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prfctethereal · 3 years ago

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just another horror movie. | james potter

pairing: james potter x reader

chapter: one

warnings: NSFW, smut, oral (male receiving), exhibitionism, talk of dead bodies, actual dead body, blood, vomiting

word count: 3.7k

read the prologue here or on ao3 here

summary: you and james take a quick detour through the woods, to have a bit of morning fun, but find something gruesome.

Three weeks earlier…

The quiet town of Hogwarts had never been quieter. It was typical though; towns that resided in the countryside of Scotland were often described as “quiet”, unbeknownst to most that it was anything but. Except, Hogwarts lived up to the stereotype. Peaceful, tame, quiet.

Quiet.

God, you needed some quiet.

Exam season was narrowing in, which meant endless nights of caffeine and random studying music that you found on spotify, its main purpose to help you concentrate. It was unfortunate, with the school year coming to a close, but you were determined to leave the year proud and satisfied with your work. Everything was going perfectly so far. Nothing could screw it up.

This is what you told yourself as you began your walk to school this morning. Leaving your house at seven in the morning on the dot had become the regular for you. Now that Summer was finally coming in, the walks were warm, without chilling breezes. You could feel comfortable with the wind in your hair and a light shirt on your back.

Something felt tranquil about this morning in particular. You didn’t feel held up or anxious. You didn’t even feel stressed as you busily organised your school bag this morning. You didn’t even blink an eye when you dropped your chemistry textbook on your foot. You were in a good mood. You were glowing.

Maybe it was because you had been getting some amazing sex from your amazing boyfriend lately.

Maybe.

But today wasn’t for what ifs. Today, you had one thing on your mind. A conversation needed to be had between you and your guidance counsellor, as the prospects of colleges were starting to roll around. Applications were beginning to close and your aspirations for life after high school were beginning to get clearer and clearer. You no longer wanted to be tied down in a small town, where the most important job you could get was at the Mayor’s office, sitting at a desk, listening to the complaints of highly egotistical citizens.

Wasn’t for you.

Your mind drifted off to your could-be life, and before you knew it, your legs had walked to your boyfriend’s house without you even realising. It was something unconscious and natural, something you were completely used to. The sight of the grand, three-story mansion that your lover lived in brought unprecedented comfort.

The spiralling pillars covered in the greenest of vines was something from a fairytale. A pale cerulean was painted across the panelling, giving a dream-like feel. Right above the front door housed a giant window, one that opened up into James’ bedroom.

Right. James.

Walking up the path, you felt comforted by the familiar sound of gravel beneath your feet. It reminded you of all the nights you had snuck up this very path to climb into James’ bedroom via the window. Nostalgic really.

Now you were here in broad daylight, ready to walk hand in hand with your boyfriend to school. Knocking on the front door, you were excited to see a nearly immediate opening of the door, with a very joyous boy standing there. His signature dopey smile glistened even brighter, as his eyes lingered over your clothed body a little longer than expected. His tongue shot out very quickly over the pink cushions of his lips, something you could’ve missed in a blink of an eye, but you didn’t. Laughing, he pushed his glasses up the nose of his bridge, before running his fingers through his unruly hair.

“Should we go then?” It sounded as though it was the first time James had spoken this morning, a fact that you didn’t mind, as your brain thought unholy things when listening to his gravely morning voice.

“Soon.” You mumbled, your voice trailing off slightly, as you stepped towards James, swinging your arms around the back of his neck. Taking a breath of his scent, you leaned forward, placing a delicate kiss upon his lips. They were slightly chapped, but you didn’t care.

It may have been a Summer day, but that wasn’t the only reason you were feeling hot.

Stopping yourself before you went too far, you pulled backwards, not before suggestively running your hands down James’ chest, smirking against his lips. “Come on, let's go.” You remarked playfully, smacking your hand lightly against James’ firm butt, which elicited a short laugh from the bubbly man.

So, hand in hand, you and James darted down his footpath, back into the street. Even more birds had woken up by now, with a choir of chirping serenading your descent into the bustling streets of Hogwarts.

Everything now seemed a little more public than you initially thought. Neighbours were waking up and going to work now too, giving no shorter than five second glances at you and James’ hand intertwined. You know what they would say; old people gossiped too much for your liking. It made you especially nervous, knowing that your parents didn’t know about your illicit relationship. Maybe it should stay that way. Well, before any neighbours get a little too gossipy in the weekly book club meetings.

“Are you listening to me?” James asked, snapping you out of your thoughtful haze. Blinking twice, you returned your attention to James, who’s eyes were laced with concern as he looked you over once again, eyebrows furrowed. “You seem out of it.”

“Oh, sorry.” Your voice came out almost silently as you looked away, flushed and embarrassed. “What were you talking about?”

“How I was going to fuck you so hard later today that you are going to struggle to walk.” James followed his statement with a dash of laughter, something that you mimicked like a pirate’s parrot.

“Well, I hope that’s not a joke, my dear.” You flashed a sly smile, looking James up and down. You both stopped walking, with James now admiring the way you were biting your lip, as if you were a siren trying to entrap him. Surely, you guys wouldn’t quickly dash away into the bush and go for a quickie right now, right?

James thought about it too, eyeing up someone’s poor hydrangea bush. Unfortunately, there would be too many witnesses, and exhibitionism wasn’t something you had both openly discussed before, although it wasn’t completely off the table.

“Lunch period.” James finally said, stopping his momentary halt, and marching forward.

“Lunch period?”

James leaned over, pressing his lips so close to your ear. His hot breath sent shivers down your spine, ones that ended in your core. “Meet me in the hallway between the chemistry and physics lab. I think there’s a new cupboard we could Christen.”

Giggling in excitement, you rubbed your fingers up the length of James’ arm, tugging him down the footpath, continuing your conversation about whatever. You learnt that he had a History test today, all about women earning the right to vote. You sighed as you listened to him talk about what he was passionate about, his stressed vowel sounds turning you on more than you would’ve thought.

Then came a predicament. An actual, real life crossroad. Right in front of you was where the footpath curved to the left, following along the road onto the main road through town. It was the way you went every day, with the road taking you directly to school when you walked along it, arriving perfectly at seven twenty-five every day. It was ideal.

This morning, though, you were feeling cheeky. From this footpath curve was another opportunity. The footpath also opened into a dirt path, something that twisted into the woods, or, as the conspiracy theorists of the town called it, the Forbidden Forest. It was hardly forbidden though; they literally took Scouts classes there, and those have kids as young as seven in them.

Feeling devilish, you paused James for a moment, the cogs turning over in your brain. You might arrive at school a little later than you first thought, but at least you would have some distance between the prying eyes of the Hogwarts neighbourhood. And maybe, you could have a little bit of fun too.

“James,” you smirked, tugging at the edge of his shirt, capturing his attention, something that wasn’t actually that hard to do, “shall we go for a detour this morning?”

Your eyes flashed over the forest and onto the quiet stillness of it. You could feel James’ heart rate speed up, but it wasn’t because he was scared. He was just as excited as you. It was like a switch had flicked on in his brain, although he was still hesitant, his feet still planted firmly on the ground.

“Are you sure?” James questioned. “How late is this going to make us?”

“Not that late at all.” You justified, mocking offence. “Oh, we should get there at maybe, quarter to eight? And besides, it’s fresh air, it’ll be good for us, and our lungs. Think of it as reversing the side effects of being around Sirius and Remus when they smoke all the time. Your lungs will thank us.”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works.” James laughed.

“How would you be so sure?”

“I’m the one that takes biology out of the two of us.”

You had to try another tactic, so, you jutted your bottom lip out of your mouth, putting on your best doe eyes, hoping you could flutter your eyelashes enough for him to give into temptation. “Please?”

A sigh escaped James lips as he seemed to give in. His reluctant look of worry was quickly replaced by an eager spark. Knitting his fingers in with yours, you two walked hand and hand together down the dirt path. The change of feeling beneath your feet was almost instantly recognisable, the normal, smooth, concrete path replaced by the rough dirt, and slight mud, even though it hadn't rained in days.

As you continued to wander down the path, you were suddenly covered in a canopy of shade, as the trees of the forest soon covered your heads. The route got a tad darker, the path no longer illuminated with the light of the sun, not that you minded though. You could still easily see where you were going.

You felt a little colder without the extra heat from the sun. You didn’t like the way goosebumps rose on your skin or the way you had to rub your hands along your arm to keep yourself warm. You felt out of control, a feeling of which you loathed. You didn’t want your perfect morning to be ruined by a little chill.

When you reached a tall, winding tree, you stopped James from his walk, pulling him off the path. Luckily, you had spotted a small dip in the earth, perfect to stay in, somewhere where regular bystanders wouldn’t find you. Happy with your discovery, you looked back at James, who had a puzzled look across his face.

“What’s going on?”

“Can I kiss you?” You asked breathlessly, your hands already getting fidgety. You wanted to be connected with James again, intertwined if you will. You needed to feel his skin, even if it was barely quarter past seven in the morning.

“Yes, love.” James breathed out, his voice quiet and shallow. WIth the consent, you leaned upwards, connecting your lips at last. It felt right to be pressed up against each other once again, even if it had been only yesterday when you had last felt such passion.

You deepened the kiss, feeling urgent to make the most of the short time you had together. Your mouths melded together almost perfectly, your lips pushing against each other like a playful pillow fight, one which you were determined to win.

Feeling mischievous, you reached to James’ hair, tugging lightly on his roots, an action you knew he liked. This action got the response you wanted from him, a needy moan, in which you took the opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth, battling it out with his own, regaining confidence and dominance.

You pulled away, your cheeks flushed from the lack of oxygen. James looked disheveled but pleased, wanting to continue your little make out session, but unfortunately, you had limited time.

“Can I suck you off?” You whispered against his mouth innocently, looking up at his hazel eyes, brushing his hair off of his forehead. You could hear him gulp with nervousness, before nodding quickly, his hands making their way to his slacks.

You knew James was slipping into a mindset clouded by arousal, so you sank to your knees slowly in front of him, still looking up at him through your long lashes. On your journey downwards, you carefully unzipped the zipper on his pants, pulling them down to ankles, until he was clad in only his boxers.

Lifting yourself up slightly onto the balls of your feet, you kissed him lightly on the outside of his boxers, feathering gentle kisses. You knew you were being a tease, but you needed him nice and hard. As you felt his bulge setting like cement under your lips, you lifted your hands up, joining your lips so you could palm him, stroking the material.

When James started moaning, - “oh please, stop teasing, I beg you,” - you released him from the cage of his underwear, dragging the clothing down the apex of his things, watching the muscles twitch in excitement. There, James’ half hard cock laid against his thighs, the tip a gentle rouge colour.

Your fingers grazed over his prick, lightly tracing a prominent vein of the underside of the sex muscle. James groaned in pleasure, the teasing getting too much for him to handle. Feeling benevolent, you dribbled saliva over the tip of the cock, before wrapping your entire hand around it. You started stroking harder and faster, making sure James could feel all of you in a way you hand. He was starting to fall apart above you, but it wasn;t enough.

“So- so good.” James murmured, his eyes gently shutting as he became lost in the feeling. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop. I love your hands, so perfect, so precise. Perfect for me, precise for me.”

“It was like you were made for me.” You agreed with the raven haired boy, before bringing your lips down to the tip of his penis. This action shocked James, but the whimper out of his mouth made you know he was enjoying it. Living from the excitement of the exhibisionist route, you swiveled your tongue across the tip, reaching down the length of the cock, savouring his taste.

“Right there.” James moane, as you brung the rest of your mouth down over his now fully hard cock, reveling in the flavour of the salty precum that was leaking from his angry tip. With a smooth rhythm, you bobbed your head up and down on James’ cock, the sound of his moans itching you on.

You knew you were running out of time, and you still wanted him to cum, so you sped up your movements on James’ cock, stroking the base of his cock, which could not fit in your mouth. Adding to the pleasure, you let your hands move downwards a bit more, so they played gently with James’ hanging balls.

This applied pressure was becoming too much for James, as his breath became laboured and a tingling feeling was nearly bursting at his cock. “I’m gonna cum, please, I’m going to do it.”

You lifted your mouth off of James’ cock, just to murmur, “let go.” James, with your permission, spurted his cum across your hands. Eager to savour him, you opened your mouth, catching as much of the milking substance as possible, not wanting to waste any of it. Jacking James off through the entire thing, you watched as his orgasm crashed over him entirely, the way his face contorted in pleasure almost being the most beautiful portrait to you.

Licking the rest of his cum off of your fingers, you stood up, wiping your knees off, as the dirt sticking to you was becoming slightly uncomfortable. While you stood up, you reached from the top of James’ pants, pulling them upwards as you went.

“Thanks.” James almost laughed, except he still sounded out of breath, which was very reasonable though. You did just suck the life out of him. His fingers worked quickly, rearranging his pants, and cock, so that you both could continue on your way to school.

As you waited for James to finish cleaning himself up, your nose turned upwards. There was a strange smell coming from the area, one you didn’t notice before when you were on your knees in front of James. It was a smell that you were relatively unfamiliar with, but all you knew was that it stank like rotten meat.

“Can you smell that?” You asked James, looking off into the little ditch you were beside. Wherever you were, it seemed that it had been recently disturbed. Broken twigs snapped into pieces laid amongst crunched up leaves. If you squinted, you were sure you could even make out that faintest of footprints on the ground. It was odd, but nothing you haven't seen before in the woods. The smell on the other hand…

“Smells like thrown out vegetables.” James readjusted his glasses before holding out his hand, inviting you to close your fingers in with his. “I bet some old granny thought it would be a good idea to throw out their compost in the woods. If the council found out, they would have a fit. You know all about their weirdly tight rules on littering? It’s not even bad for the environment.”

You had stopped listening a while ago. Something didn’t feel right, but it was nothing you could sort out now. You weren’t satisfied but you turned back towards James anyway, knowing that you needed to head off to school or you would be running a little bit behind schedule. As you turned around, you noticed James’ face morph from a cheeky grin to a concerned frown.

“What is it?” You pondered, stepping towards James, matching his pear-shaped frown with one of your own.

“Did you cut yourself when you were on your knees?”

“Huh?”

“Look.” James bent down to look at your knees and you turned your head down too. What you thought had just been a bit of dirt must’ve been something else. Your knees were covered in a browny-red, maybe a maroon colour. It looked as though your entire knee had been cut open, as blood was still dripping from your skin, but that couldn’t be right. You felt no pain on your knee. You hadn’t cut yourself.

Swiping your fingers across your knee, you gathered some of the drying blood on your fingers. This was the first time you had looked at your hands since you wiped off your knees before and you saw that you had smudged blood stains all across your palm. You nearly barfed on the spot. You felt incredibly uneasy, like a stormy ocean filled your stomach.

You lifted your fingers up to your nose, a theory hypothesising into your head, and you were right. The smell of the blood matched the rotten meat smell you could smell before. As if you were a dog, the odor latched onto your nose and expanded, its putrid smell being the only thing in your senses.

“I'm going to be sick.” You doubled over a rock. Resting your hand against a boulder, you hovered downwards over a patch of leaves, letting your breakfast out. Your head was reeling as you could still smell the retching odor of the old blood. You couldn’t get it out of your mind, so you leaned over again, round two of the hurling intervention.

James rushed over to you, placing his warm hands on your back, rubbing soothing circles. He wished he could say that his main focus was to make you feel better, but it wasn’t. Over in the deepest part of the dish, he noticed something strange. It was almost like a small lump in the ground, something unnatural. It seemed to be covered very messily by old leaves and sticks, and an entire tree branch, as if it would make it any less inconspicuous. It even had that opposite of the desired effect, seemingly sticking out like a sore thumb.

“Darling,” James waited until you lifted your head back up, regaining your breath once again, “what do you think that is?”

James’ hand pointed into the direction of the ditch, in which you followed his eyesight and body movements. You could see it too; just a lump in the ground. Your mind was racing of what it could be. A dead animal? A pile of rotten food? Maybe a…

“Holy shit!” You had only just realised that James had already walked over there, except his body was covering your eye line, and you couldn’t actually see what James had found. Although, he told you immediately. “Quick, call the police. It’s a body.”

A dead body in Hogwarts? Making sure you didn’t lose any more of your stomach through puking, you rushed onto the path in the woods, grabbing your phone out of your pocket, hoping you could get service all the way out here in the woods. Fumbling to turn your phone on, you nearly groaned out in annoyance when you saw that you were getting no bars of service.

Running back to James, you couldn’t stop at the moment. You called out to him, your words a blurred mess, trying to convey to him that you were going to find someone to help. Unsure if he had even heard you, you ran back down the path, your feet carrying you to where you needed to go, unable to bring yourself to a cohesive thought.

When you exited the forest, you flicked your head around, trying to find someone, anyone, that could help in the moment. The first person you saw was your calculus teacher, Mr Slughorn, to which you promptly called out to.

“Mr Slughorn!” You cupped your hands around your mouth to project your words across louder. Mr Slughorn snapped his head around and gave a friendly wave. Annoyed, you shook your head. “Call the police!”

“What?” He called back, walking towards you now. You groaned, trying again.

“There's a dead body in the forest. Call the police!”

***

lmao. anyway this has become a series whoops.

#James potter #James Potter x reader #harry potter #marauders #marauders era #James Potter smut #jahmfic

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sharuruwrites · 3 years ago

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March of Petals

Timeline: Gojo: 17 Shion: 16 A/N: As for this one, it had a bit of spoilers during Gojo Past arc and like 3-4 months before Star Plasma Mission aka the part where the shit go down. I know that's not Shion, and it's Kurisu from Stein's Gate. Also! I want to thank @xerox-candybar for beta reading chapter and they did a wonderful job. Because of them, this chapter went from 3k to 5k as the feedback I got from them made me want to write more.

Also, here's the character profile of Watanabe: Enrollment Method: Scouted His Hobby: Writing meaningless things in his clipboard Favorite Dish: Whatever his wife makes Least Favorite Dish: Anything that has carrots in it as he's allergic to it. Cause of Stress: Foreign or Local Soap Opera shows

- He used to be a casual smoker but after teaching Gojo, Shoko and Geto for a year, he resorted to use Nicotine patches in attempt to quit smoking.

Masterlist

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

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

“ ‘Enroll into this school,’ she said! ‘It will be fun,’ she said!" Shion let out a frustrated sigh while running her fingers through her hair.

Earlier, Shion’s teacher had abruptly informed her of an upcoming mission. She had been paired with Suguru Geto. While it was unusual for a first-year to be paired with someone other than their usual teammate, it wasn’t unheard of. Shion has no problem working with anybody else as long — as they're not Satoru Gojo. But, today should have been her only day off, and she was looking forward to it. Why?

Sleep deprivation.

Ever since entering college two months ago, training, school and missions swallowed her precious free time. If this continued, she would be on the brink of a burnout and lose all her motivation to continue her research. She had found some resources on controlling her cursed energy, and she had made some improvements as a result - but that was her only progress so far.

Though, that was not really what Shion was looking for. She needed answers about her past, her technique, and everything that was related to it.

“On the end of your third year, I’ll have the answers you’re looking for.” Tsukumo placed her hand on her student’s shoulder. “Just enjoy your first year as a Jujutsu sorcerer.”

Shion let out a loud yawn, before she started to clear a little space for her to nap on.

A power nap should be enough for her not to K.I.A, right?

Meanwhile, an infamous duo dropped by the school’s library for two very different purposes. Gojo wanted to play with his favorite little kohai, and Geto wanted to check on his mission partner. And how did they know where she was? Nanami told them Shion’s location because he did not want to interact with Gojo and Geto for more than five seconds of his life.

"So, you’re taking my favorite first year out today, Suguru?" Gojo said.

“The poor girl you’ve been terrorizing for the past month? Yes, she’s going to be my partner for today.”

Gojo gasped dramatically and placed his hand on his chest. “She should be grateful that I, Gojo Satoru , have managed to always grace her with my presence despite my busy schedule.”

Despite the dirty looks they earned from the librarian, they continued walking through the building in search of Shion. They stopped in their tracks when they finally saw a girl sleeping on a table with stacks of books and open scrolls beside her.

She had a pale complexion and short, messy black hair. A black eyepatch covered her left eye, but her closed right eye was still visible. As for her uniform, she wore a white turtleneck shirt, with black suspenders clipped onto the waistband of her skirt. She also sported black knee-high socks and black boots.

Out of nowhere, Gojo experienced a strange fluttering in his chest when he saw the sleeping girl. For someone who was always so unfazed by everything, her current position made her seem...cute.

Did he call her cute ? Fuck! He needed to do something to distract himself somehow...

“Wait, don’t wake her up yet,” Gojo said. “I have to go get something.”

“Satoru, stop,” Geto pleaded. “The library is no place for your —“

HOOOOOONK.

In a split second, Gojo disappeared and reappeared with an air horn, which he proceeded to blast into the poor girl’s ear. Shion reflexively grabbed the boy’s wrist, pulling his face closer to hers. He didn’t miss the murderous glare from her lone gold eye.

Still, it didn’t stop Gojo from imagining that if someone happened to push him, the distance between himself and Shion would disappear.

Once Shion got a hold of her surroundings, she suddenly let go of his wrist, letting out a yawn.

"Gojo-senpai...Geto-senpai..." She rubbed her eyes sleepily. "Is...there something...you need?"

To be honest, Shion didn't want to help these two, especially the white-haired sorcerer. For some unknown reason, the guy always tried to test the limits of her patience every chance he got. At first, it was harmless minor pranks that earned him defeated sighs. But somehow, it had evolved into something that gave her constant headaches.

Gojo’s most notorious stunt was still so fresh in her memory that her mood turned sour instantly whenever she saw him.

Five days ago…

" ITO-CHAN!" The book in her hand closed shut at the noise of a familiar voice. Shion turned around and saw her self-proclaimed ‘favorite’ senpai.

Every day, Shion prepared mentally prepared herself for Gojo’s daily visits. Does this boy even have any hobbies other than ruining her precious free time? Since he’s already here, there’s no point in questioning the boy’s pastime. She might as well hear what he has to say and get this over with.

"Is there something you need, Gojo-senpai?" she asked.

"Ever the respectable kouhai you are, Ito-chan~" he cooed. “Being the thoughtful person I am, I have bought you coffee!”

Gojo placed a familiar-looking coffee cup on the table. How did he know Shion’s favorite cafe? It’s not like it matters - there must be some ulterior motive behind this “thoughtful” gesture.

The need for caffeine clouded Shion’s judgement. It would be rude to decline this rare act of kindness from the latter.

The girl uttered a few words of thanks before bringing the cup to her lips. She took a sip, expecting a bitter yet rich flavour of coffee on her taste buds. Instead, a pungent smell invaded her nose, and the unpleasant salty taste made her want to spit out her drink and ran to the nearest washroom.

She should have listened to her guts!

Well, if Gojo wanted to see her get mad, she would not give him that satisfaction!

Out of pure spite, Shion chugged down the whole drink in one gulp.

Gojo watched her in disbelief– As far as he's aware, no one had ever finished a cup full of fish sauce, let alone without gagging.

Shion finished her ‘coffee’ and looked at her senpai, devoid of any emotions.

"It’s a bit strong for my taste” She scratched her cheek. “Maybe add sugar next time?"

"Ito?"

"Ah, sorry." Shion shook her head before lightly slapping her cheeks. "I'm still a bit sleepy.

“You wouldn’t be so tired if you didn’t waste time reading your trashy romance novels.” Gojo said, before picking up a random book from the stack, only for the rest of it to come falling down on the floor.

Geto and Shion winced at the loud noise that was created by the Six-Eye user. At this point, Shion wouldn’t be surprised if she got banned from the library because of this idiot. With a sigh, she got up from her seat and began to clean up.

“Where did you get that idea?” she asked as she picked up the books from the floor. He wasn’t wrong, per se – she read whenever she could if her schedule allowed it. It usually didn’t matter which genre – but she would not stoop so low to read such trite romance stories.

Without a word, Gojo pointed at the book’s cover; it depicted a shirtless man, with his hands tied to a bedpost, straddled by nearly-naked woman. To make matters worse, the book was titled One More Night.

Although the cover was a bit scandalous, Shion had accidentally overheard her teacher ranting about the book to someone and this made her want to read it.

“Manuela and Seteth should had been together, not that fucking Papa John’s wannabe or whatever the fuck his name was!'' Watanabed yelled into the receiver. For someone who was the school’s resident doctor, he looked like he was going to kill someone.

“Screw you! It’s about the dynamic between the two, not about what could have been! DO WE EVEN READ THE SAME FUCKING BOOK!?”

Watanabe pressed on the end button, letting out a deep sigh. That took off ten years of his life, but he lost even more when he finally noticed Shion in front of him.

Based on the way his student awkwardly twiddled her fingers, Wantanabe knew that she had been here the whole time.

“I’ll give you my credit card and you can use it for a year if you pretend you didn’t hear any of it.”

“Anyway...” Geto interjected before his friend could further sour the girl’s mood. “Ito, do you need a few more minutes to prepare before we go?”

Instead of answering Geto immediately, he was taken aback when Shion looked him over from head to toe, then nodded slowly. What was that about?

“You two can go ahead,” she said, looking at Gojo. “I still have to clean up your mess.”

Geto extended his hand to Shion. “Call me Suguru, Shion.”

Shion hesitated for a bit before taking his hand, she’s only doing this for the sake of the mission.

Though, she felt her heart skip a beat when he intertwined his fingers with hers.

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

Today, they were investigating the mysterious nightly deaths occurring in Shinjuku. Based on the reports they received, all six victims were handsome men in their early twenties — or at least they had been , before their faces had been mauled beyond recognition.

At first, the police suspected a serial killer, but when an auxiliary manager investigated, they had found a residual of cursed energy in each and every crime scene. This led to the school’s involvement in the case.

As for the ‘couple’ ploy? Well, aside from being attractive, all six had recently entered a relationship with someone. This led Geto and Shion to assume that the perpetrator also targeted victims for this reason.

Shion and Geto had been walking around for a half an hour. So far, her opinion on the cursed spirit user was that he's too attractive. Yes, she was already aware that Geto was quite a looker, along with his best friend — not that Shion would admit it out loud and feed their already inflated ego. Still, she didn’t expect that Geto would be so popular. When Geto passed them on the street, strangers did double-takes. Boy, Girl - no matter the gender, everywhere they went, Shion could feel their jealous stares.

Despite all that, there was still no sign of a cursed spirit or even a trace of cursed energy anywherethey went. At this point, Shion was ready to kiss her partner in front of the train station if that would lure the curse out.

Geto stopped in his tracks when he heard a low grumble coming from Shion’s stomach.

“Want to grab something to eat?” he asked.

Thank the heavens for a kind individual like this boy before her. However, Geto was on friendly terms with that idiot, which meant this could be a trap. Was Geto trying to give her a false sense of security, so that Gojo would have an opportunity to strike? To make things more suspicious, Shion recognized this as the same one that Gojo got her ‘coffee’ from five days ago.

“My treat,” Geto said.

How could she say no to an offer like that?

They entered the establishment, and the owner’s face lit up when she saw Shion. Then her eyes landed on Shion’s temporary partner, and she raised her brows with a teasing smile.

“I see you brought someone else other than Nanami-kun and Haibara-kun,” said the owner. “Is this perhaps your boyfriend?”

Shion nodded.

“Really?” the owner said. “I thought the white-haired boy from your school was the one.”

Flabbergasted, Shion felt her eyes widened at the owner’s comment. She had never interacted with Gojo outside of school. But then again, Gojo always seemed to have a crowd of girls fawning around him… Maybe the owner had mistaken Shion for one of them ? That made some sense, as Shion believed she had very average looks.

Man, she felt bad for those girls who fall for that boy’s charms, if only they knew how much of a pain in the ass he was...

Shion’s thoughts were interrupted when the owner led them to a booth near the window. Geto wasn’t hungry, so he ended up getting an earl grey for himself.

As for Shion? She internally debated whether or not her order would hurt Geto’s wallet. Then she remembered that they were currently on a mission, which led to her ordering something light for her stomach – a croissant and a cup of coffee.

The moment that their order was served, Geto watched his partner devour the pastry in less than five seconds. For someone known to be such a stoic individual, that was an amusing sight to see. He waited for her to finish before he took the initiative to break the silence between them.

“You’ve been to this cafe?”

“We always look for new places whenever we have time to spare, but this one is where we frequently visit as it’s near the station.” If it’s during a mission, Watanabe or the assigned auxiliary manager would always try to have them focus first on the task at hand, but they eventually give in and let the students get coffee first. Moments like that made her sometimes forget that she’s in the same world as non-sorcerers.

Geto didn’t miss the slight smile that unknowingly crept to Shion’s lips, and he suddenly understood why Gojo was always so very eager to see the girl’s varied expressions. She looked like a different person when she smiled just now.

“Something on my face, S-Suguru?” It didn’t help that she felt a little embarrassed. She really needed to get used to calling Geto by his given name if they wanted the damn target to come out.

“You should smile more, Shion,” he answered as he stirred his tea with a spoon. ”You look more beautiful when you smile.”

What the fuck did he just said?

Shion studied his face for any kind of dishonesty or ridicule, but there was nothing of the sort. Though that didn’t mean she should let her guard down around Geto — he was still best friends with that annoying second year.

Maybe Geto had complimented her to make their act seem more convincing to the public’s eyes.

“If it weren't for that smile, I almost believe Satoru’s theory on you. He says you’re so stoic that you must be a cursed corpse.”

Shion’s cheek twitched in annoyance at the mention of Gojo’s name. She should have seen this coming, but she felt disappointed in his words — she already knew that she wasn’t a very expressive individual unlike Haibara or Gojo. Still, there was no need for her smile to become a joke to them.

“Not surprising, since you two share the same wavelength of a menace.” Shion took a sip of her coffee and almost choked on it when she realized what she had said. She immediately looked down as embarrassment crawled into her skin.

Geto looked at her with one of his brows raised and a teasing smirk. “What do you mean?”

The only thing she could do was to come out clean.

“I-I mean! You seem to get along with Gojo-senpai.” Shion scratched her cheek. “I just assume that you tolerated and condoned his actions in general.”

“It’s true that Satoru and I get along,” Geto admitted. “But he’s too rude, and I don’t like his view on our duties.”

Shion understood that Geto was referring to their responsibilities as Jujutsu sorcerers. Shion hadn’t thought much about them; she was too busy with her own problems. As long as the mission didn’t require her to do anything atrocious like kill a child, then she had no problem doing whatever needed to be done. This line of work almost always meant an early death, which made the consequences of her actions seem almost meaningless.

“By the way, what made you choose this path, Shion?”

From what Geto knew, Shion’s had been recommended to Jujutsu Tech by Tsukumo Yuki, and her subsequent enrollment had aroused the curiosity of the higher-ups.Like himself and Gojo, Tsukumo was considered to be a Special Grade Sorcerer— but unlike the two students, she had a reputation for refusing missions because she chose to travel the world instead. It really made someone wonder about the woman’s decision to take in any pupil at all – let alone a student like Shion.

Why?

Based on the stories that Geto had heard from Gojo, and his observations throughout the mission, he concluded that Shion wouldn’t willingly become a sorcerer unless she had good reason to. The girl seemed like a Cursed corpse sometimes – indifferent, dead to the world, following someone’s orders without question.

Before Shion could answer, she felt overwhelmed by a sudden surge of cursed energy. Geto noticed the girl’s hands slightly trembling. He instinctively glanced out the window, and there his gaze met with a woman for a brief second. The woman’s eyes were lifeless and her complexion didn’t look good. When she noticed Geto staring back, she immediately made a run for it.

“That’s our target, alright.”

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

The mission could have gone smoothly if Shion had just listened to her gut.

Geto and Shion were both tracking down the woman, but as they passed the crossing, they sensed another similar trail of cursed energy leading in another direction.

“Follow that trail,” Geto ordered. “It looks like we have two targets.”

Shion wanted to say no and told him she had a bad feeling about it. However, time was not on their side and the latter had more experience than her in terms of field missions, so she chose to trust his order.

She pursued her target through the busy streets, farther and farther from the busy crossing. The sea of people began to thin out, until Shion was the only one left. Aside from her anxiety, she had the flickering street lights to keep her company — but even they had to part ways eventually.

Shion stood in the darkness outside an abandoned hotel. She could no longer feel the cursed energy that she had been following.

Things had gotten real strange, real fast.

What was her plan now, that she’s all alone?

Retrace her steps? -> her sense of direction was the reason why she ended up here in the first place.

Call the auxiliary manager or Geto? -> Their phone numbers weren’t saved in her phone.

Call Watanabe or her classmates? -> They’re most likely away on their day off to be with their families.

Call Gojo? -> There had to be a better option than this.

Stay here and hope that someone will find her? -> Hah! As if someone will.

Since she’s here, she might as well explore this abandoned establishment for clues.

Before Shion went inside, she had to put up a barrier. How does that go again?

“A descendant from the shadows, in their blackest nights, exorcised what is impure...Bankai!” Shion scratched her head before folding her arms in discontent. “Wait, that doesn’t sound right.”

Did she have to recite the incantation word-for-word, or could she paraphrase it? Note to self: ask her teacher or Haibara after this mission — if she survives, that is.

Shion shrugged and decided to enter the building without a barrier. If she happened to destroy the building, then the school could always come up with a good excuse. Although she couldn’t imagine ever being so powerful as to obliterate an entire building into nothingness.

When she stepped inside the hotel lobby, her eyes caught instantly on faint traces of cursed energy on the floor leading up to somewhere in the shadows. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves before following the trail.

Uneasy footsteps echoed throughout the corridor, and Shion felt something or someone watching her every movement. She picked up her pace and hoped it would alleviate the anxiety that was forming in her stomach.

But the joke’s on her — it didn't work.

Once she reached the end of the hall, the trail ended in front of a big wooden double door. She pushed it open, only for her to see an empty dusty ballroom.

A giant chandelier was hanging in the middle of the dancefloor. The glass windows were covered by white sheer curtains, leaving moonlight as her only light source. Dust particles were still stuck to all corners of the room, but the space itself felt almost...inviting. Like a secret hideout where people could spend the night and not worry about being found.

Shion left the door behind her open before walking around, and much to her dismay, there weren't any signs of recent human activity nor any residue of cursed energy.

Not only was her search fruitless, but also, she’s royally fucked.

When all hope was seemingly lost, Shion felt her phone vibrate. She pulled her phone out and saw that someone was calling her from an unrecognized phone number. There’s a good chance that this caller would be the auxiliary manager, Geto-senpai or a scammer.

She pressed on the button before bringing it next to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Where are you?!” Geto shouted.

Instead of feeling relief, Shion became concerned at the slight panic in his normally calm voice. The hurried footsteps and labored breath she heard on Geto’s ende could mean one thing.

She’s in a dangerous position.

“I’m in an old hotel, a bit far from the crossing.” Shion started while rubbing her neck, trying to remember significant details that could help her partner navigate to her current location. “Um…You should see...an...oddly cute grumpy penguin mascot...near- SHIT!”

Shion dropped her phone, cutting her conversation short. Something in the shadows had attacked. Shion dodged, rolling forward onto the marble floor. A sharp claw tore through the space where Shion’s head had been, stabbing the column behind her.

The leg was long, segmented, and hairy - like that of a spider. Shion immediately reached for her dagger as the creature dislodged itself from the pillar and retreated to its original position. She watched her assailant emerge from the dark corridor.

The Cursed Spirit had the face, arms and torso of a female human, but the rest of her body, as well as her eyes, resembled those of a spider. Based on her instinct, and the way the creature was shielding itself, Shion deduced that she would have to sever all eight of its limbs in order to land a critical blow to its head.

The creature attacked again. Shion swung her cursed tool at the incoming sharp leg, cutting it cleanly in half. To her surprise, the creature regenerated its lost limb immediately - good as new.

Shion backflipped, putting a good amount of distance between herself and the cursed spirit. A frustrated sigh escaped from her lips as she prepared herself for what was about to come.

If she got out of this alive, she would treat herself to a shopping spree. Watanabe better be prepared for his next credit card bill.

The fight went on for some time. Shion’s arms and legs started to feel the strain of dodging and slashing the creature’s limbs numerous times. In addition to its sharp legs, the curse also attacked by shooting webs from its spinneret. Not only were they sticky, but they were also super acidic - able to disintegrate an entire table in mere seconds.

Handsome young men should be its target, so why did Shion get the end of the short stick?

At this rate, this nightmare fuel would kill her before she could land a decent blow – she had no choice but to rely on her own technique. Shion hadn’t expected this moment to come so soon.

She would definitely be crying blood after this, but at least she would be alive.

Shion tore off her eyepatch and closed both of her eyes, trying to harness her cursed energy. Slow yet steady deep breaths helped stabilize its flow.

When she opened her eyes, her once-golden irises were now seafoam colored. She could now perceive an intricate pattern of lines covering almost everything in the room – lines that would tell her where to cut. The lines on the walls and furniture were black and crooked, while the cursed spirit was covered in blue, vein-like marks.

The Cursed Spirit attacked once more. Shion swung her dagger before the leg could impale her, striking one of the blue, guiding lines. This time, the leg did not grow back.

Dumbfounded, her opponent stared at its wound, shocked to see that it did not regenerate as expected.

Shion started running towards the cursed spirit, slicing off its limbs as easily as a hot knife through butter and rendering them all useless.

Out of desperation, the spider fired an unrefined blast of cursed energy from its mouth, directly toward Shion — only for the blast to be sliced in half by her cursed tool.

Without any hesitation, the girl plunged her dagger into her opponent’s neck. Something sharp pierced Shion’s good arm, causing her to grunt in pain. Still, she continued digging her cursed tool deeper before pulling it back again, stabbing the creature’s head for good measure.

The cursed spirit shrieked as it disintegrated in front of Shion. When the creature had disappeared entirely, Shion closed her eyes briefly before opening them. She quickly flicked her dagger, splattering the blood on the floor, before sliding it back to its sheathe.

“Is...it over?” she murmured.

Her left eye suddenly throbbed, causing her to drop on the floor in immense pain. She took deep breaths, trying to lessen her discomfort.

Once the pain dulled, she weakly got up from the marble floor as a metallic smell hit the tip of her nose. Her fingers lightly dabbed on her left cheek; it was wet. She glanced at her hands, only to see her fingertips stained with red.

This was what she got from using the Eyes of Death technique.

Shion wiped the blood from her cheek before grabbing the spare eyepatch that she kept in her pocket. She thought she could rest easy now that the cursed spirit was gone. Yet, fate was a mischievous little thing. As soon as Shion let her guard down, she sensed an unfamiliar strong cursed energy approaching her from behind.

Ignoring the state of her left arm, Shion reached for her dagger and prepared to fight. She turned around, only to see it was her partner, Geto. He had found her after all, in spite of the shitty directions.

Flooded with a sense of relief, Shion sank the floor once again as Geto ran to her.

“It’s just me, Shion,” Geto said, kneeling before her. He noticed her wounded arm and took hold of it gently.

“Shit, you’re bleeding.”

Shion let out a silent sigh, annoyed at her own carelessness. She would throw hands at herself if this little injury ruined her chance at getting promoted to a 1st grade sorcerer.

Without a word, she pulled her wrist away from his grasp and grabbed onto her skirt. She began to move the hem up higher, until Geto stopped her.

“W-What are you doing?!” His typical calm expression was now replaced with a flabbergasted look. A small hint of red appeared on his cheeks, and the girl wondered what was wrong with him.

“I’m grabbing my first aid kit?”

Shion pulled her skirt up, revealing her black safety shorts and a black small pouch attached to her thigh strap. “I have to address this wound before it gets infected?”

Geto let out a sigh of relief. “Next time, warn me before you give me the wrong idea.”

Shion nodded hesitantly at him, wondering if she had done something wrong..

“Please, let me do it.”

For once, Shion had no objections to his offer as she was already on the brink of passing out from exhaustion.

Silence accompanied the two as Geto treated Shion’s wound. The boy’s attention made her feel odd. It was neither unpleasant nor uncomfortable—more like she felt small and a bit embarrassed at this unexpected feeling of intimacy. This wasn’t her first time a male teacher or classmate had treated her wounds, so why did she feel so different when Geto touched her?

BOOM.

A thunderous roar sounded outside, followed by the clatter of heavy rain.

Shion had been so immersed in her thoughts that the sudden noises frightened her. She yelped in surprise and threw herself into Geto’s broad chest. When she realized what she had just done, panic and embarrassment struck her immediately.

“Scared of a little thunder?” he teasingly asked, causing the girl to push away from him. A mixture of embarrassment and annoyance appeared on her face as the urge to wipe off the stupid smug off Geto’s lips intensified.

“I-I wasn’t scared!” She lowered her head, trying to look calm but the redness of her pale cheeks said otherwise. “The thunder was so loud that-”

Her next words never came to her. Shion felt something draped over her shoulders –Geto’s jacket. But what surprised her the most was warm yet calloused hands cupped her ears, to prevent hearing the loud frightening sound and making her look up at the boy. A smile crept to his lips while his eyes looked at her gold iris with reassurance.

“There’s no need to put up a strong front when you’re with me, Shion.”

Shion didn’t know what happened next. Whether from relief, exhaustion or embarrassment, her vision turned black as she lost feeling in her body.

----------

Shion awoke with a start, surprising to find herself in the school’s infirmary. It was already late afternoon. She had been changed out of her old clothes and into a hospital gown, and the bandage was still there around her arm. Her hand immediately went to her left eye and felt a soft material covering it. Good, her eyepatch was still there.

Instead of waking up feeling invigorated, she felt exhausted just opening her eyes. Her throat was sore, she had a bad headache (worse than the ones from Gojo’s pranks), and her entire body felt like it was on fire. She tried to sit up on her bed, but her head fell back immediately on the pillow as a dizzy spell hit her hard.

Despite the nausea, her eye caught on a school jacket hanging on the footboard. It couldn’t be her uniform, as it looked too big for her. This made her wonder who owned it. Did somebody else spend the night here as well?

The sound of the door opening caused her to weakly turn her head towards the entrance, only to see her homeroom teacher. Watanabe was in his late twenties, with hair that was easily mistaken for grass and onyx eyes. If Shion had one word to describe the latter, it would be ‘tired’.

“You’re finally awake,” Watanabe said as he touched her forehead. “And you’re still burning. I wonder if it’s hot enough to boil water for my afternoon tea.”

Did she also mention he’s ridiculous?

The man changed the topic by congratulating her for handling the supposedly 1st grade cursed spirit - as expected for a student recommended by Tsukumo Yuki. Then he began to fill Shion in on some new discoveries related to her previous mission.

Apparently, the woman from the cafe was a red herring. The Cursed Spirit had hypnotized an unsuspecting woman, and then used her to lure the students away from the soon-to-be 7th victim. However, thanks to Shion, the cursed spirit changed its target on her.

As for why? The only reason they came up was the cursed spirit underestimated her abilities because of her appearance and the amount of cursed energy she possessed was too good to ignore. It could have targeted Geto but he knew how to hide some of his cursed energy.

“Oh and, you’re under house arrest for stealing my book until you’ve recovered fully.“

First of all, how the fuck did he found that out?! Did Gojo fucking snitch on her? If it weren’t for his Infinity Technique, she would like to bring him down a peg.

Before she could protest, the door opened again. This time, it was Geto who arrived. He wasn’t wearing his jacket and had his hair down. Watanabe quickly excused himself to take a phone call, leaving Shion all alone with Geto.

“What..are..you doing here, senpai?”

“Checking on you, of course,” Geto answered, taking a seat next to her bed. “And, I’m here for my jacket.”

Still embarrassed by the memory of last night, Shion tore her gaze away from him and then buried her head further into the pillow, uttering a small ‘sorry’. The boy couldn’t help but to chuckle at his junior’s bashfulness.

“Make it up to me, then. Tell me if there’s something I can do for you.”

The boy expected Shion to ask for food, or maybe to convince Gojo to stop pulling pranks on the poor girl. But when he saw the tips of Shion’s ears tinted with red, and her eyes looking at him nervously, he wasn’t sure what to think. He never expected her answer to be something so out of character.

"Would..you please...hold my hand?" Shion shyly asked. "Or...at least stay until I fall asleep?" she added, her cheeks became more red than before. She looked over at the boy next to her, who he's been sitting beside her for what felt like forever.

"Of course," Geto replied.

He took Shion's small hand into his own and caressed the back of it with his thumb. It was a small yet soothing gesture that calmed her nerves slightly. As soon as she felt the familiar warmth from his hand on top of hers, she closed her eyes and started to drift off into unconsciousness.

Unbeknownst to the both of them, a third party had quietly arrived - who watched Geto with jealousy, an emotion that he hadn’t realized that he was capable of experiencing.

#gojo x oc #gojo fluff #geto x reader #geto fluff #jjk fanfic #gojo x reader #geto x oc #gojo angst #gojo satoru x oc #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x oc

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ladieswttda · 4 years ago

Text

One in a Million (Guns n’ Roses x Fem!Reader)

Chap.1

Description: The tour life of a rock girl band in the 80’s, but not without their not so normal friends and band called Guns N’ Roses.

Warning: some curse, and a light mention of alcohol and drugs. It’s not a warning, but Mötley Crüe is going to appear into the chapters

Words: 2911

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" Y/N exclaimed as she ran down Sunset Strip trying to get to the bus, and of course with a huge bag trying not to bump into anyone and screaming 'sorry' to a guy she almost knocked into the ground.

Today was the day her band would take a new level. They were going on their first big tour, opening with Guns N' Roses for the crazy band called Mötley Crüe. She was beyond excited, but as always she was super late. The bus was supposed to leave at ten am and was already eleven. Y/N was certain that they had already left her in LA, but she had a little hope they waited for her because they couldn't replace their amazing drummer.

Y/N was relieved when she spotted a huge bus with a not so tall redhead smoking a cigarette and kinda stressed talking with, what looked like, the bus driver.

"I'm sure she's coming, Sir. She's just a bit, how can I say.... slow?" When the driver was going to say he was done and the bus was leaving, they heard a scream and turned their heads "I'M HERE! I'M HERE!!"

Axl blew a breath that he didn't even knew he was holding "You almost made they leave you here, sweetheart." Y/N smiled at her old friend and handed over one of the bags to the driver, with a quiet 'thank you'.

It wasn't new that the girls from Y/N's band had a great friendship with the boys from Guns. And more obviously because Ayla, the guitarist, was Slash's sister, so they knew each other from a long time.

"I'm so fucking sorry, Ax. For real, a lot happened and..." She was going to start explaining, when he put his finger over her mouth and smiled "It's okay, let hop in the bus before someone scream at me again, and at you now." Y/N nodded and they started walking into the bus.

When they got inside, the first thing Y/N noticed was that the girls were already having a friendly conversation with the mötley boys, which was great and how Steven looked worried.

"What if she died? And how we just abandoned her here? She's going to be..." Before he could finish, Axl cleared his throat and everyone looked at their direction "Look who I found outside?" He had a hand on Y/N's small back and she weirdly smiled and waved.

Steven ran and hugged Y/N with all force he had, almost crashing her "You're alive! We were so worried abou you..." Ayla laughed and replied "You were worried, Stevie. We all knew Y/N would be late." She said rolling her eyes making Y/N roll her ones too.

"What happened this time, sweets?" Izzy asked hugging her.

"Actually the question is, what didn't happened?" Y/N answered setting her backpack in one of the sits.

"Are you sure you didn't over slept with a groupie?" Blake, the bassist asked earning a laugh from everyone besides Y/N, who kindly answered "Fuck off, will you?"

"Before we continue with Y/n/N story time, let's introduce her to the them." Axl said and pointed to the older band "Guys, this is Y/N, the drummer." She smiled, not sure if they were mad at her for the lateness "I'm so sorry for being late..."

Before Y/N could continue the tall drummer interrupted "Its okay hot stuff, we all lose the time track, don't we pals?" The other mans nodded their heads "I'm Tommy, the old man there is Mick, the blonde bitch right next is Vince guy and then we have Nikki." He pointed at them and they waved at her too "I know who you are..." Y/N said laughing a little at the adjectives Tommy gave for his band mates.

"Even better!" Vince winked at her making Y/N blush a little.

When they finished introducing, Y/N turned to her best friends and band mates who were already waiting in one of the sits "Hey girlfriend!" She exclaimed while hugging Ayla, who was Slash but in a female form. "Hello, my love..." They laughed at how they always said their hi's as a couple.

"You two date?" Nikki pointed at the two girls, they shook their heads and Ayla explained "For the press yes, they think we are a big orgy." She rolled her eyes and Y/N giggled at how her best friend hated the midia, like she did too of course, how sexist they were to say stuff like that just cuz they were fucking best friends?

Turning to the brunette and super tall bassist, more known as Blake " Heya, Y/n/N!" They hugged and saying hi lastly to their amazing blonde singer Sofia, who gave her a little kiss on her cheek "Where's Duff and Slash?" She asked sitting between Blake and Steven, who was more relaxed now that his bestie ( hehehe cute) was here safe and sound.

"Slash is passed out in one of the bunk beds and Duff is..." Suddenly Duff pop it out from the tiny bathroom interrupting Iz "Missed me sweetheart?" He asked giggling at her, who jumped and crashed him into a bear hug "Always, giraffe!" Besides him she looked like a smurf, not that she was normally tall, but with him it was like he turned everything into small ants.

"Now that everyone is settled, I wanna now what or who made our amazing friend late?" Axl said with his well known smile.

Y/N knew she could lie and make a false statement, that her car broke or something like this, but she was a terrible liar, so she decided to say the truth "Well, remember that my dad was working on a huge case and it was for a very famous person?" The girl's nodded indicating she could continue.

"What he does, kid?" Mick asked "He's a layer, actually both my parents are." Y/N answered gesturing with her hand and he nodded.

"When did you dye pink under your hair?" Steven asked as if nothing was happening, making Y/N giggle at Axl and the others impatient faces "Yesterday, Stevie.Needed a new look, don't you think?" He smiled and nodded at the girl "Continuing, happily the case was resolved and my dad's client won, so as a gratitude gift he gave my dad some tickets."

"Tickets? How this place into you being late?" Blake asked getting confused.

"Well, my dear friend, he happened to give backstage tickets to his show..." Everybody was paying attention to the girl and she was making even more mystery now.

"For gods sake woman, spit it out!" Everybody laughed when Tommy screamed at her, Y/N laughing too "It was tickets for Aerosmith, and the client happened to be Steven Tyler." Especially the girls were shocked, following the other men's reaction.

"You got fucking BACKSTAGE tickets for a fucking Aerosmith concert and didn't tell us???" Ayla jumped from her sit and started hitting Y/N with a jornal "Stop bitch! I didn't get! My father did, I just fucking went!" The boys were surprised that she wasn't that shy as she looked when she entered the bus.

"And now we have the true Y/N." Izzy laughed at the scene, but stoping as soon as Y/N gave him a mortal look "Just joking sweets, just joking!" She rolled her eyes and turned to their curly guitarist "If I could, obviously I would take you guys, especially you Lala." Ayla smiled at the sweet nickname.

"How it was it???" Sofia asked gripping and shaking Y/N arm.

Remembering last night Y/N smirked and put a hand in front of her mouth starting to giggle "STOP, you are doing the face when you get the D!" She laughed even harder at the bassist.

"You fucked Steven Tyler, Y/n/N?" Duff asked more curious then ever.

"NO, fucking hell!" She couldn't stop the giggles "I wish guys, but no..." Y/N shrugged "But the concert was fucking amazing, I thought I was going to have an orgasm right there." Everyone started to laugh "But the thing was after the gig, we were invited to the after party."

"You even went to the after party? Aren't you a luck bitch?" Nikki exclaimed receiving right after a push o his shoulder from Mick "Have some sense." Y/N shook her head with a smile "It's okay! Actually my dad is! I just came along with my bro's."

"And Mrs. Y/l/N?" Izzy asked "Nope, girl's night with her friends." Y/N shrugged and turned to Stevie, when he poked her arm "Yes, Stevie?"

Steven was the biggest fan of Aerosmith she knew. Y/N was sad that they didn't went together, but little did he know she was already planning the next time they were in the same city "Did you take photos with them?" He asked with a little smile.

Was clear that Y/N had an inexplicable connection with them, but nothing explained how much she loved Steven. Not in a romantic way, and not denying that sometimes she would do some naughty things with him, but they were best friends since high school. Y/N always saved him from fights and problems from school, sometimes when his mom would kick him out, her parents would let him stay with them, making him forever grateful for Y/N's huge heart.

"YES, how could I forget? They are in my bag pack, pick for me Ax?" He nodded and picked the pinky glittery bag, yes she was on a rock band, but how could you not love glitter? "Why do you have so much stuff?? Look, why do you have so fucking much medicine?" Axl hold a little bag with some meds "Well, I'm the mom of the group, I need some back up. If I don't have all this, the next thing you know she's vomiting." Y/N pointed at Blake giving them a weird smile.

After some minutes Axl found Y/N book of polaroids, dropping to her lap, she started flipping the pages till the last page where the photos were "Here! Everybody come closer." All of them got around her, sitting in one of the tables in the bus, with Axl on her left and Tommy on her right "Okay this first one is from de beginning of the gig, then this is... me and the band in the back playing."

"Nice dress, Y/n/N." Sofia pointed at the photo with a smile "Thanks, Sofs. I think I got last summer." Y/N flipped the page showing more pics from the gig "Doesn't he look like a god?" Stevie said "He is a god, Stevie!" Tommy said picking the photo from Y/N making her stare at him "Sorry, just got excited" He laughed but gave back the photograph saying sorry.

She flipped again, now the photos from the after party "Didn't your old man got uncomfortable with all the booze and drugs?" Vince asked "Nah, he's used with rockstars. It's not the first time he provide services for a famous person..." Y/N shrugged "So you are rich rich?" Nikki asked, making Mick poke his arm again "You truly don't have sense, do you?"

The girls were trying their harder to not to laugh at how Tommy, Vince and Nikki looked like Mick children. "Well, you can say my folks are, i'm not. Yet..."

"Oh my god, look at this one! Isn't Joe Perry looking at your ass?" Blake screamed.

"Oh, yeah." Y/N smirked "You naughty little bitch, you slept with him, didn't you?" Ayla said laughing "Yes, of course with my father and my two brothers in the same place,I escaped and fucked him in the bathroom." She rolled her eyes at her best friend "This is me and Steven, then me and the whole band. Then Joe whispering in my ear for my number." She smiled at the memory, Y/N always had a crush on him and when this happened she almost died at the moment.

"Did you give?" Izzy asked sitting on Axl legs to have a better look at the photographs , making him grumble at the guitarist.

"Nope, but he did." She giggled like a teenager girl when her crush ask her out.

"Are you going to call him?" Duff asked "Maybe, dunno, he's like 37?" Y/N bite her nails thinking "What's the problem? He seems to be nice enough to not be a creepy." Blake words made Y/N think, maybe she should call him.

Before they could continue, the tour manager cleared his throat making everybody look at him "We are going to stop at a gas station, so you guys can eat, hydrate, piss, I don't know. But please don't destroy or rob something!" He said looking directly at the mötley boys, that only looked at each other and laugh "Of course Johnny, we have some girls to impress" Tommy said looking at the girls.

Blake did a sass face and looked them up and down, trying to control her giggles "Yeah, sure drummer boy, you wish." Ayla and Sofia laughed too, making him blush, who'd thought that bad boys would blush at some rock girls?

Y/N put the book back into her bag, picking some cash to buy some food and something to drink "Who's gonna wake Slash up?" Axl asked already in the bus door "I can go!" Y/N said, going to the only bunk bed that was with its curtain closed.

Opening it, she could see only his naked back and how his hair was everywhere "Hey, sleepy boy, wake up." She stroked his back receiving a pleased 'hmm', but still not moving "Slash, honey, we stopped so we all can eat something, you need to wake up."

"But it's so good right here" He turned and shook the hair of his face "You should join me..." Slash smirked at Y/N who only did a negative sign with her head and pushed his hands "Nops, get your ass up here or I will... I will cut your favorite leather pants!" He stared at her face thinking if she would do it. After solids two minutes he gave up and got out of the bed "You can be very nice, but you still are a little minx sometimes, i don't trust you with my babies..." He grumbled and crossed his arms "Don't be such a baby. I can cuddle with you when we get back! Or you are too macho man for that?"

Slash was a little behind her, so when she said that he ran a little and hugged her waist, nuzzling her neck "Baby girl, for you I have both sides..." Y/N laughed loudly, making some other people in the convenience store look at them "I already said for you to stop calling me that, people will think we have a thing!" She said poking his hands that were on her hips "People thinking you date me is that bad? He made a fake cry sound "If you weren't such a whore, I wouldn't care." Slash couldn't stop laughing at her statement "Not a lie, Y/n/N."

After some good 30 minutes they had found everything they needed and went to check out their stuff "24.60 dollars." The cashier said with a bored tone "I pay, add a pack of marlboro, please." Slash gave the cashier a 50 bill making Y/N complain "Hey, why you paying my stuff, dickhead?" He smiled "Always treating my lady the way she deserves..." Slash winked at her, making her roll her eyes.

Picking their plastic bags, the duo returned to the bus, and setting the drinks into de mini fridge "Everyone is here, right?" The manager asked and received 'yeah' and 'yes' from the guys "Okay, we can pull off!"

"I'm going to sleep again, you coming?" Slash asked Y/N "Yep, just let me put a hoodie." He nodded waiting beside her, talking with his band mates.

"We can go." She extended her hand to him who happily accepted "You two don't forget to use condoms!" Axl screamed and hit high five with Izzy.

"Don't fucking start." Y/N flipped him off and got into the bunk bed, Slash following her movements.

He laid behind her and hugged her waist "I don't know why you still pay attention to his comments..." Slash nuzzled his nose on her hair and neck "That's nice" She hummed at his actions, he gave little kisses to her skin in response "And, other thing, we all know he's jealous of me..." He said making her kick his leg "You are not the only one who cuddles me, curly boy." Slash pinched her hip " But i'm the best on bed..."

Well, with great friendships, great relationships come too. It's a not a lie that Y/N and the girls would have a little more than a friendship with de boys once in a while, but more exactly Y/N, she was the closest with the boys and sometimes they would have some escapades...

"Okay, Saul" Y/N giggled "Believe what you want." Slash hugged her even close and whispered to her ear "You can be sure, sweetheart." They giggled "Night, curly boy"

"Good Night, Y/n/N."

taglist: @harley-m-rose (if you want to be added, just send a message or reblog with your request)

#guns n roses x reader #guns n roses imagine #gnr #axl rose x reader #slash x reader #guns n roses fanfic #guns n roses #axl rose #duff #slash #Izzy Stradlin #motley crue #tommy lee #nikki sixx

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thousandsunnywrites · 4 years ago

Text

FILE 1: WELCOME TO THE WORLD OF SMILES

⤷ word count: 1,7k

⤷ a/n: there’s no major romantic shet here, but it’s like the foundation of what’s to come

[BLACK LIVES MATTER]

⤷ TRIGGER: mentions of pills & death

“Roronoa, check the mission board.” A stack of papers land right in front of his propped feet, waking him from his light nap. Standing in front of him was no other than the assistant chief, Law. “In two weeks, we’re raiding the SMILES House.”

Yawning, he glanced over, doing as told. Law’s right. After extensive research, their department accumulated enough information to obtain a warrant to bust down this illegal business. Doflamingo is a smart man, he evaded the police’s eyes for years now despite his brother being the chief. His eyes skimmed through the raid team while taking a mental note — Usopp, Chopper, Law, and him, along with a bunch of other extra names. Supposedly, this ambush is the most difficult in the history of the New World Station, errr, at least that’s what Zoro hears in the coffee room.

Chief Corazon-- the name everyone addresses him as, only a select few know his real name-- lead this station ever since the retirement of ex Chief of Police, Sengoku. You and Zoro transferred into this department not long after graduating law school. As Chief puts it, it’s a miracle how you never crossed paths with Roronoa during school-- maybe he just got lost while trying to do so-- because you complement each other so perfectly: you’re academically strong, while he’s strong physically. It’s no hair-puller to know why he’s constantly paired with you.

Zoro’s train of thoughts halts as a very loud, and jumpy girl emerges from the corner, latching onto his arm almost immediately upon seeing him. “Zoro,” you cooed like a little bird, expectantly. Prior to this day, Zoro wagered that it’s easy to drive around while patrolling the area because anyone can do that, and you took him up on his little bet. It was hard, knowing the shortcuts and hidden roads within the area, but it was easy when you get the hang of it. Unfortunately for Zoro, he was blessed with confusing right with left, north and south. Call it whatever you see fit, but you can’t deny it’s like taking candy from a toddler.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” he sighs, bringing out the iconic Starbucks cup, filled to the brim with your favorite coffee, Venti-sized. “Expensive-ass woman. You know how much that cost me?”

“Oh hunny, I know, you’re lucky I’m not asking you to pay for my rent,” you take a sip as Zoro nods along. Yeah, he’s aware of the rent surge for your apartment. That landlord of yours, what’s his name, Bella… Belle-something was a big pain in the ass, charging twice as much to splurge on gambling. He’s heard this rant so many times, he can recite it word for word.

“Y’know if you’re having a hard time with rent, then just leave. Go somewhere else.”

A pout forms on your lips, hand waving animatedly to dismiss his suggestion. “Easy for you to say, you own a house. Besides, it’s the only available one in this area. I don’t wanna go outta town. It’s hard enough to wake up on time in the morning-- what more of waking up 3 hours earlier?” You pinch his cheek, earning a groan from the man. Remind him again why he puts up with you.

“Don’t forget about our first-not-fake-date tonight,” you wink, body shimmying out of excitement. Sometime last night, you concocted the perfect date with Zoro to flaunt in front of Sanji. Zoro is to take you to the nicest park he can find and do a surprise picnic-- not much of a surprise if you orchestrated it-- whilst giving you a necklace with his initials on it-- again, nothing special especially if you’re gonna buy it. Zoro wonders why he’s even letting you use him, but then again, you pay for the propaganda, and he doesn’t have anything better to do. No rent money worries, no girlfriend to tend to, no stress that plagues the average adult.

“Doesn’t sound like we’re dating if you call everything we do a ‘not-fake’,” his lips downturn to a very displeasing frown that marred his big-tough-guy look, while he attempts to pry your clammy fingers off said face. He doesn’t know the first thing about love, but sure as hell he’s not a dumbass.

Law pulls you aside to escort you to the Chief’s office, leaving Zoro to revert his focus back onto his reports, overlooking the new cases. A killer clown running loose, gathering a circus to cause more trouble. Nothing more than clout for a rep.

The Massacre Solider’s, as the media dubbed, killings suddenly halted.

The Revolutionaries protesting and planning a riot downtown against the government, led by the infamous criminal dubbed as Dragon.

Firefighter accidentally sets the workplace on fire after reheating meat for too long. Damn it, Luffy.

“Hey, Zoro!” The familiar long nose approaches him, friendly as ever. “We’re partners today for patrol! Thank god it’s you.” He sobs out the last part, body turning milky white while remembering the horrid flashbacks of almost being shot at by an angry woman for notifying her about her illegally parked car in a handicap spot. The world is a scary place.

Usopp let out a huffy sigh after seeing Zoro’s nose scrunch in distaste. “No offense Usopp but Y/n is and has been my partner,” his arms crossed, gaze not leaving the paper.

The persistent sniper slides next to Zoro, slinging his arm over his shoulder despite the other shoving him off. “Yeah but the chief said that he’s borrowing her for today.”

Great.

It’s not like Zoro dislikes Usopp, it’s not like that at all. It’s just he knows he’s going to babysit the scaredy cat. Amazing how he’s a coward, yet one of the finest sharpshooters he knows. Nobody doing it like him.

The hectic, sharp alarm lights the room red, causing the policemen to spring to action. The once-chattering room fills with the sounds of rapid footsteps, police sirens, incoherent yelling, and the urgent news.

Local wealthy landlord found dead on the street, SMILES cause of death, victim unidentified.

They made it through the yellow tapes and through the crowd with the help of Usopp’s directions, and Zoro instantly remembered that face-- really, how can he forget that face when you constantly bitched about him nearly everyday. That cocky smile never left that bastard’s face despite half of the pearly whites being gone.

It was Belle...

Belle-something.

It was Belle!

He passes by him on the staircase whenever he visits you for nonsense. The medic hoists the mass onto the gurney, and drives off, leaving the remaining team to survey the area.

His colleagues told him that the victim OD’ed on SMILES, but the marimo knew better. Although faint, his sharp eyes can see the smudged trail of blood coming from another area. This isn’t a typical overdose. Belle was dead by the time the team got here. He was murdered somewhere else and dragged into the streets for a show. A declaration. A warning.

In short, he was murdered. And probably from the same guy who started this whole SMILES addiction.

Meanwhile as the news blared in Chief Cora’s office, your heart sunk when the anchor broadcasted the victim’s face after receiving identification for a brief moment. It was Bellemy! Holy Gorgonzolas, that’s your landlord! Crap! As fucked up as it seemed, the only thought that initially crossed your mind was Does that mean I don’t have to pay for rent? More importantly, he’s dead! Not that you feel deep remorse... he did call you a whore last week and scoped your apartment without your permission.

“It’s a message,” Cora puffed on his cigarette, the dim lighting of the room accentuating the smoke, “He knows we’re onto him.”

He ashed his cigarette in his heart-shaped ashtray, before relighting. Paper slid across the table, a confidential report wide open. Attached to the report was a headshot of a man with fancy, bird-eye-like shades.

“His name is Doflamingo. Known as God of the Underworld. Dangerous man,” Cora said dryly, and straight to the point. “That kid that was on TV worked under him. Bellemy.”

Your brows furrow as you flip through the pages, examining the details with careful precision. “So the assets belong to this man?”

“Legally. I didn’t find any contract that says that Bellemy shares this property with Doffy. Doffy must’ve not liked that one of his henchmen opposed his will. We can only assume that his death was the price to pay and to promote the SMILES. Other than that, Bellemy’s apartment lots are illegally owned, so we can also assume that it’s going to be confiscated when the police connect two-and-two together. You get where I’m going with this, right?” His eyes glanced over his shoulder, expecting you to catch on with the elaborative hints he dropped. It took a while, but it clicked.

“And now I’m homeless.” Hands thrown in the air, you sighed in defeat. First it was losing your bike in the walkway, next it was having to sneak in your own office like a burglar for a last-minute report that could’ve cost your job, and now it was being thrown on the streets because you lived and paid for an illegal apartment.

Law interjected your whine with the clearing of his throat. “You don’t have to be.” He was silently watching the events unfold before him, taking in your reactions along the way.

“You can live with us,” Corazon proposed, cutting off whatever Law was going to say. That offer left both you and Law with your jaws hanging wide open. After a second, Law collects himself and musters a very confused what.

“I was going to say to find someplace outside of town to live!” His disbelief coated his every word, and went unnoticed. “Are you sure?”

Cora simply nods, a thumbs up affirming his decision whilst trying to convince you to take up his offer.

“Please,” Cora’s hand found its way to your shoulder, lightly squeezing it. “It’d be beneficial for both you and us. You’re part of the brains of this operation so it’s better to keep you near us. And you did say you’re homeless now.”

He nudges you once more, after seeing your silence. “C’mon, beggars can’t be choosers.”

With that one line, you concede.

You pull out your phone and send a simple text to your date, telling him you’re taking a raincheck to pack up your shit. He never responds. Had you known the consequences of agreeing, you would’ve stayed on the streets if that could mean that he’d still be here.

#one piece #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #police officer! zoro and y/n #one piece x you #one piece x reader

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sprnklersplashes · 4 years ago

Text

heart of stone (6/?)

AO3

Janis ditches the tights and jean shorts by Wednesday. There’s a slight look of ‘I told you so’ on her mother’s face, but she spares Janis the lecture out of politeness. Janis never thought she’d miss them, but here she is.

Sitting cross-legged on her bed, she scribbles another flower on the page, a twin for the one next to it. Not an exact twin, it’s thinner and its petals are more spiked and sharp than the one she drew before it. It’s less inviting, more dangerous. Angry, even. Like if she picked it up she’d cut her finger on it. She hadn’t intended for it to happen; in fact, she’d set out to doodle some pretty little flowers in an attempt to brighten up her sketchbook. But the pencil, as it often does, did what it wanted. She turns it on the side, trying to find a way to like it. It’s not bad work, not her best but certainly not her worst. Maybe she could like it if she had drawn it earlier, but she had really been hoping to get something nice into her book today.

With a sigh, she sets the book on her lap and swings her body around so that her feet dangle over the edge of her bed. Her next round of chemo isn’t due for a few hours, a long stretch of time to attempt to fill with activity. While she’s only been in the hospital for two full days, she’s decided that the worst part is the waiting around for the next thing to happen. Granted, much of that can be put on her as she’s spent more time in her room than she has anywhere else, distracting herself with TV and art and her parents and texting her friends every chance she can get. It all comes together and forms some kind of routine for her, one that’s built with as much familiarity and comfort as possible woven through it. The only downside to it is that the room’s been getting progressively smaller since two days ago and it wasn’t long before it started choking her.

She left the door slightly open and peers into the hallway, the brightness of the walls striking against the cool tones of her room. She can hear the faint sounds of half-conversations that overlap with each other; nurses gossiping with each other while fiddling with IVs, the inhabitants of the longue talking and laughing about who knows what, doctors prescribing new rounds of medicine. The ward is much more alive than she had Janis ever thought it could be, a constant hum in the background of the day to day life keeps the place awake.

She taps her nails on the cover of her book, her swinging legs gaining momentum as she debates following the pull in her chest, compelling her to maybe leave her room for more than five minutes at a time and follow the sounds of conversation. Maybe talk to people who aren’t her medical team or her parents. Make some friends, because as everyone knows, cancer wards are prime social hotspots. She may not be here forever, but she’ll be here long enough to justify getting comfortable.

What’s the worst that can happen, logic had asked her that first night.

Literally so freaking much, she responded. Friends aren’t exactly her strong suit. Regina was a mistake, Damian was luck, and Cady was a gift. She could indulge her inner loser and tell herself it’s because she’s special and tailor made to a few specific people, but the thought of that makes her roll her eyes. So she faces up to the truth and all it entails; that she’s merely been unlucky in the friendship department, something that can be boiled down to one terrible experience and everything that came after it and lingers long after the smoke has cleared.

You’re being ridiculous she tells herself. If there’s a Regina George clone here, she’ll be thoroughly impressed. So she pulls her boots on and pushes herself off the bed, quickly explaining to her mom that she’s going to hang out in the longue for a bit.

“You need me to come with you?”

“I’m fine,” she says, a small smile on her face as she pulls on a cardigan. She nods at the intense competitive cooking show her mom has on the TV. “Tell me who wins. And don’t leave out any details.”

“Well we both know it’s not going to be Leticia judging by the look of that beef,” she says seriously. Janis clicks her tongue before turning and heading down, her steps smaller than normal and her sketchbook held against her chest like a shield. Her stomach twists uneasily, not from the chemo or anything like that, just from good old-fashioned anxiety. In an odd way, it’s a relief to feel ill in that way.

When she pushes herself past the open doors, all eyes turn to her and only look away to talk with other people. It’s far more populated than the last time she was here, people sitting in groups of two and three, most in pyjamas and some with hats. But all of them in groups, belonging with each other. Is this how Cady felt all those months ago, when she and Damian spotted her heading to the bathroom? Maybe her girlfriend had the right idea that day. A bathroom stall is a way better alternative to a room full of strangers.

Unfortunately, she knows better by now, and so she settles in an armchair as gracefully as she can, her legs tucked beneath her, and tries to shake off the discomfort she feels by opening her book and giving her hands something to do.

“You’re new,” a girl sitting on the floor states. She’s one of the few that actually has hair, dark brown and curly, and it makes Janis feel a little more at ease. Is that bad, she has to ask.

“Third day,” she explains, offering her a small wave. “I’m Janis.”

“Melissa,” she says. She leans back on her arms and exposes a little bandage inside her elbow. Janis pulls her own arm a little closer. Melissa doesn’t seem to notice, instead gesturing to her with her chin.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, this?” she asks, her cheeks growing warm. “Oh, just some drawings I do.”

“Cool,” she says. “So you do art?”

“Sometimes it’s like the art does me," she says dryly, earning a chuckle. “But you know how it is.”

“My best friend says that all the time,” Melissa sighs. “She says she wants to go to art college but I’ve watched her cry over trying to hand in assignments.”

“You sound like my mom,” Janis replies. “Literally every time I bring up doing art in college she tells me how stressful it is.” She shrugs lightly. “She’s not wrong, but it’s the only thing I want to do.”

“Is your mom here?”

“Yeah, she’s back in my room,” she explains. “I left her watching some cooking show on TV.”

“Wow, and you’ve only just here. I’ve been here for a month and I only just got my mom to let me out of her sight,” she sighs, a resigned smile on her face and her eyebrow raised in a silent ‘you know how it is’. “Want to play some Scrabble? We’ve started keeping a scoreboard so we can add you in. We have a whole tournament going.”

“Sounds fun,” Janis says, pushing herself off the chair. “Although I should give you warning, I’m dyslexic, so I kind of suck at it.”

Janis follows her across the longue, slipping her hand into her pocket when she thinks she sees the other girl reach out to her. There’s a pang of guilt in Janis’ chest even though Melissa doesn’t seem to care, and she does her best to work through it. She exchanges names and smiles with other kids, all introduced by Melissa. It’s an odd feeling; she’s not used to being the one who’s introduced. She’s either known people so long she doesn’t need to or she’s the one making the introduction, but today her mouth feels dry and her tongue tied so much that all she can do is say ‘hi’ and try to keep up with the rest of the little group. But despite this, and despite the fact that she does supremely suck at Scrabble, they aren’t half bad. They welcome her in with no problem at all, asking her about school and life and art as they set up tiles and she knows the right questions to ask them. She laughs at their jokes and nods along to the conversation, even adding in her own take now and again as it builds into a steady flow.

It’s not entirely perfect; she can’t help but feel slightly on the outside when they bring up a nurse or a patient she doesn’t know and she’s much more quiet than she’s used to being, unsure which, if any, topics are off-limits, where the lines are. But she’s enjoying herself enough to drown out her earlier worries even if it can’t make them fade entirely, and her mood only picks up when she hears someone behind her say (squeal) her name, followed a flash of pink and rainbow appearing in her vision. How times change when a pink sweater can make her smile instead of grimace.

“Maddie!” The younger girl leans into her side, eyes bright and sparkling, and Janis puts an arm around her shoulders. “Hey kid, where have you been?”

“Where have you been more like,” she replies. “I haven’t seen you since Monday.”

“Been busy,” she says. No one presses, likely because they all understand. They’ve all been where she is before. “And now I’m busy losing at Scrabble. Badly.” Maddie chuckles and when her arms wrap around Janis and chin rests on her shoulder, she can’t say no to it. There’s nothing uncomfortable about such a gesture and it almost feels as natural as hugging Damian or when Karen rests her head on her shoulder, despite her only knowing the girl for two days.

“Oh hey, did they tell you about the photography thing yet?” she asks.

“That what now?”

“Oh it’s this thing the cancer centre started,” Melissa explains. “Basically they want us to take pictures of stuff that matters to us. Us doing hobbies, us with our friends, the whole shebang. It’s meant to be about our cancer not defining us or whatever.” She gives a casual shrug. “It’s fun anyway. You should do it. Especially since you have your art thing.”

“Sounds like fun,” she says before poking Maddie in the ribs. “Now come on, kid. Help me make a word out of these.”

And maybe it’s Maddie’s presence or just time passing, but Janis suddenly finds herself a lot less anxious. She even gets to the point where she trades playful insults with another kid, a boy around her age, and form a team up of sorts against him with one of the other girls. They can’t replace her real friends and she wouldn’t try to, the bonds she’s formed with Damian and Cady are too important and were put through too much to be replicated, but she suspects that they could quickly become new friends.

What’s more, treatments and diagnosis come in and out of the conversation with unexpected ease, and when Janis talks about her own, it’s the same. She hadn’t realised how much of this she’d held back, even in her texts and calls with Damian and talks with her mom. And while she feels bad for it, it also feels so, so good to talk to people like this. People who aren’t her parents or her doctors. People who are, well… like her.

And as it turns out, her next round is scheduled the same time as Melissa’s, and so they head down the hallway together. While Melissa continues to make conversation, Janis’ responses dwindle the closer she gets to her room. It doesn’t take long for the good feeling from the longue to fade, and the image of the needle in her vein becomes sharper in her mind.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Janis asks suddenly.

“Sure.”

“Does it…” She swallows past the lump in her throat. She finds a loose thread on her cardigan and toys with it until the question comes out. “Does it ever get easier? All this?”

“Well…” Melissa stops in their tracks and Janis almost trips as she does the same, immediately regretting asking. The other girl bites her lip, searching for the right answer. It feels like hours before she says “I don’t really know. I can’t speak for you. We’re all different here.” She tucks her hair behind her ear. “I mean… I guess you get used to it. So it starts getting less scary, I guess.”

Janis only nods and then Melissa reaches out and taps her arm.

“It doesn’t stop sucking,” she sighs. “You just get used to it sucking.”

“And then we all bond over it sucking?” she asks, smirking.

“You get it,” she replies with a laugh. “See you later, Janis.”

“Bye.”

After Melissa leaves, she lingers in the hallway for a minute, pressing her finger into the spot where her IV goes. The problem is exactly what Melissa said-you get used to it. And she really, really doesn’t want to get used to it. Getting used it to means that she’ll be here for a while, that something else replaces her old life. Especially now, after the year she had last year, she wants to get used to good stuff, not stuff that ‘sucks’. The idea of this, medicines and hospitals and doctors, becoming normal to her sends a shiver down her back.

But she learned a while ago how to live in reality, even when it’s not what she wants. And it’s with that attitude she walks into her room, where she finds not only her IV set up, but a text from Cady detailing something funny from her math class and how much she misses her.

Even if she gets used to everything else, she knows she’ll never, ever get used to missing Cady.

*****

Friday morning, she wakes later than she normally does. It’s a slow process at the start, sleep pulling her in and begging her to stay, the hospital-issue sheets softer than soft around her and forming a cosy cocoon that she’s so tempted to remain in.

That is, until she remembers what day it is, and then she’s jolted awake.

Friday. Or as she’s called it, Damian-and-Cady day.

It was an unspoken agreement that the two of them were visiting her in here. Just like her father, they were insistent on coming over every moment they could, with Damian jokingly suggesting he could hide under her bed and they could have a sleep over (which they had considered in seriousness and attempted to plan). But thanks to a little thing called school, and another thing called distance, today was the first day she could see them, which is why now she’s wide awake, bright eyed, bushy tailed, everything. Because she’s finally seeing them again and filling the hole in her soul being away from them had carved.

“Morning, kid,” her mom says cheerily, entering the room with a cup of coffee in one hand. “They’re still serving breakfast downstairs, or if you want it brought up to you-”

“Sounds great, Mom,” she replies, only half paying attention. She turns on her phone, her leg bouncing anxiously as she waits for it to load. Has it always been this slow at turning on? She swears it hasn’t been. It takes an eternity for her lockscreen to come up, the time written across it in thin white numbers.

“Ten thirty?” she reads out loud before her head snaps up. “Mom, why didn’t you wake me up?”

“Why would I?” she asks. “You need all the rest you can get, and you’ve still got time before you’re due a round.”

“I know,” she sighs, rubbing her eyes. “But Cady and I text good morning to each other and it was my turn this morning. I don’t want her to think I forgot.”

“Well, I’m sure Cady understands. You know, with all that’s going on, maybe she’s not expecting good mornings right now.”

“Course she is,” she replies quickly. In what universe would Cady not wait for a good morning from her? “It’s our thing. Didn’t you and Dad have a thing?” She types out the message and sends it quickly, although Cady probably won’t see it for at least another two hours.

“Oh, you think we did good morning e-mails back in those days?” she says, laughing a little. She sits on the bed next to her on the bed. “So are you getting some breakfast? Someone can bring it up if you don’t feel up to going down, I’ll just tell them what you want-”

“It’s fine, Mom.” She reaches under the bed and pulls on a sweater before slipping into her boots and raking a brush through her hair. “I might as well go down. Someone might take the last yogurt while I’m down there.”

Truthfully, she doesn’t really feel like eating. Not anything bad, she’s just not hungry, but it’ll put her mom’s mind at ease. Just as she thought, the tension fades from her mom’s shoulders, and when she pats her shoulder, there’s more relief in her smile than just breakfast warrants.

She eats in her room, with the TV on, like she does when she’s sick at home. She could eat in the dining room, but despite the new friends she’s made she prefers eating in private, especially away from the buzzing nurses. As she flips around the channels, her phone buzzes on the plastic table, the screen lighting up to show her a new text that makes her smile and roll her eyes at once.

‘Good morning, babe. Can’t wait to see you today. Also, ik I can’t really change it now, but what do we think of the outfit?’

Beneath the message is a picture of Cady in her bedroom mirror, clad in a black vest and blue flannel shirt with white skinny jeans, her hair held back in a high, loose ponytail, soft curls framing her round face, her eyes looking up at the mirror as she gives an open, toothy grin. And Janis can’t help it, she squeals. God damn it, her girlfriend is cute.

‘Love it, love it, love it. You’re the queen of cuteness. And apparently, texting during class. Stop doing that. If I get a text from you between now and lunch I will not cuddle you later.’

‘I’m not texting during class, it’s study hall.’ Wow, what on Earth has happened to the ever-studious, rule following Cady Heron? Not even Plastic Cady texted during study hall. ‘Besides, you have to cuddle with me. It’s legally required and I’m deprived of Janis cuddles.’

‘Only if you be good and don’t text during school hours.’ She fires back, chuckling under her breath. ‘And you remain that freaking adorable.’

“Well someone’s in a good mood.” She looks up and sees Doctor Wiley standing in the doorway, and her smile dips a little, the perfect bubble she was sitting in with Cady ruined. Not enough to ruin her mood, nothing could do that, but it shakes it.

“It’s her girlfriend,” her mom explains.

“How do you know that?”

“Your smile,” she says. “It’s your ‘Cady smile’.”

“I don’t…” Her voice trails off and her mom simply shrugs. Well look at that. She’s that girlfriend now.

“Well, that’s nice to hear,” Wiley says, striding towards her. Under the table, Janis crosses her fingers that this is a normal good morning visit. She’ll take bad news on any day that’s not Damian-and-Cady day. “So, Janis, a lot of us on your team have been talking and we’ve decided to ask if you might want to get a port inserted.”

“A what?” she asks.

“Think of it like a little reservoir put underneath your skin,” he explains. “Just to make receiving the chemo easier on you. A lot of patients have one put in.”

“Oh, wow.” Way to bring the mood down, Doc, she thinks. Sometimes she envies the younger patients who have their parents making all the hard decisions. Still, one word sticks out in all that. “It makes it easier?”

“Quite a bit easier,” he agrees. “For one thing, it’s a lot more comfortable than an IV.” There’s a plus. “And a lower risk of your medicine leaking out-”

“Sounds cool,” she interrupts quickly before he can bring up an image she doesn’t want. “Um, can I think about it? I mean, is it urgent?”

“No, of course not,” Wiley replies with a stiff smile. “I’ll let you and your mom discuss it.”

He leaves them after an uncomfortable silence, nodding to her and her mom and reminding her that he’s around if she has any questions.

“So what do you think?” her mom asks.

“I don’t think.” She picks her phone back up and jumps off the bed. “Where did you put my clothes?”

“I put everything in your bag, it’s under the bed,” she replies. Janis pulls out her bag, sorting through the mass of denim, cotton, plaid and leather, all while her mom hovers behind her with anxious eyes that drill into her back. "Janis, you should consider this.”

“And I will,” she sighs. She pulls out a shirt she’s always liked and throws it on the bed. “Just not right now.” She shakes her head, trying to clear some of the smoke in her brain. Still sitting on the ground, she looks up at her mom and sighs. “Mom, I just want to not think about cancer stuff right now. I just want to see my friends and think about that.” She toys with the shirt in her hands and bunches it into a tight ball, her arms tense and shaking and her grip tight. “Is that okay?”

Her voice sounds impossibly broken on that question. And while it wasn’t intentional, it works on her mom, who nods and comes over to pat her hair.

“Okay, sweetie,” she says, and that’s the temporary end of it.

The day passes even slower than it normally does in hospital-time. Hours stretch on and on with no end in sight and she can’t distract herself no matter what she tries to do. She can’t focus long enough to read or settle on one TV show and even games in the longue can only get her so far. She tries checking her social media when on her IV, but she’s hardly there a minute before her anxiety peaks again after seeing pictures of her friends. Besides, it’s mostly dry now, everyone else is in class.

Finally, finally, it comes to the afternoon and it’s close enough that she can justify beginning to get ready. She stretches, grateful for the little power nap she took earlier, and fishes her make-up out of her bag. It’s not everything, but it’ll have to work, as will the tiny mirror in her bathroom.

“What’s going on in here?” The voice makes Janis jump six feet, even though it’s the honey-toned voice of one of the older nurses. “Little makeover.”

“Just wanted to look nice today,” she explains as she unscrews the foundation. She’s a little bit surprised to see that she’s not out of practice since she’s been bare-faced for well over a week now. Bigger priorities and all that.

“Her girlfriend’s coming over today,” her mom says in a low voice.

“It’s not just that,” she says, even though it might be. “Damian will also be here.”

“Oh you kids and your relationships,” the nurse chuckles as she takes the empty bags out. In the mirror, Janis sees her point sternly in her direction as though she were her mother. “Just remember Janis, if she really cares about you, she won’t care how much muck you have on your face.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she says as she applies a coat of eyeshadow, deep indigo and sparkling under the low lights. She adds a generous amount of purple lipstick next, a shade that’s always been a favourite of hers, and four coats of mascara. Some say that’s overkill, she disagrees. Bigger, bolder, better after all.

She takes a second before looking at herself properly, and when she does it makes her happier than it has any right to be. She looks like herself again. Not a girl with cancer. A girl who is perfectly healthy and happy, the dark circles around her eyes and the pale tint to her face deliberate. Not only that, she feels stronger, even though she hadn’t been aware of any weakness before. She can breathe easier now. She’s herself again. A little winded but it was worth it.

When she’s done, Cady and Damian should get out of school in about ten minutes. They worked it all out; they’ll get the first bus from school up to the hospital, which should take about twenty-five minutes. She offered to pay their bus tickets and her mom had offered to pick them up, but neither one of them would hear any of it. Damian in particular would die before accepting money from anyone.

So she has just over half an hour. Maybe closer to forty minutes when factoring in waiting for the bus and various stops…

She probably should have left the make-up to later just to give herself something to do.

No, it’s fine. The last thing she wants is them walking in on her doing her make-up. Besides, there’s plenty to do for half an hour. She’s waited this long after all. She checks her outfit again, first in the bathroom mirror, by bouncing repeatedly, and then by using the camera on her phone. This morning she was sure about this outfit. Now she’s not sure about this skirt. Maybe if her mom had woken her up earlier she’d have had more time to plan it. The shirt is fine, it’s something Cady loves, so she won’t trade it, but the skirt… it’s not working. She grabs more stuff from her bag and lays it out on the bed, debating each one carefully. There’s a pair of studded shorts that she doesn’t think looks right with the shirt, a pair of jeans that would be far too uncomfortable, and a dark grey skirt that she’s not worn that much and is a little short-

“Holy crap,” she sighs. She shakes her head at herself. She hasn’t obsessed this much over her looks since middle school. “You’re insane, Sarkisian. You’re fine.”

They’ve both seen her look worse, surely.

She forces herself to sit on the bed and just watch some freaking YouTube like a normal person. She gets a text from Damian telling her they’re on their way, and she takes a deep breath and sends a response. She then has one eye on the phone and one eye on the window, all the while counting the minutes until they should be here.

Twenty five minutes. One video later, it’s twenty one. Another video, eighteen. Another video, plus a sip of the coffee her mom got her, fourteen. Another video, plus re-checking her make-up, ten. Another video, six. Another video, three.

And now they should be here. They probably are; they’re probably walking through the lobby. Maybe the elevator’s a little slow, maybe they got lost. This is a big place and they don’t even know where they ward is. Do they? Did she tell them? She grabs her phone and checks their groupchat, scrolling through the week-

“Janis?” Her name is accompanied by a soft knock on the door, and when she looks up, Cady is standing in the doorway, looking even more beautiful than she did that morning with a breathless smile and dimples in her cheeks. And everything else she was feeling melts away.

Janis doesn’t care about dignity, she runs over and throws her arms around her. As Cady hugs her back just as fiercely, Janis fights the urge to pick her up off the floor.

“I missed you,” Cady whispers into her shoulder.

“I missed you more,” she replies, certain that she’s correct.

“Well I’ll just go then,” Damian jokes. “If you two need a moment alone.”

“Don’t even think about it,” she tells him seriously, jumping into his embrace. He runs his hand through her hair and even rocks her and everything about his embrace feels right.

“Got you these,” he says when they eventually pull apart. He presents her with a bunch of white flowers wrapped in silver paper. The scent is just like the gesture; so sweet it makes her well up.

“Oh you losers,” she says. “I love them.”

“Hi kids,” her mom greets from her chair in the corner. To be honest, Janis had actually forgotten her mom was there. So her mom has watched her run across the room and tackle-hug Cady. Nice. “How was school?”

“It’s fine,” Cady replies. “You know… senior year….”

“Oh I’m sure it is,” she says fondly. “I’ll give you kids some alone time.” She gives Janis’ shoulder a squeeze before heading out, and then Janis can hold Cady’s hand as tightly as she wants and pulls the two of them to the bed, utterly giddy at having them at her side again.

Even if it won’t last a voice in her head whispers.

“So come on, what have I missed?” she asks. “Other than you two, I mean. Tell me everything. Spill all the tea. I crave gossip!”

“It’s been a week, Jan,” Cady tells her, grinning and swinging her legs as her feet don’t touch the floor. “But, you do know that you’re talking to the newest captain of the North Shore Mathletes.”

“Come on then.” Janis digs her elbow in her girlfriend’s ribs. “Tell me everything.”

That’s all the incentive Cady needs.

She babbles on about her plans for the new year as Captain, how she’s already getting new recruits and she’s even allowed to invite freshmen and create Junior Mathletes, how she’s sure that membership is going to be double what it was last year (at which point Damian reminds her that there were only three people on the team last year), and about how they’re already starting to put together teams for a few contests, more than last year, and of course, how she’s ready to defend their state champion title. With each word, Janis’ heart grows warmer, the sense of security she’s craved all week settling and wrapping around her like her favourite blanket, and their hands lie intertwined on the bed a though they’d never been apart.

“So that’s my life…” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear. She shakes her head and covers Janis’ hand with hers. “But what about you, what’s it like in here?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” she scoffs. “I’m always fine.” Cady’s smile dips, not enough, but Janis notice and let out a sigh. “I mean it’s not the ideal situation. But I’m… coping?”

“I do not like that inflection,” Damian adds, leaning back on the bed and raising an eyebrow.

“You wouldn’t,” she says. “Like, it’s not too bad. You know… the food is actually pretty good, we have some cool stuff in the longue, they know how to keep us occupied. The doctors are all great. Including one hot med student I’m considering setting Damian up with.”

“Consider my attention grabbed,” he says. “How hot are we talking here?”

“Like… Okay I’m not into dudes, so I’m not that great at guessing, but he’s a solid 7.5,” she explains. “Would be a 9 but he stabbed me several times while trying to find a vein.”

“He did what?” Cady squeals, making the two of them jump. Her eyebrows shot up her forehead. “He stabbed you?”

“Woah, yeah.” She grasps Cady’s shoulder and silently bites her tongue. She rubs it in circles, bringing her back down. “And it hurt for a few seconds and I was slightly annoyed by it. And then we laughed about it.” She strokes Cady’s cheek carefully. “Nothing bad, Caddy.”

“Okay.” Cady lets out a breath and shakes out her hands. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, love.” She plays a kiss on her cheekbone, the tension fleeing Cady’s body as she does so. She tangles her fingers in her hair. She even missed her hair. “It’s cute that you worry so much.”

“I always worry about you.” At that moment, Damian turns his attention to the window, and Cady rests her head on Janis’ shoulder and Janis wraps her arms around her. This, the fearful looks and causing anxiety to her, this is what Janis wanted to avoid in the first place.

Damn Cady Heron and her unflinching loyalty.

“You’re feeling okay though?” she asks quietly. “Right?”

“Okay’s a bit of a relative term these days,” she says. “I’m feeling a bit bleh. But it’s fine.” Cady murmurs something she guesses is an agreement and nestles closer to her. Janis rubs her hand up and down her arm. “I’m fine.”

“Good.” She presses her cheek into her head and closes her eyes, only for a moment.

“Anyway, enough of that stuff,” she says, bouncing and turning to Damian, beckoning him back over. “There’s got to be more that I’ve missed. Come on, spill.”

“Well…” Damian begins, spinning around to face them with a grin stretched across his face. He’s been waiting to tell her this, she can tell. “They’ve announced that the musical this year will be… drum roll.”

She can Cady drum their hands on their legs, the sound bouncing off the walls and making the room tremble with anticipation as it gets higher and faster until-.

“Cabaret!”

“No way!” she gasps. Damian nods excitedly, bouncing on the balls of his feet and clapping his hands together. “Stars have aligned, mon amie. Stars have aligned.”

“Which means,” he goes on, throwing himself down on the bed with such gusto that it bounces. “I am going to be the greatest Emcee that North Shore High would ever wish to have.”

“Damn right!” The two high five, their glee double that of the slightly out of the loop Cady. “Emcee has been one of Damian’s dream roles ever since middle school.”

“Ever since I came out of the damn womb!” he exclaims. “I cannot tell you how much I screamed when the drama club announced it.”

“I can,” Cady adds. “It was loud and long and he got several death glares from everyone else.”

“That’s the only appropriate way to react,” Janis chuckles. “We watched the movie way back when and that’s when he decided he was going to play the Emcee or die trying.”

“It’s also when Janis became gay for Liza Minelli.”

“I’m gay for myself,” she corrects. “Liza was just the object of young Janis’ affections.” She rests her chin on Cady’s shoulder and smiles at him. “I’m helping you prep for this. I don’t care if I have to break out of here with an IV in my arm, I’m helping you.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” he replies. “Also the drama club is devastated you can’t do the set this year.”

“Who the heck says I can’t?” she says indignantly. “Those morons they have won’t last five minutes without my guidance. And I will not have your shining moment ruined by a subpar set.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder. “We all know who really runs that drama club.”

“Oh really, madame,” Damian scoffs, turning so his leg is folded beneath him. Janis keeps smiling, despite the feeling that its being tugged down and the weight settling in her stomach. Of all the times he had to do Cabaret, why did it have to be now?

“Everyone really missed you at school,” Cady tells her.

“Bet it’s not everyone,” she says, half joking. “Not one person in particular.”

“Hey!” Cady slaps her arm. “Be nice.”

“I promised to play nice to her face,” Janis reminds her. “Not behind her back.” Cady huffs out a laugh, her face slightly scrunched up. “But how’s the most important thing; LGBT+ society?”

“Well, we’re having our first welcome back meeting on Wednesday,” Damian says. “And Gretchen is taking over your stall at the fair. Sonja’s going to help her out though,” he adds. “And Sonja’s taking over your spot on the committee too.”

“Good choice,” she says. Lovely as Gretchen is most of the time, Janis isn’t sure she could handle the pressure of running her stall. And Sonja’s the perfect choice to take over her committee spot, smart as a whip, decisive and funny as hell.

So why does the idea make Janis so uneasy?

“Yeah, why don’t we turn this TV on?” she says, grabbing the remote. “It apparently has Netflix, although I’m not entirely sure how to operate it. There’s a load of DVDs in the longue as well.”

“A DVD. Now there’s a name I haven’t heard in a while,” Damian says.

“I don’t think they have Cabaret though,” she sighs. “Which would be perfect for us right now.” She’s telling half-truths, because there’s a substantial collection of old movies, including musicals, but she doesn’t really want to brave the longue now, or to take them in there. The longue is probably her favourite place in the hospital, but it’s bound to be full right now. And for now, she wants to keep her cancer world and the real world separate.

So with some fussing, they manage to find Netflix and learn how to work it. Cady is insistent that Janis pick the movie, since it’s her room and she doesn’t know half of them and has already watched the other half. At the start of the summer, Janis had made Cady a list of every movie she needed to watch, and by the end of August they’d almost made it to the halfway mark. The best part wasn’t the movies themselves; it was the movie nights. Huddled under a comforter and surrounded by pillows, Cady’s body pressed against hers and the lights down low, buttery popcorn and sugar-covered candies keeping them going until one (usually Cady) fell asleep.

Now they make do with the thin hospital bed and the near-plastic sheets. At least they can adjust the height of it, and Janis positions Cady against her and Damian sits in the comfiest chair to watch The Parent Trap. It’s none of their favourites, but it’s familiar and good enough and while it wasn’t on the list, Cady hasn’t seen it yet. Besides, Damian can make any more fun.

And really, Janis can’t take any more of the back and forth debate.

The more the movie goes on, the more normal Janis feels. She runs her fingers up and down Cady’s bare arms, her girlfriend’s jacket discarded across a chair like she would in her house. The conversation is light and easy and full of giggles even at the stupidest, silliest thing, Damian quoting along with the movie and Cady hopelessly lost, especially at around halfway through when Janis decides to tell her that Annie and Hallie were played by the same person.

“No way!” she declares. “I’m not believing you until I see proof.”

“Google it,” she says. “Damian?”

“Way ahead of you.” He pulls up the page and shows her the cast list, with one little Lohan billed as the two twins. Cady’s mouth falls on the floor, her shoulders shaking in a silent, disbelieving laugh.

“Jesus Christ!” she says. “How did they do that all the way back then?”

“Movie magic,” Janis replies, wiggling her fingers for effect. “It’s okay, Caddy, we all felt betrayed when we first found out.”

“Didn’t she go off her rocker a bit?” she asks, pointing to the screen. “I know that much. Regina told me.”

“A little,” Janis agrees. “But I kind of feel bad for her, you know?”

“I guess.”

“Oh. Oh!” The camera pans up, revealing the striking and scary figure of Meredith Blake, and Janis squeezes Cady’s arms. “I hated this bitch.”

“I hated her more,” Damian adds, his tone not 100% light. “When I first watched this I had this soon-to-be stepmom, because my dad was back in the dating game, and she was…” He gags and points down his throat.

“Real mature, Damian,” Janis jokes. “I mean she absolutely was, but still. Mature.”

“Okay, missy,” he laughs. “Nah but I used to try to get inspiration from how to deal with her from this movie.”

“Shh!” she hisses sharply, covering Cady’s ears. “Spoilers!”

“I can still hear you,” Cady tells her. “And I could sort of guess. All the movies about step parents do that kind of thing, don’t they? Bratty kid gets wreaks havoc on the step parent?”

“Are you saying thirteen year old me was a brat?” Damian asks.

“Seventeen year old you is also a brat,” Janis teases. Damian gasps and grabs the cushion from the chair, aiming it at her head. Part of her is completely sure he wouldn’t, not in a hospital, part of her is completely sure he would because of course he would.

She doesn’t find out either way, because their gathering is interrupted by her medical team, and the weight in her stomach comes back with a vengeance.

“Not getting in the way are we?” Nurse Lucy asks.

“Not at all,” she says. Before she stops herself, she’s already pushing Cady off her. Heat rises in her cheeks. “That time again?”

“Unfortunately so,” she replies as Cady slides off the bed. “Is it okay if Jackson does it this time?”

“Yeah, sure.” As she rolls up her sleeve, her friends catch on to what’s happening, and Damian rushes to Cady’s side.

“I promise I’ll find the vein this time,” Jackson jokes.

“Oh this is the one you said-” Cady is cut off by Janis making a small ‘cut it out’ gesture with her hand. She then raises an eyebrow at Damian, whose small smirk tells her everything she needs to know.

She takes a look at her IV and her bare arm before turning back to them. She still hates this; shockingly, she hasn’t gotten used to it in under a week. Her stomach still drops a hundred feet when she looks at the needle and her chest tightens even if she’s only thinking about it.

“You guys don’t need to watch this,” she tells them. “It doesn’t hurt. But if you need to look away, it’s fine.”

“I’m fine,” Cady tells her. When Janis looks down though, she sees how tightly she’s holding Damian’s hand.

“Okay,” she says.

This time around it only takes Jackson three tries to find her vein before securing it with the bandage. Good for him. He’s learning.

“You know the drill by now?” Lucy asks.

“Two hours, stay hydrated.” She gives her a two-fingered salute.

“Two hours?” Cady echoes, and Janis has to chuckle at it. “This takes two hours?”

“That’s what she said the first time she found out,” Lucy says, gesturing to Janis. “I can see why you two like each other so much.”

“No but… two hours,” she says again as they leave. “What do you do for two hours?”

“I just… sit here I guess,” she answers, looking up at the medicine. “You know, there’s TV. I have books. I draw. Sometimes it knocks me out and I get a little surprise nap, so that’s fun.”

“Is that… should we go?” Cady asks. “If you’re going to-”

“Oh no.” She shakes her head firmly. “No, it’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“Completely.” She’s such a liar it’s a wonder her tongue hasn’t turned black and crumbled. “Come on. Let’s finish the movie at least.”

Cady lays beside her rather than on her, and Damian stays on the other side of the bed, away from her IV. She catches him once or twice, watching the drip instead of the movie. His gaze is unreadable, and since she’s always been able to know his thoughts without him speaking, it unsettles her.

It’s not long before that familiar tiredness descends on her, clouding her mind and pulling her downwards. And she fights it; she keeps her eyes open despite how they itch and shifts her body when she finds herself too comfortable lest she start drifting off. It’s a challenge, not just because of the medicine’s effect on her, but because of Cady’s warmth next to her, promising security and comfort and being there when she wakes up.

And she must have given into it at one point, because she opens her eyes after a blink and the movie is over; Nick and Elizabeth are together again, Annie and Hallie stay with each other forever, happy endings all around.

“What time is it?” Janis asks.

“Nearly five,” Damian explains. Visiting hours don’t end for another two hours. “Are you okay?”

“Me?” she asks. “I’m fantastic.”

“You sure?” Cady’s hand is on hers, slowly linking their fingers together. Janis squeezes her hand, clarity coming into her mind by her own will.

“Of course I’m sure.”

They don’t have to be home for another hour. Home for dinner, that’s the rule. That doesn’t really change. Damian tells her that his mom is thinking about her every day and was beside herself when she heard the news.

“She’s started following more baking blogs,” he tells her. “So prep yourself for a lot of baked goods on your doorstep.”

“I can’t object to that,” she says. “Especially since Val always bakes with love.”

At some point during the hour, Janis pulls Cady into her lap again, or Cady crawls into it, or both. Her head is under her chin and her back against her chest, slotting into place perfectly. Like if she holds her this close, she won’t have to leave.

Wishful thinking, she knows, because when it gets close to six, Cady picks up her jacket and her backpack and there’s nothing but empty air against Janis’ body.

She wishes she could lead them to the door, but her IV catches on everything, so they say their goodbyes where they are.

“Don’t miss me too much,” she warns them teasingly.

“I hardly ever think about you,” Damian replies, his voice thick.

“And you,” she tells him. “Better run lines with me. When’s auditions?”

“Next Thursday,” he tells her. “So I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“Perfect,” she says. “I have treatments at 11, at 2… You know what? I’ll text you them.”

“Okay. And you were right by the way. That med student is a snack.” They laugh, and then there’s a moment of silence before he folds her in his arms, her face burying itself in the crook of his neck and his hand cupping the back of her head. “Take of yourself, okay?” His voice is so soft, so desperate, that it sounds like a plea.

“I will,” she says. “I always do.” Knowledgeable as always, he gives her and Cady space to say goodbye themselves. She rubs her hand on her shorts, nervousness gripping her body in a way she hasn’t felt in a while and she thoroughly dislikes.

“I’ll text you the second I get home,” Cady says. “And can I call you tomorrow?”

“Of course you can,” she says. “As long as you get some homework done tonight, kid.”

“I will,” she says. “I didn’t get the top grade in Norbury’s class for nothing.” Cady takes in a deep breath, her hand fidgeting around her backpack strap and her hair half-hiding her face. Janis reaches out and pushes it back and if she notices her shaking hand, she doesn’t say anything.

“Caddy-”

Janis actually wasn’t sure what she was going to say there, but it doesn’t matter, because Cady steps up and kisses her. It’s not perfect; it feels clumsy and awkward and they bump against each other, but it’s everything Janis needs. So much so that when they pull away, she doesn’t even attempt to hide the blush on her cheeks.

“Okay,” she whispers, grinning. “I’ll see you soon.” She steals another peck.

“See you later, Janis,” she whispers. They don’t stop holding hands for as long as they can and Janis is still looking at her until she’s out of view, walking back down the hall with Damian, maybe getting lost again. Down the hall, to the right, into the elevator and out the double doors. Bus stop down the street, next stop home. They ride together until Damian gets off and Cady stays on. All the while she stays here, IV in arm and her phone buzzing, talking to them until she falls asleep.

#mean girls broadway #mean girls the musical #cadnis #cady x janis #janis sarkisian #cady heron #damian hubbard #fic: heart of stone

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lxiewrites · 5 years ago

Text

hey there ghouls, it’s ya boys

Ao3

Summary: Keith and Lance try to contact the dead... and it kinda works?

Thanks to @gigili-jiggly for letting me ramble about the boys and ghosts and @bleusarcelle for being such a STICK IN THE MUD with Halloween! Xp

Lance laid on his back, rhythmically throwing this little stress ball he found in the air. It was in the shape of a star and spun when it reached its highest point. He more or less tuned out Pidge and Hunk's scientific ramblings or whatever they were doing, he had no idea what they were talking about anyway. He was in the zone with throwing and catching the squishy yellow star, up and down, up and down. It actually was pretty soothing.

"What are you guys doing?"

...Aaand soothing relaxing time is over.

He scowled over at Keith, tummy turning over. What was he even doing here? He didn't think that Keith would be the type to stay after school. Probably thought he was too cool to join a club or a team. Always a broody lone wolf, with a giant stop sign over his face saying 'don't talk to me'. Okay, something is weird with those metaphors but whatever! It's his own thoughts! He can do what he wants!

"What's it look like, Mullet?"

"Lance," Hunk admonished before turning to Keith with a smile, ignoring how Lance threw up his hands in a massive 'what?!' gesture. "We're just here for robotics club, we're, uh, a little shorthanded right now but you can join if you want?"

Keith's brows furrowed, eyes darting across the three of them. Hunk with his big smiling face hands fiddling with wires and a thing to strip the color from them. Pidge with their smarmy little grin sitting in a circle of discarded parts giving him a short salute and… Lance. Obviously the most brilliant and handsome and charming of the group who's obviously supervising from his position on the couch but whatever. Details.

"This is the robotics club?" Keith drawled, eyes going directly to him.

Instantly something inside Lance prickled, stomach all spikey and annoyed. "Yeah, got a problem with that?"

He could hear Hunk using that mother-hen tone with him again and he knew for sure Pidge was rolling their eyes and he could look over and throw the star at them or something, take the prickly pressure off of him, but he kept his eyes locked on one Keith Kogane. Watching how those weird purple-blue eyes--honestly it really depended on the lighting (not that he spent a lot of time wondering at the color of Keith's eyes or anything)-- narrow, head tilting as those indigo (the lighting wasn't the greatest so it was closer to indigo) eyes flickered around the room, no doubt taking in the cobwebs and black and orange streamers. "No, but... isn't this the art room?"

"Technically," Pidge piped in, pushing their glasses up their nose. "But it's not being used for anything today and the shop room is being used for a car or something. I don't know but it's a mess."

"Oh."

Keith shifted a bit on his feet, almost squirming under their stares, his thumb running over his knuckles wrapped around the strap of his bag.

"If you want you can join us," Pidge said. They looked around and shrugged. "It's a little messy but you could probably find a space."

"Yeah!" Hunk agreed, "Just sit anywhere, dude, we're pretty chill."

Hunk looked over at Lance, eyebrows raised, trying to communicate via facial expression. Which Lance pointedly ignored. They specifically left the couch alone and he called it and he was having a nice and relaxing time with his--oh fine!

He sat up, moving his legs over to give Keith room, embellishing the move with a wave of a hand.

Keith made his way over, carefully avoiding small parts and pieces scattered over the place. They definitely did some rearranging before they completely took over. The tables were all shoved to one side of the room, pressed up against the wall displaying the best work and portraits, nearly impossible to work at unless you wanted to sit on top of the tables. And while he's all for anarchy those tables have been around since the eighties he did not trust sitting on one of them. They left the paint-splattered couch in the back alone to actually sit on while Hunk and Pidge scattered their work across the floor. Delicate pieces of machinery and wires laying out where anyone could step on them along with tools and various nuts and bolts.

Keith finally made past the minefield and the way-too-old couch sagged under his weight. Lance shuffled even more to the side until his arm brushed against the art cabinets, fiddling with the stress star in his hand.

"What are you doing here, Keith?" Hunk asked as conversational as ever.

Keith shrugged. "My ride isn't coming until later. I didn't think anyone would be here."

"Ah, sorry for interrupting your alone time, dude. Do you come to the art room often?"

"Sometimes."

Eloquent as always. He peeked over, noting how stiff he was. The couch was old but it was comfortable and plush, but Keith looked like a statue, backpack on his lap like a shield. He was going to wear through the straps with how much he was rubbing the course fabric between his fingers. Silently, Lance tossed him the stress star.

Keith fumbled, lips pulled into a small frown and turning to look at him. Lance was carefully keeping himself sitting forward and occupying himself with his cuticles, biting off a section of dead skin. He fought down a satisfied smile when he heard the backpack hit the ground.

"Well, it's a nice place.” Hunk continued, oblivious, hands and mind preoccupied with the device in his hands. “My friend Shay comes here a lot. She's really good." Hunk nodded to the artboard barricaded by all of the tables.

Pidge scoffed, "Yeah, sure, friend." Their hands leaving their robot part to put up air quotes.

"She is!"

Lance laughed as Hunk sputtered, his deep rich brown skin turning ruddy and red. "Buddy, you went on and rambled about her for, like, an hour."

"I just respect her as an artist!"

He could feel Keith relax into the couch, back slumping, hands rhythmically squeezing the star, tracing his fingers around the letters printed on the side... He could even see a little smile.

"Maybe we should make a truth detector," Pidge teased, hazel eyes glimmering, smirk in place.

Hunk groaned, "Guuuyyyss, I'm serious! She's just a friend!"

"For now!" Lance had to add, just to see his friend blush so hard he could almost see the smoke burst from his ears.

"What are you guys working on right now?"

Lance turned to see Keith star at the different parts scattered around the linoleum floor.

Pidge lit up, brandishing her piece into the air like how Rafiki did to baby Simba. "My greatest creation!"

"It's going to be a recon offline virtual encryption radar or ROVER for short. It's basically a droid."

"It's way cooler than that!" Pidge insisted, glaring at Hunk for his betrayal of their creation. "It's going to be able to scan a surrounding area and break any encryption code that might be present. It's going to be able to send signals into space and pick of distant radio chatter and…"

This is usually the part where Lance tunes them out. They start getting into the details and using terms he doesn't know. All he knows is that it might be slightly illegal and probably could've helped Nicholas Cage steal the Declaration of Independence. The more technical mumbo jumbo and his brain decides to vacate.

He could practically feel his eyes glass over as they start feeding off of each other, looking over to Keith to see if he got anything from their ramblings to find him staring at him with a confused look on his face. It almost struck Lance at how much... cuter he was? Instead of a permanent frown and a 'don't mess with me or I'll punch you' attitude he looked a lot softer. One eyebrow higher than the other, mouth softened into something that wasn't a smile but it wasn't an angry scowl, his head was even tilted to the side like a confused puppy.

Deflect, deflect, deflect. He cleared his throat and shrugged with an 'I don't know' sound.

They looked back at the two on the floor who somehow got to arguing about some sort of thing and doing it once or twice? Whether it was safer or unneeded? Listen. He doesn't know crap about robots or what they're talking about he's just here to test stuff out.

God. He could just feel the awkward descend on them. Should he say something?

He shifted, the silence uncomfortable and heavy in the air, he blurts out, “So what are you doing for Halloween?”

Keith’s brow furrows when he looks at him, “Halloween?”

“Y’know, trick or treating, pumpkins, costumes, ghosts?”

Slowly Keith shakes his head, brow still furrowed in confusion, like Halloween isn’t this national holiday that is beloved by all. “I don’t really celebrate Halloween, it’s kind of… boring?”

Lance reared back like Keith just bitch slapped him. ”Boring?” Lance turned to face Keith fully, he looked mildly suspicious but otherwise impassive as Lance smacked himself in the chest. “Halloween is my lifeblood. How dare you.”

Keith’s lips twitched, scooting around to rest his arm along the back of the couch. “It’s just another holiday that’s capitalized by the candy companies.”

Lance stabbed a finger in the air between them. “You earn that shit. It’s in fun shapes like fangs and eyeballs and you go around in costumes and scare the shit out of your friends.” Both hands come up, clenching in the air like he could grab the spirit of Halloween and shove it in Keith’s face. “It’s hanging out with your friends and getting candy, and it’s watching scary movies and all of the spooky stuff.”

Keith is completely unconcerned by how Lance is so close to tackling him and shoving candy corn down his throat. “Yeah but you can do all of those things at any time of the year. The candy is just candy but in different wrappings, you can technically wear a costume at any time, and all the spooky and scary stuff can happen any day of the year. Ghosts and hauntings can happen at any time not just Halloween.”

“Okay, point, but the aesthetic. All of it is amplified by Halloween and ghosts are more likely to come at Halloween because that’s when the veil is thinnest and they have an easier time coming to Earth or something.”

“You guys believe in ghosts?” Pidge scoffed, face scrunched up in amused disbelief.

Lance gave her a funny look. “And you don’t? I would’ve thought out of all of us you would.”

They chocked on their laugh. ”Me? Why?”

“You know, like, like,” he waved his hand in the air like it could physically keep his thoughts going, “all that energy has to go somewhere, so the souls or whatever become ghosts or spirits.”

“Lance,” Pidge said, “there is no scientific proof of a soul. And if the argument is energy then it would just be the electricity in the brain keeping vital organs alive until it runs out. No ghosts.”

“Okay, but there are so many weird things that happen with no scientific explanation. Why can’t here be ghosts?” Keith chimed in.

“Can we just, like, not talk about ghosts? Is that a thing that can happen?” Hunk smiled a queasy smile, shoulders shuddering.

“Hunk! Not you too!” Pidge cried.

Lance leaned forward, an evil smile creeping across his face. “Our school is built on an old cemetery you know.”

Keith leaned forward; eyes gleaming smile tugging at a corner of his lips. ”Really,” he said, not quite a question.

He grinned. “Years ago the old cemetery was too full and there wasn’t enough room. So they decided to move it but they only moved the headstones, not the bodies.” He tapped his foot on the floor. “Corpses are rotting under us right at this moment.

“LALALALALA,” Hunk shouted, fingers in his ears. “Nope! Nope! Nuh-uh, we’re not talking about this.”

“Oh my god, there’s no such things as ghosts!” They shouted over Lance’s laughter. “Ghosts aren’t—“

The lights turned off, shrouding them in darkness.

“—real.”

Lance’s heart jumped when he heard a scream, matching it with his own, two more joining his. Leather wrinkled under his fingers, as he blinked his eyes to adjust to the dark. He could just make out the shape of Hunk’s hands covering his mouth. He relaxed his grip. “Hunk!”

“Sorry! Sorry!” His hands waved in the darkness. “My bad!”

“Can I have my jacket back?”

Lance jolted at Keith’s voice right next to him. As in right next to him. “Fuck, uh,” he released his hold on Keith’s jacket, haltingly smoothing it out, “sorry.”

Lance didn’t hear his response, or if he made one in the first place because Hunk decided to screech again, sending the hairs on Lance’s arm straight up.

“Oh god, I felt something brush against me!”

Lance felt his pulse in his wrists and his cheeks, his nerves getting twitchy as adrenaline started pumping. “Hunk, please tell me your joking.”

“I’m not, man! Something brushed against me! And it felt cold!” A dark shadow that he was hoping, praying, that it was Hunk stood up. “What if it’s a ghost?! What if it’s one of the people in the cemetery that really doesn’t like art or robots or something?!”

Lance stood up, squeezing his hands into fists to get rid of the unsteady feeling in his limbs, heart starting to pick up. “Okay if there is a ghost I say we just book it.”

He felt Keith stand up next to him. “If it’s a ghost they probably need help, to, like, move on or something. We should try to communicate with it and help it.”

Lance turned to look at him, only wishing that Keith could see the incredulous look on his face. “Keith, buddy, I don’t know if you have seen any horror movies but that never goes well.” He punctuated the syllables in never to drive the message home.

He winced at a bright light that blinded him, blinking away the black spots that appeared in his vision.

“Yeah, except it’s not a fucking ghost you dumbasses,” Pidge said behind their phone light their tone the definition of “done”. “It’s probably a short fuse, c’mon, Hunk, we’re the only ones that are gonna be able to fix it. I don’t trust these two yahoos.”

Hunk whined, head tipping back. “But there are ghosts. And we shouldn’t split up! That’s just spelling disaster in horror movies! We’re going to be picked off one by one!”

“Would you rather sit in the dark?” They rolled their eyes at Hunk’s whine, moving behind him to push him to the door. “Come on big guy, I’ll protect you. Ghosts can’t hurt those that don’t believe in them.”

The last thing Lance heard was Hunk whining down the hall. A fading, “They’re the first one’s to go!”

“Why are they going to fix the fuse?” Keith said behind him, making him jump. He almost forgot he was there the guy was so quiet.

“The maintenance guy, Coran, is sick or something. I think he said slipperies but I have no clue what that is.” He nodded to where his friend’s left. “They help him a lot. I don’t think the school even knows, pfft. That good ‘ol school funding!”

He felt a little shot of pride at the little huff of laughter but immediately tensed when something crashed. A scream in his throat he whipped around, eyes darting around in the darkness seeing nothing.

His muscles jumped, throat closing, when a hand wrapped around his upper arm, a bright beam of light illuminating the wall before them. His arm hurt where Keith’s fingers dug in, his lip nearly white from how hard he was biting it, eyes intent as he looked to see the source of the crash.

Lance drew closer, arms brushing but Keith still didn’t let go, eyes settling on a brass corner sticking out from behind one of the tables. Relief came but it didn’t stay, muscles still poised in fight or flight, heart pumping and insistent against his chest. “It’s fine,” he croaked. “A painting just fell.”

“Did you mean what you said about the school being built on a cemetery?”

“Maybe,” Lance cleared his throat, ignoring how it cracked, “My older brother Marco told me, he had to move to this school when they rebuilt it here, like, twenty years ago.”

“Maybe the ghosts need help moving on, like, if they receive closure on their resting ground being disturbed.” Keith’s voice was just above a whisper, hushed.

Lance’s skin fucking crawled. He whirled on Keith, his dark, dark eyes wide and serious. “How do you supposed we do that?!” A harsh whisper that scraped through the air like nails on a chalkboard.

“We communicate with them,” Keith whispered back, not nearly as harsh. It was actually annoyingly even. “An Ouija board. We can write it out on a piece of paper and use a necklace or something to hold above it as a pendulum or cut out a circle.”

“How do you even know this?!”

“…I watch a lot of paranormal videos.”

“Jesus Fuck.” Lance scrubbed his hands against his face. “How do you know we’re not going to contact a demon or something?”

“I don’t.”

“Fuck, fuck, no.Absolutely not. Not happening, nuh-uh, no—“

Ten minutes later he was sitting on the ground in a little circle of discarded robot parts—were these parts like… body parts of robot pieces? Ugh, okay, no thinking that—across from Keith, a piece of paper between them and Keith’s phone light next to the paper casting shadows across their faces.

“I hate this. I want you to know I hate this.”

Keith only gives him a noncommittal hum, finishing cutting out the circle with safety scissors they found. At least if they’re killed by a poltergeist it won’t be by overly sharp scissors.

Keith slaps the circle on the paper, eyes narrowed and determined. “Are you ready?”

“No.”

But he sets his hands on the paper anyway, fingertips brushing Keith’s as they start to slowly slide the improvised Ouija thingy over their improvised Ouija board. They aimlessly slid it around the letters, the paper sticking to itself slightly.

It was silent between them. Which was new. They’re almost never quiet with each other, someone—usually Lance— saying something. It felt heavy. Weighed down. Like another presence in the room. Like a gho—

There was a lump in his throat as he tried to ignore the silence. His attention expanding all at once like someone turned the dial in his brain up to an eleven. And somehow that was better and worse than the silence. Every tiny sound from the wind rattling the windows to the minute creaking of the room, amplified by the silence between him and Keith, loud enough that it was distracting. The darkness so black there was color.

He squeezed his eyes shut and focused on the soft shh shhhof the paper. Ignoring the shuffling sounds in the walls his brain conjured up. Focusing on the soft huffs of breaths between them as his heartbeat took center stage as a rapid beating drum in his inner ear. Reminding him of how all those victims in horror movies could hear their blood pumping as they died. Pushing down that voice in the back of his head reminding him of all the stupid horror movies he watched like Paranormal 3 or The Ring or The Conjuring—

“So how are we supposed to contact them or whatever?!” Lance said, a little too fast, a little too loud, trying to drown out the voice and images flashing across the forefront of his mind.

“I don’t know, don’t you just shout at the spirits to make contact and they… just… do?”

“Why are you asking me?!” His heartbeat was loud as he looked at Keith, fuzzy with black at the edges as his eyes adjusted again.

Keith’s jaw and eyes were tense, little lines creasing at the corners as he stared down that their hands. “I don’t know! I don’t like this any more than you!”

“You know, if we were smart we would just leave.”

“Yeah, but that wouldn’t fix anything!”

“We’d be fixing our lives, Keith!”

“That doesn’t make any sense!”

“You know,” Lance brought up his hands, clapping them together, mouth pressed in a straight line, “this is a bad idea. We should go and leave and come back in the morning.”

“Fine. You go, I’m staying.” Keith crossed his arms, mouth firm as he stared at Lance.

Maybe another time Lance would have left. Shouted something at how he was just being plain stupid. Which he was! But he could see the rapid pace of Keith’s jugular in his neck. How pale he was, his fingers rubbing together. His normally pink and plush bottom lip thin and white as he bit it.

He sat back down.

He really wanted to find his friends and leave, and while he knew somewhere deep down they were not being haunted a bigger and louder voice was telling him there was a chance. A slim chance but there was this big, gaping possibility. And he would never forgive himself if Keith got his guts ripped out by a ghost if this possibility happened to come alive.

“Fuuuck, I hate this.” He glared at Keith who looked at him with relief, the tension between his eyes a little less stressed, his shoulders relaxed away from his ears. Lance could feel his heart kick up a notch and he didn’t think it was because of ghosts this time. He intensified his glare. “I hate you.”

Keith smiled at him. “You ready to contact the dead.”

Lance shook his head. “Jesus fuck.” Put his hands back onto the paper circle.

“Spirits,” Keith called out, eyes darting to the corners of the room. “Please. Let us help you.”

They waited a beat. He doesn’t know what it’s supposed to feel like to use an Ouija board, if there was supposed to be a pull or a tug or, hell, an electric shock or something. But he was getting zip. He looked at Keith who just shrugged.

Keith called out again. “If there’s anyone here, please say something.”

This time Lance closed his eyes, who knows maybe the ghost was shy or something. He let his hands slide side to side with Keith’s, not feeling a particular pull but—

Fuck

Lance shot his eyes open. Heart beating fast and this time it definitely was not because Keith had a cute smile or pretty eyes. He heard something.

That shuffling from before. In the walls. It wasn’t in his head but he could hear it. In the room. Around him. And once he heard it heard it he couldn’t un-hear it.

“Keith,” he whispered. “I think I hear something.”

Keith looked at him with wide eyes, so wide he could see how his purple-blue-indigo irises were nearly engulfed by fear, the pupils only leaving a thin rim of color surrounding them.

“What,” he whispered back.

The sound traveled. Started at the back, right behind him and the couch and moved. And if his body wasn’t fucking paralyzed it would be shaking because that’s how his insides felt. Organs trembling as the rest of it locked up tight.

He didn’t look, didn’t want to look. Looking only makes it real; he’ll see whatever is there and get his face eaten off by a fucking demon. But he could still hear. Hear how that scrabbling turned to scratching. And by now, with him being so quiet, barely breathing, Keith could hear it too.

They locked eyes, both hearing it. Adrenaline starting a slow course through his veins, muscles twitching, heart jumping. He could see how Keith’s eyes slowly slide from his and he squeezed his fingers bringing them back to him.

He mouths, “I don’t see anything.”

Lance squeezes his eyes shut until colors flash in a kaleidoscope behind his eyelids, the scratching sound even louder, getting closer. Nails on a chalkboard, nails at his throat.

It was a ghost. It was a fucking ghost and he and Keith were gonna die and their corpses were gonna be found in the morning because of course Halloween was on a school’s day—

He felt a ghostly hand brush against the small of his back and he fucking leaped—

Straight into Keith's lap screaming. Keith’s hands fisting in the back of his shirt shouting in his ear so loud it was going to be ringing the next day— if he lived.

Heart in his throat he waited for the ghosts to do some shit where they pried him off of the newfound lifeline he had grasped in his arms, pulled around the room and shook like a doll.

And all of a sudden it was bright. Bright, bright, bright, bright. And all he could think of was ’do ghosts glow?’before he heard.

“What the fuck is wrong?!”

He shot his eyes open, black dots and bright light blinding him for a second before he could see Hunk and Pidge in the doorway eyes wide with panic.

Throat sore, he stopped screaming Keith quieting down soon after though both of their chests heaved as they tried to catch their breaths.

“What. The fuck. Is wrong?!” Pidge shouted again.

No ghost. The light was on. His friends were here. He dropped his head to Keith’s shoulder and breathed. Arms tightened around him.

Not looking up, he declawed his hand from Keith’s back, waving it at his friends. “Wanna explain, Keith?”

He felt a similar press of a forehead against his shoulder, the sigh fanning across his collarbones. Keith murmured something into his shirt.

Using his body he shook them both. “Come on, Keith, tell them what your idea was.”

Another sigh. “ We tried to use an Ouija board to contact the spirits.”

“Eh, eh, eh, it was Keith’sidea! All his! I wanted to leave!”

“You would’ve left without me?” Hunk said, pouting. He placed a hand on his chest. “Buddy, I’m hurt.”

Lance reached a hand towards him. “No, no, buddy! I would’ve found you first and then booked it!”

Hunk thought for a moment before nodding. “Accepted.”

“I told you guys there were so such things as ghosts,” PIdge said, exasperated.

Keith finally let him go to turn around. “But we did make contact with the ghosts!”

“Yeah!” Lance nodded, fervently, backing up what Keith was saying. “There was a ghost and it touchedme!”

Pidge squinted and looked between them while Hunk’s face screwed up in horror. “How did this hypothetical ghost make contact?”

“There was a lot of scratching noises, like it was in the walls and, again, it touched me!”

Pidge's suspicion fell from their face, expression blank. They smacked their lips together and looked at Hunk. The big guy losing the horrified look on his face, lighting up in relief and understanding. Pidge blinked slowly before bringing up a hand to rub at their forehead, pointing their other hand toward the cabinet doors. “I found your fucking ghost, morons.”

As one, Keith and Lance turned to look and found a little mouse cowering in front of the cabinet. It paced in front of the doors, little claws scrabbling at the wood, trying to find its way in.

Lance felt blood rush to his face and shared a look with Keith, who was also red from the tips of his ears to where it disappeared under the collar of his shirt. He cleared his throat, tearing his eyes away from Keith to look at Pidge and Hunk sheepishly. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

“It’s a good thing you got the lights going,” Keith piped in, cheeks still red.

Hunk’s nose wrinkled. “Actually, we didn’t.”

“What do you mean?” Lance asked.

“When we got there everything was fine. Nothing looked out of place and we didn’t know what to fix, so we just left and were going to tell Coran in the morning.”

“The lights came back on when we were walking back and heard you yahoos screaming,” Pidge finished.

Lance took a deep breath. Nerves fried and muscles sore from being so tense. That entire fiasco might have been a mouse but no. Just no. He’s not risking it. He got up and helped Keith up, a single-minded mission to get the fuck out of dodge.

“Okay, we’re all leaving.” He grabbed their backpacks and tossed them to their owners and started shooing them out the door despite Pidge’s protests and Hunk’s comments about cleaning up. “Let’s go.” Next to them another painting from the art wall fell. “NOW!”

A/N: okay, yes, it might be a day late for Halloween but in my defense I got sick and my body snuck up on me and hit me over the head with a club

#lexwrites #klance #keith #lance #ghosts #spoopy #Halloween #supernatural #high school au

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hereforaus · 6 years ago

Text

Now Breathe || pt 2

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: bodyguard!jungkook , rebel!reader , numb!reader, smut, angst

“people invading your personal space is one of the top most annoying thing to ever exist on earth and your overprotective politician mother hiring a personal bodyguard for you didn’t help at all”

wordcount:5.7k

WARNINGS! : 18+ , foul languages, violence, mentions of bully, smut (on future episodes)

A/N: I made a trailer of this fic for yall to watch [here] :))))) thankyou for the love that yall showered for the first part and i hope you like this one,,,:)

part 1

“MOM!!!” Your nose is literally flaring right now as if there’s gonna be smoke coming out of it in no time. Upon entering the house, you decided to head to where you’re most probably gonna find your mom, her little office.

“How was the concert sweet pea?” she said with that so sweet tone she use with you eversince you were young. Eyes never leaving the paper she’s been holding since you arrive.

“The concert? OH HELL SO LIT. The bodyguard you just hired permanently for me? AWFUL

“Tell you what, he’s the best in his job despite the age” she’s not even looking at you. Like she does not know the weight of her actions.

“For fucks sake”

“Language”

“But mom! Are you seriously gonna do this to me? You do remember the only thing I ask of you in exchange of behaving well and staying away from fights right? I just need privacy, that’s all I ask” You look defeated. Awfully defeated.

“Yes sweetie. I remember everything but I need you to do me a favor for now” for the first time she look at you, her eyes looking so tired under her glasses and you notice the dark circles under her eyes seemingly heavy. She needs sleep, she looks drained out of life. “I’ve been receiving death threats for the past few days. At first it was just me and I can take that, but just yesterday you’ve been included. Hell they even know your university, the dance classes you take and the gym you’ve been conducting your boxing sessions during weekends. I don’t want to force you to not go to these places anymore since I know you can’t do that so that’s the least I can do”

You understand her and you can be a brat sometimes but you love your mom above anyone else, seeing her like this hurts you too. She’s already tired from work, you can see that and thinking that she’s been stressing over the threats on you must’ve been horrible. You can’t imagine how distressed she is and you know that the only thing you can do is to not add from her worries therefore you abide.

“Yes mom, I understand. But can you please rest? I hate seeing you like this”

She smiled.

“I know you’re such an understanding person. I will rest in no time sweet pea, for now you should go to bed too”

“I will. I love you”

“You’re always a sweet kid. I love you too”

“Morning miss” he said right after you open the door of the car to your spot on the front seat. Oh yeah, your driver has been replaced too by no other than Jeon Jungkook. His presence irritate you more than you like to but the only thing you can do is to shrug it off, put your earphones on, blast something off a Childish Gambino song, and wait till you arrive to your school not even giving a glance to the person next to you.

You exited the car without any word, almost missing the little wave Jungkook gave you because the car door was slammed quickly right after you set foot on the school grounds.

“You WHAT?”

“You heard it right, I have my personal bodyguard now”

“Woah woah! so what’s gonna happen now?” Sometimes talking to Lea makes you tired. Aside from the nonstop talking she always do, she also always have lots of questions.

“I guess he’s gonna follow me around everywhere? I dont know really. I’m not gonna be surprised if he’s outside this classroom right now”

“That’s cool!!!”

“Oh yeah for you” and then she’s standing up. “Hey where are you going?”

“Outside. I’m gonna see your body guard”

She’s a headache.

You quickly hold onto her wrist and pull her back to her seat. “I didn’t say he’s actually there”

“I’m just kidding” here she goes with her grin again. She turn her body to her left, directly facing you and she position her left palm under her chin. “So, how does he look like? You know some private agents are hot, just like what I see in the movies”

He’s hot, not gonna lie. “He is almost balding and quite got a cute belly”

At that she slam her hands from her face to your desk. “Bad luck”

“It’s not bad luck love, it’s just that movies are the opposite of real life, and you little peanut, should let that sink in”

“I swear sometimes you got no jams”

“I’m just being realistic and i don’t give all my time fantasizing unlike you. Don’t you get tired tho? of being disappointed all the time?”

“No. Sometimes hoping is tiring but saves you from sadness” She’s the opposite of you in every ways, and maybe that’s why your friendship works out. They say opposite attracts afterall and similar repels.

Just in time, your prof walk in the class. By the sound of his morning greetings, you can tell that he must’ve had his favorite coffee for breakfast, no doubt his day has been great so far.

You could only hold your pen tighter, very ready to continue the poem you started last night. You were just waiting for him to start the class (Chemistry, your least favorite) so that you can already pretend that you’re taking notes from every nonsense that’s coming out from his mouth when suddenly there seems like an announcement.

“Okay class” he spoke with authority but you can only care less as you’re already so deep into the world of poem and words.

“We have a new friend here today. Please intoduce yourself now”

“Hello, my name is Jeon Jungkook and I hope we get along well”

You shook your head. What’s up with boys named Jungkook nowadays and not just that they sound similar too… WAIT… they’re actually similar!

Upon realizing this, you snap your head to the front only to see Jeon Jungkook, your personal bodyguard, in all his glory, wearing the same uniform as all the other guys in that room, his beaming face earning coos from all the girls, right then and there you realize that your situation… couldn’t get any worse. In no time he’s gonna be your boxing coach too, at the same time sparring partner, maybe he’s gonna be one of your dance mates too. Great.

After his short speech that left everyone a fan of him for sure, he made his way to the vacant seat beside you. Of course he will, what did you expect?

“Hi mate”

You can only sigh at this.

“Hi creep”

“Bad morning?” you’re getting tired of his voice already.

“You know better than anyone else” you took off your eyes from your notebook for a while to look at him directly. “Do you want me to sit on your lap now? I think that’s the only thing left to do, is it?” This is gonna be an endless banter and you can smell it. Seeing that he can’t seem to find out how to use his mouth to speak, you return your eyes to your notebook not missing a roll of it upon doing so.

Just like that, Jungkook was left wide eyed, his expression quickly changing into that of a cocky one and a smirk soon followed suite. He’s gonna love his job for sure.

“Isn’t he cute?”

“Every single one here is cute for you Lea, stop speaking and eat your food already”

“This is different. He’s cute and hot Y/N and I think he likes you”

You lift your head and eyes from your food in order to look at her dead in the eyes, a true indication for her to just shut up and eat her food already. The school cafeteria is packed and noises from different groups of people can be heard. She nod her head behind you, a gesture that made you look over your shoulders. And you saw him. Who else but him.

“He does not like me okay? I can tell you that. So now let’s eat peacefully yeah?”

“I mean he’s been checking you out even earlier at class, you’re the first one he laid his eyes into”

You hissed.

“Okay I’ll shut up”

Finally.

“Our way to dance class miss?”

“Yes” you said, voice plain. “and please call me Y/N”

“Y/n” he repeated. Your name tasting good coming from his mouth.

“Yes you creep, hurry up or i’ll beat you up if I get late”

Soon after, the only sound in the car that can be heard is the list of songs from Amy Winehouse’s album called Frank and even though you know that it’s not a normal thing to be hearing from someone your age, you couldn’t care less. Halfway through the drive you urge yourself to speak, this question has been lingering on your mind for quite some time now.

“Tell me, what else did you do aside from entering the same school as mine and the same class too like a creep?”

“Don’t worry, nothing else”

“That’s a surprise”

“You know what, you have to treat me as your friend now, your mother told me to treat you as one cause you don’t get along with our kinds so it’s better if we can just be friends or something”

“I’m not friendly so you can scratch that thought already”

“Who hurted you to be like this?”

Jungkook didn’t mean it the hard way but as soon as you process his words, your mind goes blank. You immediately snap your head to his direction, thankfully enough he isn’t looking at you because his focus is on the road. He can see you from the corner of his eye but not entirely. He failed to see the look of vulnerability in your eyes that only three person in this world has seen. First your mom, second Lea, and third, your dad…

“Pull over”

“What?” Jungkook looks confused.

“I said pull over”

He did.

You got out of the car and opened the door to the driver’s seat where Jungkook is currently seating.

“Get out”

“No I can’t”

“I said get out, let’s exchange seats”

He obeyed.

No other words was exchanged because soon, you’re speeding up to somewhere he cant pinpoint where.

“Let’s have a deal”

You’re now inside the gym, a boxing ring located in the very front of it.

“What kind of deal this time?” Jungkook is now walking beside you.

“You’ll find out”

Soon enough there are two guys in front of you, beaming.

“Y/N!” Hoseok said, his eyes resembling that of crescent moons while making his way closer to you for a hug in which you complied to immediately. Seokjin also did the same resulting to a group hug that almost suffocates you. You love them, oh you surely does.

“Did I hear Y/N” you heard yoongi from a far following some footsteps that you can tell is headed towards you.

“Yoongi”

“Why are you here? You don’t come during weekdays” he said with slight amusement in his tone. Only you can get to stir up an emotion from him and that, you consider is your legacy.

“I needed to let out so badly. Do you have clothes for this guy?” you gesture towards Jungkook. The guy now in spotlight looking lost for a while but soon composed himself trying not to look dumb in front of the unfamiliar but quite intimidating faces.

Yoongi nodded, gesturing for jungkook to follow him while Seokjin and Hoseok produces baffling noises from excitement. You headed to one of the lockers owned by Seokjin to get some clothes that you left there purposely as a stock for emergencies like this. When the both of you had changed into gym clothes, Yoongi was quick to hand the gloves and head gear to the both of you.

“Yoongs, we’re not gonna be using that” Yoongi can only smirk. He knows more than anyone else in that room what’s going on inside your mind right now and the mere thought is enough to produce a smirk to his face.

You’re quick to head to the ring slightly bending your body forward to fully enter it. Less to your surprise Jungkook is still standing with the 3 boys.

“Hey creep! Get in here. We have a deal to finish” He does not need to be told twice because within seconds, he’s already in front of you. “If you win, you’ll get me to comply to one thing that you want me to do but the other way happens when I win. Sound fair?”

“Rules?” He does not back out from challenges.

“Freestyle match” The three guys can’t help but shout from excitement upon hearing this from you. If there is one thing to describe you, it is that you’re a beast inside the ring specially if there are no rules. Truth be told you’re not as serene as you appear to be, never. Eversince you were 11 (the time when you discovered that there’s a thing called punching bags and you can actually not use it because there’s a thing called sparring matches too) you were always involved in fights. Be it when Lea was once bullied by two guys because of her pigtails, in which those poor boys ended up with a broken nose and missing teeth and your first record from the guidance office or when you got pissed off by a random girl because she tried to act almighty in front of you attempting to trip you once when you were on your way to the table you share with Lea in the cafeteria (she ended up transferring schools after that because of an almost broken jaw which resulted to a workload of compensation money and letters from your mother).

After that incident, no one, not a single lost soul has dared to touch you or Lea. It’s not because of what you did but because of what more you can do. You being an asshole of a warfreak isn’t the only case because you act like you have nothing to lose, and that is the scariest thing about you. Well that’s not totally true because you have your own weaknesses, everyone does, but you will never let anyone know about that. The more they know, the higher chance they can take advantage of you. You believe that the more you expose yourself, the more you show fragileness and looking vulnerable in front of someone is scary. For you, not being able to lay flat all your emotions on the table is better than people having the chance or ability to hurt you. So just like that, you almost forget how it feels like to feel and it does not make living any better or easier because choosing to abandon your emotions is like entering the space. It’s like you’re just a floating thing on space, just there but do not actually has a purpose. Like you’re existing but you’re nothing.

You grew up like that. No idea on how to actually express your feelings other than through couple of punches. You would come to the gym every weekend to let out anything you’ve been keeping inside once in a while. You grew fond of the three boys that own this gym. They’re actually the only breathing human being with balls that can get along with you right from the start because at some point, the four of you are not far from same. You never have stopped being involved in fights but you do everything in your power to keep yourself away from it specially if you’re inside the school grounds.

Occasionally you would go home with purple bruises on your face. There is this one time when you happen to stumble to a couple of girls on your way back home from grocery with an ice cream on your left hand. The three of them looks like some gals your age, enjoying the freedom of youth, seemingly broke out of their wits because of clubbing plus cigarettes and alcohol. That time wasn’t the time for girls like you to be out in a dangerous city like seoul with no company of a male friend or relative but the three of them didn’t seem to mind it as they walk towards you, looking as if they can swallow you whole with their over manifestation of eye mascaras just so to look fierce and to have the “im young and wild and free so don’t touch me” vibes. You ignore them as you’re already trying to pass through them, a girl with blonde shoulder length hair and a bubblegum being chewed in his mouth grabbed your right wrist. At first you look at her, carefully scanning her features and you gave her a sweet and innocent smile but the looks she gave you in return screams something between the lines of “you should beg on your knees right now” as if the bubblegum on her mouth isn’t the cliché-est thing you’ve seen through out your whole life. You weren’t really planning on picking up on those girls and you’re already building an invisible bubble consisted of the substance called patience around your brain when halfway through talking them out of the situation, the girl slapped your left hand causing your favorite ice cream that took you a lot of effort to buy from the market to be shove out of your hand and to the floor. The moment you saw the ice cream meeting the dirt on the ground, you let out a scowl. If those girls knew you, they should’ve known better than stand there and continue the mocking expressions on their faces just from the sound of your snort but they don’t know you and they don’t know what they’re getting themselves into. So you lost it. The bubble patience wore out and the only thing left was raging anger. Needless to say, they must’ve stayed away from clubbing for 2 months after that incident because you’re sure as hell, one of them was on the brink of losing her eyeballs from a jab you did that ended up straight to her face. You’re not dangerous, you always say that to yourself but you’re always proven wrong whenever you can’t control yourself from wanting to punch just anything in front of you.

Hoseok, Seokjin and Yoongi knows how to calm you down by now. Seokjin being the most caring among all of them has been your exclusive doctor for years now. He would always have his first aid kit checked for empty bottles of disinfectant or pain killers, he can’t afford to run out of them because he can’t afford to see your wounds too. Yoongi has been the only trainer who managed to keep up with your temper whenever you would go overboard because of a specific bullshit in your life. Hoseok have long since learned how to catch your jabs and not get injured whenever the two of you would go sparring, he’s your long life partner, you can’t thank him enough.

Going back to the current situation, you look at Jungkook straight in the eyes, examining if there’s uncertainty on them but much to your surprise, you found none. You realized he’s just as stubborn as you and you can deal with that. “The game ends with a pin. Aside from that, you can do whatever during the match. Are we deal now?” You can feel your insides starting to heat up.

“This is gonna be great” he said in response “but don’t forget that i’m your body guard with a reason y/n, are you sure you want to do this?”

You can’t tell whether he’s being worried or being cocky but you don’t have time to dwell on that any longer. “Let’s see and find out for ourselves shall we?”

“You shouldn’t take her slightly kid” Hoseok knows what to say. He flashes Jungkook one of his blinding smiles.

“That’s Jungkook for you” And then the match started.

The first 2 minutes was spent blocking each other’s attack by hands. Majority of your antics was quickly avoided by him. He’s much stronger and well built than you, you can tell because of the times you lay your hands on his shoulder through out the fight that his muscles aren’t one to mess with. You would attack him countless of times but he won’t do the same for you. You can tell that he’s taking you easy. “Remember our deal. You won’t like it if I win” You said in between attacks.

“Who said i’ll let you win”.

tension

He’s now lurching forward. Left fist attempting its first contact to your face. missed. You grab his left arm still positioned in the air from the previous attack with your right hand. Pulling it towards you, he stumbled forward. Then a kick from your left knee to his torso followed. First hit.

The sound of skin grazing and making contact to each other came to a halt when the both of you paused. Jungkook has taken your left arm behind you by now. His left hand tangled in it with a force. His other arm came wrapped on your neck. Your whole body is aginst his. You can’t move.

Smell of sweat mixed with both your scents is strong in the air. The sound of Jungkook’s ragged breathing filled your ears and the feeling of his wet skin against yours overwhelmed your body.

A kick on the back of your knee sent you to the ground. Coming face to face to him, he hovered over your body. But before he can perform his next moves, you inch your face close to him, your arms made its way around his neck, and then your lips came in contact with each other causing his mind to shut down, eyes wide with the sudden move. 1…2…3…, before he can even comprehend anything, you broke the kiss. Your left knees swayed forward to his lower region. He growled in pain, it caused him to lay crouching on his back, instinctively holding his private part because of the electrifying pain. Then the last move you go, pin.

Right after the match ended, you bid your goodbyes with your good friends then you hop to the driver’s seat of your car, your mom’s car. Jungkook was quick to enter the car.

Both of you stayed silent. Jungkook seemingly deep in thoughts because of earlier and you, focused on the road. Jungkook does not have an idea where you’re heading to and by the looks of you, the destination is far from reach so he decided to break the silence.

“So… the deal”

“Yeah the deal” you tap your tumb on the stirring wheel repeatedly before continuing what you has to say “I need you to do this one thing”

“As long as it does not meddle with my work, i’m more than willing to obey”

“Sure” pause “ I need you to lie”

“W-what?”

“I know the system Jeon. You’re my bodyguard, and everyday you send a report to my mom. I’m not dumb”

“If you know the system then you should also know that I can’t lie to your mom because loyalty is a part of my job”

“Your job is to protect me Jeon. You’re my bodyguard and you also have the responsibility to be loyal to me. Besides, you lost the deal so you don’t really have a choice”

“What exactly do I have to lie to?”

“Maybe we have to rephrase that. You don’t need to lie, you just need to skip some details”

“Please be more specific maam” he released a scoff

“Follow me”

—

The both of you ended up in front of a seemingly abandoned, four story high building somewhere in the most secluded part of Seoul where only the most dangerous people who’ve been feared by normal citizens are able to walk on the streets at night. Jungkook can tell from observing the place on your drive up to here that the whole area isn’t a place that a normal person would visit or would plan to. Majority of the buildings around are abandoned and graffitied. There aren’t much streetlights and the houses are small, murky and right next to each other, not to mention, litters are everywhere.

You opened the pealing door surrounded by iron chunks that reveal the interior of the skyscraper you just entered. The ground floor displayed the presence of nothing that even doors separating the multiple rooms are missing. The whole floor is mainly consisted of thick dusts and the very few slightly dimmed flickering lights that is only enough to aluminate the pathway to the stairs. Jungkook kept following you from behind, both your steps leaving an echo through out the place. You made your way down to the underground and upon your second step from the stairs, you halt causing Jungkook to do the same. You turn your face to the side.

“Watch where you’re going Jeon” then you gestured to his feet. Just then, he notice a very thin thread that is almost invisible to him. He carefully took his next step, doing his best not to touch the thing.

“Is that supposed to kill me?” he point his finger to the thread.

“That’s connected to a land mine” you said, voice filled with seriousness

“ARE YOU SERIOUS?! What if I didn’t stop there? I might be roasted right in this moment!” He look at you straight in the eyes, looking angry for a moment. The silence lingered in the air as the two of you seemed to have an intense staring contest going on… but what Jungkook didn’t expect was when you burst out laughing. You’re crouching down, holding your stomach and a tear took its place on the corner of your eye threatening to drop at any moment while your giggle filled the room.

“Connected to a land mine” you repeat your words from earlier while doing your best not to end up laughing again. “There’s no such thing as that Jeon. That will just alert someone down here” and then you continue your steps, ignoring Jungkook’s dumbfounded look until you’re standing in front of a room. You entered a code to open the lock on the door and upon entering the only room that seems to be gifted with colors other than gray, Jungkook saw a man slumped on one of the tables, his whole surrounding consisted of computers lined up next to each other, codes on green font appearing then disappearing on them,some computer showing the situation of each room on the building from a camera installed on the corners of it. He definitely didn’t expect any of these.

“Joon” Upon hearing his name, Namjoon jolted from his seat, almost knocking the coffee lying on his left side. Upon recognizing the source of the voice, he wiped his tired eyes, hazily grabbing the glasses on his head and repositioning it so it rests on his nose.

“Y/N” Namjoon is beaming now although you can hear the exhaustion tainting his voice.

“How’s it going?“

“Few codes and I can access his computer already. Actually I didn’t expect this to be risky. Their system is protected with a security software that would alert their main computer if someone is trying to manipulate their pseudonyms. Good thing I found out about it sooner, we almost got caught there” you hum in response, just by then, Namjoon noticed the shadow behind you, he found a nameless man looking slightly dumbfounded gazing back at him. “You didn’t tell me that you’ll be inviting a guest today. Mind if you introduce him?”

“Oh yeah. He’s Jeon Jungkook. My bodyguard” They both eyed each other. Few seconds later Namjoon decided to direct his glance at you, his left eyebrow scrunching up as if to silently ask you what’s going on.

You decided to speak again. “He asked me about the thing that he should lie to. So here it is, I’m showing him the one and only thing that he can never tell my mother because once she knew about this, it’s gonna be over for the two of us”

Fact.

“Wait” Jungkook spoke for the first time. “What exactly is this?” he gestured his hands around.

“You’ll understand this soon once Namjoon finishes his job” You threw a smile on Namjoon. Not a second later, he’s getting back to his work, hands tirelessly typing out words that even you can’t quite figure out. He worked with three computers, constantly switching from time to time.

10 minutes passed, only the sound of Namjoon slamming his fingers on the keyboard and the nonstop clicks from the mouse can be heard. You waited for 1 more minute until Namjoon decided to hit the enter button more loudly than the rest to signal the end of his reverie.

“Off you go y/n” he removed his glasses. Lying it on his table, he turned back to you and Jungkook to flash you another smile that shows off his deep dimpled cheeks. “Lotus club. I traced the location of his phone and he’s currently there. I also hacked on the cctv of the club a few days ago and I found out he goes there often to get wasted and bring home some girl he can have a good time with on his bed. I need you to do something to get this task 75% done” he pause for a minute, his gaze switching between you and Jungkook. “We need to install something on his phone” he then pull out a small card in between his fingers.

You know what he’s implying already, you’ve done this before on one of your missions and you’re more than excited to do it again. You scurry your way to Namjoon, snatching the micro card on his fingers with a flick.

“Got it pal” then you’re off with Jungkook.

134 notes · View notes

spidergwenstefani · 6 years ago

Text

Finals Week

This is a really self-indulgent semi sequel to this ficlet I wrote a little while ago about theatre major Bucky and frat bro Clint. Apparently this is gonna be the AU i use for pointless fluffy comfort now bc I’m stressed with finals essays and these boys are helping.

I definitely shifted some background characters around since the last fic sorry steve but i don’t super care so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Bucky spins his desk chair around in a lazy circle, watching the moon shining through his apartment window blur into a bright stripe with the rest of his surroundings. Someone on the floor above him has tuned their Spotify to some kind of low-fi study playlist, and Bucky feels genuinely relaxed for the first time in… months, actually.

This last week has been rough. Nearly all of his finals ended up scheduled on the same Friday and Natasha had to actually hold him back from leaping out the library window on Thursday night. It worked out alright. The Lighting Design 201 presentation had gone off shockingly well, the History of Stage Design final was way easier than expected, and his group project for Gender in Shakespeare really pulled through in the end. He half-assed the conclusion for his Dramaturgy essay, but there was only so much he could say about August Wilson without the professor realizing he was just spitting his class notes back at him. So now he’s done. A whole five days before the semester ends, too. It feels like a thousand-pound weight has been lifted off Bucky’s shoulders. He hums along to the slow jam echoing down from his upstairs neighbor, scooping up his phone to check his messages.

Nat (3 hours ago) Congrats on being done with finals

Nat (3 hours ago) If you didn’t turn that gd Fences essay in on time I will climb in through your window and strangle you in your sleep

Steve (2 hours ago) Hey! Me and some buddies were planning on going out for pizza around 7 tomorrow. Do you wanna come with? You can bring Clint so you don’t have to listen to grad students all night.

Steve (2 hours ago) Please say yes. I don’t want to listen to grad students all night.

Nat (42 minutes ago) Have you heard from Clint? He hasn’t answered my texts in hours. Not sure if I should be concerned

Nat (40 minutes ago) Send him a dick pic and see if that gets a response

Clint (3 minutes ago) im fckin dropping uot

Bucky ignores Steve and Natasha for now, typing out a quick response to Clint.

Bucky Well I’m done with finals

Bucky Can I convince you to stay in college with some fantastic Fuck Dramaturgy victory sex?

Clint i dont kno what htat is

Bucky I’ve explained Dramaturgy to you like five times

Clint i cant remembr

Clint what day is it

Clint bucky im dyin :’(

Bucky rolls his eyes, grabbing the keys off his desk and pulling on his sneakers. He would have preferred to avoid the Greek side of campus today if at all possible, but he has an idiot boyfriend to console.

Bucky omw

>>==========>

Beta Theta Pi is, as far as frat houses go, not the absolute worst. It had still been kind of a shock when Bucky realized Clint actually lives up to his frat bro vibes. Not only lives up to them but embraces them with the same enthusiasm Clint has for any other thing he cares about. Bucky could probably do PR for the Beta charity drives by now after how much Clint has gushed about them. Lord knows he’d do a better job than fucking Pietro.

Bruce answers the door on Bucky’s third knock, looking surprised to see him and vaguely stoned.

“Bucky?” he says after he gets a few blinks out of his system. Bucky wonders if it’s such a good idea to be smoking in his letterman jacket. Coach Fury’s been known to have a nose like a bloodhound. “Clint didn’t say you were coming over.”

“Has he said anything at all in the last twelve hours?” Bucky asks, shouldering past Bruce because he knows he won’t move on his own. Bruce is actually his favorite of Clint’s brothers. He’s chiller than any offensive lineman has a right to be. He does yoga, for fuck's sake. It’s probably the copious amounts of weed that mellow him out in the end, though.

“I dunno,” Bruce says, still blinking his way back to the present. He gives Bucky a slow smile as he shuts the door behind them. “Do you want tea? I made tea.”

“Maybe later,” Bucky says, because he’s just spotted Rumlow studying at the dining table and that’s the one Beta guy he genuinely doesn’t want to see today. He heads for the stairs.

“Wanna play Smash Bros?” Bruce asks as Bucky bolts for the second floor.

“Maybe later,” he shouts over his shoulder.

Clint’s room is at the far end of the hallway, and Bucky frowns at the closed door. Clint’s the kind of endearingly codependent guy that keeps his door open unless absolutely necessary, never wanting to miss out on anything that might be blocked by a thin layer of wood.

He knocks more as a warning than anything, letting himself in and shutting the door softly behind him. All the lights are off and nothing but moonlight illuminates Clint spread dramatically across the floor, staring up at his ceiling fan like he’s hoping it’ll fall on him.

“Fucking Christ,” Bucky mutters, mostly because he’s not sure Clint even heard him come in.

“I’m gonna die,” Clint answers from the floor. “Statistics is actually gonna kill me.”

“You can’t die,” Bucky says, leaning back against the door. “My mom will be crushed if I don’t bring you home for spring break.” The moonlight is making the angles of Clint’s face look especially soft, and Bucky takes a moment to watch him pout before sinking down onto the floor.

“No, it’s too late. I’m dying,” Clint says, shifting to make room on the rug as Bucky crawls over to him. He wraps his arm around Bucky’s shoulders and plants a quick kiss on his forehead before turning his glazed look back up at the ceiling fan. “You’ll come to my funeral, right?”

“Obviously,” Bucky snorts, sliding his hands under Clint’s t-shirt. He knows his fingers are ice cold, but Clint doesn’t even flinch.

“Wear black, okay? Something sexy, so my enemies get jealous of the hot piece of ass I bagged before kicking the bucket.”

“Should I cry?” Clint hasn’t seen Bucky act yet, but he’s totally going to audition for The Laramie Project next semester and blow his fucking mind.

“As much as possible. Maybe mention how much you’ll miss my massive dick.”

“I will,” Bucky says emphatically. He looks up at the ceiling fan and takes a deep breath, doing his best to bring tears to his eyes. “I’ll never love another dick as much as I loved his.” Bucky’s voice comes out impressively choked up. “I’m cursed to a life of longing. The only man who can satisfy me is lost forever.” Bucky blinks a single tear down his cheek, and Clint’s staring at him when he finally turns back.

“Holy shit,” Clint says, moving to wipe at Bucky’s cheeks like he’s actually worried about him. “Do exactly that, please. When did you learn how to cry on command?”

“When my third sister was born,” Bucky answers smugly. “I didn’t appreciate how much more attention tutus and pigtails got, so I had to find my own edge.”

“Becca’s sent me a few pictures that say you still cashed in on tutus and pigtails.” Clint rolls onto his side so he can face Bucky better, pulling him closer with a hand around his waist.

“I rocked those butterfly clips better than she could ever dream,” Bucky says, and Clint buries his laugh in Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky runs a hand up and down Clint’s back. “What day is your Stats final?” That earns him a despondent groan.

“Monday. I’m so gonna fail.” Clint’s voice is muffled by Bucky’s sweatshirt. “Why the fuck did I decide on a Business major?”

“Because you’re smart,” Bucky insists. Clint shakes his head weakly against his shoulder and Bucky smacks him lightly on the arm. “You are. You’re smart and practical, and once you have your diploma you and Nat can move to New York and open your gym.”

Clint mumbles something into his sweatshirt that Bucky doesn’t quite catch.

“What?” he asks, and he tugs the back of Clint’s shirt just enough to get him to scoot backward and speak clearly.

“I said you’ll be there too,” Clint repeats, rubbing his thumb back and forth across Bucky’s side and making an effort to keep his eyes anywhere but on Bucky’s. “Designing costumes on Broadway. Having a meltdown every other day.”

“Exactly,” Bucky says, and Clint looks up long enough to give him a hesitant smile. “And on tech week I’ll gripe to you all night long and make you rub my feet.”

“Sounds like a dream,” Clint says, and his voice is too soft to be joking. Bucky leans forward to kiss him. Clint brings his hand up to Bucky’s face, brushing his thumb over his cheek while they lose themselves for a moment or two.

“It’ll be awesome,” Bucky says once he’s pulled away. “And all you have to do is pass one dumb Stats final. It’s all easy street after that.”

“No it’s not,” Clint says, but his face doesn’t seem quite as pinched with worry. Bucky shrugs one shoulder.

“Maybe not, but this is all you have to think about right now. And even if you don’t pass, which you will, Momma Barnes will be waiting at the train station, ready to fill that void of disappointment with cookies and brisket. They offer Stats over the summer. You can even get Bruce to help you study.”

Clint smiles a little easier and presses a kiss to Bucky’s cheek.

“Bruce offered to help me study earlier this week, actually.” Bucky raises his eyebrows at him.

“And you’re not taking him up on it? Bruce is pretty much Einstein. You know that, right? What are you doing in here when you could be getting schooled on Stats in the library?”

“Well, you’re here,” Clint says and Bucky just knows his smile goes all dopey at that. “And I think even Einstein would struggle with Stats after smoking that much weed.”

“You’ll study with him tomorrow though, right?” Bucky’s not going to let Clint throw him off that easy. Clint rolls his eyes, but he nods. “Steve invited us to get pizza tomorrow. I’ll pay, as a reward for studying.”

“Steve invited us, or Steve invited you?” Clint asks, scrunching up his nose. Bucky snorts, shoving at Clint half-heartedly.

“Steve invited us. To go out with him and his friends. I dunno why you hate him so much. He thinks you’re pretty cool.”

“I don’t hate him,” Clint says defensively, but he still shifts forward to wrap his arms possessively around Bucky. “I just want to make sure he knows that the position of Bucky’s Buff Blond Boyfriend is already happily filled. Also, fuck him. I’m really cool.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Bucky says. He’s kind of stuck in Clint’s steel trap of a hug. “It’s not like that. First of all, I don’t date grad students, and second of all we totally have more of a big brother-little brother sort of thing going on. I think he’s more into Tony, anyway.”

“Aw, gross,” Clint laughs, letting Bucky out of his death grip. “They deserve each other.”

“People probably say the same thing about us,” Bucky says. Clint grins at him, opening his mouth to share some kind of smart-ass response. A knock on the door cuts him off and makes them both jump.

“Do you guys have pants on?” Bruce’s voice comes through the door way louder than necessary. “If you don’t, sorry. Keep doing your thing or whatever. We’re starting a new Smash tournament, though, if you wanna join.”

“No, Bruce. C’mon man,” Bucky hears Sam say, and there’s the sound of scuffling feet like Sam’s trying to yank Bruce back from the door. “They’re probably having their own Smash tournament in there.”

“Bucky would have invited me,” Bruce insists, and Clint sits up with a laugh.

“We have pants on, Bruce,” he calls, and the door opens a moment later.

“Are you guys just sitting in the dark?” Bruce frowns down at Bucky, who’s still sprawled across the rug.

“Yeah,” Clint says, and then because he catches Bucky’s meaningful look, “Are you busy tomorrow? Think you could help me with Stats?”

“Yeah,” Bruce says, smiling easily. Bucky thinks Clint looks relieved, like he actually thought Bruce might say no. “We can go to the library.”

“Alright, Bruce.” Bucky stands up, offering a hand and hauling Clint to his feet too. “Let’s smash. I call the pink controller.”

#my fics #winterhawk #rated: g #college au #wait have I been remembering to rate my fics lately #i didn't even realize i was making a hulk smash pun until the very end #i was just thinking about all the frat houses ive been to where they do nothing but play super smash bros #also clint is definitely the friend that switches off autocorrect despite needing it the most #im sorry if his shitty texting hurts anyone's brain

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superiordragonlorde · 6 years ago

Text

Awkwardly Well Meant

April 4: Meeting | Hydrangea | Brighter Than Sunshine by Aqualung (the song I listened to while writing this)

Here’s day 4 for @kiridekuweek2k19 . I hope you all enjoy!

Eijirou slumped in his chair, hoping to hide his burning face behind his biology textbook. His two friends, Denki and Mina, were standing next to a student’s chair, chatting loudly to its occupant. Eijirou peeked over the top of his book, catching sight of green hair that spread out in soft curls, a sparkling, dark green eye, and a freckled cheek bunched from a bright, beaming smile. He slid further down, quietly groaning.

Hanta, another one of his friends, gently patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry, man,” he half-heartedly soothed. “Maybe they won’t screw over your chances of ever getting a date with this guy.” Eijirou only responded with a strained whimper.

While Denki and Mina were good-hearted, well-meaning people, they lacked every form of grace and subtlety that all humans needed. That did not bode well with Eijirou whose main goal, at the moment, was to not embarrass himself in front of the cute, green-haired guy sitting two rows ahead of him. And those two were only known for their embarrassing tactics.

Eijirou straightened up long enough to drop his forehead onto his desk, accepting defeat. There was no way the guy wouldn’t think he was some kind of weirdo now.

Their biology teacher, Aizawa, stepped through the doors a few moments later and Denki and Mina scrambled to their seats.

“What did you two do?” Eijirou hissed at them, using the settling of forty students to drown out his words.

Denki flashed him a wide, smug grin from the other side of Hanta. “We helped you score, dude!”

Eijirou plopped his head into his hands, groaning a pained, “Oh no.”

“We didn’t try to talk you up,” Mina promised, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “Since, y’know, it didn’t work that well last time...” Eijirou shot her a disgruntled glare. She gave him a sheepish smile in return.

“But we got some info on him,” Denki spoke up, bouncing a little in his seat. “He’s majoring in botany and he really likes flowers.”

“Yeah!” Mina perked up, squeezing Eijirou’s arm. “So take your suave, Cassanova self and woo him with your flower skills!”

Eijirou’s heart skipped at the idea of using flowers to charm the guy sitting in front of him. It sounded romantic— hell, it sounded manly— but something sank into his chest, weighing it down as Aizawa started class.

He didn’t have any flower skills.

When his classes had ended for the day, Eijirou had sprinted across campus to the library to grab every book about flowers he could find. He couldn’t waste a single moment. The guy he was crushing on was the sweetest, kindest person he’d ever met. If he wasn’t already spoken for, someone else could come in at any time and—

Eijirou screeched to a halt, a stack of books teetering in one of his hands while he reached for another one on the top shelf.

What if... what if he was already with someone?

Eijirou shoved his hand into his pocket, fishing frantically for his phone. He whipped it out and called the first person in his recent contacts list.

“Hey, Kiri!” Mina greeted on the other end.

“Is he even single?!” Eijirou blurted out, earning a few glares and shushes from other students. He murmured a small “Sorry” and slipped to an abandoned corner of the library.

The other end of the call was silent before Mina shrieked, “Holy shit, Kami! We fucking forgot to ask if he was single!” There was a languished cry in the background and Eijirou was fairly certain he heard Hanta murmur something similar to, “That was, literally, the most important question you should have asked.”

Eijirou groaned and ran his free hand down his face.

“Wait, wait!” Mina suddenly shouted, startling him. “Bakugou says he is— Wait, how do you know?” There was a pause and a gruff voice reluctantly mumbled something Eijirou hadn’t been able to catch.

“OH MY GOD!” Mina squealed, cackling maniacally. The sound of Katsuki snapping at everyone almost overpowered the hysterical laughter filling the phone’s speaker.

“Woah, wait, Ashido,” Eijirou piped up, glancing around the library to make sure no one could hear the delirious screeches and giggles coming from his phone. “What’s going on?”

“Kiri, you’re not going to believe this!” Mina crowed. “Holy shit. So, turns out Bakugou is childhood friends with your man.”

Eijirou tensed, a mixture of dread and excitement churning in his stomach. “Really?! Put him on the phone! I need to know what kind of flower he likes— Wait, no, ask him if he’s single— No, no! Does he even like guys? Oh shit, I didn’t even think of that—”

“Calm down, man,” Mina comforted, chuckling. “Bakugou said he’s not going to help you win over that— what did you call him?— ‘useless shithead’.”

“That’s rude, bro!” Eijirou cried, earning more glares and hushes.

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” Mina huffed, a tinge of humor laced into her tone. “Anyway, he said yes, he’s single—”

“Because only a fucking idiot would even think about dating him,” Katsuki screamed in the background.

“Love makes people do crazy things,” Hanta supplied. There was the sound of grunting and scuffling on the other end.

“Watch the lamp!” Mina warned, then sighed. “Anyway, yes, he’s single. Yes, he likes guys. And no, Bakugou won’t tell you what kind of flower he likes because, and I quote, ‘That fucking moron loses his shit over any kind of flower so it shouldn’t fucking matter.’ Does that help?”

Eijirou exhaled slowly and rubbed his temple. “Yeah, it does. Thank Bakubro for me, would you?”

“Sure,” Mina chirped. “Ah, shit. I gotta go— I SAID WATCH THE LAMP!” The sound of something breaking cut through the cacophony. Eijirou heard a whispered “Oh fuck” before the line went dead. He pulled his phone away to stare at the screen, saying a silent prayer for a quick and painless death for his friends before he went back to his search for books on flowers.

Eijirou had always known there were a lot of flowers in the world, but he’d never realized how many there were. He was officially pulling an allnighter now with trying to find the perfect flower that conveyed the message ‘Hey, I’d really like to get to know you, and, if you’re ok with it, I’d like to become more than friends in the future, but it’s totally ok if you don’t feel like that because having you as a friend would be just as amazing too.’

Eijirou dropped his head onto the book laid open in front of him, hand resting limply atop his laptop. He hadn’t wanted to risk having his message misinterpreted so he’d double, triple, quadruple checked every fact on flower symbolism he could find.

There were so many different meanings, and different countries had different meanings for the same flowers. Eijirou felt like he’d just crammed for a test.

Wait... didn’t he have a test in Mr. Yamada’s class today?

Eijirou groaned loud enough that his roommate, Katsuki, chucked a pillow at his head as punishment for waking him.

The next time he had biology class that week, Eijirou was nursing a horrible cup of coffee Denki had offered him. It was bitter, but at least it kept him awake. He’d been getting only a couple hours of sleep the last couple of nights, stressing over the perfect flower to give to the shining, green-eyed man in front of him.

“Guys!” Mina greeted happily, slipping into her seat next to Eijirou. The redhead groaned, his muddled head ringing from her voice. “You’re not going to believe the scoop I got yesterday!”

“Got something good for your article in the school newspaper?” Hanta asked, peering over Eijirou.

“Nope!” she tittered. “Even better! Guess who I have in my literature class.”

“Mineta?” Denki hazarded.

Mina crinkled her nose. “Ew, no. It’s Uraraka! The girl who sits next to your lover boy.” She nudged Eijirou, wiggling her eyebrows.

Eijirou tipped his head up enough to look at the brunette sitting next to his crush. She looked like she had a bubbly personality with pink, round cheeks. She talked excitedly to the green-haired student, hands waving in the air. He listened to her with rapt attention, adding in small tidbits of conversation when she paused long enough for breath.

Eijirou felt his face burn as he flushed. “That’s cool,” he replied tiredly.

Mina shot him a small pout. “Ok, I know you’re tired, so I’m going to pretend that you didn’t sound completely unfazed by the fact that I talked to your crush’s friend. She could, literally, make or break your chances at going out with him.” A shock of anxiety coursed through Eijirou’s veins.

“But anyway,” Mina continued on, unaware of the panic seizing him. “She actually came up to me first, after class, and said she saw you making ‘doe eyes’ at him and was wondering when you’d make a move. So then I told her that you were trying, but got a little stuck with trying to confess through flowers—”

“Ashido, please,” Eijirou begged. “You’re too loud!”

“Oh!” she yelped and dropped her voice down to a whisper. “Sorry. So, she told me that Midoriya really likes—”

“Wait,” Denki cut in, brows furrowed. “Who’s Midoriya?”

“The guy Eijirou’s crushing on, you idiot,” Hanta hissed, smacking him lightly on the back of his head.

Eijirou dropped his head onto the desk, feeling like smoke was coming out of his pores. “Guys, please,” he whimpered. “He’s right there!”

“Wait,” Denki proceeded on. “Did you even know his name?”

Eijirou turned his head to find his friend looking at him with concerned confusion. “Of course I did!” he lied. He had actually only known the name “Deku”. It was a nickname Katsuki and the brunette called the green-haired guy. He had heard Aizawa call his real name once, but he had been too captivated by the soft-spoken man’s splattering of freckles that seemed to highlight the stars in his eyes to actually catch it. He hadn’t heard anyone else say it after that and he had been too embarrassed to ask.

Deku Midoriya. It wasn’t his full name but it was better than what he’d had.

“Sure,” Mina hummed, unconvinced. Eijirou shot her a half-hearted glare, but she waved it off. “Well, anyway, Midoriya really likes bigger flowers, so if you can, try to get those.” She gave him an encouraging smile and the soft scowl on Eijirou’s face quickly melted away.

“Thanks, Ashido,” he murmured. “Does he like a specific color?”

Mina pursed her lips in thought for a moment. “Nope, she didn’t tell me he had a favorite color. She just said make sure it’s a natural color. He doesn’t like ‘fake flowers’, or something like that.”

Eijirou nodded, tiredly making a mental note. “Ok.”

Aizawa entered the classroom at that moment and Eijirou tried to drag up every ounce of willpower he had to make it through the lecture.

After a few more days of debate, Eijirou had finally decided on a flower. He’d made a list of large flowers and then had the sudden realization that, as a broke college student, he didn’t have a lot of money to spare for them. That had set him back half a day, which had been filled with bemoaning and Mina bringing him ice cream. But after more consideration and a bit of scouring, Eijirou had found the perfect flower to give to Midoriya.

Eijirou huffed a soft laugh as he skipped out of his dorm, still finding it amusingly fitting that Midoriya’s name had the kanji for “green” in it. It was almost like he had been born to fit into his surname.

He shook the thought away as he headed to his biology class, taking a small detour along the way. There was an older woman that lived across the street from the campus that he tried to wave to whenever he walked by. She was usually outside, tending to her multitude of flowers or sitting in her rocking chair on her porch, reading, knitting, or thinking. She always returned his waves with her own, a bright, wrinkled smile shining on her face. He’d spoken to her a few times too in passing and had formed, what he would like to think as, a solid acquaintanceship.

She sat on her rocking chair this morning, the newspaper she held almost hiding her completely from view. Eijirou cleared his throat and called out from the street. “Good morning, Ms.Shuzenji!”

She folded down her paper, a soft, worn smile on her face. “Good morning, Eijirou,” she greeted in return. “How are you doing, young man?”

“I’m doing pretty good,” he grinned, fighting past the nervous twist of his stomach. “Actually, I, um, kind of have a favor to ask of you.”

Shuzenji arched a thin eyebrow and set her newspaper to the side. “Is that so? What can I do for you then?”

Eijirou unconsciously rubbed the back of his neck. “W-well, I, uh— There’s a... person that I really really like and they’re really into flowers. I thought I’d give them one, but I’m kind of short on cash, so I was wondering— I mean, I don’t want to bother you, but I just... I was kind of hoping to, um—”

“Young man,” Shuzenji interrupted. Eijirou snapped his mouth shut with a loud clack. “I’m an old woman who doesn’t have a lot of time left on this world to waste. Why don’t you stop dancing around the subject and go ahead and tell me what I can do for you.”

Eijirou swallowed and took in a steadying breath. “Could I have one of your flowers to give to them? I can pay you back, it just might take a little while. Or I can clear out the weeds, or help you replant some of your flowers, or—”

The woman’s warm, gentle laugh made the words on Eijirou’s tongue stagger to a halt. She waved a leisurely hand and slid off her chair with creaking joints, grabbing her cane. “There’s no need, young man,” she consoled. “What type of flower were you looking for?”

“I, uh—” Eijiriou cautiously crept down her sidewalk, anxiously waiting for Shuzenji to suddenly change her mind. “I was hoping to have one of your hydrangeas... A purple one, please.”

Shuzenji gave him a questioning look. “That flower has quite a few different meanings for it. Are you sure you want to give something that’s a symbolism of the cold shoulder to someone you’re interested in?”

Eijirou felt his ears burn. “I, um, I read it also means honest emotions and wanting to get to know someone better. Did I... did I get that wrong?”

The woman’s smile slipped back onto her face, making the wrinkles around her eyes more prominent. “No, that’s also true. I’m glad to know you did your research, young man. Now, let’s see what we have here...” She grabbed a pair of delicate shears and slowly made her way down her porch steps. Eijirou trailed behind her, twisting his fingers. Shuzenji paused at a row of hydrangea bushes and readjusted her glasses. She peered at the flowers, humming softly as she passed by each one. Eijirou bit his bottom lip as they walked by the first two bushes, none of the flowers seeming to catch the woman’s attention.

Worries started to scamper through his mind. Had she changed her mind? Was she not going to let him have a flower? It seemed like a stupid thing to be concerned about, but he had been planning this for almost a week now. He wanted things to go perfectly.

At the last bush, Shuzenji halted, eyes narrowed. Her gaze was glued to a small patch of flowers, ranging from pink to blue. With swift, steady hands, she grabbed one by the stem and snipped it off. Stepping back, she turned and offered the hydrangea to him with a kind smile.

Eijirou hesitated to take it. It was a perfect sphere of blossoms. The petals were a soft, pale purple tinged with pink, and not a single one was damaged. If he hadn’t seen Shuzenji cut it off herself, he might have believed it wasn’t real.

“Woah,” he breathed, a giddy smile twisting the corners of his lips as he grabbed the flower with gentle fingers. “It’s beautiful. This is— Thank you so much, Ms. Shuzenji!”

The woman chuckled and patted his arm with a small hand. “Oh, no need to thank me. I remember what it was like falling in love. Tell me, who is this lucky person that caught your eye?”

Eijirou froze, hesitating in his answer. “Th-they— It’s—” He swallowed, steeled himself, and pressed on. “His name’s Midoriya.”

Shuzenji twisted around, brows arched high in surprise. “Izuku? Well, I shouldn’t be so surprised. He’s a wonderful young man. Very bright and kind.” She gave Eijirou a proud look. “I’m glad you two found each other.”

A monstrous, relieved smile curled Eijirou’s lips. “Thanks, Ms. Shuzenji.”

The woman smirked and lightly slapped his arm. “Now, get going. I’m sure you have quite a lot of things to do, young man.”

Eijirou startled. “Oh shit, right, classes!” He started to race down the sidewalk then skidded to a halt and whirled back around to wildly wave his free hand. “Thanks again, Ms. Shuzenji! You’re the best!”

He spun on the ball of his foot and raced off again, the bright, hearty sound of the woman’s laughter following behind him.

He sprinted into his biology classroom with a light sheen of sweat coating his brow and his breaths coming in ragged heaves. Mina, Denki, and Hanta all turned in their seats to look at him, concern creased into their faces. He flashed them a quick thumbs-up and a wobbly smile full of nerves. Straightening, he marched further into the classroom, past his friends, and didn’t stop until he was two rows ahead, standing next to the green-haired man: Izuku Midoriya.

Eijirou had murmured the name between pants as he’d run to his class. It had rolled off his tongue and left a sweet taste in its wake.

Izuku was sitting in his chair, nose buried in a book and a notebook opened next to him, half-filled with scribbled writing. His friend, Uraraka, sat next to him, scrolling through her phone with bored interest. Neither of them had noticed him yet.

Eijirou swallowed and tried to control his breathing and erratic heart. He was starting to doubt it was banging against his ribcage just because he’d decided to run. Flurried movement caught his attention and he glanced to the side to see Denki, Hanta, and Mina elbowing each other with wide, excited grins. Mina made a large “go on” motion and Eijirou felt his face grow hot. Hopefully, everyone would think it was only from exertion.

He slowly inhaled and turned back to Izuku. “E-excuse me?”

Uraraka was the first one to look up. Her eyes widened when they landed on him and a wolfish grin spread across her face. She roughly elbowed Izuku who choked on a squeak of surprise. When he looked over at Uraraka, she urgently pointed towards Eijirou. Izuku turned around and Eijirou’s heart screeched to a stop.

Green eyes pinned him down, gently stripping him bare of his secrets and exposing every piece of himself. They were filled with a blinding inner shine and Eijirou felt like he was falling into them.

“Oh!” Izuku yelped and Eijirou jumped out of his thoughts. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there! Are you— Do you need something?”

‘You,’ passed through Eijirou’s mind, but he hurriedly shoved it away.

“U-um, hi,” he stammered out instead, riding on a wave of adrenaline to get through this interaction. “I’m, uh, I’m Eijirou Kirishima. I—”

“I know you!” Izuku suddenly cried, a dazzling smile filled with excitement curling his lips. “You’re the guy who created that energy efficient solution for large scale production companies that cut back on their carbon footprint and helps preserve the surrounding environments. You presented it last year at the Environmental Science Internship Convention, right?”

Eijirou blinked, his blush reaching up to his ears and down his neck. “Y-yeah, that’s me.” He wracked his brain, trying to remember green curls, bright green eyes, and freckled cheeks from the convention.

“Oh my gosh, this is incredible!” Izuku cheered. “I wanted to talk to you about it so bad, but there were a bunch of people talking to you after your presentation and I didn’t want to disturb you. Plus, my friend was about to do her presentation next and I didn’t want to be late for that. Hers was about how to save endangered species of frogs, I don’t know if you heard about it. Anyway, I have to know, how do you think those companies would react to your idea? A lot of them only think about money, so do you know if there’s any way to make it more financially appealing to them?”

Eijirou’s heart thrummed in his chest at the unwavering attention Izuku was giving him. “I-I, um, I was thinking that maybe there could be some form of tax reduction for implementing it, so it could cost about the same.”

“What about installing it? I’d imagine it would cost a lot to switch the entire factory over and people can have the mentality of ‘if it’s not broken, why fix it’.” There was no sign of arrogance or smugness in Izuku’s tone, only sincere, honest curiosity.

Eijirou felt his chest swell with warmth at the interest. “Yeah, but with the tax reduction and how much money they’ll save from installing it, I think a smart business person would realize how much it would benefit their company.”

Izuku’s smile grew as he delved into another question. Eijirou, lost in the discussion and eager green gaze, quickly answered it and every other one afterward. The world bled away until it was just the two of them and Eijirou’s project from last year.

Until Uraraka suddenly poked Izuku in the ribs. “Sorry to crash the party,” she whispered loudly. “But Mr. Aizawa’s here.”

A heavy weight of disappointment fell onto Eijirou’s heart, dragging it down into his stomach.

“Shit,” Izuku hissed, his contagious smile dropping. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to keep you, Kirishima.”

Eijirou opened his mouth to dismiss the apology, but the words halted in his throat when Izuku offered, “Do you want to sit here?”

He stared at Izuku’s open, expectant face, his mouth moving soundlessly as his brain scrambled to fully process the question. “Y-yeah!” he finally breathed out. “Yeah, that’s— Ok, thanks.” He plopped into the seat next to Izuku, whose smile seemed brighter and larger than before.

His gaze flicked down and a spark of confused curiosity lit his eyes. “What’s that?”

Eijirou glanced down, noticing the flower still clutched in his grasp. A flush of red swept across his face. “O-oh yeah, I, um— Here.” He shoved the flower at Izuku, startling the poor man. “S-sorry, it’s a, uh, it’s a hydrangea. I, um, heard you were majoring in botany and that you really like flowers, so...” He swallowed as Izuku tentatively took it, his freckles beginning to disappear as pink tinted his cheeks. “I guess you, uh, already know their meaning, right?”

Izuku slowly nodded. “They’re well known as flowers given to lovers that were ignored or wronged, or a way to turn down someone’s marriage proposal. B-but they can also be used to convey honest emotions or show interest in getting to know someone, th-that’s what the purple ones mean, at least. A-and the pink ones usually are for...” He trailed off, the dusting on his cheeks turning into a prominent red. Eijirou waited in tense silence and swallowed thickly. Izuku’s gaze was glued to the hydrangea held between his fingers, his eyes distant as though he was lost in his thoughts.

“I, uh,” Izuku started and cleared his throat. “I have a class after this that goes on until two. M-maybe after it we can meet up to, um, talk about your project some more? I-if you want to, that is,” he quickly tacked on.

Eijirou released a shaky breath, his heart skipping weightlessly in his chest. “Y-yeah, that sounds great! Where, uh, where do you want to meet up?”

Izuku’s shoulders started to hunch up and the red on his face spread to his ears. “We could meet up at the cafe on campus.”

“Alright, class,” Aizawa tiredly cut into their conversation, snapping the awkward men out of their verbal dance. “Let’s get this lesson over with.” The room immediately fell silent as he trudged from his desk to the whiteboard.

Eijirou leaned towards Izuku, murmuring, “That sounds great! I’ll meet you there.”

Izuku’s gaze finally broke away from the flower and a shy, thrilled smile lifted a corner of his lips. Eijirou beamed back, wishing he could unleash the pent up excitement in his chest with a loud whoop. Unfortunately, if he did, he had no doubt that Aizawa would kick him out of the classroom for the rest of the semester.

He settled on doodling small hearts and hydrangeas on the margins of his notebook for the rest of the class instead.

#kiridekuweek2k19 #kirideku #eijirou kirishima #izuku midoriya #bnha #boku no hero academia #mina ashido #denki kaminari #hanta sero #katsuki bakugou #ochako uraraka #shouta aizawa #chiyo shuzenji #recovery girl #my fic #my writing

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stanananathon · 6 years ago

Text

Richie thinks he’s always looked at Bill. Ever since they were kids, Richie certainly looked up to him. For one, Bill always remained to be at least an inch taller than Richie, so there was that. But Richie looked up to Bill in other ways, too. Bill was the kind of person that you fell in love with as soon as you met him. He was sweet, smart, and put off an aura that made Richie prepared to follow him to the ends of the earth from the day they met in elementary school.

He still finds himself watching Bill. When they were thirteen and Bill gave his speech on the steps of Neibolt house, Richie was mesmerized by him. When they started high school and Bill lead his friends bravely through the halls, Richie found the confidence to follow him head held high. Bill made Richie feel strong. Even now, he can’t help but admire Bill from across the clearing down at the quarry. The losers are all laying out, enjoying the sun--Richie maybe a little too much. He’s caught up in the way the sun shines on Bill’s shoulders when he’s roughly elbowed in the side.

“Jesus, Tozier, could you be any more obvious?” Stan asks, exasperated. Richie blinks.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He may have gotten caught staring at Bill, but he certainly isn’t going to admit to it. Stan rolls his eyes at the response and sighs.

“Okay, Richie, sure.” Richie almost fires back at how he could say a few things about Stan staring at a certain farm boy but he decides he’d rather not get in a fight with his best friend today; he’d prefer to get some advice. So he swallows his pride and lowers his voice:

“Fine, you caught me. But what am I s’posed to do?” Stan looks at him like the answer is obvious. When Richie continues to wait for a response Stan rolls his eyes.

“You tell him how you feel.” Richie chokes on his spit and Stan has to smack him in the back a couple times to help him regain his composure.

“Y-y-ou okay, R-rich?” Richie looks up to see Bill looking at him worriedly.

“Absolutely spiffing, Billy-boy. Just got caught off guard by Stan’s favorite sex position.” That earns Richie a shove that knocks him onto his side while the rest of the losers laugh or roll their eyes. After Bill turns away, Richie turns to glare at Stan.

“Fucker. How the hell am I supposed to do that?”

“Come over to mine tonight, I’ll help you out,” Stan suggests. Richie wiggles his eyebrows.

“Inviting me to stay the night, huh, Stanley? You could at least take a man to dinner first.”

“Shut the fuck up, trashmouth.”

“Make me.” Stan rolls his eyes and stifles a grin. Richie could be stupid, but he’s his best friend, and he can be somewhat funny every now and then. Stan looks away from Richie, however, to see Bill eyeing them. He perks an eyebrow and Bill flushes and quickly looks away. Yup, Richie would definitely have to make the first move.

Richie heads over to Stan’s around 8 pm, ready for some love advice. Andrea Uris opens the door for Richie with a smile on her face.

“It’s nice to see you, Richie. Stan’s up in his room.”

“Why thank you, my lady.” Richie bows and heads up to Stan’s room as Andrea laughs and waves him off.

“All right, Staniel, how am I gonna get my man?” He asks as he opens the door. Stan answers without looking up from his book.

“Exactly how I told you. You tell him how you feel.”

“See, you make that sound very simple but you know the trash-man can’t make anything simple.” He plops down next to Stan who, by the way, still has yet to actually look at Richie.

“Besides it’s not like you’re doing anything about Mike.” That catches Stan’s attention. His eyes slide up to lock with Richie’s and give him a glare that could kill.

“First of all, this is about you, not me. And second of all,” Stan pauses as a blush grows onto his cheeks and Richie grins because he knows he’s right.

“Look, how about this, Stan the Man. We make a pact that we’re gonna tell the loves of our lives how we feel about them by the end of this week.” He sticks out his hand and Stan eyes it. “C’mon, Stanny, you say it’s simple. You can do it too. We both know Mike adores you.” Stan sputters while Richie raises his eyebrows expectantly waiting for Stan to take his hand. Finally, Stan grips it and gives it a shake.

“Great! Now, I was thinking of how I can tell Bill on the way over here. What do you think about a flash mob in the middle of the caf?” Stan snorts.

“Boy, do I feel sorry for Bill.” Richie fake gasps and shoves a pillow into Stan’s face. He responds by trying to smother Richie who merely cackles.

Richie decides how he’s going to do it. He’ll ask Bill if he can hang out after school and when Bill suggests they go to his house he’ll tell him there, and that way if Bill rejects him, he can just run home. It’s foolproof. Or it was, but Richie doesn’t talk to Bill all day.

Richie had planned on running into Bill at his locker and asking him there. When Bill isn’t at his locker, he decides to wait until English. When Bill doesn’t look at him no matter how many things he throws at him, he gets detention. He wants to talk to Bill at lunch, but he gets caught stress smoking in the bathroom and spends lunch in the principal’s office. Before he has to go to detention he catches Stan at his locker.

“Have you seen Bill? He’s been ignoring me all day.” Stan’s brow furrows.

“Yeah, I had him in history. He seemed fine, though.” Richie droops.

“What’d I do?” Stan shrugs.

“I don’t know. Did you say something? That would be pretty in character.” Richie glares at his sly friend.

“No, I didn’t. But I have to go to detention, anyway. I’ll just pop by his after. Make sure none of the other losers hang out with him so that I can talk to him alone!” Richie starts walking away mid-sentence and gives Stan finger guns before turning to head to detention. Stan shakes his head at his ridiculous best friend and makes his way outside to the rest of the losers.

“Where’s Richie?” Eddie asks.

“He got detention. Where’s Bill?”

“He went home,” Bev replies. “He seemed kinda upset, but I dunno why.”

“Should we go see him?” Ben, ever the compassionate asks, but Stan interjects.

“No!” Everyone looks at him, not being one to usually have an outburst. “I just--I think he might want some alone time.” Bev eyes him but nods and turns her attention to the rest of the boys.

“Should we make our way to the quarry? I’m sure we can stop by Bill’s later tonight if need be.” The losers nod and they move to their bikes to head to their favorite spot.

Richie makes his way out of the school still wondering what the hell he had done to make Bill avoid him. He tries going over the past few days in his head but he can’t remember doing anything that would have set Bill off. He starts on his bike to Bill’s house determined to figure out what he did wrong.

He fumbles with his hands as he waits for someone to open the door. When no one responds, Richie looks around to find Bill parents’ car gone. He does, however, see Bill’s bike on the side of the house so he decides to just let himself in.

“Billiam!” He calls out once he closes the door behind him. When no one responds again, he rolls his eyes and makes his way up to Bill’s room. The door is closed, so he knocks on it loudly.

“Bill! Let me in. I know you’re mad at me.”

“Go away, Richie!” This just makes Richie angry. He understands if he’d messed something but he at least deserves to know what he’d done and not just be pushed away. So, he opens the door.

“No! I-” he’s ready to yell at Bill but stops when he sees him. Bill is curled up in his bed eyes red and cheeks flushed. He sits up and looks at Richie angrily.

“Richie, I said to go away.”

“Have you been crying?”

“N-n-no,” Bill says indignantly, immediately giving himself away by letting out a sniffle and aggressively rubbing at his face.

“Yes, you have. Why?”

“I don’t w-want to talk ab-bout it.” Richie makes his way over to Bill and plops onto his bed, who scoots against the headrest.

“Well I do, so spit it out, Big Bill. Cos I know I say stupid stuff that you’re allowed to get mad at. But it is definitely against the rules to be mad at me and not tell me why.”

“What r-r-rules?”

“I dunno, ours: the Bill and Richie rules.” Richie sees Bill try to hide a smile at that. He wipes his face again and looks down, fiddling with his sheet while Richie looks at his face trying to read what was going on.

“I’m not mad at y-you--or maybe I am. I don-n’t know.”

“Well can you just tell me what’s been going on? I’ve been trying to talk to you all day, ya know. Got something pretty important I’d like to tell you, but you’ve been avoiding me like Eddie’s mom’s underwear.” Bill lets out a small bark of a laugh and shoves Richie’s shoulder.

“Gross, R-rich.” Richie allows himself a grin before a frown makes it’s way back onto Bill’s face.

“I know w-what you wanna t-t-tell me, Richie. That’s--that’s why I’ve been av-voiding you.” Richie’s stomach immediately drops to the floor.

“Oh.”

“And I’m v-v-very happy for you guys. It’s--it’s gr-r-reat that y-you’ve f-f-f--dammit.” Bill’s stutter worsens as he becomes visibly more upset. Richie sets a hand on his to stop his talking. Bill visibly freezes, his eyes locking on their hands.

“Bill I can tell you’re trying to be all valiant and shit, but I have no idea what you’re talking about. Us guys? Who are you talking about?” Bill can’t bring himself to look Richie in the eye.

“Y-y-you and Stan. I’m not blind.” Richie can’t help himself. He bursts out laughing.

“Me and Stan? Oh my god!” He allows himself to fall onto his back and holds his stomach while he laughs. “Oh, Stan is gonna get a kick out of this.”

“What are you talking about, Richie?” Richie can tell his laughter only makes Bill angrier so he stops and sits back up to look Bill in the eye.

“Stan and I are not a thing. Like, at all.”

“O-oh.”

“Yeah, man! I mean I love Stan; he’s my best friend, but I’m good. Plus everybody knows he and Mike are secretly crazy about each other. Why’d you think Stan and I were together?”

“Cos y-you guys were being all w-weird and w-whispering at the quarry last time and you hung out alone and I d-dunno. I feel dumb n-n-now.”

“No need to feel dumb, Big Bill! But actually, um,” Richie can feel his mouth getting dry as he tries to make his confession, “Stan has actually been trying to help me tell the person who I actually do have feelings for.”

“He has?” Richie hopes that is a hopeful tone.

“Yeah. That’s—um, why we were being all weird at the quarry and stuff. He says I should just tell this person, but I doubt they’ll feel the same way.” Richie shrugs, avoiding eye contact.

“Oh. Well, I—I guess you’ll n-n-never know until you s-say it.” Bill ventures. Richie gives a half-hearted laugh.

“Ha, yeah, I know.” He takes a deep breath. “Welp, here goes nothing.”

And Richie was going to tell Bill how he felt, he was. But when he looks up—because sincerity is all about eye contact—he stops in his tracks. Bill is just so damn beautiful, with his pouty lip and his big, blue eyes. Richie pauses for half a second before crashing his lips into Bill’s.

It’s clumsy and unpracticed, and Bill is very caught off guard, but really, what else is Richie supposed to do? He doesn’t quite know what he’s doing, so he just firmly presses his lips against Bill’s.

It takes a couple seconds but eventually, Bill reciprocates by raising a hand to Richie’s jaw. He lightly traces his fingers over Richie’s cheek, making the lanky boy practically melt into his lap. Richie pulls back a millimetre and lets a grin stretch its way across his lips. Bill lets out a breath and opens his eyes.

“So, this person you like...”

“I think it’s pretty obvious who it is, Big Bill.” Bill nods, letting his other hand come up to Richie’s hair. Richie practically purrs at the action, causing Bill to let out a giggle.

“I like you too, Rich.”

“Oh, thank god.” Richie and Bill laugh before Richie tackles him into another kiss, but this only causes Bill to laugh harder. Richie pulls back, faking offense.

“Bill, I am trying to seduce you, and you are laughing. This is a hate crime.” Bill manages to make his laughter die down.

“S-sorry it’s just--you don’t really know what you’re doing, do you?” Richie tries to sit up, sputtering and getting actually offended, but Bill holds him steady on top of him.

“I’ll have you know, Big Bill, that I have actually kissed a total of three people--” Bill cuts him off with a laugh and hushes Richie with a finger to his lips.

“Here, just slow down.” He runs a hand through Richie’s hair. “Take your time.”

He pulls Richie into him again, slowly kissing him. He feels out Richie’s mouth, and lets Richie do the same before slowly running his tongue along Richie’s bottom lip. This causes Richie to let a shocked sound out of his throat before pulling back to look at Bill in awe. Bill grins and runs a finger down the side of Richie’s face.

“Damn, Big Bill.” Richie grins back before something passes across his eyes. “Wait, I just realized! You were jealous! Before, when you were crying! Aw, Billy--” Bill rolls his eyes and pulls Richie in for another kiss, effectively shutting him up. They could talk about Bill’s jealousy later; right now, Bill just wants to kiss the boy he likes.

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kainfamilyfortune · 6 years ago

Text

Today is the start of something new. And I’m terrified.

OOC, obviously, I know this is far from what I normally post on here, but I figured I’d let any that are interested in on a secret project I’ve been working on between managing a million dollar company, RP engagements, and supporting my lovely wife who is exploding in the book critic space - something I’ve been working on over the last four weeks. I entered a contest.

TW: Anxiety, Agoraphobia, Depression, Suicide, Addiction.

So I wanted to go back to tell you a little bit about myself. I’m a bit of a jack of all trades, I’ve dabbled in many, many things over the years, one thing I fell in love with was photography due to an old relationship, of course. But truly I fell in love that day, with her perspective, her eye, and how I could use photography to tell a story. I wanted to be profound. So I picked up my Canon A-1, yes I shot film, and shot photos in strictly black and white for a year. They say that color captures the moment, but B&W captures the soul, and I honestly believed that. Still do. But eventually when I moved 3,000 miles away from her and we couldn’t make things work I dove into a severe depression. I was young, freshly 16, and the beginnings of anxiety began to creep and creep throughout that last year before the move.

Oregon is beautiful, but it wasn’t Florida - we moved at an inopportune time in my life, as all teenagers believe. Just before summer vacation. I shut myself in my room for nearly four months, becoming severely agoraphobic, I was not taking the move lightly. I had no friends, no entertainment since the main reason we moved was due to my parents going bankrupt, both loosing their 6-figure jobs. My parents divorced five months after moving. A blessing and a curse was we did not move up to Oregon alone. No, my parents were swingers, so they often swapped partners as I grew up, having to basically raise my younger brother, shielding him from that truth. I kept their secret even after they divorced. My brother only just found out after turning 21, after moving in with my mother and stepfather, back in sunny Florida.

But what kept me from ending it all? Xanax and Photography.

I had a passion and I was getting better and better. I began to dabble in stop-motion film, fine-art photography, eventually when I went to a new school, a charter school up in the woods of Culp-Creek, I began to dive deeper and deeper into making it my career. My junior year I was making documentaries, winning mayor’s art shows, and even selling my work in the local art-walks in the small town that we had moved to. But I was still an anxious mess. Still suffering from panic attacks. Eventually I didn’t want to go to the charter school anymore. Partly because my favorite teacher was leaving and also because the bus ride was killing me. Nearly an hour everyday, forced to sit still and not panic.

So, I transferred to the local public school for my senior year. I was ahead of all my credits. Nearly a straight-A student. I smoked cigarettes. I frequented the school counselor due to my panic attacks and all my teachers knew. But I took my work out into the hall to work on it, listening in. I didn’t have first or seventh period since I was ahead of my credits. I devoted time to being a teacher’s assistant and helping teach the videography course that was supported at the school. I worked at McDonald's as well and earned enough money to move out on my own after the second trimester and to upgrade all of my photography/video equipment.

My senior project was a 25-minute documentary on mental-health and how art could be used as therapy, it won a few awards and got stellar marks on the board, but most of all it got recognition from the local news. I got picked up right after graduation by a media company in the next town up from where we were living. I also wanted to go to college and get my degree. I was the first to move out from my graduating class. Three days after. I worked for the media company, then the local news for one year. I dropped out of school my first term. I didn’t need school. I started vaping to quit smoking. I was still abusing Xanax though, I was up to 5MG every three hours to feel like I was still alive.

Then I started to work for a local vape shop on the side. Quit my news network job due to stress, and worked for a smaller media company making a weekly show. Eventually another year and a half had passed and I had a psychotic breakdown. The Xanax had stopped working. I lost insurance so I couldn’t get anymore, and I was loosing my jobs. My life’s work. I stopped photography that day.

I moved into a trailer for two months. I worked at a pizza hut, managing that place for a year as I became sober. I still vaped because it surrounded me with an amazing community of people who were in recovery. I had moved out of the trailer and in with an old friend. In that time frame I turned 21. I partied for one week and haven’t partied since. I told myself that sobriety is only thing that is going to keep me grounded. I helped a few friends start media companies, and vape shops and car dealerships, helping them with marketing, commercials, all that jazz. Hell, I even worked front counter for them when they needed it. Eventually I wanted to work for another vape shop, so I hit up a few friends and got into the biggest in the pacific northwest as a partner. I’ve been working here for the last 3 1/2 years. Managing one of their locations for nearly two.

So. I turn 25 this year. I’m sober. I got married last year. And my mental health is considerably better than what it was in year’s past. Why am I terrified?

Well. If you can see from the picture, I built a set. I was watching my daily World of Warcraft videos and this video came up in my news feed from one of my favorite channels, WTBGold. He is announcing a contest and I think nothing of it for the first two weeks. Then I had an idea. What if I make a ‘How-to RP’ video from the perspective of someone who plays a fuck-ton of D&D, and RPG’s. And I had six days left in the contest to write a script, film a video, and edit it all together.

youtube

I made this in a feverish 9 1/2 hours worth of work on top of my already crazy schedule. So I don’t look at the camera a whole lot and I’m currently re-filming the entire thing with the new set. But I submitted it. And it was watched live on his stream for a bunch of people to watch and judge.

It was received very well. I don’t think I will win the contest though. The last two weeks have been tense since he has yet to release his winner. But initially from the strawpoll on stream I had won the RP category so hopefully it means I can still make viable content since it has been awhile and I’m rusty. I’m diving into this project head-first to make YouTube content, twice a week on top of everything I have going on, because dammit. I want to make something for myself again.

I want to be passionate again.

If you care to follow me on this journey: KainFamilyFortune <-- Content will be up later this week once I finish editing it since I filmed it this morning.

If you made it through this rant, thank you. I know this is a lot different than what I usually produce, and I promise I’m still working on Thea’s perspective to the Battle of Dazar’alor. Combat is not my strong suit.

Thank you, thank you , thank you , k bye, back to editing <3

#ooc #me

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sil3nt-nick · 6 years ago

Photo

In 2013, Tumblr became my escape from an excruciating environment high school had created. I’d gone from earning the highest grades I’d achieved in my academic career to constantly receiving poor grades in a chemistry class. It may not seem as big of a deal today, yet at the time, I felt it defined me as a person. Everyone else seemed to be doing fine. I must have been some kind of idiot.

I created a Tumblr account and began blogging about my depression. Countless other people my age were doing the same thing. I began feeling comfortable expressing my feelings and sexuality to the point where I posted images relating self-injury and eating disorders. This soon consumed my free time; I was constantly exposed to graphic, bloody images and emaciated bodies.

I cut myself all the time. Opposed to the eleven-year-old who started to get a rise out of his bullies years before, I hid my wounds in places people wouldn’t see. On my thighs, my upper arms and abdomen. Nobody would tell me I was seeking attention. I went a few days at a time without doing so, which was a milestone, but often didn’t stay “clean” for a few months at a time.

Sometime during the winter, after inflicting a few wounds to my arms, I decided to take a photo of myself, exposing my wounds and also exposing my life story. I wanted people to know what I was feeling and that girls weren’t the only ones who did it. Within an hour, I had 500 notes on the post. Months later, it was thousands. Someone used my photo in another post and that garnered tens of thousands. Some people from school recognized me and contacted me over the website or in person.

I look back now and can’t help feeling embarrassed. Did I really like posting this sort of thing? Wasn’t I angry about people thinking self-harm was for attention and was this asking for it? I was sixteen at the time and still struggling to find myself. I figured this was normal for some kids. I know now that I should have turned away from this content as soon as possible. It wasn’t until senior year that I deleted my original account. By then, I’d have hundreds of scars that I’ll have for the rest of my life.

When I was eighteen, I considered myself recovered. I’d gone about a year without cutting. I was proud that my horrible first job hadn’t triggered a relapse. I had just started college and was going above and beyond my goals for grades. By the time winter started (I suffer from seasonal affective disorder) I started feeling down again. My new job started triggering more negative feelings and I eventually relapsed. For the two years I worked at the establishment, a pizza restaurant, I’d had unrequited feelings for a coworker that pushed me over the edge. I was borderline insane from being rejected and contemplated suicide for the first time in years.

I later found a new job at a retail chain when I was nineteen. We faced, perhaps, harsher customers, yet I was getting paid much more. I don’t recall exactly when I relapsed again, but I remember the first winter working there, I’d began downing my depression with alcohol. I was twenty and had my coworkers buy my vodka until I turned 21 in the summer. I’d had a few spells here and there with cutting, which I wasn’t too worried about. On some occasions, I recall stress from classes or negative experiences from work that triggered a few spells, sometimes bad enough to leave the water running red in the shower for a long period or staining clothing and sheets that I would have to throw away.

I grew my hair out, dyed it black and straightened it every day. I was called “ma’am” frequently. Although I preferred the label “scene,” everyone said I looked like a legitimate emo kid. I lived this way for months until I cut my hair and was unrecognizable to my coworkers.

The same coworker I knew from my second job had been hired again. I’d initially had my feelings for him resurface and fallen back into severe depression when he began a relationship with another worker who repulsed me. I started smoking and was still drinking. Finally, I confronted him and finally got the straight answer I needed. I wasn’t his type. It stung at first, yet I was able to forget my feelings of not knowing and soon grew to accept the label of “just friends.” However, I began exploring dating apps that started a new part of my life.

In the fall of 2017, I’d made my way up to being a supervisor at the retail chain. The stress was still there, now to a bigger level, but I made more money than I ever had and it seemed worth it. I had a few people I chatted with online who could be potential significant others. Many just wanted sex and quite a few were interested in me who were twice (or even thrice) my age. A lot of people I was interested in ignored me.

A guy who had initially blown me off messaged me one day. I remember being so excited and couldn’t wait to have a conversation. We messaged a few times but it was short lived. Then he seemed to ignore me again. One stressful day, I remember deciding to relapse. I would buy a pack of razors and cut once I got home. I’d never have the chance to be with someone. Especially someone I liked.

After drinking tequila and schnapps, I opened the razors and removed my pants. Quick, sharp cuts formed on my right upper leg. I felt an intense euphoria from the pain, a phenomenon that releases endorphins in the brain. Wiping the blood from the floor, I went to my room and went to bed. I was surprised the next morning to discover one of the cuts hadn’t stopped bleeding, like they always did the by the morning after. I hid the blood leaking through my pajamas as I made breakfast. I went to work and wore dark clothing. By lunchtime, it hadn’t stopped.

I drove home and tried making a makeshift bandage. I kept telling myself to stop bleeding, although I knew it wouldn’t work. I returned to work, panicking about my wound. I was getting blood on my uniform. Someone would notice eventually. I later told a coworker who’d gone through similar problems. She convinced me to go home. It was the first time I left work early.

When I got home, I stayed out of view. I still lived with my family and didn’t want them to find out. My dad later came into my room and I was forced to explain what was going on. For the first time in my life, I knew he was scared. He said I probably hit an artery. We tried to bandage it up but the blood always leaked through. After a few hours, he drove me to the emergency room. The workers there stated they couldn’t do stitches. It had been too long and I was at risk for a staph infection. Devastated, we left after all they said they could do was bandage me up.

Later on, we went to buy a stretching bandage that would apply pressure after it was applied. He bandaged up my leg and we propped it up, waiting to see how it would end up in the morning. The experience brought us closer, yet it was so traumatic. I hated getting other people involved in my mistakes. Thankfully, by morning, the bleeding miraculously stopped. It took weeks before it was fully healed over.

Thirteen months later, I can say I haven’t cut since. I am now twenty-two and back in college. I vowed after that night I would never do it again. Sometimes it’s still in the back of my mind when something negative happens, but I force myself to remember how scared I was and how I could never go back to that point. My depression is still there. I suffer from it daily and stopped taking my medicine, as I have had no success with antidepressants for the past decade. I fear a relapse, but I’ve somehow managed to keep myself from it for so long. Now that I’m away from home and on a leave of absence from work, I drink considerably less.

In the end, I’m hoping I don’t fall back into my old habits. It’s a long and uncertain road ahead with my education, yet I believe I can make it. If I can make it this long, I might never do it again. I’m still uncomfortable talking about my history and have had awkward conversations with potential romantic partners. Honestly, what I can say saved me was my positive peer group and my therapist who supported me every step of the way.

#self harm #cutting #cutter #update #depression

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emilyplaysotome · 6 years ago

Text

Chapter 9 - Mystery Men

Catch up on Chapters 1 - 8 here! (or just Chapter 8)

I felt a sense of relief knowing that Meg was not only okay in the otome realm, but that she was still managing to help me in my quest.

I assumed that the king had underestimated her, seeing as how it was obvious that her knowledge of his world was far less than my own. It was because of that fact that she’d been able to do all this investigating under his nose. Furthermore, my misstep in identifying the final sixth man had given him a false sense of security and as a result it was clear that he was no longer feeling as if he needed to watch my every move.

At the time I’d compiled the list of potential suitors, I had written down everyone who had come to mind - even if we hadn’t spent much time together. Based on what was in front of me, Meg had been incredibly productive and she’d circled three names in red ink - Iori Enjo, Toma Kirya, and Eisuke Ichinomiya.

That last name was one that I hadn’t even written down, but Meg had scribbled it at the bottom and circled it as if she was certain that he should not be over looked. I wished that I could ask her about what it was that I was seeing, but I’d have to figure it out myself. As prickly as all these men were at least I had names to give to Jin, and that in itself was a start.

Having lived an incredibly full day and with an equally full one tomorrow, I dragged myself to bed in my own home for the first time since my breakup. I had hoped that sleep would come quickly but instead I found myself tossing and turning as I considered the fact that perhaps, after all of this, Zyglavis would not be the one for me in the end.

There was something unsettling about that thought in addition to feeling free. I was getting a second chance to figure out who was the best fit for me with the knowledge that all of the otome men I’d met were able to thrive in this world in ways I never could have anticipated the first time around.

With Jin specifically, his age, his smoking habit, and the fact that I was convinced this city would eat him alive had been the bulk of why I walked away from him in the first place. I found myself thinking about our hot springs date and how sad he was when I had revealed back then that I was going back to New York. I remember how he’d declared that he wanted to be considered - that he would not give up easily and that he loved me.

I remembered the way he conducted himself when Zyglavis and Shun had bickered like children in front of Addison & Rhodes. He had been mature and calm - even respectful of his rivals.

At the time I was having trouble seeing anyone other than Zyglavis but now I couldn’t help but think of that moment and if I had picked Jin and if everything had played out the way it did (with my old otome flames dropping into this world unannounced and with no return) if our relationship might have easily persevered during the test that had made relationship with Zyglavis falter.

It didn’t matter that the answer to my question would never come lying in bed, my mind pondered it anyway and I didn’t get to sleep until somewhere around 2 am that night.

“What the hell is this?!” Hijikata bellowed as I found myself too tired and too sore to complete yet another burpee rep.

“I’m…sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry - show me you want to do the work. Prove that this isn’t just a one day whim!”

“It’s…not…”

“Stop.”

Hijikata clicked his tongue and I laid on the floor of the gym my stomach, taking his “stop” as permission to completely collapse during my burpee mid-motion.

“How late were you up last night? You seem sluggish and you have dark circles under your eyes!”

“2…maybe later…”

I could see the annoyance flicker behind Hijikata’s eyes and he growled, “Why were you up so late when you knew we were working out?”

“I tried to sleep…believe me, I was in bed by 11 but I just couldn’t.”

He let out a sharp exhale and extended his hand, to help me back onto my feet. I took it and was reminded of how his hand felt around mine, if only for a moment. He led me to a small stretching area in the back and instructed me to sit across from him.

“Training is not just about mastering the body, but also the mind. Breathe Naomi. In through the nose, out through the mouth…”

I was surprised that Hijikata had forgiven my failings and instead proceeded to lead me through a guided meditation for 20 minutes.

To be honest, meditation had always been one of those things I convinced myself was for hippies and yoga fanatics but Hijikata made it feel accessible to me. He made me realize it was a struggle to be present and calm with all that was happening in my life. As I scanned my body, I not only felt the aches and pains from our workout yesterday but the tension in my shoulders from the stress of a missing friend and an uncertain future.

I was also surprised to see Hijikata looking at me almost tenderly when I was finally instructed to open my eyes.

“That’s all for today.”

“But…”

“You’re tired right? It’d be reckless to push you to do more today. Rest up and I’ll see you Monday at 8 AM.”

“Ok. I’m sorry.”

Hijikata shook his head, “You were tired but still showed up. You did your best. Your homework is to work meditation into your daily life. I need a calm mind in order to transform your body.”

I nodded and walked with Hijikata down one flight of steps past Frank who couldn’t help but butt in, “Leaving so soon?”

“Making an exception for today,” Hijikata said, leaping to my defense.

Frank grinned and in a teasing tone noted, “It’s not like the demon trainer to play favorites. Don’t tell me you’ve already fallen for our lovely client Toshi!”

“Of course not!” he growled, but Frank continued his playful barbs until Hijikata had enough and stormed off.

There was something about the exchange that had reminded me of Hijikata’s relationship with Isami Kondo back on the Shinsengumi base, and seeing this brotherly, and slightly paternal teasing from Frank caused me to smile despite how bad I was feeling for not being able to finish the workout.

“Frank!” I scolded with a smile, “He’s going to be even meaner to me Monday now just to prove he doesn’t play favorites!”

“I doubt it hon - and I like my clients to smile when they leave even if they can’t keep up with my demon,” he said with a little wink. “Don’t mind Toshi either - he’s extra prickly these days because he’s got a rival.”

“A rival?”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’ll see him around. Guy’s also training for the same lifting competition Toshi’s got in a month. And let me tell you - this dude’s the real deal. Got Toshi sweating it pretty hard these days.”

“Was he here yesterday by any chance?”

“Sure was - why do you ask?”

I had to consider that there was a strong possibility that this rival was the sixth man I’d managed to “meet” but not notice. There was something about a sudden appearance of a challenger that felt very in-line with a predictable otome plot to go unnoticed.

“Do you mind if I ask his name?”

“Taka. He’s a fine dude but him and Toshi are like oil and water. Do yourself a favor and don’t bring him up if you want to stay on Toshi’s good side,” Frank noted with a laugh before saying goodbye to spot another member’s squat.

There was no one on my list of suspects who went by “Taka” yet my gut was telling me that there was no way that this was merely a coincidence. I raced home and opened my Love365 app before going through all the games in order to refresh my memory as to who this mystery “Taka” could be.

There was Takashi from Revance, but it seemed really unlikely that he would have taken up weightlifting to the point that he would be able to compete with Toshi. There was Takao Maruyama from Long Island, but I never ended up investigating there so I crossed him off my list. Hidetaka Sera didn’t go by Taka, but I did remember the way he looked at me when Zyg and I had visited Seishun High School, and figured that while it was unlikely that he was my mystery suitor, I should still keep my eyes peeled for him.

Finally, I didn’t remember interacting much with Takamune Kitami, the athlete option in My Last First Kiss, but he seemed to make sense as a physical rival to Hijikata and so I scribbled both names on my potential list for Jin Namba before heading to shower and prepare for my date with Hiroshi.

I’ll admit that I was sore and tired and well aware thanks to Toshi’s comment that all of my fatigue showed on my face.

Unfortunately I didn’t have time for a nap and so the second best option was a makeup tutorial for a fresh, dewey, natural day look that walked me through how to hide my dark, under-eye circles. Between that, the highlighter, and an excessive use at mascara I found myself staring back at a reflection that felt overly made up but appropriate for a second date based on what I’d presented on the first.

Hiroshi and I met at the Shake Shack on the Upper East Side at 86th street, and ordered a fair amount of food before heading over to the park with it. In no way, shape, or form had I “earned” the calories required to adequately enjoy my burger and cheese fries after my pathetic attempt at a workout but I couldn’t possibly be bothered to care.

It was a beautiful day and Hiroshi had been attentive and sweet upon his arrival. He held the Shake Shack door for me and insisted on carrying our food, all the while letting me know in an abashed way that he was sorry he’d been unresponsive over text. Apparently his caseload had taken over most of his time and he wanted to make sure he’d be able to attend our date which meant less texting and more working.

Our conversation flowed naturally as it had on our first date as we walked several blocks to the large east meadow and spread out a blanket. It was such a beautiful day that it felt like everyone in the city had the same idea as us, and though the situation lacked privacy it provided a setting that didn’t feel overly serious or nerve-racking.

Based on what had been said, I was relieved to know that I was still just as close to getting my first kiss out of the six as I’d felt after our first date, and I strategized with how I was going to make Hiroshi feel comfortable and confident enough to make a move.

As quaint as a daytime park picnic with burgers sounded at the time, I realized that it was possibly the least sexy situation one can be in. Burgers are messy and greasy and it’s virtually impossible to make consuming them sexy despite what Carl Jr.’s wants you to think.

I tried to eat mine as ladylike as I could, but the delicious shack sauce still managed to get all over me. I was glad that Hiroshi was good natured about the whole thing, and even went so far as to note that he liked a woman who could get a bit messy and not make a stink about it.

“Oh, well if you’re looking for a hot mess then look no further!” I joked.

“You are definitely a hot mess.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” I said, wiping sauce off my face and when I looked over I saw Hiroshi looking at me in the way a man does before he leans in and kisses you. I held his gaze and did my patented seductive smirk, in which I pucker my lips slightly and imply with my eyes I’m really worth following through with.

Hiroshi scooted himself closer to me and I held my breath hopeful that I’d soon be reunited with the real Hiroshi Kirisawa.

But naturally…that would have been too easy.

Instead, a shrill voice interrupted our moment, as a young boy informed his mom that he found a spot for their blanket and trotted over to an empty space of grass a few feet away. Hiroshi and I grinned and averted our eyes with no other choice but to return to our picnic.

“So you’ve been busy, huh?” I asked in an attempt to recover.

“You have no idea. It’s like the city was tryin’ to do everything possible to keep me from ya.”

“I hope that’s not true.”

“Well it can try,” Hiroshi said flashing me a confident smirk, “but it’d never win. Not when I like a girl - when I like a girl, nothin’ can keep me from her.”

“And you like…me?”

I watched as his smirk faded and a panicked expression overtook his features.

“Shit! I was supposed to play it cool,” he said, cheeks reddening. “Damnit.”

“Why play it anything? I like it when you’re you.”

The second I said it, I realized that it sounded like a line despite the fact that I really meant it. Hiroshi had no idea of course, but having him act like this was familiar and when we’d first reunited he’d seemed like another person entirely. Similarly to how it had been with Jin, I was happy to discover that Hiroshi wasn’t so different than the man I’d had that one night stand with back in otome-ville.

Regardless though, there was something about him that was too nice for me.

It was a shame really - every iteration of Hiroshi, even this gruffer New Yorker one was too sweet to be my type. I felt like such an idiot realizing that I preferred the cold and silent type to the kind of man who would treat me like a queen. It made me ashamed to know that I was the kind of woman that caused genuinely nice guys to feel like women prefer jerks…

…and I felt even worse knowing that I had to keep pretending that he had a chance with me in order to get that kiss.

It must have showed on my face because Hiroshi asked, “Naomi - what’s wrong?”

“Oh nothing. Now I feel like the uncool one.”

“Nah, that was really nice,” Hiroshi said, taking my hand in his. “So nice I don’t even care your hands are covered in sauce.”

“Ugh are they really?”

“No - you’re totally perfect, come on…ya know that.”

“I…”

“Totally perfect.”

It was happening. I got us back to where we needed to be in order for me to have a chance at winning. I felt awful about kissing a man I knew I had no feelings for and who in every iteration was too good for me, but I still let the moment play out.

I leaned in and just as I was about to close my eyes, in the distance I saw a familiar duo and realized that Meg’s suspicions about Eisuke Ichinomiya being in my world had been accurate.

Chapter 10 here!

Posting this early for work reasons but I hope you guys like it.

If you’ve enjoyed the story, please show your support by sharing it with a friend or buying me a coffee!

Thanks for reading :)

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gutterdreams · 7 years ago

Text

The Chain Pt 2 [B. Hargrove]

daDisclaimer: I don’t own Stranger Things or the GIF used. Word Count: 3.6 k

PART ONE MASTERLIST

Five months and seven negative pregnancy tests. Billy was beginning to feel exhausted by how disappointed he was. He had to coach himself mentally before every week of ovulation to be hopeful, to not give into the frustration. He stopped sitting on the edge of the yellow shower tub with you after the fourth test, opting to lean against the hallway wall outside the bathroom instead with his eyes on the minute hand of his watch. Every time there was a negative test, it awoke the regret over last time inside of him and that prompted the self-deprecating demons in his head to laugh at him. Their voices sounded just like his father. On the way home, frozen from wearing short sleeves when it was October, Billy pulled into the parking lot of a Public. He had forgotten to pick up bread on the way the night before and was reminding himself all day. He definitely missed having a sandwich in his lunch. With a basket in hand, he tossed in a loaf of white, a one litre of two percent milk, a six pack of PBR, and then went to the deli counter to impatiently wait for shaved chicken breast. He had every intention of going right to the check out. He even passed by aisle ten, but then he spun around on his heels and went to the same spot he visited every month and grabbed a pregnancy test. This time he took a single one instead of facing back to back disappointment. “Good luck.” The fifteen year old girl behind the cash register wished him with an empty tone, showing off the blue bands around her braces. Billy just glared at her as he put his debit card back into his wallet and then stuffed it into his jeans. He nearly growled at her before swiping the two handles of his plastic grocery bags at once.

He drove the way he had been driving since he earned his licence, careless with the radio loud and filling the vehicle with smoke. Long drives from whatever out of the city jobs he had to home kept Billy collected when his stress felt as high it did. He had decided that he wanted a kid with you, he was ready, and it wasn’t happening. It was stirring up emotions that he never imagined knowing in a personal matter. Billy wanted to know if this was what you felt after you miscarried, walking around and forgetting your life wasn’t what you thought it was, going through the motions as if every gesture was automatic. He couldn’t ask though. Billy hated the way you lost your healthy glow when he brought up the time before, the baby that was real to you and just a sack of cells to him. In the elevator, on his way up, Billy jostled the grocery bags by his side and kept Motley Cruë screaming in the halls of his mind. The doors opened and revealed you, a chunky black cardigan on and your hair in a most messy bun as you opened the door to your apartment. “Here, let me help.” Once he was closer, he saw you had a paper bag in your other hand as well as your purse hanging from your shoulder. It made it hard for you to manage the for so Billy leaned in and held it wide open with his palm flat. “Thanks. My hero.” Speaking very casually, you joked and looked up to give him a ‘hello again’ kiss on your way through the front door. “Did you pick up bread? I said I would.” He asked from behind you as you both kicked off your shoes at the front mat. His dirty work boots and your basic faux satin black flats. Billy always left for his job before you, so he never knew how much you heard him say in the mornings. Sometimes, you were barely alert when he kissed you goodbye. “Nope.” You flicked on the living room light and shook out your bun. “Tampons.” You didn’t like asking him to grab them and you had a hunch he didn’t want you to either. Billy’s face displayed it’s boiling bitterness as he leaned against the wall to wrestle off his right shoe, watching you unpack a pink Kotex box and a Jersey Milk bar. “I’ll give you a piece.” You waved the candy bar in front of your face and tried to lighten the mood. He picked up his own groceries from the ground and brought them to the small kitchen table, unpacking the pregnancy test and putting it right beside your tampons. Clearly, it was going to go straight under the sink with them. “Sorry.” Very sincerely, you apologized for your menstrual cycle and leaned into his chest. Billy stayed deflated and upset for a moment and then kissed the top of your head, his arm tightening around your stomach to keep you as close as possible. “It’s not your fault.” He walked away to put his beer and the milk in the fridge, leaving the other items to you. “You should make a doctor’s appointment though.” Billy mentioned, making room in the fridge mindlessly. “Maybe something is wrong.” He felt pretty sure there was and he didn’t want it to be him. “I will. I’ve been putting it off.” With your arms above your head to tuck the bread in a cupboard, you explained. Billy offered you an empathetic smile with downtrodden eyes. It blew you away that he could look sad and his eyes could still gleam. “I saw a little house I liked today.” Eager to move the conversation along, you mentioned and handed him the bag of sandwich meat. “Oh yeah?” Billy had left the real estate ball in your court. He was tired of being the only one taking initiative. It was as if you two had switched roles. It used to be you who was making plans and him twiddling his fingers over everything. “I got off the bus a few stops early and walked around.” As Billy closed the refrigerator door, he leaned against it with arms crossed. You leaned in and he dropped his barrier to take you in. “Just had a lot on my mind, but there’s this cute one and a half story with a coming to market sign on Sundale Drive.” “A drive.” His voice lightly sang, teasing you. “It had green shudders.” You shrugged against him even though when you saw them you smiled in a way that had previously been reserved for when you saw newborn kittens. “I’m thinking I might call that lady so we can see it as soon as it’s showing.” “Sounds good.” He agreed. “What’s on your mind?” His eyes pushed their way into yours as they drifted away, furrowing his brows to help him peer into your mysterious brain. At first you waved him away and took a step back, but Billy pulled you right into his chest again and kept his stare sharp. “I talked to my dad on my break.” He had told you not to get a cell phone. He thought they were stupid. Billy rolled his eyes knowing how stressful that always was for you. “He gave me the whole ‘when are you and Billy going to get married?’ spiel followed by ‘make me a grandpa.’” “He is a grandpa!” Billy shouted more than he laughed. He wished his beers were already cold. “I know, but anyway…he’s throwing my step-mom a big thing at the end of the month.” Just like he did every year. You hadn’t even shared a single detail of the event, but Billy’s head was already rolling over to his shoulder as he averted his gaze. “We don’t have to go.” You never made him. Billy had made it clear on your first date six and a half years ago that family parties were not his bag. “I told him I didn’t know if I could get the time off work.” Billy also didn’t like when your father paid for you two to fly home. It bruised his pride and made him feel like a loser. Faintly, Billy smiled at your fib. “You could go if you wanted.” Billy shrugged. “Oh yeah? You want to throw a rager?” Wiggling your brows at him, you showed off all your teeth and laughed. “Yep. Take bets on strippers in Jello wrestling. Make us some extra cash for this dream house of yours.” He joined in. “No…I just don’t really want to be around your brother’s girlfriend right now.” He didn’t like Rayanne at the best of times. She was a heavily opinionated hippie that he couldn’t help, but butt heads with, but now that she was pregnant and smug, Billy really didn’t want to be around her. He felt jealous. He also hated how the woman knew it hurt you to hear about her healthy and pleasant pregnancy, but she called every week suddenly to give you updates that you were too nice to not hear. He felt confident that he would not be able to be on his best behavior if he was around her right now. Billy had come to learn his triggers through a journey of many mistakes. It wasn’t Rayanne who had to watch you cry under the covers after or promise you over and over that one day you guys would have a family. It was Billy.

“And Lizzie?” You guessed. Billy nodded only a moment later. Your other brother’s oops baby from high school. It really burned you that he had a child he hadn’t even wanted, a child that the mother neglected, and yours didn’t make it. Billy was fond of laying on the ground and building Lego castles with the six year old, but he feared now it would burn. He was feeling resentful and that was a hard emotion to remove. “I’ll think about it. It really depends if we are going in December or not.” Two trips so close together seemed excessive especially since it was just your stepmother’s birthday. It wasn’t as if you two were close. Whether you two went now or for Christmas, it was going to feel like walking over glass barefoot.

“Whatever you want.” Billy was either very passive or the most aggressive. The man did not know a happy medium.

“I want to make dinner. That’s what I want.” You met his lips with your tip toes and then pulled away to start cooking, going to the cupboards for a frying pan. “Are you going out tonight?“ “I don’t know yet.” Billy hummed as you wandered around from cupboard to cupboard. He wanted a distraction because he always wanted a distraction, but he was tired and there was no better pillow than your chest while you watched Twin Peaks together. Sometimes, he wound up at the bar with a couple guys he liked that worked for the same roofing company he did. Other times, he went to his best friend’s garage and hung out, drinking, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. Billy had a feeling that after dinner, he would be feeling restless and need to go to one of usual watering holes. Billy peeled away from the fridge slowly, giving his brews a few more minutes. He stared at your box of tampons on the kitchen table with angry eyes for a moment and then went to the bedroom to strip off his work clothes. He finally caught a whiff of his own under arms and he reeked.

Sighing as he sat on the edge of the bed to undress, Billy was about to let his mind go to a dark place, but he could hear you humming to yourself as you moved around the kitchen and he closed his tired eyes and just focused on the vibrations from your mouth, the high tone you were singing in. Billy kept himself between your lips, inside the gentle song, and he breathed through his grievance. ….. He hadn’t had a cigarette since noon and that was a record for Billy who averaged a half pack a day. Traffic from Fremont to Sunnyvale that morning was brutal, tighter than the practically magnetized knees of the prudes he went to high school with. Billy hadn’t had time to stop and buy a new carton. He wasn’t working with his usual crew which meant he didn’t have an infinite supply to bum from. His thirteen hour day was over, but even after he picked up smokes from the gas station, Billy’s head was pounding. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had a headache. Coming home to an empty apartment, he lit a handful of tea lights like he saw you do when you felt stressed out. It didn’t do anything, but make the pounding worse. The scent of vanilla was too strong. Laying down in bed, on top of the covers, he lit up and started to smoke like a chimney to see if it would help. “We can cancel, you know?” Walking back and forth in front of him, peeling off your black business casual wear, you told him for a second time. “I’ll be fine.” He grumbled. “I want to go.” You two were supposed to go and see a three bedroom bungalow on Chapman Street for a second time with your agent. It had almost everything on both of your lists. The basement just needed a lot of work and the floors required sanding, but Billy claimed to not be afraid of the work. He always was good with a project. “Is the chain smoking helping?” Scrunching up your face, you asked with genuine curiosity. You and Billy bonded over baggage and bad habits when you first met. He was a senior at Hawkins High School while you were in your last year at Saint Veronica Academy for Girls in Carmel, Indiana. He couldn’t resist the plaid skirt while you liked that your father didn’t trust him. You two both had dead mothers and stepmothers you thought were useless. You could drink Billy under the table and he was the first person to ever make you cum. Still, you never quite understood the smoking. You two had been together for six and a half years and you never liked he ash flavor that lived in his mouth despite what a great kisser he was. Billy stopped and held his inhale between his cheeks, “I can’t tell anymore.” Letting out a ring, he admitted. “Maybe, take a break.” You moved to his side of the bed to lean over his pout and kiss his forehead. Billy pulled you back and felt your bare skin, his hand travelling down to the lace waist of your underwear. He hated that he was so sick that even kissing you passionately made his head ache. You caught his grimace as your eyes fluttered open. “Let me know if you want Tylenol. I think I have some in my purse.” You walked away from him, releasing your locks from the ponytail you wore at work and headed to the shower with a playful sashay of your hips as some kind of get well soon gift to your boyfriend.

Billy contemplated joining you in the shower, but he heard you turn on the faucet and his body didn’t move. Instead, he stayed flat with his head on his pillow and rested his cigarette in the ashtray nearby. Billy closed his eyes and prayed for a forceful miracle to relax him as he put an arm over his face, blocking out the little bit of sunlight still coming in through the window. Billy handled feeling sick at all the same way he handled people he didn’t like in high school. He sulked, swore, and grumbled until he won.

He could hear you drop a bottle of shampoo or body wash in the shower and it forced his eyes wide open along with his arm to be thrown from his face. First, Billy gave all his attention to the ceiling of the bedroom, it’s uneven texture that he legally wasn’t supposed to sand and paint over. He looked at the small crack that ran from one corner and on for about ten inches or so and then abruptly stopped. Next, he gave his resting bitch face to the garbage pail under the window sill, noticing that you must have emptied it that morning before work. There wasn’t any tissue, granola bar wrapped, or ashtray pile up to be seen. He turned to his side and hugged his arms to his body, trying again to rest with his eyes shut. Billy gave up quickly though. He felt as if he had been trying forever when in reality the minute hand had only gone around his watch a few times. Heaving a sigh, his eyes blinked open and he saw your purse folded over itself right in front of the closet door exactly where you left it.

In six and a half years together, he had never gone through your purse before without your permission. Once, when you were on the phone, you signalled dramatically at him to search through it for a pen. Other times, he asked if he could steal a mint from it’s insider pocket because he knew you kept a stash for after your lunch break. Billy had bad habits. He was possessive, he didn’t make friends easily, and he still had a hot temper. However, he did respect your purse. It was your private world in there and he didn’t go through it. It was one of the few lessons he remembered learning from his mother. You never go through a woman’s purse. Never. He couldn’t remember the sound of her voice and memories of driving around California to and from elementary school were gone, but Billy did remember that so he assumed it was important.

However, right now felt dire. Billy was desperate for relief. He groaned the entire time he sat up and slid off your side of the bed to where your bag was. He bent at the knees and squinted before unzipping the top. It crossed his mind to go over to the bathroom door and call in to ask if he could, but that felt like more work than he was up for at the moment. Billy ruffled through the contents of your shoulder bag, not paying attention to the crumpled up receipts, the lipstick bullets, and your half eaten box of Milk Duds. Right now, he was a man on a mission. He just wanted Tylenol. He was feeling around for a plastic bottle, but instead he pulled out a plastic circle. The almost finished wheel of birth control knocked him flat on his ass, setting him down off his toes as he just stared at it and felt his headache burn through his skin to send steam rushing from his nostrils. His veins were tight to his skin as his jaw locked and his hand shook the pack.

Out of his mind, Billy started pulling everything out of your purse and leaving it a mess on the floor of the bedroom you two shared. Once he found the prescription for next month, your doctor’s handwriting like a black scribble on a medical note, he stopped his search. He was panting as if he had just ran a half marathon. Billy went to stand up, but his legs warbled and he had to stay on all fours and contemplate crawling. The world around him was spinning and he couldn’t keep track of his limbs. It reminded him, briefly, of the time his step sister drugged him when they were both underdeveloped versions of themselves. He sucked back a deep breath and stood up, still burning from the inside, he opened up the bathroom door slowly and then pulled back the shower curtain, causing you to scream as you rinsed shampoo from your hair. Out of instinct, you covered up your naked breasts, but dropped your elbows from your chest once you saw it was just Billy. First, you chuckled at your reaction, but then you saw his eyes like darts steady on your face.

Billy looked disgusted by you. In fact, you hadn’t seen this face on him since you two were young in Indiana. There was a misunderstanding and after he had driven hours to see you, he showed up at your door step to see you sitting on some other guy’s lap. You two had been together for a few months, but he still hadn’t met your oldest brother yet and mistook the polo wearing guy for some private school yuppie your dad picked for you. It had caused a fight epic enough to span over city lines as you two kept pulling one another over to continue your freak out.

“What’s going on?” Maybe, he was sick or someone from home called. He never picked up when his Dad called and you tried your best to sugar coat the conversations you did occasionally have with Neil. Billy didn’t answer though, his top lip was twitching and your gaze came to his white knuckles clutching your birth control pack. As soon as you saw it, he whipped it right at the shower wall, grazing your shoulder.

“You fucking - “ He started, his teeth not moving even if the words were hissing from between the spaces that his parents never bothered to have fixed.

As if you were eighteen again, him kicking up highway dirt and punching traffic signs, you were terrified.

TO BE CONTINUED.

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