'll help you feel better."

Peter's breathing escalates, his body practically vibrating with unspent energy. Tony can read all the signs and more slick drips out of him when he does.

His sweet Peter is going to be such an amazing, good alpha.

His son opens the door and Tony almost sinks to his knees right then and there. If he thought Peter's emerging scent affected him before, it sends his head spinning. It's intoxicating.

Alpha… alpha…

Tony breathes it in and takes a few seconds to acclimate himself. Then, belying the struggle he's feeling, Tony saunters into the room and promptly sits on his boy's bed, crossing his legs. It helps to hide the trembling and the urge he has to just lay back and offer himself as a rut toy for his son.

Peter, sensing the change in his omega mom, hesitates when he turns.

It's obvious why. His erection is tenting the soft pajama pants he has on and he's trying to hide it behind his hands. There's a light flush on Peter's cheeks, such a pretty pink that Tony wants to snuggle the boy close.

"Well," Tony smiles and it's a sultry thing, an expression that Peter's never had directed at him. It makes his son push out even more pheromones, trying to lure in the omega teasing him. "We're not gonna solve your problem with you all the way over there. Come closer, baby."

Peter does step closer then takes another until he's standing right in front of Tony. The omega gently eases his son's hands away.

"Need to see what I'm working with here, kid," Tony tells him.

Slowly, he tugs his boy's pajamas down, letting the fabric drag over the erect length. His son's flesh is uncovered, slowly, like a grand reveal and Tony's mouth fills with saliva with every inch he exposes. He guessed the size a bit, just from the outline, but that doesn't compare to what he sees.

Tony knows right away that Peter has a pretty cock. The flesh itself is flushed a gorgeous pink, just like the blush on his cheeks. The girth isn't something to scoff at. It looks like his presentation hit Peter like a truck, giving him all the tools needed to be an alpha stud despite still being Tony's baby boy.

The omega eyes the loose skin around the base. For a kid who hasn't popped his first knot, Tony can already tell Peter's knot will be massive. When the band of his pajamas finally slips over the tip, Tony's breath catches when the entire thing is freed. It's so hard that it springs up but the weight of it is too much to curve up against Peter's belly. His son's cock bobs in the air, all flushed and needy, drooling for his omega mama's touch.

Tony takes a moment to admire it. A soft sound catches his attention and he looks up to see Peter's embarrassed face. The blush has only deepened and the color has crept down Peter's neck and chest, disappearing beneath his shirt.

"You've grown to be such a big boy," Tony murmurs, rubbing circles on the hard jut of his hip.

"Mama…" Peter whispers, a tiny bit embarrassed. But there's a hint of pride there like he can't help being happy that Tony compliments him so.

"It's a good cock," Tony assures him, "You'll make plenty of omegas cry on this thing…"

Another soft embarrassed sound then his sweet son admits, "I don't… don't really want any other 'mega, mom…"

His son is such a sweet boy. Tony feels his heart twist because Peter's always been such a good boy, always thinking about his omega mama, always so sweet and kind. Some young omega will steal Tony's sweet boy away and that's… that's life.

Tony doesn't say such things though. They'll come in time. For now… He'll take what he can get and teach his son what he wants to know.

"What do you think…?" Tony says casually while he wraps his hand around Peter's cock. "Think you can hold out for me, kid? Or are you feeling sensitive…?"

He gets his answer as soon as he gives the firm cock a single stroke. It twitches wildly in his hand, drops of precome beading up quickly at the slit. It drips down the flushed head and just as quickly, another drop forms. It keeps going, fat cloudy drops that gather and overflow so that it drips steadily.

"I…" Peter whines, hiding his face behind his hands again. He peeks through his fingers, "I don't know…"

Tony tries to be gentle but his baby isn't too far from his first orgasm by another's hand.

"It's okay, sweetheart," Tony tells him as the boy shuffles closer. His hand works over Peter's erect cock, jerking him off with firm but quick strokes. "Let it out, little alpha… Let it out for mama…"

It doesn't take more than a few strokes before Peter's body grows taut. His cock twitches and pulses in Tony's grip, balls drawing up quick. Tony doesn't stop and soon, his son is bucking up his hips, soft gasps and a cut off "Mmph…!" before Peter spills all over Tony's hand.

The load his son releases is so much…

"Fuck, baby," Tony says, astonished at the sheer amount of come, "you were really backed up, hmm? You should ask for mommy's help if you need it... Don't want my baby getting so frustrated…"

Tony milks it all out of Peter, massaging and encouraging the soft little baby knot at the base of his cock. He ignores the fact that his son's come makes a mess, some of it getting on his designer suit and dripping all over.

Peter slumps against him, sinking onto the bed. His head falls on Tony's shoulder and he buries his face against his Mama's arm.

"Isn't this wrong, mama…?" Peter asks softly.

In that quiet, whispered sentence, Tony hears all his boy's doubts and fears. Tony can't bear to have his kid upset, so he tips Peter's face towards his and gently, lovingly, kisses the boy on the lips.

Peter's brown eyes, so like his own, widen but he doesn't scramble back. If anything, he melts into it, hands twitching at his sides, wanting to touch but unsure of where to place them.

"I love you, baby," Tony tells him. Then he smiles a bit wryly, "You love me too, don't you…?"

For a second, Peter looks a bit offended at the question before he eagerly nods, replying, "Of course, I do, mom."

He nuzzles Tony's cheek then brushes his nose against his jaw and then his neck…

"You're perfect… my perfect mama…" Peter tells him, "I love you so much… There's no one I'd love more than you…"

Tony melts and tugs Peter down onto the bed with him. The young alpha curls up against his side while Tony kicks off his ruined pants. Since those are already gone, he strips off his suit jacket and the vest beneath. As he's unbuttoning his shirt, he feels curious fingers trace along his underwear.

He looks over his shoulder, raising a brow at his touchy feely son.

Peter gives his mama a shy smile, "It looks nice on you…"

Tony looks down, grinning at the hot red lace underwear he's wearing. He hasn't had an alpha in years but he still likes to feel sexy beneath his clothes. He's also glad he wore something nice since Peter seems to love it.

"Thank you, baby," Tony says leaning down and kissing the top of his head.

He leaves his shirt on but it's entirely unbuttoned. Tony is, perhaps, a bit eager but Peter certainly appreciates it. He tilts his face up, lips puckering a bit in expectation. Amused but not willing to turn down the request, Tony takes Peter's lips in another sweet kiss.

He's practically leaning over his son when he feels Peter's cock swelling against his thigh. The joys of having such an eager and young alpha…

Peter had just started getting into the kiss when Tony pulls away.

"Mama–" Peter protests but Tony shushes him with a finger to the lips. When his boy pouts, Tony takes his finger away and pecks him on the lips.

"There's no rush, sweetheart," he tells Peter, "But hmm… How about we make you a real alpha, hmm? Would you like that…?"

Peter's wide but eager eyes are answer enough and yet, he seems conflicted.

Tony reads him easily and kisses him softly.

"Still think it's wrong?" He raises a brow.

Peter's eyes are wide and even though he shakes his head rather enthusiastically, there's still that tiny bit of doubt that shadows his face.

He wraps an arm around the boy's shoulders and gently eases Peter down on top of him. His legs spread to accommodate his son, knees cradling the boy's hips.

Peter's cock presses between his legs, firm flesh poking and dragging along his clothed pussy. It makes Tony shiver in anticipation.

He reaches between their bodies, leading his son's cock where he wants it… The tip nestles against the fabric, precome wetting the lacy material.

"Pete… You're my baby," Tony says. Their eyes lock, alpha and omega, mother and son, as Tony teases him. He rubs against his son's cock, dragging the wet tip up and down along his slit. Even with his panties in the way, it's such an intimate feeling.

He nuzzles against the boy's cheek, purring, "Part of you should always be inside me… So, do it, baby, it's okay… Put your cock inside mommy."

He wants to do badly, Tony could see it. His eyes are hooded and his lip caught between his teeth. Tony only knows he's breathing because they're pressed close.

Peter's so close to getting his first taste of omega pussy.

"...What if I'm bad at it…?" Peter mumbles then, the last thing holding him back.

He can't take his eyes away from Tony though and the desire is there… Oh God, Tony hasn't felt this kind of mutual attraction in years. His baby alpha is just so eager but so worried about disappointing Tony… It's just so sweet, so typical of Peter.

"You're a Stark, aren't you?" Tony gently teases, "Being great is in your blood."

Then Tony smirks, a confident grin that trembles when he feels Peter's hips shift forward, seeking the warmth of his body.

"Besides…" Tony murmurs as he pulls Peter closer. "I'll teach you, baby… Don't worry…"

He squeezes the alpha's cock, stroking along heated flesh. It's dripping again, so much precome and fluid, his son's cock naturally providing lubrication so it could penetrate any tight hole.

Tony's pussy clenches, slick and wetness just dripping right out of him. This entire time, he's been so focused on Peter that he's been holding back his own wants. But this… He knows it's going to be amazing.

He's so wet and his own little omega cock is stiff and aching. It's nothing compared to how his insides clench in anticipation, eager to be split apart and seeded thoroughly.

Screw the fact that he hasn't bothered with birth control in years, there's always the after morning pill. Unless…

"You wanna be safe and use a condom, baby alpha…?" Tony asks. He hates it though, loves knowing his partner is bare inside him, but if his son wants it…

Peter looks torn and says forlornly, "Do I have to…? I haven't…"

"You really should but since it's your first time…" Tony gives in easily and then, pulling his panties aside, exposes the tight little hole of his pussy for penetration. He notches the wet tip right there and murmurs, "Push in a bit, Pete…"

His boy complies and oh… Tony groans at that initial stretch, his son's fat cock nudging its way inside…

"Mama…" Peter gasps, a strangled sound as he gets his first taste of Tony's omega pussy.

His hands fly down to Tony's hips, fingers clamping down. Once the tip is swallowed down, Peter's control frays and splinters, coming undone as his hips buck up. It's harsh and uncontrolled as the alpha tries to shove into Tony's tight body.

"Mama… mama .." Peter almost pleads but Tony's a bit distracted himself.

The omega is caught in the sensation of his pussy being split apart. In his younger days, sex was easy and he was used to it. It's been… years and Tony's definitely not used to it. His tight little pussy struggles to even take Peter's cockhead and Tony breathes through the stretch.

It's not unpleasant, it's just a lot… Especially with Peter trying to greedily fuck the rest of his length inside without giving Tony time to adjust.

"Mama… I can't… gotta…" Peter's words are incoherent babbling but actions speak louder than words. With a sob, Peter forces the rest of his cock inside his omega mother's pussy.

To Tony, it feels like the breath is punched out of him. He grips his son's broad shoulders and his entire body shudders, clenching down tight on Peter's cock.

It feels so good after the initial push that Tony's body goes limp. His son covers him, dark ravenous eyes staring down at him from above.

"It feels… so good…" Peter groans, eyes rolling back, and yet… he's staying so perfectly still like he can't move. Or refuses to.

Tony gazes up at his son with hooded eyes. His pussy clenches on the thick length, tiny little hole tight from lack of use. As he lays there panting, split open on his boy's cock, Tony has a feeling that he won't be left empty now that Peter's had a taste… He knows how alphas get and the look in Peter's eyes tell him the same thing.

There's this dazed look in Peter's eyes. His mouth trembles in pleasure and his entire body strains with the need to move.

"It's okay, baby," Tony encourages, wrapping his legs around the boy's waist. "C'mon, Pete… Move… I can take it… was made to take it…"

"Mama…"

It's breathed out like a prayer before Peter shudders. He squeezes his eyes shut but starts to move, hands clamped down bruisingly tight on Tony's hips as he chases after his own pleasure.

He fucks his mama with clumsy but eager thrusts. Tony welcomes every single one, moaning into his baby's ear and encouraging him with filthy words.

"Your cock feels so good, baby…" Tony says breathlessly. "Tilt your hips like– oh, fuck, yes… Like that, baby. Oh– yes, just like… that…"

Peter tries his very best to please Tony, but being so inexperienced, he can't help but come fast. He tries to warn his omega mommy but the words get caught in his throat.

"Mama…!" Peter shudders as he empties himself inside.

He unloads with a groan, pushing deep inside and spilling so carelessly into his mother's unprotected womb. The body under his grows so tight that it steals his breath.

"You're knotting, Pete, oh… oh, fuck–" Tony groans when he feels his son's knot start to swell.

It happens quickly, the knot filling and rubbing against Tony's insides until it's too large to pull out. His son is lost in the pleasure, completely overwhelmed as he dumps a nice thick load inside.

The realization that he's knotting comes as a surprise even though Peter knows that it logically happens. His mama feels so impossibly tight around him and it's hard for him to formulate a thought, much less words.

Thoughts about pups and the dangers of unprotected sex don't even register to the rutting alpha. All he knows is the amazing feeling of his come rushing out of him and shooting out… The way it leaves his mama so wet, he could feel it… His come crowding around his sensitive cock as the knot keeps it all plugged inside.

Tony shivers when he feels his son's cock pulse inside him. His eyes slip closed for just a moment and he images it… Peter's alpha cock inside him, white spilling everywhere as his son breeds him.

He's not on birth control and the omega shudders at the terrible thought. His son knocking him up. His hand trembles as he pets Peter's back, fingertips grazing up and down as the young alpha continues to pant against his neck.

"Mama… I'm sorry…" Peter groans when he finally realizes what he's done, "I came inside…"

That dirty wrong feeling grows and his pussy clenches down, milking every drop from his son's cock.

"It's okay, baby," Tony tells him. He turns Peter's face towards his and kisses him to show he's not mad or upset. "I've always wanted to give you a little brother or sister…"

It's said mostly as a joke, as something to show Peter that he isn't mad about it. But then Tony feels Peter's cock twitch violently inside him and he wonders…

"You like that idea, baby…?" Tony says out loud, eyes searching his boy's face. "Like the idea of knocking up your omega mommy?"

The sound Peter makes would be embarrassing any other time but Tony finds the high pitched whine cute. It tells him how badly his baby wants it… Wants to knock his omega parent up.

Tony sighs, feeling deliriously happy that their desires are in sync. He's been holding back, worried that Peter would just want some practice… But now…

"Move your hips, Pete…" Tony instructs. "You got your omega caught on your knot… Gotta keep rutting… Even if it's sensitive… Keep– Oh…"

His son obeys and moves flawlessly, burying his face in Tony's neck. The knot holds true and Tony groans when he feels it tugging against his hole but it's… It's so good…

Peter's youthful enthusiasm comes through. Even though they're still tied, he fucks Tony relentlessly. The knot only allows him an inch or two to move but that's all he needs. His thrusts are harsh and deep as he ruts into Tony's pussy, churning up all that good potent come that he's deposited inside.

Then without instruction, Peter pulls up to his knees, his strong hands dragging Tony's lower body with him so that the knot doesn't get tugged too harshly. Tony's back arches to get that perfect angle and he's seeing stars when Peter starts to hammer inside him..

His son's loud pants and cries of "Mama…!" continue as fucks Tony stupid in his childhood bed. Tony doesn't even need a hand on his own stiff little cock before he's spilling all over his stomach, clear useless drops of omega come spurting out. Peter continues to fuck him, rutting wildly in a way only newly presented alphas can.

Distantly, Tony realizes that the knot has softened… But then Peter whimpers, unhappy when his sensitive little knot slips out and is followed by a flood of his come.

"Baby–" Tony groans but Peter turns him onto his stomach before he shoves back in.

"Again," Peter growls. His cock spears right in, fucking into the sloppy wet insides of Tony's pussy. Then he murmurs, as though apologetic for his tone, "Please, mama… I need it… need mommy's pussy…"

Tony groans, pushing up onto his knees.

"Go on, P-Pete," he allows it, his entire body shaking from the force. "Go ahead, baby… Take what you n-need…"

"Thank you," Peter groans, "Thank you… It's so good, mama… So good… Wanna come inside again… Gonna do it… Gonna come inside mommy's pussy… Get every drop..."

"Do it, baby," Tony urges. "you can, you can… Come inside…"

It becomes clear that Peter isn't thinking of making it good for Tony, not when his thrusts are so rough and uncontrolled. He's just chasing after his own pleasure, hips rabbiting against Tony's ass as he roughly fucks in and out.

He's utilizing his strength, his speed… His youth that allows him to keep him. His cock is just a blur of motion with how fast he's fucking in and out. It feels too good to stop...

Tony can only imagine just how pink his ass and thighs are from how harshly Peter's fucking him. The sloppy wet sounds make it all the worse… There's come dripping down his thighs, come being fucked back into him, come ruining the sheets beneath them…

Alphas come so much and Tony's son wasn't an exception.

Tony can feel his son's knot again. The initial knotting happened so quickly and Peter had settled deep in his body when it happened.

Being fucked like this… Even while the knot's too small, he can feel it. It pops in and out, pushing and pulling against his hole and it's a sensation unlike any other.

Tony feels every tug as it grows and grows. He relishes the sensation, knows when his son is ready by the way the thrusts shorten… It's Peter using his freshly fucked hole… Using Tony's body to stimulate the knot so he can come again.

Unrefined and unused to sex, Peter doesn't realize that he's let the knot grows too big until he tries to push in and it's– It's too big.

Tony wouldn't let any other alpha do this, but it's his son and he wants Peter to just enjoy it. H wee can handle a bit of pain, he tells himself.

"D-do it," Tony groans and has a second to brace himself when Peter complies. He pulls back so that the very tip is settled against his opening then he shoves in with a snap of his hips.

Peter grunts while Tony whines, the knot being forcefully shoved in. Another load is deposited and he feels the way Peter spurts inside him, that thick alpha cock pumping away load after load… Trying it's best to fill him up so he gets knocked up.

Tony lays there flat on his stomach, his son pressing him down as Peter purrs, content and satisfied after coming inside twice.

The rut is in no way over but there's some downtime.

Tony grunts as he tries to nudge Peter onto his side. His boy is affectionate and acts touch starved like he can't get enough. He runs his hands over the omega's sweat damp body.

"Can we do it again…?" Peter asks, kissing the back of Tony's neck. His knot is probably ten minutes away from softening and he already wants to fuck his omega mommy.

"As many times as you want, kiddo," Tony says despite wondering if he'll survive his son's rut. "Do you wanna try my ass…? You might like it better."

Peter goes quiet for a moment but Tony doesn't notice. He's too caught up in the afterglow, relaxing in his son's arms as he considers taking the next few days off.

He shivers when Peter's fingers slip between his legs. It's a curious touch, exploring Tony's body in a way he's never had a chance to.

Tony remembers being that young and curious so he lays there, humming whenever a particular touch feels good. Peter's hands on him are almost reverent and it's so feather light when he skims over his omega cock.

Those same fingers skip south, so hesitant, as though Tony would scold him at any moment. They grow a bit more confident when he doesn't, but to Tony's surprise, Peter just rubs around the swollen flesh where his knot is locked.

"Wanna keep doing it here…" Peter murmurs, "If I can… If mama lets me… Wanna keep doing it here…"

Maybe it's not all talk, Tony thinks when Peter mouths against his neck. Tony tilts his head, sighing in pleasure when the alpha runs his tongue over the sensitive skin there.

His natural inclination is to tease the boy with his new obsession but instead, Tony trembles in excitement. He presses his hand over his alpha son's curious fingers.

"Okay, baby," Tony permits, "Mama will let you do it."

----

He should've remembered that his son was very much like him. If he had, Tony may have thought twice about giving Peter free reign over his body.

Paired with a newly presented alpha's determination to breed, Tony finds himself in quite a predicament.

He's not as young as he used to be and he realizes this when Peter shows himself to be quite insatiable. Peter doesn't even bat an eye after going three rounds.

It helps that those rounds are short. The kid has a crazy amount of stamina in the sense that he can keep going and going and going… But he doesn't last very long during those times. At least, not yet. Peter has plenty of time to build up his experience and by the fifth time, the sensitivity had dulled so he lasts a bit longer.

The rut is harsh and demanding. Tony feels every thrust, every desperate attempt to knock him up. The amount of seed that Peter spills inside him in obscene and so much of it spills from Tony's leaking hole when the knot softens and his son pulls out.

No matter how much is wasted against the sheets, Tony knows there's more than enough left inside him. He wonders if it'll kickstart his own cycle but the thought is a fleeting one. Peter consumes all his time and attention.

It's a fuck fest. A marathon. A full blown alpha rut. And rutting alphas only have one thing on their mind. Fucking and breeding an omega.

Lucky Tony, he's the one who volunteered and gave permission. He loves his son, how could he not?

Tony doesn't regret it, not even when he feels like he's full to bursting. He marvels at the noticeable bulge Peter's come has given him, but this… Letting Peter run wild, it isn't sustainable. Tony would become an incoherent mess, fucked out and his son would probably still rut him, still keep fucking him until the urges were sated.

The omega switches tactics.

In the shower, he redirects the alpha cock to his ass instead of his sore pussy. Peter whines at the change, wanting another chance at his pussy but Tony is firm.

The thought is forgotten either way when he feels Tony's insides grip his relentless cock. It's a different kind of heat, but it's still Tony, still his mama gripping him tightly. He hammers in with stuttering breaths and gasps that echo in the shower stall.

Peter takes control. He pushes his omega mama against the slick shower tiles and fucks his ass with rough jerks of his hips. To his rut crazed mind, a hole is a hole and he's already dumped several loads in his omega's pussy. He could enjoy this for now...

The newly presented alpha finds he's as enamored with Tony's ass as he is with his pussy. The water washes away what they've done but It doesn't lessen Peter's urge to breed his own omega parent.

Unsurprisingly, the next attempt is shortly after.

One moment, Tony's reaching for something in the bathroom cabinet, the next, he's bent over the counter. His son grips his hips and a nice thick cock slides inside him. By now it's familiar and even though it aches, Tony grips the counter. His back arches into an enticing curve and it shakes with every harsh thrust.

All efforts at cleanliness are ruined when Peter comes inside him again. His fist is wrapped around his knot, preventing it from slipping in and at the last second, he pulls out. Warmth spurts of semen spill over Tony's ass and his lower back and even the omega feels his face grow warm at the claim.

The next two days pass in a blur.

Tony's meetings are canceled and Peter's first rut absence is accepted by his teacher.

His instincts run wild and Tony indulges him, taking the role of a mate and letting the alpha sate his urges in any of his holes.

And when the rut ends…

They're both exhausted and utilize the hot tub to soothe their sore muscles.

What occurred between them doesn't end when Peter's rut finally ebbs away. That's made clear when Tony slips into his son's lap, groaning in part pain and mostly pleasure when Peter's cock stretches him full once more.

They haven't used a condom once during the entirety of Peter's rut. It's not surprising to Tony when weeks later, a pregnancy test proves that he's carrying.

He wasn't even in heat when Peter knocked him up.

Tony takes his son out to dinner and surprises him with the news.

"Pregnant?" Peter's eyes grow wide with disbelief, "but you weren't even in heat, mama…"

Tony pecks him on the cheek.

"That's right, kid," Tony says with a proud smile, "Who knew that my Peter was such a stud? Knocking up his mama out of cycle."

He winks at the abashed alpha but there's a glow that sparks inside his son. Pride. Happiness. A mix of the two.

He touches Tony's flat tummy through the suit.

"I'm going to have a little brother or sister," Peter says in awe.

"A son or daughter," Tony adds. "It is your pup."

"It's my pup…" Peter echos, a bit dazed. "Mama…"

"Maybe you should start calling me Tony," the omega encourages but Peter's lips pucker a bit at the thought.

"You'll always be my mama though," he protests.

It makes Tony smile and he pats his son's hand.

"Aren't I your mate now too?" Tony teased, "Or are you going to leave your poor mom to do all the baby stuff?"

Of course, that brings so many protests and stuttering denials that Tony has to admit he was joking. He soothes his son and tells him, "You'll be a great daddy, Pete."

The alpha is in a daze for the rest of the dinner. There's a goofy but endearing smile on his face and he treats Tony with so much care and gentleness.

Tony makes sure to put an end to that. He's newly pregnant and his libido shoots up. There's no room for gentle, not now, and he convinces Peter of this in the car ride home.

The alpha doesn't need much convincing. Knocking up his omega mommy does things to his head, strokes his alpha ego to new heights and he wants Tony now more than ever. Wants to fuck him again, to remember just exactly how he impregnated his mommy.

Happy is the unfortunate victim as the limo driver but the partition, at least, gives them some privacy.

Tony rides Peter in the car, legs straining as he bounces up and down on that thick, wonderful alpha cock that got him pregnant. His son's cock. Peter holds him steady and one hand rests possessively over the non-existent bump.

Even if there's no physical evidence there yet, they both know there'll be a new Stark in under a year.

Peter begs Tony to let him do it again. He wants to breed his mommy after they have their first child. He doesn't want to stop putting his babies in Tony's tummy and Tony has half a mind to indulge him.

Instead, he kisses Peter oh so sweetly and teases him with a, "We'll see, baby. Maybe if you keep your grades up, hmm?"

Peter maintains a 4.0 GPA in his studies which isn't surprising given the fact that he's a Stark. The incentive was the main driving force though. He has an omega mate and his mama, all in one and while Tony still isn't allowed to touch a pan in the kitchen, he takes care of the alpha's other needs.

The omega's body starts to fill out, becoming softer and readying itself for motherhood. Tony laments at the loss of his trim and fit figure once the suits no longer fit, but every time he looks in the mirror, he's reminded.

He's carrying his son's baby. Inside his belly, there was a tiny bit of Peter and himself.

They talk about it and wonder. Would the baby be a girl or boy? Alpha? Omega? Beta? They didn't care what designation the baby came out with or what was between their legs. The baby was Peter's and Tony's and that's all that mattered.

Instead, they debate about what the baby would have from each parent. Peter's soft brown hair? Or Tony's darker thick hair? Peter's paler skin tone or Tony's Tanner complexion?

Regardless, they both already loved their little peanut.

The weeks pass and people take notice. It's obvious to anyone with a nose, but the betas have put two and two together. They see Tony's tummy start to swell even more and there's something soft and beautiful about Tony like this.

Peter is in love with the changes..

He worships his mama's body with kisses and words of adoration which Tony decides, makes up for the changes.

Every night and morning, he runs his hands all over every inch of his mama's body. He presses his ear to the now noticable baby bump and speaks quietly to their little Peanut.

"I did this…" Peter smiles when he caresses the baby bump.

"Scoundrel," Tony quips, "This isn't how I raised you!" He drops the act and sighs when Peter nuzzles his chest.

His chest has changed, growing softer along with the rest of his body. It's natural and he knew it was coming. It had happened when he was pregnant with Peter.

"How big did you get when you had me?" Peter wonders as he nuzzles against Tony's soft chest.

He tweaks a nipple gently, knowing his mama's been complaining about soreness.

"Not too big," Tony admits, "Maybe a handful? There's a couple of photoshoots I did at the time."

Peter has already seen them. His mama looked breathtaking in them. The photographers had played up the more feminine aspect of omegas, dressing Tony in ballroom gowns and long flowy pieces that showed off his modest chest.

Simply… breathtaking.

He still likes to hear it from Tony. How big they grow is really genetics. Tony himself never grew that large when he was pregnant with Peter.

Tony massages his aching chest, pressing fingertips down lightly around the tissue. He notices Peter's watchful eyes and smiles.

"This isn't my first time," Tony reminds him, "And I've gone into milk before, even before I got pregnant."

That's something Peter hadn't been aware of.

Omegas can produce milk even outside of pregnancy, Peter knows. He just didn't know that Tony has tried it at some point.

"You did?"

"Mhmm," Tony says a bit proudly. "Takes some training but omegas can do it as long as there's someone that wants it."

The comment sticks in Peter's head… His mama making milk for… a boyfriend? An alpha friend? He takes over massaging Tony's chest and the omega lets him, melting against the bed and pillows he's propped upon.

"Would it be okay…" Peter murmurs, "if I…?"

A slow, teasing smile curls the corner of Tony's lips.

"You want a taste, little alpha?" Tony says outright.

Peter blushes but nods. "As long as it doesn't take away from peanut."

Tony waves a hand then features Peter to come closer. "Peanut will be fine. Our bodies adapt if there's a demand for more and…"

There's a twinkle in Tony's eye.

"Maybe you can help me out?" Tony purrs.

The mood shifts and Peter, after becoming intimately aware of his mama's increased libido, grows excited from the tone.

He curls up against Tony's side, one hand still massaging his chest. It goes from clinical to sensual, Peter's fingertips sweeping over sensitive skin.

"Anything, mama," Peter murmurs.

Tony turn Peter's face so he's nuzzling against the soft swell of his chest. "The more stimulation these get, the faster I'll come into milk. Help an O out, will you?"

Peter happily does so. He licks and sucks with his mouth while his hand massages the omega's chest. Tony hisses at the sensation, fingers curling into his son's soft hair.

There isn't any milk that day, but he's sure that it'll come soon.

Sex grows more difficult when Tony's belly grows but they're both determined. More often, they fuck with Tony on his side and Peter against back. It's the perfect position to let Peter touch his belly as he's fucking in and out of Tony's pussy. He still knots, still releases his come inside even though it serves no purpose for now.

Peter takes to his new task with great enthusiasm. He's always been an affection boy but now, he touches Tony freely like it's his right. Like he's Tony's alpha and mate.

His new favorite position is side to side while facing each other. He likes to suck on Tony's nipples, loves feeling Tony's swollen belly press against his body. It's the best feeling in the world and Tony can't deny that he enjoys it greatly, as well.

It's during one specific session that Peter finally gets a taste of his mama.

It's slow and gentle, Peter being more cautious the larger Tony's belly grows. He pushes in and out in a leisurely rhythm, his thick alpha cock already slick with his previous load. His stamina has grown and he's learned so, so much that he's even a bit cocky about it. He knows how to make Tony moan, how to tease the omega. Knows how to make him shiver with just a few words.

Beyond that, he knows what his mama looks like spent and fucked out. He's memorized the curve of his lips when he's gasping, learned every sensitive spot that has Tony clenching the sheets between his fingers.

He sucks in Tony's sensitive nipple, nursing like he once did when he was a small pup. There's a burst of sweetness that spills across his tongue. It surprises him so much that he pulls back, milky drops slipping from his lips.

There's a lingering sweetness in his mouth and it evokes a feeling in him. He was too young to remember nursing from his mama but it's still there, this feeling of safety and love.

Peter licks up the drops and purrs, pressing even closer to take the omega's nipple back into his mouth.

Tony groans when he feels the milk let out, eyes turned into slits while he's watching Peter lick it up. He feels the suction and it brings such sweet pleasure to him, it makes his back arch a bit. His grip tightens in Peter's hair and they continue that way.

Peter's mouth on his nipple, the milk continues to flow steadily with every suck. At the same time, Tony's pussy squeezes around his son's cock, massaging, and begging for another knot.

"Mama…" Peter groans when there's no more left. "It's so sweet… Mama's milk… I want more…"

He then switches to the other nipple, leaning up a bit to get to it.

His mouth latches onto Tony's nipple, eyes slipped closed as he focused on how sweet his Mama's milk his. He almost feels jealous that his little pup would get this for however long.

Tony drifts in a haze of pleasure but his hips hitch needily. Maybe with some training, he could come from just Peter nursing on him, but for now, he wants to get fucked.

"Baby," Tony groans, "C'mon, do it… how I like."

Peter looks up and pull off, leaving the nipple wet from his mouth and peaked in the cool air. The alpha notes the way Tony's eyes are hooded and his mouth is gasping, wanting.

"Love you, mama…" Peter tells him before he starts to hasten his thrusts.

"Love you–Oh!" Tony moans, tossing his head back. "Ah, that's perfect… Perfect…"

A glance down and Peter's eyes rest on Tony's chest, his nipples firm and puffy from the alpha's mouth. A single drop of cloudy milk drips from one nipple and Peter chases it as it slips down Tony's chest. He licks it up with his tongue, running the flat of it up so that he can take it back into his mouth.

Judging by the way the omega moans, Tony approves of it. His fingers curl in Peter's hair again as the alpha fucks him.

Tony floats on a haze of pleasure as Peter fucks him. He can feel the knot– His son has gotten good at holding it back but with his first sample of omega milk, it's like Peter has lost his inhibitions. His hips fuck forward as he sucks and sucks, greedily drinking from Tony.

The knot grows and grows, slipping inside at the very last second. Peter licks up the very last drops while his cock spurts inside his mama.

And like a good boy, he shares the sweetness with Tony, kissing him deeply.

"How was it, baby?" Tony murmurs when they're knotted.

"Mama tastes so sweet," Peter replies, nosing against his neck. "Was it good…?"

Tony kisses the top of his head.

"It was perfect, Pete," Tony tells him. "My perfect little alpha."

----

Tony has to buy new clothes.

His belly grows even larger and his chest is bigger than when he was pregnant with Peter.

"F-Fuck–!" Tony grunts while Peter fucks into him from behind.

He had been making something simple for breakfast. His instincts demanded to, feed and do all this domestic shit that Tony never cared for, so he tried pancakes. It should've been easy but Peter had come down and seeing his mama trying to cook for him had really turned him on.

Or maybe it's just an excuse to walk up behind Tony, pull his pants down, and slip right into his wet pussy.

The stove is off now and the pancake mix barely has barely cooked, but it's all ignored anyway. Peter just fucks and fucks, eager and hungry for something other than food.

He, at least has the decency to avoid knotting but then Tony's left with a steady deluge of come dripping down his thighs.

"You're gonna be late for class," Tony pokes Peter when the alpha pulls his pants up. "Late and hungry."

Peter gently turns him and nuzzles against his chest, squeezing them gently.

There's a suggestion in his eyes and Tony sighs, giving in. He leans back against the counter and Peter swoops in, tugging his Mama's shirt off before taking a nipple into his mouth.

"How did I raise such a smart ass," Tony wonders but there's a fondness in his tone.

Such encounters only become even more frequent. Peter ambushes him in the shower, in the tub… He has no shame in showing off his pregnant mama and no shame in asking Tony for milk right after school.

And it's become such a routine that Peter has Tony on his cock shortly after.

"These are you fault," Tony says when he models a new maternity bra.

They've grown a size larger and while it's still no where close to what beta women would have, they've become fairly large for an omega male.

Peter only hums, stepping up and testing the new bra to see how easy feeding would be. It's easy access and they have another round right there in the dressing room. Outsides turn a blind eye to it.

It's the Starks, after all.

Tony finally gives birth the next month. They hadn't asked for the gender, wanting it to be a surprise.

Peanut turns out to be a sweet faced little alpha girl and already, she takes after her mama. She has dark hair and an inquisitive gaze. She has Peter's mischievous nature, however.

Morgan had been hiding her alpha brother who surprised them all when he was delivered with an indignant wail. Soft brown curls and wide eyes, this one was the spitting image of Peter.

Peter had been wide eyed, staring at the two new Starks. His two pups. Their pups, his and his mama's.

"Overachiever," Tony teased him, "Not one, but two pups. What am I gonna do with you, Pete."

"Ah…" Peter chuckled, "My calc teacher told me I aced the final?"

"Of course, you did," Tony laughs, then gently hands over their youngest to Peter's arms.

He kisses Peter's cheek and whispers, "Congrats, alpha. On the exam and becoming a daddy."

#starker #starkerbingo2019 #madstarker writes #NFF #Alpha Peter #omega tony #mommy kink #moody mads #mpreg #omegaverse

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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If You Ever Wanna Be in Love (I'll Come Around), Chapter Six (Branjie) - Athena2

Previously: Vanessa realized she’s in love with Brooke Now: She has to deal with her feelings as she falls more and more in love

A/N: Thank you all so much for the amazing feedback! I really do appreciate it! I’d love if you could leave some more on this chapter! Thank you times 10,000 to Writ, for betaing and also all your help on this chapter. You’re the best and I love you <3 <3

Vanessa drifts off for an hour and wakes to the sight of a blanket and pillows neatly stacked at the foot of her bed. Her mind reels as she remembers last night. Maybe it was all just a dream. But she knows those blankets will smell like Brooke, and she knows it was real.

Why now? Why just when things are coming to an end does her heart decide to bust out of the cage Vanessa put it in, under strict convictions that she was not in love with Brooke? She might have locked her feelings up, but obviously she didn’t hide the key well enough.

Brooke’s been adamant that this is all fake. She had promised Vanessa that she wouldn’t keep asking this of her, keep making her pretend to be in love for her parents. The worst part is Vanessa doesn’t have to pretend anymore.

But she can’t do this. Brooke is her friend, and this is fake. There’s no need to confess her feelings and mess up what they have. Brooke doesn’t feel that way, and Vanessa tells herself being friends is enough. She takes a deep breath and heads down the hall.

Brooke is at the kitchen counter mixing something. Her face is soft and rumpled with sleep, hair in a loose ponytail, and maybe it’s the sun on her, but she’s never looked so beautiful.

“Thought I’d make pancakes,” Brooke says. “They’re pretty much the only thing I can make.”

“Can I help?”

“If you want.”

Vanessa turns on the coffee pot and gets the griddle ready, letting butter sizzle happily before they take turns spooning batter on and topping it with blueberries, watching it bubble up and fill the kitchen with warmth. For just a second, she wonders what it would be like to do this every day. Their coffee mugs side by side, having breakfast with sleepy-eyed Brooke each morning before heading to work. Vanessa forces the idea away.

She hops up on the kitchen counter, noting with satisfaction that she’s finally as tall as Brooke. This close, she can see Brooke focus as she tends to the pancakes, her tongue sticking out a little in concentration, and it’s hard not to reach out and stroke Brooke’s arms, pull her over to the counter and hold her close.

“Sleep okay?” Brooke asks quietly.

“Yeah,” Vanessa lies. “Told you, different beds don’t bother me.” It wasn’t the bed so much as not having Brooke in it.

She flicks flour at Brooke to change the subject. Brooke swipes batter down Vanessa’s nose, the touch making her shiver. She shrieks and Brooke lets out a snort, handing her a napkin.

There’s a gentle cough, and Vanessa looks up to see Brooke’s parents in the doorway, watching with enormous smiles.

Vanessa turns her attention to the floor as Brooke does the same with the sink.

Brooke’s parents slink over to the table, and Vanessa grabs the coffees while Brooke takes the pancakes and they all sit down together.

The levels of faking–internally pretending not to be in love with Brooke while outwardly pretending she is for Brooke’s parents’ sake–is messing with her head, and all she can focus on are her pancakes as everyone talks. She’s afraid one wrong word will give her away, that she’ll look at Brooke too long and be unable to hide it anymore. She’s quiet until they get ready to leave, when Brooke is in the bathroom and Brooke’s mom pulls Vanessa aside.

“We’re happy to have you and Brooke over anytime,” Brooke’s mom says warmly. She leans in like Brooke does when she’s sharing something, lowering her voice. “I’ve always worried about Brooke. She’s so shy, and she’s been alone so long. But you’re such a good fit for her. I love seeing her this happy.”

There’s a lump in Vanessa’s throat the size of a baseball, and the pancakes churn around like the sea in her stomach. Brooke’s mom will be so crushed when Brooke tells her they broke up. Vanessa plasters on a smile and tries not to think about it, tries to shrug off the guilt creeping into her shoulders.

“Me too,” she manages.

Luckily Brooke comes out then, and there’s a blur of hugs before they’re in the car, where Vanessa spends the longest car ride ever staring out the window when she wants to hold Brooke’s hand.

—

Brooke is a mess.

It’s Monday morning, and her inbox is overflowing but she can’t lift her head off the desk, the cool wood easing the burn of embarrassment and frustration in her cheeks.

Did she ruin everything this weekend? Should she just have braved the storm and driven her and Vanessa home? But Vanessa had been scared, almost terrified, smaller than she’d ever looked as she curled into herself, and Brooke couldn’t push it, couldn’t do anything until that fear had left Vanessa’s eyes. It had been instinct to hold her and soothe her fears away, and Brooke couldn’t rest until Vanessa felt better again.

It was that fear that led to Brooke sleeping on the guest room floor–her back is still aching, but she won’t tell Vanessa–and makes Brooke wonder if the rain had blown everything to pieces.

She didn’t want to just jump in the bed with Vanessa, didn’t want to make things awkward for her. Vanessa was already staying in a strange house, after all, with someone she was pretending to date. Brooke didn’t want her to think they had to sleep together just because of that. She’d never put Vanessa in that position, and it was easier to just take the floor, avoid the awkwardness of sharing a bed entirely. Except even as she arranged blankets, some part of Brooke wanted Vanessa to argue, to insist she get in the bed. Some part of her wanted to sleep with Vanessa, to see what it would be like to wake in the night and know she was there. Brooke hasn’t slept with someone in a while, and she wonders how it would have felt sleeping with Vanessa beside her.

But Vanessa wanted to sleep alone, and Brooke didn’t blame her, tried not to let the disappointment show. Brooke thought that was the end of it–but Vanessa was quiet the morning after, quiet the whole ride home. She didn’t change the radio station, or screech when they passed a cow, or keep adjusting the AC vent so it didn’t mess up her hair. Did Brooke do something wrong somehow?

Her phone rings so loud it makes her jump. Maybe she needs a hike soon. They always help clear her head. She heaves a sigh and answers the phone.

—

“Yvie, if you hit me with popcorn one more time–” Vanessa can’t finish her threat with kids around, but her death glare should send the message. Yvie thought today was a good day to test out the new popcorn machine she bought for the children’s room, and she better be the one vacuuming that rug after the kids devoured it. She’s taken to throwing pieces in the air and catching them in her mouth, but her aim sucks, and Vanessa digs another kernel out of her hair.

“What’s up with you today?” A’keria asks.

“Nothing.” Vanessa doubts the lie fools anyone. She’s supposed to be cutting out tickets for the carnival, but her movements are sluggish, her arms too heavy to lift. Even the air feels heavier than normal, crushing her down.

“Did something happen with Brooke this weekend?” Yvie comes over and smoothly takes the tickets away from Vanessa, doing the work herself.

“Can we not talk about it?” She doesn’t have the energy for this today, doesn’t have the desire to crack her heart back open.

“Of course.” A’keria rubs her hands together, deep in thought. She’s always good at distracting upset kids, giving them something to focus on while Vanessa got toys to cheer them up. Now Vanessa is the upset kid, but she can’t even argue. “Bets on Paul acting a fool at the carnival?”

“That’s not a bet, it’s a guarantee,” Yvie says. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he dresses as a clown.”

“Did you know Silky and I dressed as clowns for Halloween one year?” A’keria asks.

“The point of Halloween is to wear a costume, not your normal clothes, you know,” Yvie says, launching into her laugh that makes Vanessa smile.

“Bets on Silky wearing a clown suit?” Vanessa asks, more grateful for her friends than ever.

—

The library parking lot has been transformed into a mini-carnival, minus the rides.There’s food trucks lining the street and bright tents for games and sweaty kids running around showing off prizes. The air is alive with laughter and salty popcorn and oily fried foods, and Brooke lets last weekend go, lets herself enjoy being with Vanessa. Vanessa seems more herself today, smiling with her hair pulled back in two long braids and heart-shaped sunglasses perched on top of her head. She talks passionately about kids literacy programs and praises kids for their prizes. Brooke can see how proud she is of all this, how happy her job makes her. It warms her heart to see Vanessa get so excited, talk so fast about things she loves.

Brooke peeks at the fake ring she’s wearing to keep up appearances for Vanessa’s co-workers. Brooke favors simple hoop earrings or necklaces at work, rings just too constricting on her fingers. She adjusts the ring, and it’s not as tight as it was last time. It almost feels like it fits.

“This is nice,” Brooke says.

“Yeah. I wish there could be some rides, though,” Vanessa says. “Anything but Ferris wheels.”

“Yeah, I’m not a fan of them either.”

Vanessa nods in approval. “They’re so slow! You’re up there forever and there’s nothing to do but look down. Once when I was five, my brother said I was a chicken if I didn’t go on with him, and I’m no chicken, so I went. This was after I ate pizza, a churro, and ice cream, mind you.” Vanessa shakes her head, and Brooke knows what’s coming. “I puked on his favorite Nikes and haven’t been on one since.”

Brooke snorts, imagining tiny Vanessa marching up to the Ferris wheel to prove she’s not a chicken.

“I’m surprised you met the height requirements.”

“Hey! It was a kiddie Ferris wheel, and I was more than tall enough!”

She tugs Brooke along to the face paint booth, planting her in the chair in front of A’keria.

“I can’t do a dinosaur,” A’keria says, like Brooke’s a little kid. “I’m good, but not that good.”

Brooke shrugs, looks at the sheet of designs. “Maybe a rainbow?”

“You got it.”

Brooke lets A’keria’s tiny paint brush tickle her cheek, Vanessa smiling at her all the while.

“You sit still better than Vanessa,” A’keria says.

“Hey!” Vanessa pouts, but she takes her turn and can’t stop squirming as A’keria works.

“I rest my case,” A’keria mutters like a long-suffering parent.

“Thumb war?” Brooke suggests to Vanessa, thinking it might give her something to focus on. “That’s what me and my sister did in the car when we got bored.”

Vanessa smiles. “Me and my brother too.”

Her hand meets Vanessa’s, the touch sending a buzz up Brooke’s arm like lightning, their thumbs twisting all over until Brooke forces Vanessa’s down. She forces herself to tear her hand away, rather than leaving it intertwined with Vanessa’s.

“You have longer fingers!” She complains, but all the outrage flies out of her after A’keria shows her the rainbow in a little mirror. Vanessa makes them take a picture of their matching rainbows and sends it to her, and it takes all Brooke’s willpower not to make the image her lock screen (sorry, Henry and Apollo) right this second.

“Brooke, are you gonna win your wife a stuffed animal?” Vanessa’s friend Silky appears out of nowhere with a huge grin on her face.

“Oh, uh…” Silky and Vanessa’s other friends drag her to the bottle toss, run by a bored, underpaid teenager. A small crowd forms, Paul included, and Brooke’s neck is damp with sweat. Sports aren’t her thing. Her parents signed her up for soccer when she was five and she endured a year of setting up cones and foot-squeezing cleats and sticky orange slices—the only good part—at half-time, until her parents let her take dance lessons instead.

Brooke hasn’t attempted a sport since, but she can’t back down. Not when Vanessa is inspecting stuffed animals for her prize. Brooke has to win something for her, even if it’s a small prize instead of a giant one. It’s cheesy, but winning someone a prize is something she always wanted to do, watching them squeeze a giant stuffed animal and knowing she had won it for them, hoping they’d think of her whenever they held it. There was no chance of taking a girl to a carnival when Brooke was in high school, and maybe she can make up for it now.

The baseball is too heavy in Brooke’s hand, the stack of bottles too far away. Can she calculate the distance or something physics-related to make the shot? God, she hates physics. She rubs the ball on her shirt and practices throwing, her leg awkwardly swinging with her arm, muscle memory from ballet years ago. Her first throw hits the wall and the tower doesn’t even sway, a groan coming from the crowd. The second one comes closer, but nothing. She’s down to her last chance, and Brooke gulps as she reaches for the third ball–

But Vanessa is launching it through the air, and bottles tumble with a mighty crash.

Brooke blinks at her. “How–”

Vanessa is much too smug. “You’re looking at a former Little League all-star.”

Brooke laughs so hard she has to clutch at her stomach, because the image of young Vanessa with her ponytail sticking out of a baseball cap is maybe the most perfect thing Brooke can imagine. Vanessa picks a small stuffed pig for her prize, and Brooke gasps when Vanessa’s arms fling around her in a hug. Her coworkers are around, so it’s probably part of the act but Brooke doesn’t care, throwing her arms around Vanessa and breathing her in.

“Sorry I couldn’t win for you,” she whispers.

“You tried,” Vanessa says, and Brooke squeezes her and never wants to let go.

—

“You’re really gonna sit here with a straight face and tell us the carnival was fake?” Silky asks, her expression incredulous.

Vanessa shrugs and turns her attention to Thackery, sprawled out sleeping in her lap. She wishes she could take a nap right here and avoid what Silky is turning into an interrogation, the couch cushion Vanessa’s sunk into becoming a witness stand. A’keria even pauses the reality show they’ve all been watching, and Vanessa knows this is now a talk.

“That’s the only thing about her that is straight,” A’keria says. “Matching rainbow face paint? Her winning you a stuffed animal? Come on, V. We know how you get when you’re in love.”

“I won that pig myself, thank you.” She’s been holding it when she sleeps, because it reminds her of hugging Brooke.

A’keria rolls her eyes. “Forget the pig! The way you hugged her–”

“It doesn’t matter, okay?” It comes out harsher than Vanessa intends, and she cringes. “This whole fake relationship thing is done. Brooke doesn’t like me like that. We’re just friends.”

“You don’t know that.”

“She slept on the floor so she didn’t have to share a bed with me,” Vanessa says. Her chest still aches with the emptiness of that night, staring up at the ceiling fan and wishing Brooke was next to her. What would have happened if she had insisted? Would Brooke still have ended up on the floor, or would she have settled beside Vanessa? Would their arms have brushed against each other, would the night have become something more?

There’s too many unknowns. But Brooke doesn’t love her. Vanessa is positive about that.

“Well, maybe she didn’t want to make things weird.” A’keria and Silky are trying, Vanessa gives them that. But there’s no point.

“Look, if I tell her, it could ruin everything. I’d rather be her friend than nothing. I can’t lose her.” She doesn’t want to be without Brooke. It will hurt this way, sure, to look at her lips and not be able to kiss them, to see those eyes sparkle but not be able to see them sleepy in the morning or softened in bed, to hear her laugh sometimes but not every day. But it’s better than not having those things–not having Brooke–in her life at all.

“Maybe someday you could tell her?” A’keria suggests.

Vanessa shrugs. She wants to tell Brooke more than anything. But some of Brooke is better than no Brooke, and if it takes her silence to keep Brooke, Vanessa won’t say a word.

—

It’s her first weekend without plans with Vanessa–no babysitting, no thrifting, no dinner–and Brooke doesn’t know what to do with herself. She can do anything she wants, but that freedom she usually craves is scary and overwhelming today, a free-fall through empty space that was once occupied by Vanessa. Brooke’s always made time to have a day to herself, on the couch in sweats with the cats, but now that she has one it feels odd not to have something with Vanessa planned.

Brooke didn’t realize until now just how much she’d come to count on their weekends, how much she liked having that time with Vanessa. Even if it wasn’t anything special, just being with her made it special. It’s rare for her to find someone she enjoys more than her own company, rare to find someone she could be herself around, and Vanessa happens to be one of those people.

She thinks of texting Vanessa, asking what she’s up to, but maybe she should leave this weekend alone. They’re still friends and everything, but maybe they both need a break after so much time together pretending to date. She knows Vanessa does stuff with her friends on the weekends, and she won’t ruin that for her.

Brooke burrows into the couch. Next week she’ll go on a hike, but maybe a quiet introvert weekend is what she needs now. Her head is heavy with thoughts of Vanessa, with worry over if she wrecked things, and she needs to not think for a while.

She curls up with the cats and manages to drift into a nap, the peace of it hijacked by her subconscious when she dreams of nothing but Vanessa.

—

“How the hell did you talk me into this?” Vanessa asks, the mountain looming above them.

“You’re the one who wanted to come!” Brooke protests.

Vanessa shrugs, because that’s fair. After a week of casual texting and playing it cool, she had asked Brooke her weekend plans. When she found out that Brooke was going for a hike by herself, her mind flooded with images of Brooke falling or getting hurt, all alone with no one to help her, and there was no way Vanessa could let her go alone.

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Now, they’re at the base of a small, twisty mountain bursting with trees, and Vanessa hopes her bright pink Nikes are up to the job. Hopes she’s up to the job. Brooke assured her it’s an easy trail, the first one Brooke ever did, with a nice spot up top for them to have a little picnic.

Brooke fiddles with her backpack of picnic stuff, and at least staring at Brooke in her hiking gear is part of this. Broken-in hiking boots curve around her feet, her long legs and arms exposed in her shorts and T-shirt, hair up in a neat ponytail. It’s unfair, really, how Brooke looks beautiful without even trying.

“Ready?” Brooke asks.

Vanessa nods, eager to show Brooke she can do this. Brooke put up with all her friends at the carnival, and Vanessa wants to do something that’s more in Brooke’s element, show Brooke that their friendship means enough to her that she’ll climb this big-ass mountain.

They pass a tiny stream at the mountain’s base and Vanessa can’t stop herself from running over to a pile of stones.

“Wait!” She calls to Brooke.

“Tired already?” Brooke teases.

Vanessa sticks her tongue out and picks up a rock.

“Do you know how to skip rocks?”

“I’m okay at it,” Brooke says, and Vanessa knows that means she’s good at it but doesn’t want to brag.

“Can you show me? I can never do it.”

Brooke nods and slips behind her, one hand light on her hip, a ghost’s touch, the other hand curling around Vanessa’s own. Brooke’s hands are so special. Her skin is pale like ice with rivers of veins flowing underneath. Her hands are sure and confident when she points out fossils in the museum or paths on the trail, yet tremble and fidget when she’s unsure of herself. Those hands are strong enough to protect Vanessa from a storm but gentle enough to dig for fossils, to stroke a cat’s fur, to braid hair. Brooke’s hands help her skip the stone so it ripples through the stream three times, and Vanessa wants to hold that hand for the rest of her life.

Tell her. The thought pops into her head. Tell Brooke you love her. It’s the perfect day for it. The sun kisses at their skin, the sky a clear blue, and they’re about to climb a mountain and have a picnic. This day was practically made for love, and Vanessa has to tell her. If she doesn’t do it now, she’ll never do it, and her heart isn’t meant for silence. Brooke’s hand linger against hers, and it’s another sign that now is right.

Each step brings Vanessa closer and closer, dodging sticks and kicking rocks, not even the bumpy, mud-flecked path enough to stop her. She keeps pace with Brooke even though her legs are much shorter, climbing in an easy silence punctuated by their breathing, with little stops along the way to sip water and marvel at the flowers. By the time they reach the top, she’s bouncing in her sneakers.

“Vanessa?”

“Yeah?”

“Look,” Brooke breathes, nudging her up to the edge of the mountain, and Vanessa gasps.

The entire world is spread out below them, sun sparkling off the stream running through the valley and so much green everywhere–trees and shrubs and all kinds of plants that she doesn’t know, but that take her breath away just the same. They’re only half an hour from the city, but this feels like another world, another time, and she should’ve done this sooner.

Vanessa loved the outdoors when she was little, rolling in the grass and climbing the big tree in the backyard. She and her brother spent hours out there playing catch, practicing wrestling moves, wearing their dad’s belts and pretending to be Batman and Robin (he always got to be Batman because he was older) until their mom called them in, groaning over their grass-stained clothes. There’s something about all these trees around her that feel like childhood, that joyful part of her she tries to keep in shape but is maybe a little dusty these days. Here, that part thrives.

She looks at Brooke who has the same wonder in her eyes and Vanessa almost kisses her right there. But she can wait until after lunch. She’s waited this long, after all.

There’s a flat grassy patch over to the side, and Brooke lays down a plaid blanket and gets out waters and sandwiches, passing them to Vanessa.

“Orange?” Brooke offers.

Vanessa nods, expecting Brooke to hand her a whole orange. Instead, there’s a tiny container with the orange already peeled and sliced, and it shouldn’t be a big deal but it is. Brooke took the time to peel the orange and separate the slices for her, packed it all into a little container just for Vanessa. Brooke did this for her when she didn’t have to, and it almost makes Vanessa not want to eat the orange, but keep the little slices forever. Brooke is watching though, so she takes one and lets the juice dribble down her chin.

“You ever put the whole slice in your mouth and smile with it?” Vanessa asks.

“Of course I did.”

Vanessa flashes an orange-segment smile at Brooke. Brooke shoots one right back and Vanessa falls a little more in love with her.

They pack up their stuff and Vanessa wants one last look at the valley below. She climbs up on a little rock for the perfect view one more time.

“Look, I’m taller than you,” she teases Brooke.

“Please be careful,” Brooke says, genuine worry in her voice. Vanessa steps off the rock but she misses a step somewhere, and suddenly she’s falling, the stony ground rushing up to meet her–

She lands in Brooke’s arms, Brooke looking down at her in concern, asking if she’s okay. Vanessa doesn’t answer, but goes in for the kiss, only to never meet Brooke’s lips. Because Brooke is letting go of her and stepping back with fear in her eyes. She’s scared, scared of Vanessa and her kiss, and Vanessa never wants Brooke to be scared of anything, wants to fight away all her fears. Being the reason Brooke is scared is like a knife in Vanessa’s heart.

“Brooke–”

“V-Vanessa, what are you—“

“I was trying to kiss you,” Vanessa whispers, each word cutting her throat on the way out.

Brooke is shaking her head, eyes wide, breath coming in frantic pants. “No, I-it’s too fast, I can’t.” Brooke is trembling now, gasping for air she can’t seem to get even though there’s nothing but air around them.

“But Brooke, it doesn’t have to be fast,” Vanessa begs, trying to keep things from falling apart, trying to get Brooke to understand that she’ll take this slow, that she’ll never hurt her.

But Brooke is still shaking her head. Her hands are trembling, her whole self unraveling before Vanessa’s eyes. “I can’t, Vanessa. I just can’t.” She runs over to a tree and braces herself against it, turning her back to Vanessa as her shoulders heave.

Brooke is upset and it’s all Vanessa’s fault, all because she had to confess her feelings, and now she’s ruined everything. She came on too strong, too fast, and tears spring in her eyes because she knows she’s lost Brooke. Brooke doesn’t love her back and never will. Their connection, their bond–neither was enough for Brooke to love her too. She wipes her tears away hastily. She doesn’t want to cry here, in front of the person who doesn’t love her. She won’t.

She watches Brooke slowly get her breathing under control and knows this is the end of trading work stories. She watches Brooke adjust her backpack and knows they’ll never have another movie night. She watches Brooke re-tie her shoe and knows that there will never be another dinner of trying each other’s food and laughing.

They walk down the mountain and drive home in utter silence, and Vanessa runs inside her apartment without a look back, buries herself in bed, and cries.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #yvie oddly #silky nutmeg ganache #akeria davenport #branjie #fluff #mild angst #lesbian au #fake dating au #s12 #if you ever wanna be in love #athena2 #concrit welcome #submission

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trashforgubler · 5 years ago

Text

Anchor

Word Count: 1k

Summary: You’re a pediatric nurse who is coming home from the worst day at work and Spencer comforts you

Extra Info: This was a request but it was made so long ago (because I’m obviously a chronic procrastinator) that it got lost in my inbox, so if you made this request please comment or message me and I will give you credit! :) Also this fic is titled after the song “Anchor” by Novo Amor which is a GOAT of a song

Warnings: Angst, talk of child death, talk of parent death, talk of car crash

Requests: Open

masterpost

Today has been exhausting. Two different families, two different kids, both of which were now dead. God, out of all the specialties, why on earth did you choose pediatric trauma? You unlock the door to the apartment and stepped inside, throwing your coat into the corner of the room as you always do. You slide your keys across the kitchen counter and sit down on the stool, resting your elbows on the table and your head in your hands.

“Rough day?”

Looking behind you, you see Spencer with his hands in his pockets. You laugh a sarcastic, tired sort of laugh, the one you only do because if you don’t laugh you’ll cry, and you prefer dark humor over complete misery.

“Yeah I guess.”

“Come here.” He pulls you up from the stool and walks you over to the couch, sitting you down with your favorite blanket (the violet fuzzy one he bought for you while he was out on a case). With the blanket wrapped snuggly around your shoulders, he places his arms around your back and pulls you into him. “What happened?” he asks.

You bite your lip, a nervous tic you’ve always had. It’s not that your nervous to talk to him, but more so to talk about you. You have always preserved yourself as a happy person, which is why you wanted to work with kids. You love seeing the smile on their faces when you “make their owies go away”, and you have a secret superpower when it came to crying babies. But as with everything, working with injured kids has a downside. Death. You know that talking to Spencer always makes it better, or more manageable at least. He could rationalize your thoughts like no one else could, you just never want to start talking. You do anyways.

“There was a car accident,” you begin, already feeling your eyes start to burn. Spencer wraps his arm tighter around you as you start. “A truck sped through a red light, hitting a car. Then that car spun out and hit a second one.” Your voice is flat and unwavering, as if your mind was trying to protect you from pain and yet you still felt everything from the pain of losing them to the pain of having to relive it now. “There was a kid in each car. A four year old boy named Tyler, and a six year old girl named Maddy.”

Spencer nods slightly at each detail you provided. He purses his lips upon hearing the ages of the kids, already knowing how the story would end. In many ways, he hates your job. He hates seeing you like this, hates watching your usual demeanor fade away as you recount the day you just had. Before he met you, he thought that catching serial killers was the scariest job, he’s since changed his mind. Watching little kids die as you hold their hand was far worse.

“They came into the ER, I took Maddy into the trauma room and started an exam. She was crying, asking me where her mommy and daddy where.” You pause and look down at your hands, blinking rapidly as you try to control the tears threating to fall down your cheeks.

“Where were her parents?” Spencer asks softly, almost as if he thought speaking too loud might break you.

“DOA.”

Silence filled the room as you speak the words. Dead on arrival. You take a deep breath and continue.

“I just kept saying they were being taken care of, I couldn’t lie to her and say they were fine, but I couldn’t tell her the truth either.” Your voice comes out strangled, tired from holding back tears. “We noticed she had a large head laceration, so we brought her up to CT and…” you have to pause again to wipe away a stray tear as you recall it. “She wouldn’t stop crying for her mom. We were trying to get her to stay still because we needed a clear scan, but she couldn’t stop crying. When the CT came back we saw that she was bleeding internally, so we were about to bring her to the OR but she started seizing. We finally got the seizure under control after we pushed meds but uh…” your voice breaks as you prepare yourself for what you were going to say next. “She was gone.” A stream of tears came as you finally let go, allowing your body to feel everything all at once. Spencer wraps both his arms around you and pulled you into his chest, holding you tightly.

“You did everything you could.” He says gently.

You trembled against him as sadness swept over you.

“She- she was only six Spence.” You cry

“I know, I know. What do you need?” he asks you.

You shrug because that’s all you can do. You didn’t know. You can’t think of anything right now besides that little girl who lost everything right in front of you, all because of a drunk driver who blew a stupid light. The people who always told you “life isn’t fair” really weren’t lying. The drunk driver walked away with nothing more than a few scratches, while four people died, including two kids, and the parents of the little boy will never be the same. You know you will never forget the cries of that little girl, calling out for her dead parents. How could you?

“You make me so proud, you know that?” Spencer says

“Why?” You can’t begin to fathom how anyone could be proud of you. A six year old just died under your watch, and now you’re a crying mess on the couch.

“Because you’re brave,” he explains, “you know what happens to these kids every day and yet you still go in and work and save lives. You save their lives. And no, you don’t save everyone, but you keep going anyways.”

“I’m not brave Spence. I’m scared of everything. I’m terrified walking into work every day because I know something like this could happen. I’m terrified holding someone’s child’s life in my hands. That doesn’t sound brave.”

“Being brave doesn’t mean you’re fearless, Y/N, it just means you don’t let your fear get to you.”

You nod knowing he’s right. He’s always right.

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds angst #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid #fanfiction #fanfic #angst #fanfiction angst #writing #writer #criminal minds #criminal minds fic

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quinnybee-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Title: Fire Meet Gasoline

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia

Rating: T+

Part: 6/?

Story Summary: A chance encounter between a villain and vigilante leads to an unwise deal made between unlikely allies; an unwise deal made between unlikely allies ends in a final stand neither would have ever dared to take on alone. Together, though, they just might have a fighting chance.

Part 6 Summary: Favor number two tests the patience of one and the mettle of another, leaving uncertainty about both in its wake.

Part 1 on Tumblr / AO3

Part 2 on Tumblr / AO3

Part 3 on Tumblr / AO3

Part 4 on Tumblr / AO3

Part 5 on Tumblr / AO3

Part 6 on AO3

I swear to god if if I have to sit through one more meeting where I get voluntold to pick up another department’s slack in the same sentence as management trying to cut my intern’s hours I’m going to chug a two-liter of Surge and burp so loud I bring this whole mfer down with me.

Shouta stared at his phone, his sleep-addled brain trying to make sense of whether Yamada meant the text as a threat or not. He’d been catching a quick power nap in the back of his truck during his lunch hour and had been most of the way asleep when the rattle of his phone on the metal floor jolted him awake again. Not helping his attempt to dissect the meaningless hyperbole was Yamada’s follow up text of lmao it u along with a gif of a cat trying to jump from a bed to a dresser and falling halfway with the caption “parkour!”. He wouldn’t put it past Yamada to be the type to threaten in one breath and quote a meme in the next, but he couldn’t wrap his brain around why Yamada would be sending him incriminating evidence via text message during work hours.

Two new messages came in quick succession as Shouta was trying to puzzle things out.

Oh my god

Those were supposed to go to my sister holy shit

So not an admission or a threat, just an idiot with a cell phone. Shouta groaned, eyes rolling back in his head in disgust at how much energy he had wasted on taking Yamada seriously yet again.

forget it Shouta sent back.

Cute cat pic for ur trouble? Yamada replied along with a picture of a gangly black cat with bright yellow eyes. The cat was sprawled on its back in a pile of kibble and the shredded scraps of a cat food bag. Shouta snorted, grinning a little in spite of himself at the self-satisfied look on the cat’s fuzzy little face.

cute he texted, trying to distill as much exhaustion and disinterest into the single word as possible.

That’s Ai-chan. She’s a monster, but she’s my monster <3

So what are you up to? Break from work?

Shouta sighed, rubbing his temples. It was impossible to freeze out someone who was so willing to keep the conversation going without outside input.

trying to catch some sleep before afternoon deliveries Shouta replied as pointedly as he could.

Oof. Busy night?

do you need something? Shouta asked, stabbing the send key a little harder than he really needed to. There was a short, offended pause from Yamada’s end of the line; Shouta could picture him looking down at his phone with that little not-quite-pouting moue he always made when things weren’t going his way.

I guess not.

The curt punctuation seemed to signal Yamada had finally gotten the point, just in time to exhaust the last of Shouta’s free time before he had to get going again. Shouta put his phone into his pocket and made a point to not check it again until he was walking home. Waiting for him was another gif, this time of a pair of hands vigorously shaking a bottle of Surge, followed by a message that just said Oh goddammit. Shouta rolled his eyes and deleted the thread without replying.

The perceived slight only kept Yamada at bay for a short time, however. Now that he’d gotten a taste of the man’s texting habits Shouta had to wonder how Yamada managed to get anything done. No matter when his breaks were during the day it seemed like Yamada always had some new meme or gif or general workplace complaint to gift him with in the meantime, whether it was before dawn or after dark or occasionally both.

do you actually have a job or do they just pay you to bother me? Shouta finally asked as he waited at an interminable red light several days later. Yamada had been on a spree that morning, flooding his inbox with an illustrated play-by-play of Ai-chan’s newest misdoings while Shouta had four straight hours of back-to-back deliveries.

Excuse you, Yamada texted back loftily, I am an integral part of station management! Who occasionally may or may not take extra long bathroom breaks to avoid getting roped into being more integral than I already am.

my bad. clearly you’re just doing your part to prevent asahi radio from being razed via belch Shouta replied, snorting out a laugh before he could stop himself. He paused, frowning. That was both new and unwelcome.

Yamada sent back a long line of laugh-crying emojis followed by Look who grew a sense of humor just in time to drag me!

don’t act like you know me.

Yeah, yeah. Scout’s honor, I won’t tell anybody you’re actually funny.

Shouta scowled, dropping the phone onto the seat next to him and pulling through the light as it finally turned green. Despite the chilly weather he rolled his window down to get some airflow on his face. He hadn’t turned on the truck’s heater yet but his cheeks already felt way too warm.

Shouta spent his next day off drinking too much coffee at the cat cafe while he tried to reign in the chaos that his computer desktop had become. His phone buzzed on the table beside him and Shouta swiped in the passcode with one hand while the other was dragging a huge load of defunct backup files to his computer’s trash. He’d sooner walk into traffic than admit it to Yamada, but having a passcode on his phone was turning out to be less of an inefficient hassle that he’d always thought it would be and did make him less anxious about putting it places that weren’t his pocket or his hand.

As if waiting for the thought to cue him in, the alert was for yet another of Yamada’s early-morning memes. This time it was a gif of a kitten trying to stay awake before it wobbled and flopped out of frame. Yamada’s accompanying caption read That midweek feeling hitting hard today along with an emoji of a sleeping face with a snot bubble.

it’s monday Shouta texted back.

When you work 24/7 it’s always midweek, Yamada replied.

implying you work at all. still not convinced.

I resent that, Aizawa. It takes a lot of skill and determination to shovel this much shit and still have spare time to be a full-time pain in the ass.

Shouta almost allowed himself a laugh at that, but the air caught in his throat at Yamada’s next question.

So, do you do all of your important hero research on the public wifi at kitty cafes, or is today a special occasion?

What do you mean? Shouta asked warily.

Behind you.

Shouta turned slowly, dreading what he knew he was about to see. Yamada was standing on the sidewalk outside, grinning at him over the top of his cell phone. He gave Shouta a little wave before sauntering in and up to the counter. He chatted amiably with the baristas as they made his order. Shouta frowned to himself, trying to work out the quickest way to pack up his belongings while disturbing as few sleeping cats as possible. The moment came and went too quickly, however, as Yamada came over with two cups of coffee in his hands.

“Black with one sugar, right?” Yamada said. He slid one of the steaming mugs in front of Shouta. “That’s what they said anyway,” he added, nodding up towards the counter.

“What are you doing here?” Shouta asked coolly. Yamada frowned at him.

“I was on my way to the post office to mail a couple things and empty the station P.O. box and saw you in the window,” Yamada said. “I figured we could sit and chat since we both have a minute.”

“You just kind of assume you’re welcome wherever you decide to be, don’t you?” Shouta said.

Yamada snorted. “If that’s the worst thing someone tells me about myself today, I’ll count it as a win,” he replied, toasting Shouta with his coffee cup. He invited himself to sit down in the only chair not currently occupied by cats. “Wait, is that a spreadsheet with my name on it?” he added with sudden interest, arching his neck around to peek at Shouta’s screen. Shouta slammed the lid of his laptop shut, feeling his face heating.

“Do you need something?” Shouta asked, trying to redirect the conversation and get Yamada back on his way as quickly as possible.

“Just caffeine and conversation,” Yamada shrugged. “Is it illegal to ask someone about their day?”

“Implying you care about whether or not you’re doing something illegal,” Shouta replied curtly. To his annoyance Yamada just chuckled and shrugged.

“I mean, you’ve got me there,” he said. “So, what are you working on?” Yamada added, lowering his tone just slightly.

“Catching up on some things,” Shouta said, intentionally vague. “Organizing research. It takes longer when you’re doing it on your own.”

“I bet,” Yamada agreed. “Would probably save you some time and effort to have a permanent back door into places you’re not supposed to be, huh?” He said it with a too-even speculation that set Shouta instantly on edge.

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” Shouta said.

“I know people who know things,” Yamada said with a broad, conspiratorial grin over his coffee mug. “Keeping your friends close and your enemies closer is a lot easier when you can tell which is which.”

Shouta felt a frisson of discomfort run up his spine at the implication of where Yamada considered him to be on that spectrum. “I think I liked it better when you were threatening me,” he muttered. “Don’t make more of that than there is,” he added quickly as Yamada’s smile grew cheeky and he opened his mouth to comment. Yamada did his annoying little not-quite-pouting pout and let out a quiet “hmph” at his joke being preempted.

“In any case, you probably don’t need me to tell you how to crack a secure password,” Yamada said. “Even when they’re clever they’re usually related to either the one who sets them or the thing they’re locking up, or they’re something pseudo-random cooked up by a number generator. Sometimes they get stupid-clever and try to do all three.”

“Mmn?” As bored as he was trying to sound, Shouta couldn’t help taking mental notes on what Yamada was saying. Yamada was a flippant trouble-maker from the word go but there were moments where he displayed actual talent for the things he claimed to be an expert in.

“Oh yeah,” Yamada said. “They’re trying for layers of security, but too many moving parts makes passwords way easier to out-think. Codes are only as smart as the people who write them, y’know?”

“And you know how smart they are?” Shouta asked, trying to keep his tone casual as he goaded Yamada into staying on a roll. Yamada caught his drift a little too well, however, and the sharp, meaningful grin came out again.

“I know people who know things,” he said again. “I’d be willing to let you in on a few trade secrets for the low, low price of a certain five-letter word beginning with ‘f’.”

Shouta snorted. “Hard pass.”

“Well, I tried,” Yamada said, shrugging. He checked the time on his phone and sighed. “That’s about my lot, I’m afraid. Gotta get back before the world ends.” He stood and stretched with a groan. “We should do this again sometime. Maybe talk less shop.” The offer seemed oddly genuine and Shouta wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about that.

He tried to get back to work after Yamada left, but his concentration had been thoroughly broken. He bought another coffee and turned on some neutral background music; his brain, however, was no longer in the mood to stare at a screen and try to riddle out what his new sub-folders should be called. Finally Shouta dislodged the many cats who had taken up residence in and around his lap and packed up his laptop to see if fresh air on the walk home and a change of venue might help get him back on task.

Shouta nudged his apartment door closed with his heel, scooping the mess of envelopes out of his mail bin. It was mostly the normal jumble of junk and bills, but amongst the shuffle was a thin white payroll envelope with his name and address on the front in too-familiar spidery handwriting. Just going to empty the station mailbox indeed, Shouta thought with a groan. Yamada was way too fond of theatrics. He tossed the envelope onto his sofa without opening it and delayed paying it any attention until he’d put everything away, showered, and had a lengthy play session with his cats. If it was unimportant enough for Yamada to not just hand it over when they were in the same room together, Shouta told himself, then there was no need for him to bend over backwards to pay attention to it the instant he got home.

Finally his excuses ran out and he tore the envelope open. Inside were two pieces of paper folded separately into sharp thirds. The first was a handwritten note on Asahi Radio letterhead that read:

Aizawa-

I need a favor. I have a line on something but doing it alone might be tricky. You’ll just be the go-between, nothing dire. Meet me Friday, 9pm sharp.

-M

Also included was another of Yamada’s meticulously notated hand-drawn maps, at the other end of which was a complex of storage units bordered on all sides by a spike-topped chain link fence. Shouta peered into the dark, abandoned-looking guard booth, wondering if the first step to tonight’s goings-on was having to find his own way inside.

“Hey, you made it!”

Shouta turned to see a dark-haired man slouching up towards him from the other end of the sidewalk. He eyed the man warily, about to say he had the wrong person, but stopped as he stepped into the light and raised his sunglasses with a smirk. Yamada had stuffed all of his hair under a short, spiky black wig and a black and green snapback, slicked down his mustache and covered it in a thin layer of skin-colored makeup to blend it in with his face, and buried himself in baggy jeans and a jacket that made him look both heavier-set and a few inches shorter than he actually was. The only things that gave him away were his sharp too-green eyes and his unmistakable grin, full of crafty smugness at Shouta’s open surprise at his appearance. Yamada did a full turnaround of the odd costume, ending the twirl with a dramatic pose.

“Not a bad look for me, huh?” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Shouta snorted. “You look like a washed-up pop star who’s trying to pretend he still has to avoid the paparazzi,” he replied flatly.

To his surprise Yamada let out a burst of full-throated laughter at the remark. Shouta wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Yamada laugh in genuine amusement before now, only the occasional mocking chuckle or triumphant snicker. He had a loud, whinnying kind of laugh that tapered off into short bursts of wheezy, hyena-like giggles behind his hand as he remembered himself and tried to tamp it down.

“Okay, cynical,” Yamada said, still coughing through the last of his laughing fit. “Everyone’s a critic.” He rolled his eyes and gave a flourishy “well, what are you gonna do” kind of shrug. Shouta scowled at him.

“What are we doing here?” Shouta asked, doing his best to ignore Yamada’s grandstanding despite the growing burn of annoyance creeping up his face.

“Just a quick jaunt into my evil lair,” Yamada said cheerfully. He punched an entry code into the number pad next to the guard house, then pressed his thumb to the scanner underneath. The keypad flashed green and beeped an affirmative, and a small portion of the gate swung inward. “C’mon,” Yamada said. He motioned for Shouta to follow him as he led the way through the rows of squat cinder block units to one in the very back left corner of the lot.

“People with money can afford secret basements and underground boltholes wherever they need them,” Yamada said over his shoulder as he bent down to unlock the door of the unit, “but the rest of us have to make do with what we’ve got.” He lifted the door just high enough for himself and Shouta to duck under, then set it back down with a clatter. The unit was pitch-black and humid inside and smelled like a mixture of burnt-out electrical parts, solder, and partially cured epoxy glue. “I’ll get the lights, one sec,” Yamada said. Shouta heard him scrabbling along the wall to find the light switch, then a click. A fluorescent shop light flickered and buzzed to life above them, flooding the unit in intense blue-white light. Yamada turned to Shouta and spread his hands wide. “Taa-daa! Welcome to the inner sanctum.”

It looked more like a high school shop room that had sublet space to a thrift store. The left wall had been covered in a cluster of flat-pack bookshelves, their shelves bowing under a jumble of storage boxes labeled things like “radio parts-LIVE”, “speaker wire”, “tape--sticky”, and “tape--magnetic”. The back wall was one long anchored shelf divided into slots that held overstuffed file folders bundled together with rubber bands and binder clips. The only wall not covered in shelving or projects was taken up with a butcher block work table and a cork board with scribbled notes and schematics pinned to it.

“Kind of rinky-dink, but it gets the job done,” Yamada said fondly. “Anyway. First things first, did you happen to wear the stab vest I gave you?” he asked over his shoulder as he ducked under the work table and retrieved a box marked with today’s date.

“Yeah.” The assurance that his part in tonight would be “nothing dire” had put Shouta on high enough alert that he’d forced himself to put pride aside and opt for personal safety instead.

“Thank god. So, basically what I need is for you to be my stand in while things get underway tonight,” Yamada said. “I’d go on my own, but the meeting place is kind of a...no-go area for me right now due to certain people who frequent it.”

“And you’d rather send me in looking like you instead?” Shouta asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Yamada stared at Shouta like he’d started speaking French.

“What? God, no, what gave you that idea?”

Shouta sighed, silently counting to ten in his head as his patience frayed. “You just said I’m supposed to be your stand in.”

“Oh. Okay, yeah, poor choice of words. Think stunt double, not body double,” Yamada explained. “I just need you to be a good-faith warm body, I’ll be handling the rest with this.” He reached into the box and pulled out something that looked like a cold weather mask had been extruded into a large funnel shape at the bottom edge. Shouta looked from it to Yamada, who was beaming in obvious self-pride.

“Which is…?” Shouta prompted.

“Which is your half of a two-way radio with a built in broadcasting speaker,” Yamada said, turning the top edge inside out to show Shouta the wiring and speakers sewn into it. “At first I thought maybe I could just have you memorize a script and I’d step in if things got too off-book, but you’re not very good at lying under pressure so I wasn’t sure that would fly,” he continued. Shouta wasn’t sure if that was meant as an insult or not. “So instead, we have this to work with. I can use this--” Yamada pulled up his sleeve to show a tiny microphone taped to the inside of his wrist-- “to talk to you or talk as you, depending, as long as I stay within ten or twelve feet of you at all times.” The last part he said in one of his uncomfortably accurate impressions of Shouta’s voice.

“And that’s why you’re dressed like that?” Shouta said.

“Exactly. I’ll have to be close enough to you that the receiver can pick up the signal, and it’ll be way easier to read the room if I’m, y’know, in the room.”

“If you were going to put on a costume and go anyway, why didn’t you just do that and go on your own?” Shouta asked.

Yamada frowned and waved a finger at him like he was scolding a child. “Eh-eh-eh. No questions asked, remember? You know as much as you need to know, and you don’t need to know any more than that. Now stand still so I can get you wired up.”

Shouta grudgingly stood with his arms straight out from his body as Yamada turned him into a human switchboard. With a combination of strategic placement and gaffer tape Yamada ran a long wire with an audio jack on one end and a battery connection on the other from Shouta’s waist up his left side to just under his collar bone. Another wire ran the length of his inner arm from shoulder to wrist and ended in a loop with a switch on it that fit over the first knuckle of his thumb. All he had to do, Yamada said as he taped it all down, was press the switch when he needed to talk to Yamada and let it go when he was finished. “Y’know,” Yamada said, “like those cheap walkie-talkies you used to play with as a kid.”

“I ended up making this a lot bigger at the bottom so that we can hide all of our crimes under it,” Yamada muttered as he slipped the mask over Shouta’s head. He was back in the extreme focus mode Shouta had seen him slip into before, attention laser-focused and the corner of his mouth between his teeth as he connected all the wires and power sources underneath. He pulled an earpiece up under the mask by its wire and stuck it in Shouta’s ear before reaching up to fuss with Shouta’s hair and make sure it was hiding everything sticking above the mask. Shouta shivered involuntarily at the touch, barely resisting the urge to pull away. “With the right top layer all of this should be more or less invisible,” Yamada went on, frowning appraisingly as he took a step back to examine his handiwork. He rummaged through a few things in the box and surfaced with a heavy black zippered jacket. “I had to guess sizes, but I think this one should be close enough.”

Yamada unzipped the jacket and held it out so that Shouta could shrug into it. Shouta eased the jacket on, trying not to disturb the network of wires all over him. Yamada zipped it up almost to the top, open enough to seem casual but still high enough to cover all but the face portion of the mask and its contents. It wasn’t a terrible fit other than being slightly short in the sleeves and restrictive around the shoulders. Shouta bent and twisted his arms, trying to stretch it out without doing damage to the electronic infrastructure. Yamada untied the audiojack end of the main wire from Shouta’s belt loop and stuck it into a small cheap-looking disposable cell phone.

“This should have enough battery to keep a recording of the whole thing,” Yamada said. “Can you give me a quick mic check to make sure everything’s hooked up?”

“Uh. Testing,” Shouta said.

Yamada seemed to like what he saw in the waveforms on the phone’s screen. He smiled in satisfaction before stretching a piece of tape around the back of the phone and carefully taping it into place in Shouta’s pocket. “If we head out right now we should get there early enough to do a few on-site checks,” Yamada said, checking the time. “Shall we?”

The two of them walked a few blocks from the storage unit to a cramped, dim little pub. Yamada walked at tailing distance behind Shouta the whole way, testing the range on the homemade gear by giving Shouta directions to where they were going. The audio was relatively clear if they stayed within Yamada’s estimation of ten or so feet; after they hit closer to the twelve-foot mark it got fainter and fainter until dropping out completely as they reached about fifteen feet. Again Shouta had to wonder why, if they were essentially going to be handcuffed to one another anyway, Yamada couldn’t have just gone undercover by himself.

“Grab a drink at the bar and go sit at one of the high-top tables,” Yamada said as Shouta opened the bar’s door and made his way in. “That’s where he’ll be expecting you.”

“Any advice on how to recognize whoever I’m supposed to be meeting?” Shouta muttered back under his breath.

“No idea, he said he would find you. That’s pretty standard for a meeting like this,” Yamada added before Shouta could protest. “Nobody wants to get jumped outside before negotiations even get underway. Think of it as a blind date, but nefarious.”

Shouta sighed loudly, making sure he hit the switch so that Yamada would hear him. Yamada’s never-ending supply of bad metaphors was the last thing he needed right now.

“Calm down, Aizawa,” Yamada said. “Remember, all you have to do is sit there and look pretty, I’ll handle the talking.” There was a short fizzle of static as Yamada entered the pub and made his way to a secluded booth in the back corner. “Still read me?”

“Yeah.”

“Excellent. What’s your poison?”

“Pardon?”

“Beer? Wine? Shot of whiskey to settle your nerves?”

“You really want alcohol anywhere near all this equipment?” Shouta asked, bewildered.

“It’s just for show, who goes into a bar and doesn’t order anything? You shouldn’t drink anything they serve here anyway, their bartending is a bad joke,” Yamada said dismissively. “I just need to test the audio output and make sure we’re good to go before the main event.”

“Then just do it,” Shouta said shortly. “Didn’t you just say you were going to handle all the talking?”

“Everyone’s a critic,” Yamada muttered again. His usual flippant chill had gained an undertone of cranky tenseness that was less than reassuring. “Can I get a bottle of Sapporo?” Yamada said aloud in Shouta’s voice. Shouta just managed to turn toward the bartender in time for the question to seem natural. The bartender, a smirking woman with long brown hair held back in a red ribbon, gave him an appraising once-over. She seemed to be unimpressed with what she saw.

“Sure,” the bartender said. She reached into a cooler under the counter and came back with the bottle of beer, popping the lid off before placing it on the bar in front of Shouta.

“Thanks,” Yamada said, far more cheerfully than Shouta had ever said the word. Shouta nodded his own thanks and went to go sit at one of the high tables in a cluster near the front. He drummed his heel on the bottom rung of the bar stool. The bar was basically empty and silent other than the bartender’s phone playing lo-fi swing music from a speaker dock behind the bar. Otherwise it was just Shouta and his undrinkable beer killing time.

“Ohshit.” The words came out as a single noise hissed violently in Shouta’s ear, making him jump.

“What?” he hissed back, avoiding the curious look the bartender was giving him.

“Remember how I said there were some people who made this place a no-go area because they want to kill me?” Yamada said, sounding like he was talking through his teeth.

“Yeah?”

“That’s them coming in. Don’t look at them! Have you never been undercover in your life?” Yamada whisper-shouted as Shouta turned to look over his shoulder at the door. Almost immediately he snapped his head back around, trying to be as casual as possible about pulling the jacket’s hood over his head as he saw Takeshiro and his wife coming in and sitting a few tables away.

“You know them?” Shouta asked, hopelessly hoping Yamada actually meant someone else who was still outside.

“Ye-ep,” Yamada said, distaste drawing the word out several syllables longer than it needed to be. “They’re still kind of sore about a certain scene in a certain alley you might be familiar with.” He scoffed, then hissed, “Wait, you know them?” as Shouta’s tone dawned on him.

The alleyway. Shapes in the dark played back in Shouta’s head, fuzzy from time and panic but falling into clearer place with the new context. A short, stringy figure barking orders and bailing when things got complicated; the other taller and stocky and silent with a plant-based Quirk protecting him. Shouta gritted his teeth, annoyed by how clear the connection seemed now that it was right in front of him.

“Takeshiro works on the night crew in package processing. Takes a lot of sick days now that I think of it. I’ve never actually spoken to his wife but I’ve seen her at office parties before,” he said quietly.

“His wife? Ew,” Yamada said.

“You’re telling me they’re villains?” Shouta asked, ignoring him. Yamada snorted.

“So-called. They work for an egomaniac middleman called Seguchi. Hebiko is Seguchi’s left hand, and Takeshiro’s hers.”

“What did you do to make them want to kill you?”

“Their boss did something stupid with information that wasn’t his and got busted. I had nothing to do with it,” Yamada retorted tartly.

“Right, sure,” Shouta said. “Is this going to be a problem?”

“Nah, shouldn’t be,” Yamada said, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced. “This is why I planned things this way. No reason to bail out before anything happens.” Shouta was about to protest that it made a lot more sense to leave before there was a problem rather than scrambling when they were in trouble, but Yamada spoke first. “Heads up, you’ve got company.”

“So you’re Null.”

Shouta turned to see a lanky man with brownish hair and a narrow, rattish face standing slouched behind him with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his grubby jeans.

“Potentially,” Yamada replied. “You’re Raimaru?” His impression of Shouta’s voice was dead-on, which was bad enough on its own, but there was something just slightly off about his intonation that made Shouta’s skin crawl.

“That’s what they call me,” the man said. ”Getcha a refill while we talk?” he added, nodding at Shouta’s obviously untouched beer.

“I’m fine, thanks.” Shouta fiddled with the neck of the bottle to make it seem less like a static prop on the table in front of him. Even if Yamada had been against the idea of giving him a script to follow, some guidance on what to do in general might have been nice. He felt stiff and awkward, like a puppet whose puppeteer only had a vague idea of how natural movements worked.

“Suit yourself,” Raimaru shrugged. He ambled off to talk to the bartender, seeming to be doing his best to chat her up as she mixed his drink.

“‘Null’?” Shouta muttered to Yamada.

“Short for ‘nullify’, like your Quirk. Get it?” When Shouta just sighed in reply, Yamada added defensively, “Well, I had to call you something, didn’t I?”

“Did you?”

“What did you want me to say, ‘oh by the by you’ll be meeting my friend Shouta Aizawa, he’s thirty, single, a Scorpio, and lives in a single-occupancy uptown with three cats’?” Yamada retorted.

He technically had a point and Shouta hated that the most out of all the things he hated about this evening so far. Yamada had no time to gloat over the win, however, as Raimaru came back and dropped onto the stool across from Shouta.

“Kind of a hassle, having to be the face of cleaning up all of your boss’s bad behavior, huh? From what I’ve heard he’s got plenty to go around,” Raimaru said. Shouta privately agreed with the sentiment, but Yamada snorted instead.

“I get paid to go where I’m told, not to pass judgements,” Yamada replied stiffly. Shouta resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the defensive bluster. Raimaru laughed for him.

“I dunno about that. There’s plenty of judgement to go around if you want some,” Raimaru said. “Seems like the only books he can get into these days are peoples’ bad ones.”

“You think he gives a damn about anyone’s books other than his own?”

“I’m just saying I know a glorywhore when I see one. He spends all of his time making deals and playing nice and then suddenly people higher than him start going to jail,” Raimaru said. “Happened to Fukawa, happened to Seguchi, happened to Iwata. Hell, everyone knows he snitched and got Hanajima back in the day but Hanajima got shanked in prison and all his men scattered so nobody talks about him anymore.”

Shouta squirrelled the names away to research later, though other than those names Raimaru had said precious little to convince him that he knew much of anything besides Yamada’s surface reputation. So far his assertions had been vague at best and his “work, am I right?” tone was suspiciously chummy, like he was trying to nudge “Null” into letting something incriminating slip out.

“Why is any of this relevant?” Yamada asked. He sounded equally short on patience with Raimaru’s unsubtle attempts at currying favor. Raimaru gave a slightly passive-aggressive shrug.

“There’s a storm coming. A big one, one that’s gonna hit hard and rewrite a lot of rules about who’s in charge and who’s got a boot on their necks. You’re not gonna be in a great spot if you’re working for the Bird, so I thought you’d wanna know there’s better options,” he said. It was the first thing he’d said that sounded like he actually knew what he was talking about and it was not a reassuring change. Yamada, however, seemed unfazed.

“What, some new jumped-up ‘super’ villain with big plans for a criminal utopia?” Yamada said, unimpressed. “Seen ‘em come, seen ‘em go, nothing of value was lost. You asked me to come here because you had something valuable you wanted to trade. Is that still the case, or should I head out and stick you with the tab for wasting my time?”

“So, that’s a ‘no’ from you?” Raimaru asked, still grinning like someone had wired the corners of his mouth behind his ears.

“I didn’t hear a question being asked, but…” All of a sudden Yamada’s voice trailed off in a fizzle of static. Shouta tensed. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Yamada, who met his eye with a look that was not quite panic but was very, very close to it. Yamada tapped his ear questioningly. Shouta twitched his head to the side in a negative. He saw Yamada mouth “Shit!” before his attention snapped back to the problem in front of him as Raimaru let out a short chuckle.

“Never a good idea to use radio signals around me,” Raimaru said smugly. “They usually end up a little...dead.” He casually brought the hand that had been under the table to rest on its surface. It was holding a large pocket knife, which he casually flicked open and closed as he spoke. All of the plastic had been stripped off of the knife, leaving behind just the blades and metal guts holding them together. As Shouta eyed it, the blade began to glow a smokey orange around Raimaru’s fingertips.

“I think we’re done here,” Shouta said, trying to match the off-cadence way Yamada had been using his voice all night.

This only seemed to egg Raimaru on, however, as he cranked his Quirk up another notch. Shouta felt a static prickling like the kind before a huge lightning strike setting the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck on end. A tinny shrilling feedback noise whined through his earpiece, making him jolt and hiss in sudden pain. Shouta gritted his teeth and set his own Quirk on Raimaru instead. A hasty decision, it turned out, as a sudden crash of noise hit him all at once. Yamada’s voice half-shouting in his ear was interlaced with loud snaps of static as the equipment reconnected. Shouta winced at the onslaught, clapping a hand to his ear before he could stop himself. The moment of distraction was all Raimaru needed.

“So the Bird’s doggy wants to bark, huh?” In one fluid motion Raimaru threw what was left in his glass in Shouta’s eyes and hooked a foot under the bottom rung of Shouta’s stool, yanking it from under him. Shouta toppled to the floor, landing hard on his ass and elbows as he futilely tried to catch himself as he fell. He blinked hard, tears streaming as his eyes burned with whatever had been in that glass. Raimaru grabbed him by the front of his shirt and dragged him partially upright.

“Things could have gone better for you, but it looks like the Bird just likes making things difficult,” Raimaru said.

Shouta dug his fingers into Raimaru’s wrist, trying to wrestle himself free. Raimaru smirked, a violent shock sparking off of his skin and into Shouta’s arm. Shouta let out a bark of agony as his entire arm below the shoulder seized and went numb. Someone else’s hand, large and thick-fingered, ripped his back by the forearm, twisting his hand back and up between his shoulder blades. Shouta stiffened. He hadn’t heard Takeshiro or his wife approaching during the scuffle but it was obvious now they had him surrounded. He thought of the alley and the way they had closed ranks around Yamada, accounting for every avenue of escape except for a one-in-a-million outside intervention. Shouta darted a look over to Yamada. Their eyes met for a split second that lasted an eon. Yamada’s eyes were wide and his face had gone deathly pale as he took in the scene in front of him. He was frozen half in motion, caught between breaking cover to come help and his desire to steer clear of Takeshiro and Hebiko. Shouta’s stomach sank as Yamada dropped his gaze, hunching in on himself and pulling his hat down farther to hide his face.

“Last chance, doggy,” Raimaru said. “That signal was too weak to come from very far away. Point us in the right direction and we’ll let you go, no hard feelings. Otherwise we send you back to your master in pieces.”

He leaned in as he threatened, and Shouta took the opportunity to show him how close was too close. Shouta reared back, then rammed his forehead into Raimaru’s nose at full force. As Raimaru reeled back, Shouta slammed himself back into Takeshiro, sending the man spine-first into the edge of a table. Takeshiro grunted in pain and Shouta twisted away from his grasp as Takeshiro tried to catch himself. Raimaru sank his fist into Shouta’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him, but Shouta managed to activate his Quirk again before Raimaru could shock him. Shouta retaliated with a sharp hook, jamming his fist into Raimaru’s solar plexus with as much force as he could muster. As Raimaru doubled over Shouta grabbed a fistful of his hair and slammed him face-first into the table.

“All right, ENOUGH!” the bartender yelled. She was floating above the bar with a warning look on her face, a thin metal pipe leveled at Shouta’s head. Shouta looked from her to Takeshiro and Hebiko, who had backed off behind their table again, to Raimaru, who was staring up from under his hand with undisguised disgust as he bled onto the table. Shouta took a moment to catch his breath, then released Raimaru. Not bothering to see if Yamada would follow, Shouta took the moment of peace to walk out of the bar.

The night air was cold and made his face feel closed in and sticky under the mask. Shouta jerked it down under his chin, sucking in a hard breath. The adrenaline in his veins felt like a cloying, choking compulsion to just run, escape, flee as fast as he could in any direction that would count as away. His lungs burned nearly as badly as his eyes, every new breath feeling like a sharp stab in the chest. A strange itching slightly farther down his abdomen joined the pain in his chest as he half-sprinted down the sidewalk. Shouta looked down and froze mid-step. The bare metal handle of Raimaru’s knife stuck out of his stomach at an almost perfect perpendicular angle, jammed in so far that the tip was pressing the rough kevlar of his stab vest against his flesh.

“Ho-ly shit that was a whole bunch of something.” Shouta didn’t look up from the knife almost in his gut as Yamada’s voice crowed out behind him. He felt Yamada digging in his pocket and retrieving the cell phone. “Could have gone better for sure, but also could have gone worse.” Yamada gave Shouta a cheery smack on the shoulder. “You and I make a pretty good team, huh? C’mon, let’s go find a nicer place to grab a bite and hang out until things die down.”

He paused like he fully expected Shouta to agree and follow after him, but Shouta was barely listening. His mind was still trying to process the knife handle sticking out of his stomach. The night “could have gone worse”? Raimaru had almost made good on the threat to send Shouta home in pieces while Yamada cowered in a corner booth, more worried about being seen than being helpful, and Yamada was congratulating himself for a job well done.

“Aizawa? Earth to Aizawa? Hey, are you okay? You’re shaking.” There was a note of real concern in Yamada’s voice as he reached out a hand to steady the trembling in Shouta’s body.

The idea of Yamada making any kind of physical contact snapped the last bit of sane civility Shouta had left in him. True fury, hot and fast and scraped raw by everything that was running through Shouta’s head, boiled over in his chest. He swung wildly at Yamada, hoping to make contact but hoping more just to fend him off as violently as possible. Yamada yelped and jumped backwards, hands coming up to protect himself.

“Whoa! What the hell--?” Yamada began, but Shouta was already swinging again. He wanted to make Yamada bleed, make him feel even half as agonized and afraid as he did right now. Yamada stumbled away from him, eyes wide in shock and confusion. His back hit the brick wall of a building and Shouta got right up in his face, Quirk blazing and teeth bared in a hateful snarl as he spoke.

“Let me be clear with this, so maybe you’ll hear it over the sound of your own voice,” Shouta said between clenched teeth. “We are not partners. We do not make a good team. We are sure as fuck not friends who hang out. You are a problem in my life that I am trying to solve. Get that through your thick skull and stop acting like we’re in this together.” He pulled the knife out and threw it violently at Yamada’s feet before turning on his heel and striding away as fast as his legs could carry him.

As soon as he staggered into his apartment and secured every lock and deadbolt on his door Shouta stripped down, dumping everything he’d been wearing in a heap in the entryway. Ignoring his cats’ cries for attention, Shouta went straight to the bathroom and ran the shower as hot as he could stand it. He could feel himself shaking now, the dregs of adrenaline making his legs weak rather than holding him up any longer. He sat down in his tub with the scalding water beating against his back, arms wrapped around himself. He looked down and saw a long irritated scratch rising on his stomach where the knife had dragged against him through the vest. Shouta let out a long, unsteady breath and closed his eyes. He’d been a vigilante for long enough to know that it meant going without any kind of help when things went from bad to worse to potentially lethal; until now not even his worst cases had shaken him like this. But those times he’d known the risk going in and taking it on had been his choice, which made all the difference. Yamada had known, though. Yamada had known they should have bailed as soon as their worst case scenario walked in the pub’s doors and he’d used Shouta as a human shield to try to get what he wanted anyway. Shouta gritted his teeth, nails digging into his palms as his hands balled into fists. He shouldn’t have expected anything less from someone like Yamada.

Never again, Shouta thought as he roughly toweled off. Yamada could keep his favors and his trade secrets and all the rest of it. He’d need all the help he could get, because as far as Shouta was concerned Yamada was on his own from this moment on.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #eraserhead bnha #eraserhead mha #present mic #erasermic #aizawa shouta #yamada hizashi #shouta aizawa #hizashi yamada #Fire Meet Gasoline AU #Quinny thinks she's a writer

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erikismybitch · 6 years ago

Text

Based off the Jill Scott interlude PT.2

You didn’t trip off what happened in the grocery store . But then it happened again, with another woman at the gym.

Then three more times after he posted the faceless pic of you and the “Erik” chain on his Instagram.

“Women sure are resourceful, like fucking spies when they want to be nosey ” you spoke sourly as you blocked yet another girl from your inbox. It was the most action your Instagram had seen in a long time . All this unwanted attention surrounding you brought back that old self conscious girl you’d hidden years ago.

“So, you gon keep me on pause the whole time? Maybe I should just end the FaceTime “ Erik said through the speaker of your iPhone .

“Sorry that I had to deal with one of your many hidden girlfriends” you went back to the FaceTime. Erik was sitting in his car on his work break . He mumbled lowly, knowing you couldn’t hear him. “Talking mess?” You asked with a lifted brow . The frustration was written all over his face , for the past week it had been a downhill battle between you and him.

“I was dealing with a lot of them girls back before you. But I didn’t feel the way about you that I do now “

“Is that supposed to be a compliment? “ you snapped . Eriks phone paused as you continued to rant . “I won the race and you were the prize?”

Eriks face came onto the phone screen again. He didnt say anything, he spent the past few days explaining himself . He never cheated , these were all women of the past . He was out of options and figured his best bet was to stay silent .

“I didn’t know you were THAT nigga”

“Please !” He finally spoke , twisting his face . “You got with me cause I was THAT nigga, don’t act new”

“Erik , I got with you cause you were you . I didn’t know it would come with all of this”

“Then break up with me then!” Erik shouted angrily and ended the FaceTime call . It scared you , not the tone of his voice but those words . You were angry with him and you weren’t sure what you wanted . Breaking up with him was not on your list .

Just as you were about to press the call back button, Erik sent you a text .

I’m sorry for yelling like that , I’ll pick you up later tonight for that party.

You tossed the phone across your bed . Tiana and Devin were a married couple who hosted game nights at their hillside home . They were older and a couple that you admired. Tiana was an old co-worker of yours , she and Devin introduced you to Erik at their very own party. The two of you hadn’t seen them in a while and agreed to go tonight .

You listened as the postal worker slid the mail in your home door slot . You went to fetch the mail from the front . You scanned through it .

“Bills, bills, bills, Complex for Erik, and Cosmo for me”

You dropped everything except for the Cosmopolitan magazine. Ironically your current life story was on the cover in big bold letters

“So, you’re dating a ladies man pg 48 “.

“Yes, yes the hell I am” You eagerly opened the magazine to the article . Not even bothering to sit down, you began to read .

“...It's horrible and infuriating and brings out your jealous side. I get it. So what do you do? How do you handle him, and, more important, how do you keep him focused on your relationship when he's being approached left and right?...”

“How?” You mouthed out loud , as if the article was speaking to you

“...don't put him so high up on a pedestal. You deserve each other, and you are equals in the relationship. That mind-set is important...”

“Okay, okay” you nodded in an agreeable manner then read down a little more .

“...when a woman comes up to him and you're around. Let her and him know that he is yours, and you want to keep it that way. He will find that fiery, possessive side of you exciting and comforting...”

“I’m not fighting for no man, Cosmo”

“..."accidentally" let him see an innocent yet flirty text from a guy you met at work, or mention how "weird" it was that so-and-so asked you for a drink...”

“This is dumb as hell” you laughed and tossed the magazine with the rest of the mail . You should have known better than to look for advice from a pop culture magazine .

Hours passed and Erik was outside waiting for you . You had taken your time getting ready . The curls your usually had were flattened straight and tucked behind your ears. A casual dress accompanied with a denim jacket and heels . Plus , your make up was perfect.

You walked out of your apartment complex and made your way to Eriks truck. He thought you looked amazing , even more so than ever because you didn’t know how beautiful you were. To him, it was effortless.

“What?” You snapped with an attitude . You noticed the look he gave you when you got into the car . Erik laughed in response and pulled off .

“Nothing , you just look good... that’s all” Erik nodded his head to his music nonchalantly. You turned your body towards the window , just so Erik couldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing your smile . How could a girl be mad at that? And plus, he looked good too.

Erik drove briskly through the mountains , until he reached Devin and Tianas Spanish-styled home . There were several cars in the drive way as you pulled up . You both went inside and greeted everyone. Some new faces and some old .

You went your separate way from Erik, finding comfort in playing games with other people. Erik kept his eye on you the entire time , he was like a lost puppy waiting for you to find him. Out of the two host, Tiana was the first to notice that Erik wasn’t having fun . He told her that the two of you were on bad terms so he gave you space. She suggested that the four of you played a game alone . Tiana gathered you and her husband , then met Erik in a well-off room away from the main party .

“Let’s get it “ Devin shuffled the deck of Uno cards and gave each person seven . Both couples sat across from their mates and played the game .

“Uno!” You called out excitedly , you were down to your last card .

Erik hit you with a draw four and a smirk . Everybody cursed and took cards from the deck .

“Just when I think everything is straight , Erik shuts shit down “

“It’s just a game though” Erik placed a card onto the stack .

“It’s just a game though” you mimicked him in a nagging voice .

The married couple couldn’t stand the tension and before an argument started they interjected .

“You guys talking about Uno, or something else ?” Devin asked .

“Ask the ladies man” you motioned towards Erik . He tossed his cards on the table , fed up .

“What’s going on with you guys , seriously?” Tiana lowered her voice a bit , making sure nobody in the other room could hear the conversation.

“She’s upset because other women still like me” Erik made it seem like no big deal .

“Is that true?” Tiana interjected

“It’s more complicated than that , women are approaching me and messaging me about him”

The two of you felt completely comfortable spilling all the intimate details of the relationship with them . That had years of experience and knowledge under their belts . Erik gave them his view and you followed up with your own .

“You’re upset at something Erik can’t control and Erik should have helped you get to a place where you feel secure” Tiana began to preach .

Erik moved closer to you , running his hand across your lower back . “You don’t feel secure with me?” He spoke low, only for you to hear .

“I feel like I’m suddenly in a competition. If all those women weren’t enough for you then how could I, just one girl, be enough ?” Erik wrapped his arm around you and brought you into his chest . His way of letting you know you were secure with him. He didn’t know you felt that way .

“Why was she different than the rest of the girls?” Tiana questioned Erik. He thought about the night he met her, in this same house . Sure he had seen women more beautiful, women with better bodies and more sex appeal. But it was something about you that drew him in .

“This man drooled on himself when he saw her!” Devin blurted out .

“I did, my shirt got wet and everything “ Erik admitted shamelessly.

“We laughed about that shit for weeks” Devin cracked up.

“Girl, If that don’t make you feel secure then I don’t know what can” Tiana teased .

Devin and Tiana left the room, they allowed you and Erik some alone time . You tried your best not to taunt him for drooling, but you were flattered . Erik still held you against him, you took it a step further and embraced his waist . The words “sorry” were at the tip of your tongue . As soon as you were about to speak, Erik did.

“I remember after our second date, you didn’t call me for a like a week. Usually I wouldn’t trip ... but I did.” He played with your chain for emphasis. “That’s when I knew you were different “

“Erik, I’m sorry I’ve been mean . You don’t deserve that “

“It’s alright , you ready to get out of here?”

You nodded your head and agreed . The two of you said goodbye to everyone and made your way to the car . Erik drove through the hills slowly , enjoying the entire view of the lit city below . His car came to a stop, right on the edge of the road . A few cars were parked near by. They probably had the same idea as Erik .

He wanted to get high and enjoy this view with his girl, his one and only girl. Erik broke down his weed and rolled a blunt . He lit it , giving you the honor of hitting it first .

“I didn’t know how insecure I was , until tonight“ You mouthed , after inhaling and blowing a little smoke through your nostrils .

“You have nothing to be insecure about, I’m with you for a reason. Nobody makes me feel the way you do”

That put a big smile on your face . All you needed was a little assurance. You have him the blunt . He took it between his soft lips and inhaled . It had been almost a week since you felt him inside of you . And something about that small gesture turned you on. You reached over his lap and reclined his seat . Erik smirked at you, he knew exactly what you wanted .

His jeans were already low. You unbuttoned him and pulled his briefs down. His beautiful dick sprung at attention. Without a word you wrapped your mouth around his shaft . You focused on getting it wet so your lips could glide easily . This was his favorite , you were the best at it . You wanted to show him how much you wanted him .

“Shit baby, just like that” Erik ashed his blunt , it felt so good he couldn’t smoke anymore . You slurped hard, hearing the sopping sounds over the radio. Your head bobbed as you popped your lips on the tip of his veiny dick. Erik held on to the back of your head for leverage , bringing you all the way back down on him . You covered every last inch until his dick touched the back of your throat .

“You so perfect for me” Erik brought your head up , allowing you to take in air. He lifted you by your shoulders and kissed your moist lips . It was slow, sensual and passionate . Erik snuck your dress above your ass, then took it upon himself to slide your panties to the side .

“Come sit on this dick” his voice was smooth but still demanding . Just how you liked it.

You raised your leg over his lap, thanking god that Erik had a truck with tints. Erik cut the engine and turned off the radio . You thought maybe he wanted to listen for trouble , but he just wanted to hear you .

You slid onto him easily , seizing the moment . He always felt so good inside of you. Erik peeled your breast from the top of your dress . You rode him slowly .

“This the dick that got you wearing that chain?” he hissed , digging his palm into both of your ass cheeks .

“Yes baby” You let out a whimper, speeding up and adding a little bounce to your movement.

“Show me how you got that fucking chain!” He slapped your ass hard , kicking you in gear . Your breast bounced up and down . Eriks eyes reverted back and forth . Your silk like wetness coated his dick , each time you came down on his shaft he let out a grunt of satisfaction.

The sweet musty smell filled the car , so did the humidity . It covered all the windows , nobody could peak in if they tried .

Eriks hands roamed from your ass , to your waist , to the cup of your delicious breast .Then they found a place on the sides of your neck , bringing you down on to him . Your foreheads touched and the air flared from Eriks nostrils loudly .

“Let it out daddy ! “ you demanded against his lips . He slapped your ass again , piercing his fingers into your mounds . He forced your hips to move to his liking . Erik took control, his dick sent a lightning sensation through senses.

“Ohhh my god” you croaked and rested in the crevice of Eriks neck.

“Yeah? Daddy feel good to you ?” Erik boasted at the sounds you were making .

“Mmmmm, feel so good” you assured him.

Erik used his thighs to thrust upward into you . You let out a scream so loud that it even shocked you . You were powerless, and willing to do anything he wanted in that moment . The sensation he gave you , you’d rob a bank if he asked you to .

You pulled yourself up, holding the sides of his face firmly . Eriks eyes connected with yours before he kissed you quickly . Nothing but Pure extacy was written all over your face . You opened your mouth wide as you took in air .

Erik knew that face, he sped his strokes up . With each thrust his seat became soaked with your cream.

You gripped the roof handle and his chest as you felt yourself about to explode. You came violently . Your head flew back and a growl escaped your pretty lips.

“Don’t fucking move!” Erik never stopped fucking you . Your walls contracted around him as you tried your best not to lift up . Your flesh was far too sensitive to take the pounding Erik was giving you . Just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore , he let out a Harsh breath and came inside of you .

You laid back on top of him, unable to climb back into your spot .

“This shit feel so good, I could just drive home with my dick still inside of you “

You let out a tired laugh and kissed under his chin. It was sticky from sweat . It didn’t matter to you , you loved every part of him. You kissed his lips and then back down to his neck . With your tongue you marked your spot and sensually began to suck on its saltiness.

Erik’s dick began to stiffen inside of you . “Round two?” He mumbled.

“Meet me in the back seat”

#erik killmonger fanfiction #erik killmonger fanfic #erik killmonger imagine #erik killmonger smut #black panther fanfiction

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dakotasjournal · 6 years ago

Text

The Shadow

Like I said, this one deals with a really heavy topic, but I felt it needed to be written. Hope you like it -Dakota

I wake up as an alarm sounds. I reach out and try to shut it off, but my hand falls all the way to the floor. I try again with the same outcome. This time I look as I swing for the clock. My heart stops as my hand goes through the clock. I reach it in front of my eyes and I see my hand, it’s there. But it won’t touch anything. I jump as the clock suddenly stops with a small bang. I look over and see another hand, attached to a different body, in my bed. The person gets up and opens the curtain. I hiss away from the light.

As I open my eyes again, I notice that all color has faded from my being, blacks and greys replacing what used to be blue and brown. The person leaves the room and as I look around, it is definitely NOT my room. Before I can try to remember anything, I get tugged out of the room. I try to stop myself, but I keep following the girl. I look at her and stop dead still. I still get dragged, only ever being 5 feet from her at most. I look at her and notice that she doesn’t have a shadow. I try to talk to her, I call out to her.

“Hey, what am I doing here?” no reply, “Hey, can you hear me?” still no reply. I’m pulled behind her into the bathroom. Lucky for me, the space I’m allowed lets me wait outside of the curtain as she showers. Me still being the man I am, I turn as she gets out and dressed. Only when she was done did I see who I’m attached too. Riina Mitchell, the girl from my Spanish class. I never really talked to her before, and now I’m her shadow for who knows how long.

We walk down to I think her kitchen. She quietly gets a bowl of cereal as I silently observe her. She almost gets to eat it when I see her jump and spill a little on the floor. She starts to cry and frantically tries to clean it up before the footsteps that she jumped at get closer. She gets it done and stands rim rod straight as a man enters the kitchen.

“Good morning daddy,” she whispers.

“Did I speak to you?” her father speaks.

“No sir, I’m sorry,” she whimpers. Her father raises his hand and brings it down right across her face. I jump towards her, wanting to pull her back, stop him as he swings again. But I can’t. She stands and takes his hits, tears streaming down her face.

He finally stops and leaves. She still doesn’t move at all but her shoulders as she cries. She wipes her cheeks as she turns and grabs her bag before we head to the bus.

Sitting in the very back seat, she applies makeup to her reddened cheeks, sitting in silence as we ride to school.

We step off the bus and run into the school, but as we reach the door, we hit the ground. Two girls are blocking the entrance. We stand up and face them, Riina looking at the floor.

“Can I pass?” she asks them. They look to each other and one shrugs.

“Sure, but just for today,” and they let us past.

I follow her all day, learning about her. She hides in the back of the classrooms, never says a word. She’s incredibly smart, but never says anything in class. She eats lunch alone in the park across the street, but that doesn’t stop them.

Her phone buzzes all day long, she never replied until lunch, and now I have a good view of what she’s receiving.

“You ever wonder why you’re still here? Cause I do.”

“You may think we don’t see you, but we do every ugly feature.”

“Just fucking leave already!”

Many more texts like that are filling her inbox. She looks and closes her phone, putting it in her bag. I put my hand on her shoulder, she may not feel it, but I needed to do something other than just sit in the back. We run to her next class, hiding in the back once again.

The whole day goes like this, hiding, reading the messages, hiding once again. And I still can’t do anything about it. I want to help, I want her to know that she’s not alone, but all I can do is hide in the back, watching everything they do to her.

When we get back to her house, it doesn’t end. The messages keep coming, but her father is also on his way home. We stay in her room, listening to music quietly and doing her homework, but when her father's truck pulls into the driveway, she puts everything away and we run down the stairs to the kitchen again. She starts to wash dishes, her father stomping in soon after she began.

She flinches as the door slams. Then her father’s voice booms across the house.

“How was school?”

“It was ok sir, I got an A- on a test,” she replies as she keeps washing. Her father waltzing into the room and right behind Riina.

“Why was it so low?” he questions.

“It was in math class, I’m not very good at algebra sir,” she explains. A hand comes in contact with the back of her head.

“That’s what I get for having a kid with a cheerleader, no brains,” he mumbles as he leaves, “Glad I left that idiot.”

“Do not talk about mom that way!” she shouts, abandoning the dishes. Her father turns and faces her, hands finding their way to his hips.

“What did you say?” he snarls.

“Don’t. Talk. about. My. Mother. That. Way,” she repeats, copying his stance. He clenches his fists and strides across the room and hits her across her face again that day. He punches her right on her eye before he finishes.

“Get out of here, I don’t need to be reminded of my mistakes,” he glares. We retreat to her room, shutting the door softly behind us. She grabs her phone and reads more of the messages. Man do I wish I could hug her right now. She walks over to her closet and grabs out a few pages of letters, setting them on her bed before we run to the bathroom and grab some pills from her father’s prescription.

“NO, Riina don’t do this!” I scream at her, I try to stop moving once again. She stomps back to her room, dragging me with her. She locks the door behind us, striding to her bed. She lays all the letters out, puts them in a specific order, then grabs the pills.

“NO Riina, please! Don’t do this!” I scream, praying she’ll hear me. I try getting her to feel me as I touch her hands, then her bruised face, still nothing. I start to cry, but I don’t give up on trying to stop her.

She goes to her window and looks outside, throwing the pills into her mouth and swallowing them down.

“NOOO!” I scream as she falls and everything fades away.

~~~~~~~~~~

I shoot up from my bed, tears soaking my face and pillow. I jump out of bed and run to my truck. I have to get to Riina’s house.

I pull into her driveway and run into her house. Her father tries to block me from entering.

“You can’t come in here boy.”

“You shouldn’t hit your daughter, now let me in!” I scream at him as I push past. I take her steps two at a time, running to her locked bedroom door.

“No, nononono, C'mon, open, openopenopen,” I mumble as I jiggle the door handle. No success so I try to start kicking it in. Lucky for me it was a cheap door and broke after a few hard hits. Running in I stop dead. I fall to my knees and cry. I see a familiar lump on the floor. A pile of the small girl and grey sweatshirt lays by the window, bruised on her face.

Her father reaches the room and sees everything. He walks over to Riina slowly, getting down by her body. He reaches out to touch her, but retracts his hand, tears stinging his dry eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~

I return to school, red-eyed and quiet. Everyone else is acting as nothing happened, all just going about their day. I don’t speak to anyone, ignore my friends and teachers, don’t talk to my counselor either. I can’t believe that people aren’t gonna realize they drove a girl to kill herself, they act like they never knew her, or were her best friends.

I go to sleep that night with an idea. I’ll do all I can to make sure no one else ends up like Riina.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s been two weeks since I started the Riina Movement, and I actually have a lot of support from students. So far it seems like everyone in the school is being kinder to others. Just what I wanted.

~~~~~~~~~~

I wake up in another unknown room. I know what’s gonna happen now. After I’ve gone through this a few times, I know how it ends. This person was gonna kill themselves, and I can’t stop them.

I return to my own body, tired, sad, depressed. I can’t take this duty that was given to me. It’s too hard for one person. I can’t take seeing person after person take their lives before they get a chance to live them. I can’t take knowing people do this to people, drive them to think this is the final answer. What has humanity come too?

~~~~~~~~~~

I wake up in my room this morning, but not as myself. I’m a passenger today to my own self. Only a viewer. At least until tonight, when that .45 starts to look real friendly. This is what the world has become.

#The Dakota Journal #dakotasjournal #suicide #story #random #theshadow #the shadow

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toosicktoocare · 7 years ago

Text

ice ice baby

I have a million prompts in my inbox, but here I am writing this instead...

College AU, Pre-Klance

Summary: Cancelled classes = ice sliding and bruises

Word Count: 2,008

Keith would be lying if he said he isn’t slightly annoyed as he slips his boots on over thick, wool socks. He had plans to spend the surprise free day curled up under multiple blankets in bed with a textbook, but Lance had messaged him, pulling him from the comfort and warmth of his bed with a "come outside ASAP" message.

He could have ignored this easily, but he knows Lance would have persisted with multiple texts before coming to their shared dorm and dragging him outside, whether he was dressed appropriately or not. So, it's better, Keith thinks, to blow the fire out gently by meeting Lance's request as opposed to fanning the flame with resistance.

Outside, the wind is freezing, and snow is still fluttering down, as it has been all night. Keith shivers despite the added layers he packed on and fishes his phone from his pocket to call Lance, because 'outside' could literally be anywhere. Squinting, he cups one hand over his eyes for the snow is borderline blinding to his tired eyes. The other hand presses his phone against his ear, and he looks and waits, listening to the ring-back tone of some current song Keith doesn't know.

After a minute, Keith hears Lance answer with a loud "Hey!" that echoes close by. Frowning, he pulls the phone away and looks to the right to see Lance racing toward him from the resident lot.

"You've gotta come see this!" Lance shouts as he stops beside Keith and drapes a cold arm over his shoulders.

Shuddering, Keith shrugs Lance's arm away and spares a side glance to see Lance's rosy cheeks and red-rimmed nose. "How long have you been out here?"

"All morning," Lance says with a wide smile, voice borderline breathless. "Hunk, Pidge, and Shiro were here earlier, but Hunk and Shiro had to go to work, and Pidge went in because she was too cold."

Nodding, Keith crosses his arms, feeling cold himself despite only being out for a few minutes. While Lance looks cold, he isn't acting like it, leaving Keith arching his brows slightly as the two walk. Lance always boasts about how he's from 'the most tropical place in the universe,' so Keith's honestly surprised that the brunet isn't complaining about the biting wind and single-digit temperatures.

When they reach the resident lot, Lance motions with a wide wave toward the ice-slick pavement. "Look at it!"

With furrowed brows, Keith toes an edge, boot sliding instantly. "You made me come outside to show me ice?"

"No," Lance starts with a laugh. "I made you come outside to show you this!" He gets a running start before sliding across the ice, hands waving about on either side for balance as he skids all the way across the lot until he latches onto the back of Keith's truck to stop himself.

"Impressive," Keith calls out dryly as Lance bellows with laughter.

"Try it!"

Keith shakes his head and jams his fists into his pockets.

"Come on, Keith!"

"No!"

"It's fun!"

"I don't care!"

"Just come on! I did it!"

A twitch of annoyance tugs at Keith's face because Lance knows the one weak spot and is constantly stabbing at it with a long knife. Keith has a competitive streak, kind of hard not to when your step brother is a small-town legend, and Lance knows this, being somewhat competitive himself.

"Keith!" Lance continues, drawing out the name with a sharp pitch that has Keith cursing under his breath.

"This is so fucking stupid," he mutters as he slowly walks toward the ice. He toes at it again, gauging how slick it is with a swipe of his boot. His shoe slides across it quickly, easily, and he frowns, prepared to back out on the grounds that this is reckless and stupid, but Lance is shouting again, yelling his name repeatedly. His voice grates along Keith's nerves until he's backing up then running full force to the ice.

Wind whips at his face, feeling like small, frozen daggers, and pushes his beanie up and over his head. His knees wobble as he goes flying across the lot, and he's in a constant state of feeling like he may fall at any second. His heart is hammering against his chest, loud enough to echo in his ears, but whether it's racing from fear or thrill, he's not sure. He's approaching Lance rapidly, and it occurs to him at this very moment that he hasn't calculated how to stop. He squeezes his eyes shut as his truck comes closer and closer, and he throws both hands out in a poor attempt to not completely crash against the truck, but instead, cool, soft arms wrap around his middle, and the two bodies slide a little until slowing into a stop.

"Holy shit," Keith breathes out along a puff of adrenaline as he pulls away to see Lance holding his waist and smiling at him.

"Fun, right?"

"Dangerous," Keith mutters, but a smile plays on his lips as he glances across the icy parking lot.

"You rock climb for fun, Keith. I think this doesn't really compare in terms of danger."

Keith can only nod as a tug of want pulls at his heart. "Race you?"

An impossible smile pulls at Lance's lips, and the two break apart and start toward the snowy bank off to the side to quickly get back to the other end of the parking lot.

For what feels like hours, Keith and Lance race each other as they slide across the parking lot. At times, other students join in, but majority of the time is spent alone, just the two of them pushing and pulling at one another as they glide across ice to try and be the first back to Keith's truck.

It's been a while, Keith thinks, since he's had this much. His body is slightly sore from small tumbles, but the thrill of whipping across the parking lot keeps him going, that is until his latest slide across the ice.

He's ahead of Lance, for once, but his shoe hits a snag, a crack in the ice, and it sends him flying forward. He manages to turn onto his side before his body smacks hard against the cold ice, leaving him hissing sharply from a blasting spike of pain that shoots all across his side.

He can hear Lance laughing loudly, and the laughter grows louder and louder until Lance is skidding to a stop beside him.

"Holy shit!" Lance shouts in between breathless laughs. "Are you okay?"

Keith sits up, face pulling into a sharp wince as his side almost burns with pain. He nods anyway, and Lance bends over to help him to his feet.

"You're soaked," Lance says, still puffing out breaths of laughs as he steadies Keith with a hand to Keith's back. "Wanna take a break?"

"Yeah," Keith answers, and the two start slowly back to their dorm room, shivering and sniffling as they hurry to their building.

The stairs are murder on Keith's side. He grips the banister tightly and grits his teeth as he climbs them, following Lance all the way to the third floor and to their room. When they reach their room, Lance mutters that he's running to the dining hall for hot chocolate, leaving Keith alone to change.

He starts taking off layers of cold, wet clothes. His jacket comes first, then his sweater, and finally the long sleeve shirt he's got on underneath. He pulls it over his head with a muted hiss before he drops it to the floor to rummage in his closet for something dry and warm.

He's eyeing one of Lance's hoodies when he hears a sharp gasp followed by something splashing to the floor. Whipping around, he sees Lance gaping at him in the doorway, with a now empty paper cup rolling in a puddle of hot chocolate on the floor.

"What the hell, Lance? I'm not cleaning that-"

"Your side."

"Huh?" Frowning, Keith tilts his head, not liking the concern painted across Lance's face.

Lance doesn't offer a verbal reply; instead, he steps through the hot chocolate on the floor and moves until he's standing right in front of Keith. Keith can feel his cheeks burning with a blush as Lance reaches toward him, but whatever warm, shy feeling that was threatening to take hold of his heart is replaced with a burning sting that has him glancing down to Lance's fingers brushing along his side.

It's then that Keith sees it: the dark blue and black bruises already starting to color his side. "Oh," Keith says because his mind suddenly can't remember many words. "Shit."

"You're hurt," Lance mutters, crouching down to study the bruising with a deep frown. "This looks bad."

"I'll just ice it," Keith says, thankful that he can make his tone sound convincing. "I've gotten bruises before."

"Yeah, but those weren't my fault."

"It's really not a big... wait, what?" Keith snaps a gaze down to lock eyes with Lance's suddenly somber ones, and he holds the gaze as Lance slowly gets to his feet. "Your fault?"

"I made you do it."

"You didn't make me do anything." Keith's tone is a little sharper than intended, and he swallows back the flicking hint of anger. "I chose to."

"I bothered you until you did."

Shrugging, Keith turns back to the closet and snags one of Lance's hoodies. "You do that with ninety percent of things. I'm used to it."

"Yeah, but you've never gotten hurt because of me before."

Keith's never seen this level of guilt before, and honestly, that sad look doesn't match the bright color of Lance's eyes-- it makes him look younger, innocent. Keith shakes his head and starts toward his bed. "It's really not a big deal, Lance. I'll get some ice and take it easy." He slips the pale blue hoodie over his head before he bends over, very slowly, to start unlacing his boots. He swallows back the pain, but before his fingers meet cold laces, Lance is guiding him to a chair.

"Let me."

"I'm not an invalid, Lance. I can take off my own shoes."

"It's hurting you."

"It's not-"

"I can see it. Your muscles tense up. You're trying to hide it."

Keith's eyes grow a fraction wider as Lance crouches down to start unlacing his boots. Lance doesn't come off as the observant type-- he's more... easygoing, for better lack of words. At least, that's what Keith has always thought about the brunet. Perhaps he was wrong though. Maybe he's got to start peeling off the layers that make up Lance McClain.

Lance knows enough to let Keith at least change his pants on his own, though, and when Keith is secured in bed with two blankets wrapped around him, Lance starts toward the door.

"I'm going to get ice."

"Lance," Keith tries, and Lance pauses with his hand on the doorknob.

"Aren't you going to change first? You have to be freezing, Mr. 'I'm from a super tropical place.'"

"The faster I get ice, the faster you aren't in pain." Lance says, looking over his shoulder with a frown.

"You don't have to do this."

"You didn't have to slide on the ice."

Keith tilts his head at his. "No, but I guess I wanted to."

A soft smile plays at Lance's lips. "Then let me want to do this for you."

Before Keith can argue further, Lance slips out the door, leaving Keith huffing out a breath of frustration as he sinks back against the pillows propped up behind his back.

Of all things, his mind goes back to the cold outside, when he first slid across the lot and Lance caught him with those long, slender arms around his waist. His cheeks warm to a soft pink as another groan slips past his lips.

If Lance wants to do this, then, Keith guesses, he will let him.

#voltron #vld #whump #whump fic #whumpfic #klance #pre-klance #college au #my writing #my voltron writing #i literally have been watching slipping on ice fail videos and boom #here we are #also we had a lot of sleet today so my deck is super icy rn #so this fic is just very fitting lol #keith kogane #lance mcclain #check out that cheesy af title tho

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penniesforthestorm · 3 years ago

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“No, I’m an idiot; you can ask anybody”: Justified Season Three, Episodes 8-10

Well. Howdy, folks. (The great thing about this is, thanks to tungle.hell’s lack of visible timestamps, most of you probably have no idea how long it’s been since I did the last one of these. At this point I don’t even know. But, on the off-chance that there is someone out there who’s been wondering when I’m going to make another one, here you go.) This trio of episodes is one of my favorites of the show’s entire run, so I might dive in with some extra insight here and there; if you want read back, click on through for the premiere, Episodes 2-4, and Episodes 5-7. Join me under the cut, and stop by my inbox any time:

Episode Eight: “Watching the Detectives”

-OK, off-topic, but first of all, this episode’s title happens to be one of my favorite Elvis Costello songs, and also, I know he didn’t write it about Twin Peaks’ Laura Palmer, but it’s about her nonetheless...

-We open with Sammy Tonin in a restaurant; Sammy takes a phone call with the Feds listening, and, following Quarles’ orders, links Raylan Givens to Boyd Crowder.

-Raylan, meanwhile, is sitting in his home-base bar in Lexington, listening to a sultry rockabilly singer. (Jack-and-Coke was my ‘starter’ drink when I was younger; it served a purpose but if I never have one again, I don’t think I’ll regret it...)

-Robert Quarles, in a car with Wynn Duffy and Mike the bodyguard, gets a call from a contrite Tanner Dodd. Duffy stops the car in front of the former home of Winona and Gary Hawkins, and lets Gary out of the trunk. Quarles tells Gary, “I want you to give a message to Raylan”, and then shoots him in the chest. Back at Quarles’ house/clinic, he’s approached by Ellstin Limehouse, who informs him of Boyd’s plans to run Shelby Parlow for Harlan County sheriff. Limehouse tells Quarles that he likes to back “the winning side”.

-Next morning, Raylan’s barman pal tells him there was someone tampering with his car; Raylan discovers scratch marks around the keyhole of his trunk. On the drive to work, he gets a call from the Lexington Police Department, and arrives at the scene of Gary Hawkins’ murder. He identifies the body for an already-suspicious LPD detective.

-At the Marshals’ Office, Deputy Tim reveals he knew that Gary was living under an alias in Tulsa, and he’s just been hassling Raylan about Gary’s fate for fun. Elsewhere in the building, persnickety US Attorney David Vasquez is approached by FBI Agent Barkley, the mole for the Detroit mob. Barkley asks to see Vasquez’s file on Raylan.

-Quarles meets with Tanner Dodd, who takes full responsibility for the hit on Boyd Crowder’s Oxy clinic. Quarles tells him he has one last chance, and sends him back to Harlan.

-Winona arrives at the Marshals’ Office, and Raylan informs her of Gary’s death. The LPD detectives question Raylan-- turns out his fingerprints were on the fatal bullet casing. He tells the story of tossing that bullet onto Duffy and reveals it was something he heard on the Johnny Carson show. The older and more skeptical of the detectives goes to Quarles’ house, and finds him insouciantly eating leftover spaghetti with Wynn Duffy at his side.

-Down in Harlan, Sheriff Tillman Napier starts his car, then gets out. The car explodes, tossing him to the ground. In short order, he goes to arrest Boyd.

-At the Marshals’ Office, Quarles and Duffy befuddle the LPD, and Winona gets pulled aside for questioning. Raylan realizes he’s being framed. Just as he’s trying to plead his case to Winona, Barkley and Vasquez show up, and Barkley hauls Raylan into Art’s office, accusing him of corruption.

-As Boyd is being perp-walked into the Harlan County courthouse, Raylan storms out of the meeting with Art, Vasquez, and Barkley. Tim offers to “take him downstairs” where the LPD is waiting, and after a chat in the elevator, he lets Raylan go check on his car. Winona calls; she’s found the gun inside her house. She brings it to Raylan, and tells him firmly, “Don’t come find me.” Back at the office, Barkley asks Tim, “Where is he?” and Tim cheerfully responds, “Where’s who?”, while snacking on some dried fruit.

-Sheriff Napier meets with Tanner Dodd (who planted the car-bomb), berating him for setting off the explosives too soon. Dodd tells Napier to pony up the money he owes, or the next batch of fireworks might ignite even sooner.

-Raylan’s in the clear; Agent Barkley didn’t want to divulge the source of his “tip”. Said source, Sammy Tonin, informs Robert Quarles that their association has come to an end. On a hunch, Raylan visits Quarles’ Lexington house, finding Wynn Duffy. Raylan warns Duffy that Quarles is on borrowed time, and Duffy doesn’t exactly disagree. Quarles, meanwhile, listens to a fire-and-brimstone radio sermon as he drives through the night, and pops a pill, ignoring his ringing cell phone as he pulls up to where Limehouse is waiting.

Episode Nine: “Loose Ends”

-Raylan hides the gun Quarles used in his bedroom. Next morning, Art pulls him in and asks him why he’s looking for Brady Hughes, a missing hustler who was last seen with Quarles. Art asks what Raylan has on Quarles that he can prove, and then tells him to back off.

-Delroy Baker, the Harlan bordello owner, takes three of his ‘girls’-- Ellen May, J.J., and Crystal--to rob a payday-loan office. Crystal gets shot, and Delroy tries to calm the now-hysterical J.J. and Ellen May with some blather about ‘soldiering on’. (We all agree that Delroy grew up in a cult, right?) They dump Crystal’s body in a slurry pond, and Delroy shoots J.J. Ellen May manages to escape into the woods.

-Ava visits Raylan at the Lexington bar, and after some banter, tells him that Boyd has some information he should hear. Raylan goes to Boyd’s jail cell, and Boyd connects Tanner Dodd to the clinic shooting and to Quarles. Raylan calls up Trooper Tom Bergen to help him find Dodd.

-Quarles visits Limehouse to discuss the campaign for sheriff, and Limehouse introduces him to Harvey, the county clerk. Over at Johnny Crowder’s bar, as Ava is preparing to open, a bruised and terrified Ellen May shows up, and Ava takes her inside.

-Raylan visits Tanner’s mother Imogene, a seemingly dotty woman who asks him to help her with her TV. Raylan gently explains that ‘some very dangerous people’ are after Tanner, and she drops the act. “The first time some no-dick lawman ran that game on me, Tanner was ten years old!” she snaps.

-Tanner, who has been hiding at Limehouse’s place with Errol, gets the call that Raylan’s looking for him, and Errol relays that to Limehouse. Limehouse admonishes him to see that Tanner’s “loose ends” are taken care of. Raylan goes to see Sheriff Napier, bringing along a friend he addresses as “Masters from the ATF”. He informs Napier that they’ve traced the car-bomb to Dodd, and not Boyd Crowder.

-Johnny Crowder chastises Ava for not unlocking the bar’s front door. She tells him about Ellen May, and Johnny makes what’s clearly intended to be a grand romantic play. He alludes to Ava’s soft heart-- “You’re always bringing in broken things and trying to make them well” (i.e. It’s me, I’m the broken thing)--and when Ava suggests that he take in Ellen May, he hauls himself up out of his wheelchair onto a barstool, and softly tells her, “You know I always wanted a blonde.” David Meunier’s performance in this scene kills me every time (fwiw he’s a very attractive man); on the one hand, who would have guessed that Johnny was a dreamer? On the other hand... buddy. Ever hear of “reading the room?” Ava, thoroughly annoyed, says that she’ll turn Ellen May over to Delroy; after all, “It’s what Boyd would do.”

-Napier tries to lure in Dodd, telling him he’ll pay up; Dodd and Errol visit Lemuel Briggs, the eccentric tinkerer last seen in S1E11: “Veterans”. Dodd demands that Briggs ‘refund’ him for the car-bomb, and Briggs directs him to a bag of money on top of a cabinet inside his shop. As Dodd steps up to retrieve it, Briggs informs him that he’s standing over a ‘Bouncing Betty’ landmine. Errol shoots Briggs and takes the cash, promising to care for Imogene. Some time later, Trooper Tom calls Raylan, saying that Dodd’s ready to talk.

-Ava, toting a shotgun, hauls a bewildered Ellen May out of the bar’s back room. Delroy’s waiting out front. As soon as he sets down the money Ava asked for, Ava shoots him, and instructs Ellen May to help her clean up.

-Raylan and an actual ATF agent converge on Briggs’ shop; Dodd reluctantly agrees to talk but insists the landmine be defused first. Just as Raylan makes the connection between Napier, Dodd, and Quarles, Dodd drops the pistol he’s holding, and the change in weight makes the device arm itself. Raylan and the ATF agent manage to get clear, but Tanner isn’t so lucky.

-At a VFW debate moderated by Harvey the county clerk, Napier and Shelby Parlow face off. Napier jibes at Shelby’s current job as a big-box store greeter, but Shelby gets an assist from the newly-sprung Boyd Crowder, who electrifies the room by painting Napier as a “company man”. At Johnny’s bar, they’re toasting success when Ava asks Boyd for a word. Johnny, suspicious, watches them go. Boyd, for his part, seems a little less than thrilled that Ava actually killed Delroy, and is clearly surprised when she asks to take over the bordello.

-Errol brings the money to Imogene Dodd, telling her to call if she needs anything. Raylan, concealed in her parlor, thanks her and hands her the remote for the new TV, which he’s helped set up (whatever else, he’s not entirely without grace). He then goes to see Limehouse, who tries to bait him by mentioning not only Arlo, but Frances, Raylan’s mother. Raylan passes along another warning about Quarles, but Limehouse appears unconcerned.

Episode Ten: “Guy Walks Into a Bar”

-Deputy Mooney and another Harlan cop attempt to plant a bottle of pills in Shelby Parlow’s truck, but he wards them off with a rifle, telling them he has terminal cancer, and he’s prepared for his own fate. At Johnny’s bar, Shelby reassures Boyd and Johnny that he was lying about his health. (I know that Shelby’s story in S4 essentially amounts to a retcon, but Jim Beaver’s understated cool is a big factor in why it works.)

-Johnny and Boyd strategize how to go after Napier; Johnny mentions that Napier has a sister. Limehouse and Errol agree track her down, but Limehouse voices some misgivings to Boyd. Boyd does his best to smooth things over, and Limehouse gives him Harvey, the county clerk.

-In Lexington, rascally Judge Reardon gives Raylan some bad news: Dickie Bennett is about to be pardoned, so that the state can avoid a lawsuit for wrongful imprisonment.

-Boyd visits Napier’s sister Hannah, who insists that she’s estranged from her brother, clearly terrified that Boyd’s going to harm her. Instead, he says he’s come to offer her a job.

-Speaking of leverage, Raylan tries to get Attorney Vasquez’s help to keep Dickie behind bars; he offers to have Wade Messer testify. Vasquez reminds him that if the charges are dropped against Dickie, Messer will be released by default, since he was only charged as an accessory.

-At Johnny’s bar, transformed for the day into Shelby Parlow’s campaign headquarters, Boyd receives the word that Dickie might go free. Johnny asks, somewhat unnecessarily, if Boyd thinks Dickie’s stupid enough to come back to Harlan.

-Raylan calls in Dickie’s buddy Jed, who took the fall for Helen’s murder. Jed reveals that his grandmother had a pact with Mags, and Mags called in a favor. Raylan goes to see Granny, finding her in a nursing home with severe aphasia following a recent stroke. She’s able to get Raylan to bring her two milkshakes, and when he hands her one and sits beside her, she dumps it in his lap, then takes the second one and sips with a triumphant gleam in her eye. Back at the office, Art raises the idea that Raylan should give a statement in court against Dickie’s pardon.

-The votes are in: somehow, Sheriff Napier won. In Napier’s office, Robert Quarles lays out their further business relationship, including a desk job for himself. County clerk Harvey arrives with some bad news-- turns out, sister Hannah is on the county payroll, which makes Napier ineligible for office due to a nepotism statute. Shelby Parlow will step in until a recall election can be held. Quarles departs, fuming, only to be confronted by Boyd and Johnny. “Don’t forget who packed your bags,” Boyd sneers.

-In Wynn Duffy’s trailer, Quarles pops a few more pills. A young man with a pistol storms inside, demanding to know what happened to Brady Hughes. Quarles describes his own lurid history: forced to turn tricks as a child to finance his father’s drug habit, then initiated into the Detroit mob by killing his father at the age of 14. Duffy looks on in horror as Quarles assures young Donovan that he “tried to help” Brady (the naked hostage Quarles was keeping in the Lexington house).

-At Raylan’s Lexington digs, bartender Lindsay tries to give him a pep-talk about his statement, advising him not to bullshit. Duffy and Quarles arrive; Quarles is pissed about the election, and he still thinks Raylan is cooperating with Boyd. He threatens to kill Raylan, and Raylan clears the room and invites him to go ahead. Lindsay intervenes, pulling a sidearm from under the bar, and once Quarles and a distinctly fed-up Duffy have departed, Raylan and Lindsay get frisky upstairs.

-In court the next morning, Dickie Bennett babbles to Judge Reardon that he’s found a new purpose in life, and Reardon looks about ready to walk over and physically shut him up. Raylan gives a revised statement: let Dickie walk, and when he inevitably stumbles into another misdeed, the Marshal Service will be there to catch him. Outside, Raylan clues in a skeptical Art: there’s the unresolved question of Mags Bennett’s missing fortune.

-Errol brings news of Dickie’s pardon to Limehouse, who embarks on a parable about “hog-killing weather”-- essentially, it’s all a question of timing.

-In a motel room, Robert Quarles gets undressed, muttering all the while about refusing to give up and fighting one’s enemies to the bitter end. He walks into the bathroom, where Donovan has been gagged and bound against the toilet.

#tv #recap #justified season 3 #long post #did you miss my heart on purpose

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reylo-solo · 7 years ago

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To the nonnie who asked for more stoned!Kylo, here you go! My inbox ate your message, my apologies D:

“Poe, I’m really not sure this is a good idea. What if we get caught?”

“I’m telling you, Rey, no one goes out there but me and my friends. It’s an abandoned railroad and stationhouse. The only other living things out there are bugs and rodents, probably.”

Rey chewed her bottom lip anxiously, but took her friend’s word for it and got into his car. You better not get me into trouble again, Dameron…

The wind through the open window tossed Rey’s shoulder-length hair across her face. It tickled her nose and tangled in her eyelashes, and she was constantly brushing it back with her fingers, but she couldn’t help the smile it put on her face. The air smelled like distant campfire and roadside flowers, awakening her senses to the vast stretch of earth all around her. Long swaths of grassy fields and crops seemed to go on forever, or at least all the way to the horizon, creating a beautiful natural patchwork quilt. She straightened her heart-shaped sunglasses and leaned back into the leather seat. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, meeting Poe’s stoner friends out at their hangout spot. Maybe…but it probably wouldn’t be great, either.

When they arrived, she was careful to follow a few paces behind Poe, hoping he would make all the introductions for her. But when they crossed the overgrown railroad track and entered the yard of the old, ramshackle stationhouse, there was only one other person there. A boy, closer in age to Poe than Rey, sitting on the hood of an old truck without wheels, wearing grey pants and an oversized black hoodie. His dark hair fell in his face and he was twisting something with great care between his fingers. He didn’t even appear to notice the two of them approaching until Poe stepped on a twig and it cracked under his weight.

The boy’s head shot up in alarm, his hands falling into his lap, clearly in an effort to hide whatever they were holding on to. But when his deep brown eyes fell on the pair of them he relaxed and resumed what he had been doing, pulling an orange Bic lighter from his hoodie pocket and sparking up the joint he had been rolling.

“We’re just in time!” Poe exclaimed, striding up to the boy and plucking the smoking joint from his lips to replace it between his own. “You don’t mind, do you, Crylo?”

The boy rolled his eyes. “No, but I would like you to learn how to roll your own damn joints one of these days,” he mumbled.

“Now why would I do that when you do such a good job?” Poe retorted, coughing lightly as he passed it back.

The boy slipped it between his full lips and took a pull, letting the smoke escape out of the sides of his mouth. His dark eyes fell on Rey then, roaming up and down her body as if he had only just noticed her standing there. She fidgeted a little in discomfort, pushing one side of her hair back behind her ear. She stared straight back at him, though, unwavering.

“Who’s this?” the boy asked curiously.

“Oh! This is my friend Rey. Rey, meet Kylo.” Poe gestured a lazy hand at the two of them, then attempted to swipe the joint from Kylo’s mouth again. Kylo waved him away as though he was swatting a persistent fly.

“Hello,” Kylo said with a small crooked smile. His words were muffled by the joint still smoking out of his mouth. “You’re on the senior dance team, aren’t you?”

“Uh—”

Poe interrupted her before she could form a coherent response. “Yeah, and on the gymnastics team, and she’s a black belt in karate, so you might want to keep a healthy distance. She’ll straight-up gracefully kill you, man.”

Kylo’s smile broadened. He relented and gave Poe the joint, but didn’t take his eyes off of Rey. “That’s good to know,” was all he said.

Poe coughed sharply and offered Rey the joint. “Do you wanna try?” he asked.

Rey stared at it uncertainly. The smoke from its tip wafted up her nose and stung, making her pinch her face up.

“I don’t know…” she mumbled, wrapping her arms around herself. “That stuff stinks. I have to go home to my parents after this.”

“That’s why we’re outside!” Poe explained. “You stay out here for a bit and air out. When you get home you’ll just smell like fresh air and roses, I promise.”

Kylo stared at her with a keen interest the entire time, resting an elbow on his cocked knee. She could feel him watching her, and her eyes darted over to him behind her sunglasses more than once. That lopsided smile still hadn’t disappeared from his face. There was something about it, something in the way he was looking at her, that pushed her to reach out and take the joint from Poe’s fingers. She paused before lifting it to her lips, but she told herself not to overthink it and before she knew it she was coughing on the smoke and passing it back to Poe, who handed it off to Kylo. Her lungs and throat burnt painfully, but only for a few minutes. The next time the joint was passed to her, it didn’t hurt as much, but she still coughed and sputtered. Then, when it was done, she felt nothing. She felt no different. She stared perplexedly at the two boys.

“Ah, look at her,” Poe mused, leaning over to Kylo but speaking loud enough for her to hear. “It hasn’t hit her yet.”

“It’ll come, sweetheart,” Kylo said leisurely, leaning back against the cracked windshield of the truck and slipping his hands behind his head. “You just gotta relax.”

She took a seat in the grass next to Poe and took a deep breath. Carefully, she began to pluck out individual blades of grass, counting them as she went. She got to fifteen before she realized she had forgotten what she was counting in the first place. Had her mind completely separated from her body, creating two entirely distinct entities? It felt like it. And, oh, god, she couldn’t feel her feet! – Oh, yes she could. She was just sitting cross-legged was all. At a snail’s pace, she straightened her legs. The grass tickled the bare skin not covered by her shorts, like thousands of tiny, stiff feathers.

“How you doing now?” Poe’s elbow against her side made Rey gasp. For a second she had forgotten she wasn’t alone.

When she raised her head both boys were looking at her with smug curiosity. Kylo was sitting up again, leaning over and looking down at her. Her mouth felt impossibly dry.

“Um, do either of you have any water?” she asked somewhat awkwardly.

Kylo laughed loudly. It would almost be an obnoxious laugh, if it wasn’t so pleasing to listen to. Rey furrowed her brow at him. Frankly, she didn’t think her request was that funny. Before she could reprimand him, though, he slid off the side of the hood and bent down, picking something up. When he came around the front of the car, Rey saw it was a plastic water bottle. He crouched down and handed it to her. She took it without saying anything. He was still grinning at her a little, and it felt like his eyes were cutting straight through her. She swallowed nervously and he stood up, walking away from her again.

Rey drank long and deep from the water bottle, finishing nearly half of it herself. She wiped her mouth unceremoniously with the back of her hand.

Poe’s phone buzzed and wailed loudly in his pants pocket. He dug it out and glanced at the screen, sighing before standing up and grasping his car keys in his fist. Rey stood too, panic swelling in her chest at the sight of her friend leaving.

“What’s going on?” she asked nervously.

“Fire call,” Poe explained briefly. He was on the volunteer fire department, of which his mother was the Captain.

“What?” Rey demanded. “Well, do I come with you, or…?”

“No, you can stay here with Kylo. He’ll take care of you, won’t you bud?” He tossed Kylo a wink as his car roared to life.

“But…” Rey began.

“I won’t be long,” Poe said. “It’s just alarms at a residence. If I know anything about this town, it’s probably just someone who forgot their fucking grilled cheese on the stove again. I’ll be back soon, I promise. If you want to go home, Kylo can give you a ride.”

Poe gestured to a mean-looking motorcycle parked around the side of the stationhouse. Rey didn’t get any more chances to protest before he was gone, his tires kicking up clouds of dust as they hit the dirt road headed back into town.

“Well,” Rey said softly, her shoulders slackening.

“Then there were two, eh?” Kylo said, taking up his perch atop the old truck once again. This time, he patted the space next to him. “It’s okay, I don’t bite.”

Rey sighed but sat next to him anyway. For some reason she actually felt quite comfortable. Kylo reclined next to her, settling against the windshield and closing his eyes.

“Aren’t you afraid that’s going to shatter?” Rey asked.

He opened one eye to peer at her. “Nah.”

She shrugged and copied him, folding her hands atop her stomach. The sky was a deep blue, littered with dozens of white, puffy clouds. She smiled wide and found that she couldn’t stop smiling.

“So?” Kylo asked, rolling his head to the side so he saw her better.

Rey blinked at him, still grinning. “So what?”

Kylo chuckled. “Everything kinda funny to you right now?”

“Ha, yeah,” Rey giggled. “Your hair’s kinda funny to me.”

“What? Oh, you wound me, Rey.”

“It’s so…fluffy,” she commented, daring to reach out and touch a lock of his dark hair. It was softer than she expected.

He raised his eyebrows at her. “Yeah? Well, your hair is…it’s—it looks nice. Your hair is nice.”

A sharp laugh bubbled from her lips. “That’s all you’ve got? My hair is ‘nice’?”

“Mm, is that not what you wanted to hear, sweet pea?” He turned on his side and she mirrored him. “What adjective would you prefer? Beautiful? Greasy? Aggressive?”

Rey laughed. “Nice is fine.”

“Well, then.” Kylo smiled charmingly at her.

“How come I’ve never seen you before?” Rey asked curiously. She had searched the far reaches of her memory and couldn’t recall seeing him around school ever. And she was quite certain she would remember a face like his.

“I was home-schooled,” Kylo answered. “But I finished that chapter a couple years ago.”

“Oh,” Rey said softly. “What was that like?”

“Lonely. And boring. My teachers were the worst.” He winked.

Rey gave him a smile in return for his joke. She then directed her attention to the hood of the truck, where her fingers were dancing in nonsensical shapes. The paint of the truck had almost completely worn away, but here and there a patch of deep blue remained, just to prove that it had at one time been a real, live machine. The metal and remaining paint made for an odd texture; having been aged by weather and time, it felt oddly rough and bumpy in some spots and smoother in others. This was quite the sensation to Rey, having just smoked her first joint.

“So weird…” she said quietly, more to herself than to Kylo.

Kylo smirked. “If you think that feels weird, then…” He reached behind him, plucking one of the long, overgrown blades of grass by the side of the truck. “Check this out.”

He tickled her forearm with the grass. She jumped and gasped, watching as the hairs on her arm slowly stood at attention. It was like she could feel each and every one of the hairs individually; each response to the stimuli felt like its own minute electric shock that raced downwards from her elbow to her wrist.

“Whoa…” she breathed, twisting her arm this way and that, watching as the sun caught the light hairs and made them shine gold.

“Pretty funky, huh?” Kylo said, discarding the blade of grass.

“Yeah…what else feels weird when you’re high?” she asked excitedly.

“All kinds of stuff,” Kylo said with a laugh. “Some stuff feels really good, too. Like eating. Eating is incredible. But I don’t have any food here.”

“Hm, what else?”

“Laughing, um, sleeping,” Ben squinted as he tried to come up with more answers. “Sex is pretty great, uh, smoking more…”

“Let’s do that,” Rey said, sitting up.

Kylo blinked. “W-what? Do…what?”

“Smoke,” Rey answered bluntly, blissfully unaware of how he could have possibly misunderstood her. “Do you have more?”

Kylo released that breath he’d been holding and laughed, somewhat nervously. “Do I have more…of course I do.”

He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his hoodie pocket. It was only half-full of cigarettes; the rest of the carton boasted a row of neatly rolled joints in green and yellow-striped papers. He took one out and sparked it with his lighter. The end burnt a vivid red-orange and white smoke curled up into the air, swiftly getting carried away by the breeze. When he stopped inhaling, some of the smoke curled up over his top lip and back into his nostrils. Rey watched this trick with fascination. His eyes were downcast as he did it, those long, dark eyelashes almost brushing the very tops of his freckled cheekbones. Something about it made her realize something. She had only acknowledged it in the most formal of terms, in the back of her mind up until that point. But now she thought it quite consciously. He’s kind-of very handsome. And charming.

He passed it to her and she grasped it gently between her thumb and index finger. The smoke didn’t burn at all that time, but it did taste funny. Like lemongrass and something else, something more earthy and raw. She licked her lips, but the taste was fading.

They finished the joint together, and as they got closer to the end their conversation picked up. They talked about the sky and the clouds, and then they shared funny stories from their past, each trying to make the other laugh harder than before. When it was done and Kylo had put the darkened stub out on the side of the truck, they sat opposite one another and locked eyes. Ghosts of smiles danced on their lips still, and their sides still held the dull ache of laughter.

“Poe’s taking a while,” Rey said, tearing her eyes away to look at the horizon where his car had disappeared some time ago. It felt like hours to Rey.

“Yeah,” Kylo agreed. “He is.”

“I don’t mind, though,” she said, returning her attentions to him with fondness. “I’m having fun with you, Kylo.”

“Yeah? I’m having fun with you too, Rey.”

“Kylo’s kind of a weird name,” she pondered aloud.

“Ouch, what’s with all the insults?” Kylo asked harmlessly. “To that I say, you have a weird accent.”

“Oh, do I?” Rey lifted a daring eyebrow.

Kylo’s expression softened. “No. I could probably listen to you talk all day, to be honest with you.”

“You like it, then?”

“Yeah, I like it.”

“Well, I like you. Even though I never met you before today.”

Kylo’s lips twitched into a coy smile.

Rey couldn’t tell, but she was quite sure they were slowly moving closer to one another. His knees brushed against hers. Yes, they were definitely getting closer. She stared into those brown eyes of his and felt like she was falling straight through them, swimming in their depths. She couldn’t tell if it was the weed, or if it was just Kylo, or a combination of both, but she was completely entranced. All she could see, all she could hear, and all she could focus on was him. His closeness, the woodsy smell of him, just…him, inches away from her.

“Kylo?”

“Hmm?”

“How does kissing feel when you’re high?”

Kylo blinked and swallowed. “Pretty good. If it’s with the right person.”

“Mm. I feel like…rather, I think that—” Rey was mentally chastising herself for even bothering to explain herself instead of just going for it. Her words got all tangled on her tongue and she couldn’t make any sense of them as they came out. But she didn’t have to worry about it for long.

Kylo took her face in his hands and kissed her softly. His lips were warm and soft against her own. Such a simple touch, but it lit a fire in Rey’s belly. The sensation of his intimacy raced through her nervous system, setting her brain into overdrive. When they parted she could hear her heart racing in her ears; it felt like parts of her she had never known to exist had suddenly been activated and were whirring to life within her. Eager to regain the feeling, she kissed him again with more urgency. Their lips moved against one another in pleasant unison.

Kylo’s fingers wrapped themselves in the hairs at the back of Rey’s head and her own hand gripped the side of his body tightly, pulling him over to her. He finally relented and leaned over her, cradling her against him and the hood of the truck, slipping his left leg in between hers. His jeans were rough on her bare legs and she shivered at the sensation. Neither of them had the time nor the care to acknowledge that they were making out with a person who was still somewhat of a stranger. It didn’t matter. It was harmless, as far as either of them were concerned, and besides that, it felt incredible.

They were interrupted then by the rumble of a car engine getting closer, crunching over gravel. Kylo pulled away and looked at her through dreamy eyes, his face now holding more colour than before.

“Poe,” he said breathlessly.

“Oh…” Rey sighed, resting her head back against the windshield with resignation. She had forgotten about Poe for a minute there. “Are you sure it’s him?”

“Yeah, I’d recognize that exhaust anywhere,” Kylo confirmed, sitting up and getting out his cigarette pack again. “Better get one of these going before he gets here if we want to have any.”

Rey giggled, sitting up next to him. She covered her face with her hands, rubbing her cheeks. She could feel the heat coming from her skin there. Hopefully her blush wasn’t too noticeable and Poe wouldn’t even see it. She didn’t feel like having to explain that one to him.

The silence swelled in their ears as Poe parked and cut his engine off. His door creaked as he shut it and walked over to them, grinning.

“Hey! You’re still here! Congrats, for lasting a full forty-five minutes with this jerk-off. Gimme a puff off that, would ya?”

Kylo smirked, shooting a glance at Rey as if to say “See? Told you so.” He passed the smouldering joint off to Poe who took a long, heavy pull off it.

“Forty-five minutes?” Rey asked, stunned.

“Yeah, how long did you think I was gone for?” Poe asked, his voice strained as he withheld the smoke in his lungs for as long as he could before exhaling.

“Hours,” Rey answered quietly.

Poe laughed heartily. “Aw, you’re stoned. That’s cute.”

Rey rolled her eyes and took a puff off the joint for herself. When she passed it over to Kylo, their fingers brushed together and they shared a look, simply allowing the other to know that neither of them had forgotten about what just happened, and neither of them would forget any time soon. Rey smiled secretively and reclined again, looking up at the clouds as they passed overhead. A warm sensation of contentment and happiness radiated out from her, all the way to the tips of her fingers and down to her toes. She knew it wasn’t the weed making her feel that way, though. It was someone else entirely.

#drug use #marijuana #reylo #reylo fanfic #my fic #reylo prompt #reylo au

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