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writingsfromhome · 7 months ago

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Dos and Dont’s Epilogue

Part 1 / 2/3/4

A/N: for those of you still needing more closure with this story this is for you

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6 months later:

My apartment was small but it was mine and I got to share it with one of my childhood best friends I’d reconnected with after moving back to the states last year.

Today the sun was setting on the beautiful November day. I had ordered in sushi and was enjoying a glass of wine, waiting for Deanna to get back home and tell me about her date.

These quiet evenings to myself always got me contemplative. Tonight was no different—I get to thinking about my day on set and how tomorrow was going to look.

After coming back from London and submitting my video proposal last spring, I had been rejected to nobody’s surprise. But that hadn’t stopped Harry from intervening and getting me a spot on set. It became a joke that I was a ghost intern there because really all I got to do was shadow people on set and help out where I could. And it had left me hungry for more.

I started building a portfolio and networking like crazy to get on more sets. So far I’d worked on three, once as a general assistant and twice as an arts assistant. I felt myself moving in the right direction I wanted to and it was thrilling.

I had Harry to thank for that really. And just like always, thinking about him sent a pang of achey regret through me.

I’m not sure what happened between us; we kept in touch loosely after I got back to the States. Mostly we talked about my future work and getting on set but after he actually got me on set and I got busy, our conversations fizzled out.

When I landed my second gig and had to maneuver my old job with Oretta she had ultimately let me go. I’d been bitter about failing something then but now I saw it as the kindness that it was—she had let me go and I had the room to pursue this new career.

It wasn’t easy though. The feeling of failure had driven me into the arms of a depressive episode that had taken me back home to Burbank. And when headlines were made of Harry’s new dates and women of the week, I’d taken it as a sign. We shouldn’t be in each other’s lives.

But I missed him every time I thought about him. And I always hated myself a little for not being brave enough to do anything about it, for pushing him away, and for liking him in the first place.

Clearly I was a very health person.

There was a knock on the door and I knew it had to be Deanna.

She distracts me with stories about her date and how well they hit it off. Apparently he kissed her goodnight right downstairs while I’d been drowning in misery on our living room couch.

The next morning, my phone rings at the ass crack of dawn. I expect it’s someone on set and end up being right. So with a few hours of sleep and a slight hangover from last night’s wine, I pick up a large coffee and get to work.

Last night’s thoughts bleed into my drive to work. It was when I was on set especially that I wanted to message Harry. I wanted to update him about all the cool things I was working on and hear what he thought. It was stupid but I wanted him to be proud of me too.

I wonder sometimes if I should have said something in London, been the bold one and taken a leap.

But I couldn’t have.

Harry was a damn rockstar and I was still figuring out my life. I can’t imagine it could have worked. So was it just the maybe, the what-if of us that kept looping in my mind? Or did what I feel for him mean something real, real enough not to shake so quickly.

A knock on my window scares me. It’s another one of the set assistants—Damien, waving at me. I guess I’ve just been parked staring into space. Oops.

“You need a coffee,” he tells me when I join him.

“Can you believe I’ve already had one?”

“I can probably find you a line of coke somewhere on set if you need something stronger?”

“Damien,” I pretend to be scandalized. But after working with these people over the last few years it was a pretty normal sight to see. “Ease into it first.”

He laughs, “I’m joking. I know you’re not…”

“I know,” it gets a bit awkward as it usually did with Damien and I when we started joking. “I’m joking too.”

His face flushes and I welcome someone calling me over to leave the awkward.

The day passes in a blur, the art director had a last minute change sending me to a local antique store trying to source props which was part of the job I enjoyed. With my headphones in I was in a world of structured creativity.

While I look through gold frames one of Harry’s songs comes on and I skip it automatically. I wasn’t quite ready to listen to his addictive voice croon about lovers of his past.

Not that I hadn’t tried going on dates of my own. But the thought of what-if kept me committing to anyone. If I thought about it for long enough it was actually annoying—how he somehow managed to still block my romantic life.

I’m invited for drinks after we’re done shooting for the day. Even though it’s pretty late I decide to say yes. Lately I’d spent my evenings when Deanna’s out just drinking by myself and being miserable. May as well drink with coworkers.

And I actually missed having regular coworkers, like I used to have Winnie. Shit talking about work to destress and drink was one of the highlights of making friends at work.

I have more to drink than I intended, and a small voice in my brain tells me that the amount of alcohol I’d been having recently might be a sign I’m losing it a little. But I order one last drink to shut it up.

At one point I start talking about horoscopes with someone in the bathroom and she ends up showing me how to use the lipstick I complimented them on to overline my lips, and I somewhat remember signing someone’s napkin and telling them to keep it for a few years and what it would be worth.

I also text Deanna an assortment of things and try to call my sister for a pressing matter that I can’t remember when it goes to voicemail. I end up babbling about drinking too much and needing to cut back.

I don’t know what time it is by the time I’ve ridden my high but I want to go home. I huddle by the entrance trying to remember if I came with a jacket tonight or not.

“You’re not driving home tonight are you?” Damien pops up beside me. We’d chatted throughout the night but I’d avoided any awkwardness by constantly inviting other people into the conversation. But right now he has me cornered.

“I’m a very responsible adult Damien,” I slur. “I am getting a taxi.”

“I can drive you home?” He offers.

“You were drinking too mister.”

“No,” he touches the tip of his nose. “I just had a beer and switched to soda afterwards.”

“That’s cheating,” I touch his nose and he laughs. I laugh too.

“We were invited out to drink,” he shrugs. His face flushes. “They didn’t specify what.”

“Cheater,” I tease. “D’you have a car?”

“I could drive yours home? And take an uber home from yours. We don’t live too far away.”

“No way!” I clutch my purse to me. “Nobody drives my car.”

“I didn’t realize you were so possessive.”

“It’s my car!” I let him know.

“But it’s parked on the street. You can’t leave it here weirdo.”

He had a point. Damnit.

“Fine,” I hand him my purse. He opens it tentatively and pulls the keys out.

“I just need these,” he hands my purse back.

“I need those back,” I remind him.

“I know,” he laughs, his hand coming down on my shoulder to lead me out. It sends a shiver down my spine. “I’m parking it in your garage and handing them right back.”

“Good.” I nod.

I pick the music until he tells me I shouldn’t go into singing and he switches the radio to a classical station. I pretend to snore.

“At least it might sober you up.” He pats my leg before snatching his hand off when he realizes he’d touched my bare thigh.

“I don’t feel so good.”

“I know, how much did you drink tonight y/n?”

“No I really don’t feel good.” I complain.

“Shit,” he mutters. “Just hold on.”

I do, I grip my door handle and will myself not to throw up in my car. I was at least lucid enough to know I would hate myself for having to clean it up tomorrow.

He pulls into a Trader Joe’s and I launch myself out in time to throw up on the pavement.

“Are you o-“

“Stop!” I splay my hand out behind me. This was embarrassing enough I didn’t need him to see me actually be sick. “Don’t come closer just…”

“I’ll get you some water.” He calls out and walks away.

How pathetic, I think. How pathetic was I.

Suddenly I want to cry and be left alone. I don’t want Damien driving me home, I don’t want to be drunk, and I don’t want to be here in the middle of nowhere.

When Damien gets back I’m sitting on the curb of a garden bed at the edge of a parking lot. He hands me the water and some electrolytes and gives me space which I’m grateful for. He does linger halfway in the driver’s seat and my anxiety builds until I get up and head back to the car.

“Someone kept calling you,” Damien mentions when I open my door. “I picked up after the third call. I didn’t want to bother you out there.”

“Oh, was it my roommate? Deanna?”

“No,” he scratches the back of his neck. I stare at him, waiting for him to sit back in the car and take me home. I wasn’t having fun anymore.

“Okay…?” I grab my phone from the centre console so I can check myself.

“Someone named Harry? He sounded worried?”

I look up at Damien, wondering if it was a joke even though I know it’s not. He doesn’t even know Harry. His face reflects back an awkward realization.

“Oh.” I can’t get out anything more. I could be decent and tell him that wasn’t my boyfriend—it wasn’t until this moment that I realized Damien was looking at me as more than just a casual friend. And a part of me wonders if that’s the only reason he was helping me out tonight. Then I banish the thought—that was rude. “Thanks for…letting me know.”

“I guess you don’t live with him if your roommate’s name is Deanna,” he tries to joke as he finally gets into the car.

“No that would be hard,” I reply. “He doesn’t live in the states.”

“Long distance,” he nods. I don’t reply and the car goes deathly silent as he drives me the rest of the way home.

I check my phone in the silence, Harry’s texted me. Before he called it seems:

Hey is everything alright?

Y/N I want to call you, you didn’t sound too good in your vm

I’m calling you

Shit! Did I call him first?

My face heats up with a stabbing sensation and I try to blink away the headache that was forming.

I check my call logs and sure enough after calling Deanna I’d called Harry. Why had I called him? I don’t even remember what I said in my voice message.

I groan.

“Is everything ok?” Damien asks.

“No I feel like shit-“

“Do you need me to stop again-“

“No.” I wave his concern away. “I just need to get home.”

I feel bad for him. I didn’t think I was leading him on in any way and yet he had driven me home because he liked me? I decide I’d call him his Uber myself to make it even. To feel like I didn’t owe him something.

When I finally drudge up my stairs to my bedroom I can barely be bothered to remove my clothes or take off my makeup. But my brain is wired thinking about Harry, how he called me.

I must still be somewhat drunk because as I lay horizontally in bed with half of my clothes on the floor I pick up the phone and call him.

H’s POV:

“Hi,” her voice is small and tired. My heart squeezes just hearing it.

“Y/n, you’re alright.”

“Yeah sorry, I think I mis-called you instead of my sister. Your names are beside each other.”

“So you were spilling your guts to your sister then?” I smile.

“Spilling my guts?” I can hear the strain in her voice.

I let her worry for a second longer, “No I’m joking.”

“Oh my god,” she sighs. “What did I say? Please tell me it was nothing embarrassing? It had to be bad if you called me right?”

“It wasn’t bad.” It wasn’t. But she sounded really drunk for a Wednesday night and she was blabbering about drinking too much these days, and needing to stop. It made more sense now that I knew it was for her sister. “But you sounded very drunk. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Sort of. I just wanted an excuse to call her and life had given me a pretty one.

It was stupid that I needed an excuse to call y/n after everything we went through. But truth was I had tried to get on with my life after we drifted away. And I think I did a decent job. I made the missing part shaped like y/n smaller and smaller until it didn’t bother me as much she wasn’t around. That we didn’t talk.

It was weird because she was a constant for a year—whether I liked it or not we had to be around each other all the time while she worked for me. Right up to the end even as things soured, as I wore regret like a second skin and forced myself to continue being the dick that she came to know me as.

And then she left and it felt like loosening my tie; breathing a little easier because I wasn’t always so hyperaware of her in the same room or next room over, about how she looked that day or the way she smelled, the joke she made or how angry she was with me.

Yet it didn’t help that she lingered everywhere.

But then I got to have her. All of her for a few weeks and letting her go after that felt more akin to torture than living with the regret for months while she worked for me. It was worse because I had her and I had to let her go.

I thought I knew what falling felt like, what it felt like to love somebody in all their flaws and be seen in return. But then I met y/n, fell for y/n, and everything changed.

“I’m okay,” she says softly. “I’m home in bed now.”

“Good,” I want to ask her about him. The bloke that answered the phone.

“Where are you?” She asks suddenly. “Isn’t it very early there?”

“Nearly half past 6,” I say looking at my watch. “And I’m at the gym.”

“That’s early,” she comments.

“I’m a morning gym person now.”

“Watch out world,” she says. It’s sleepy and makes me think of her curled into me on the sofa as our voices dim into sleep. Then nudging her to stay over and falling asleep in bed with me. So many hours of movies gone unwatched because we were too busy just being in each other’s presence.

The thing was, I had to let her go; you can’t cage a bright and vibrant woman like her. But it hurt doing that.

It sucked being selfless.

“You sound tired,” I say even though I want her on the line. Even if it’s to hear the sound of her breathing. “You should go to bed.”

“Sorry,” she whispers. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

My breath catches in my throat. I wanted to worry about her, to be close to her enough to worry. And the want of it feels like being punched in the gut.

“You there?” She asks.

“Yeah. Yep, sorry.” I clear my throat. “I’m still here. And it’s fine. I know what can happen when you get drunk, I’m glad you left me the voicemail.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” I miss you. I miss you so often I worry I’ll be stuck with the loss of you forever. And I care so much about you that I can’t risk ruining your life by having you.

“At least I didn’t have to go to the hospital this time.” She jokes. Her speech grows slower as I’m sure sleep pulls her in.

“No. Seemed like you would’ve had help though.” I comment. Fuck. I couldn’t resist.

“If I knew any better Mr. Styles,” she says. “I’d think that sounds like jealousy.”

She’s teasing me, I can hear it in her voice. But my heart pounds as she calls me out.

“Goodnight y/n,” I say cowardly.

“Goodnight Harry,” she replies. I wait for her to hang up first.

That morning, I have an incredibly productive gym session.

Your POV:

I remember last night in bits and pieces and I’m mostly embarrassed but I can’t stop hearing Harry’s voice in my head. The way he sounded when he said he was glad I left him the voicemail. How he sounded almost jealous at the idea that whoever picked up the phone could be more than a friend. I feel sucked right back to half a year ago when I couldn’t get him out of my mind.

The one thing I did know though, I had to really cut back on the drinking.

I go into work with a bag of doughnuts and hope nobody remembers last night in detail. I make sure to thank Damien and he’s as awkward as ever.

My thoughts are replaced by business and set instructions as the day goes on and I’m grateful for that.

At home I dissect the phone call with Deanna and when I’ve had enough I try to distract myself by asking about her life.

In a way talking to Harry again was like taking an elephant-sized step backwards—it felt like I was in the same headspace of wondering about him and yearning for him all over again. I found myself looking him up, checking to find new information on his life. Even when I could just text him and get the answers straight from him.

A couple weeks later as I park my car in my garage and make my way up to my apartment I get a call. It’s him.

“Hi? Harry?” I answer.

“There she is!” He says loudly into the phone. I have to pull it from my ear.

“Jeez you’re loud,” I comment.

“I need you to be louder,” he laughs. And I realize why he’s called. I check the time, it must be near midnight in the UK.

“Are you drunk dialling me?” My face stretches into a smile and it feels like a betrayal. Why did this man affect me so easily.

“I thought that’s what we did nowadays! Call each other drunk!”

“That was once,” I enter my apartment and put away my things while we talk.

“You’ve unlocked the garden door,” he continues. “And now I have stepped through. I am calling you.”

“He rhymes even when he’s drunk!”

“I write music!”

“I know,” I laugh. “Good music.”

“D’you listen to me?” He asks. “I never asked you that.”

“Mmm not really my taste,” I tease.

“S’cuse me?!” He sounds offended. “I have heard your taste and my music is for your palate.”

“No I don’t think so,” I was having fun.

“Y/n.” He says seriously. “I have heard you listening to Troye Sivan.”

“And? Are you comparing yourself with that fine man?”

He sputters and I continue winding him up until I finally confess: “I listen to your music. Just not lately.”

“Why?” He sounds sad.

“Are you drinking by yourself?” I ask. I imagine him in his living room, knocking back a few bottles.

“Yes. I’m drinking all by my lonely self. Because you’re not here.”

“Lonely self? That’s not what the papers say,” I say without meaning to.

“Y/n,” he lets out a small laugh. “Y/n y/n y/n. If I knew any better I’d think that sounds like jealousy.”

“Oh you’ve been keeping that in your back pocket!” I flush.

“Mhm,” he hums happily.

God, it hits me, what were we doing.

The line goes silent and I try to muster a positive voice to ask something to keep the conversation going but I find I can’t. I feel heavy and sad, like there’s a weight in my chest that’s pulling me down.

“Y/n,” he murmurs. Goosebumps erupt across my chest and I recall a memory of that exact voice in my ear with our hands entangled in his bed.

The ache in my chest grows stronger. So strong I nearly confess three words I barely admitted to myself.

I didn't understand it; how a man that made my life so miserable for so long could tug forth such intensity and longing.

He'd explained it to me—told me why he became what he did. And it just endeared me to him more.

Every man l've dated since, even the man I thought was it for me-Gray, never made me reach so deep into any feeling I was scraping the bottom looking for more.

He knew me enough to nudge me towards this new chapter of my life. This (forced) career change. He knew me in a way nobody else has. It was hard to let that go.

But he wasn't planning on sticking around for any of it—why.

“Why,” I start to ask. I bite my tongue before my impulsivity gets the better of me.

“What?” Harry asks.

“Oh nothing,” I try to play it off.

“You asking something?”

“Nope,” I deny.

“Just ask don’t be shy,” Harry taunts. “Y/n isn’t shy.”

“I-“ I’m tempted but I shake my head and then realize he can’t see me. “It’s nothing.”

“If it’s nothing then say it.” He pushes. He was pushy for being so drunk.

“Why did you stop talking to me?” I ask quickly.

The line goes quiet again.

“It takes two,” he replies. “To stop.”

“But why did you stop?” I ask.

“It wasn’t enough,” he states simply like it should make sense to me. But it doesn’t.

“What?”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk to me anymore. You got cold.”

“Cold?!”

“Yes!” He shouts again.

“Too loud,” I complain.

“Sorry,” he whispers. “You got cold like…like ice. You got icy. You iced me out.”

“No I didn’t,” I deflect his accusation.

“You did! And it wasn’t enough. And I thought y/n doesn’t like me so I let you go.”

What!? I try to make sense of his drunk ramblings. It’s because I was fired from my job, I was lost and spiralling and I stopped talking. I stopped responding to his texts as much until they stopped coming altogether.

“I didn’t like you a long time ago,” I tell him. “That stopped after we talked. After you explained things.”

“Why did you stop?” He asks me instead.

“I…I was going through a rough time. I didn’t mean to but after a while I just thought it was for the better.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going through a rough time?” Harry asks with a surprising tone of clarity. “Why didn’t you let me help?”

“I didn’t want you to help.”

Maybe I did ignore Harry’s messages because I didn’t want to admit where I was. To admit that I needed his help. And I was too stubborn to admit that his connections in the industry could help me further kickstart my new career. That I could lean on him for help but it felt like cheating in an industry that liked to brag about working hard to earn where you got to. So I’d avoided him.

Jeez. I hadn’t even admitted that to myself until now. And suddenly the shame comes back tenfold. A creeping heat spreads up my neck alongside a slow squeezing of my chest as the silence stretches. I feel exposed and I want to bury myself under my blankets until the feeling passes.

“Why?” His voice breaks a little. I grit my teeth.

“I don’t know.”

“Y/n,” he says my name again and I want to cry. Because I say I don’t know but I do. And so does he. “Why are you building your walls again?”

I can’t speak, I’m so choked up with emotion and the last thing I want to do is cry over the phone to a drunk Harry. Unless this conversation sobered him up. Which is even more embarrassing.

"What do want us to be?" He asks suddenly.

"You can't ask me that," I say nervously, but the question zips through me in a frenzy.

"No you're right" he sighs noisily. "I think about you.”

"Me too," | whisper. Did he think about me when he was with all those women, I want to ask. Or was it subject to certain moments only.

"You ruined me y/n," he says it so softly I think maybe he hasn't said it at all. But he repeats it even lower and I know I didn't hear it twice.

My heart sings the same tune, and then I realize: how did I expect him to stay in touch and continue on with our lives when part of us would always be looking back at each other.

“I should go,” I try to keep my voice steady. “It’s getting late and Deanna’s coming home soon and I have to-“

“Okay,” he says but the word is laced with more. It’s okay.

“Okay.” I return. Will it be?

Silence again. The tears coating my lashes land on my cheeks and I wipe it away.

“I like hearing your voice,” Harry says.

“Me too,” I sniff.

“Goodnight y/n y/l/n.”

“Goodnight Har.”

***

I meant to text Harry after that conversation. I meant to apologize or say something—create a bridge that we can meet in the middle of. Even if it’s just as friends.

Me and him have been through a lot together, and so much on our own whilst around each other. We should be able to be friends, long-distance, pining but friends. It couldn’t be that hard.

And yet my fingers hover over his name every lunch break and bedtime. I think about him so much it becomes a permanent fixture in my brain.

And yet I never message him. Weeks go by and it stays quiet. Even from him.

On the final day on set I join some of the team for dinner and drinks. I stick to a single glass of wine and promise Damien I could drive myself home. I’d set him up with someone else on set who I noticed eyeing him with a lingering look and they had spent most of the night talking. It was sweet.

The group reminisces about the shoot and everyone pipes in about projects they were going to move onto soon. I didn’t have anything lined up right now so I listen to everyone else.

As night creeps up on us and people start to leave slowly, I text Deanna I was heading home too. After the night I spent drinking too much I’d taken to letting her know where I was and when I was heading home to make sure I stayed lucid enough on nights out. Otherwise we had agreed she would come and get me.

I step out with Damien and the girl he’s become attached to after tonight. We chat outside the place for a bit as her uber arrives and Damien points out he had driven today and parked nearby.

“I don’t know why we didn’t walk up long time ago,” I laugh and turn to Damien. “Don’t worry Damien I don’t need you to drive me home this time.”

“Uhh that’s good,” he says and motions behind me to my car with widened eyes.

“Yes,” I say with a smile. I spin around to my car and freeze.

The last person I ever expected to see leans against my passenger door, arms crossed and smiling with that smile that says I see you and I don’t care what you’re doing but I’m glad I’m here with you.

“Hi,” Harry says softly, his eyes twinkling under the street light.

“Hi?” I gape. “Wh-how-what are you…oh my god!”

His smile grows to a full grin as I throw myself at him and it’s like my mind and my whole world quiets. Like I never knew how loud everything was up until I felt the silence in his arms. Like everything would be okay because he was here.

“Oh god,” I turn back to Damien, remembering he was here too. “Sorry—I wasn’t expecting him to be here-“

“Is this Harry?” Damien asks.

I look at Harry and nod in response. Harry’s eyes flash with something as he leans forward and shakes Damien’s hand.

“I didn’t realize by Harry you meant Harry Styles uh it’s nice to meet you?” Damien’s awkwardness comes back in full force.

Harry’s eyes flicker between Damien and I and I remember that he thought there was something going on here.

“Damien and I worked together on set. Today’s actually our last day!”

“Yeah!” Damien fidgets. “It was a cool time…”

“Yeah?” Harry lights up slowly, realization dawning on him too. “Well I have to say thanks mate, for taking care of her the other night. That was you right?”

“Oh right when I picked up your call,” Damien nods. “Shit I didn’t realize who I was speaking to…” We laugh as Damien grows more awkward. “Anyway I’ll leave you two alone. G’night Y/N. Nice meeting you Harry.”

“Goodnight!” I wave him off.

I turn back to Harry with a huge grin. “You totally thought he was with me didn’t you?”

“Can you blame me?” He asks, his hand coming down on my waist, tugging me towards him. I go without hesitation.

“You’re here,” I take his face in my hands. “How? Why? When? Tell me everything.”

“I was in town,” he starts.

“Really?” I raise a brow.

He laughs, and hearing it rumble through his chest while his arms encircle me feels like a shot of espresso straight to my heart.

"Y/n," his mouth forms my name. I want to taste the way that feels again. See if that's changed too.

"You're here."

"How did you know?" I ask even though I knew it had to be Deanna.

“I have my sources,” he smiles secretly. We can’t stop smiling.

He brushes my hair to the side and it feels like a dream. He was here. He was gathering my face in his hands, hands I only dreamed of.

“I was in town,” he begins again. “Because I couldn’t stop thinking of you.”

My breath catches and I can't stop staring at him; he looks even more handsome and chiseled than the last time I saw him.

He looked like something that made my heart sing and my stomach tingle.

I trace my hand up his arm and around his shoulder. I want him to kiss me, I want to feel his arms around me.

He laughs which makes me laugh but neither of us take our eyes off of each other.

He reaches up, fingers threading through my hair. "Is this okay?"

"You're always okay," | say which makes him laugh again. What I mean to say is we're okay. Whatever you want to do is okay, as long as it's with me.

"I missed you." He whispers in my ear and it travels right to the centre of my heart.

"Prove it." I respond.

His mouth is delicate as it presses against mine, whispering soft words against them. They make me ache with a hunger I'd only ever felt around him.

When he looks at me again his eyes are more black then green but I recognize them the same. I don’t know how we’re going to make the trip back home when clearly we just want to soak each other in again.

I have an idea.

I open the backseat and Harry looks at me with a mischievous smile.

“Really?”

“You’re not getting lucky,” I roll my eyes with a smile. “But I really want to kiss you indecently and this is the closest place to do that.”

With a laugh he hustles in, tossing something in the backseat, and I follow, every inch of my body aflame. He shuts the door behind me and meets me halfway.

***

Waking up to Harry is better than catching up with him last night. Because things are so much more real when they remain the morning after. It doesn’t feel like just a dream.

“G’morning,” he mumbles when our eyes meet. He looks sleepy but content. Or maybe that’s just how I feel.

“Morning,” I smile, suddenly feeling shy. Last night was all passion and fun but the reality sets in this morning—what were we? Where were we going from here? “M’gonna brush my teeth.”

He follows me into the bathroom, luckily Deanna’s already headed off for work. He brushes with me in the small sink and we can’t stop looking at each other through the mirror. Like our eyes were magnets and they couldn’t help but find their way to the other’s.

“So did you really come all this way for me?” I ask as I brew us coffee. “Does anybody know you’re here?”

He tilts his head, “a couple people know I’m here but everyone thinks I’m just taking some time before we wrap up my album next month.”

“What!” I stop what I’m doing to give him my full attention. “You’re nearly done?”

“Yeah!” He comes closer to me, taking the coffee pot from my hand. “Final sound editing at the studio up north. So I’m s’pose to be here next month anyway but I’m just here early. For you.”

I’m afraid to ask, did that mean he was all mine for the next couple weeks of November? But the moment passes and I continue putting together a breakfast.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” I say for the millionth time.

“Me too,” he kisses the side of my neck and helps me carry our coffees to the table. “I intend to spend as much time with you as possible.”

He answers my unasked question and I feel like I’m glowing from the inside. “Yeah well I just finished on set so I’m unemployed until the next thing I’m on. So I’m all yours.”

“How’s that all going? Tell me.”

So I do. I take him through the sets I’ve been on and the people I’ve worked with. He asks great questions and I feel so deeply seen and not just because he doesn’t take his eyes off of me once.

The conversation leads to a repeat of last night and we end up spending most of the day in bed but I wasn’t complaining.

“I haven’t done this in ages,” he says with a kiss on my head. “Just stayed wrapped up in sheets all day.”

“I think the last time I did this was in London, with you.” I kiss his chin. “That feels so long ago.”

“Every day without you feels so long,” Harry says. “I shouldn’t have let it get this long.”

I shrug, “Yeah. I think I convinced myself it was good. We were fine like that. But now that I have you my god that was too long.”

He chuckles and pulls me into a deeper kiss. He tastes like sleepy familiarity and his hands grip me in places that have made a home for his fingers. I think I was in love with this man.

“What?” Harry asks. I must have paused. “You alright?”

“Yeah yeah,” I go back to kissing him but he pulls away. “No I’m fine! Promise.”

He believes me.

We spend a few days just doing nothing but everything with each other. I introduce him to Deanna and we do dinner together with Harry in a costume so he doesn’t get recognized. Deanna finds it very amusing and so do I. Harry seems tense and I worry it’s because we’re laughing at him but he reassures me it’s not.

I know it wasn’t going to last forever, Harry had a busy life to get back to, but I savour the slow moment we have all to ourselves.

Near the end of the week, while I’m driving us out to a hiking spot Harry brings up something on his mind.

“Can I say something, and you can’t get mad?”

“Well I can’t guarantee that.”

“Try not to?” He asks.

“Maybe.” I can’t promise him that.

“Fine I’ll settle with maybe,” he jokes.

“So are you going to tell me?” I eye him as I pull into the parking lot. He had gone silent.

“Yes, I’m getting to that.” He bites his lip. “Don’t take this the wrong way but you seem a bit distant. Not from me just…from yourself.”

“I seem distant from myself?” I laugh.

“Yeah,” he fidgets with his belt and we exit the car. “Like the y/n I know is only 70% there.”

“What?!”

“No see now don’t go getting mad love,” he says and his pet name only softens the moment slightly. “I just wonder if you’re really alright.”

“Of course I am,” I bristle.

“You always have this fire about you but right now-.”

“Jeez Har, if you’re comparing me to before in London I was more high strung than usual, constantly stressed and having personal issues with my ex. And you were making my life hell. Why are you comparing me to her?”

“No I know!” Harry tries to hold my arm but I brush him off and speed away down the trail. But his stupid long legs catch up easily. “This isn’t coming out how I meant to. But even when we were together last spring. You were still you. You just seem a little sad?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I pull away from him more. “You can’t go MIA for months then pop back into my life and tell me I’ve changed like it’s a bad thing.”

“Y/n you’re purposely not understanding me here,” Harry starts to grow frustrated beside me and it makes me less frustrated sharing the emotion. Like I said—I was very healthy. “I’m not saying you’ve changed. Or that changing is a bad thing! I think you’re a lot more confident and stronger than ever before. I’m just saying your light’s been a bit dimmer in the time I’ve been with you and I’m worried you’re going through something you’re not sharing.”

“Oh my god,” I feel tears prick my eyes and I blink them away before stuffing my glasses onto my face. “My light’s been dimmer? Seriously? I’m fine. I’m okay Harry. You don’t have to worry-“

“But I want to-“

“Well you don’t. And it’s a little late to try and pry me open and dissect what you think is wrong with me.”

“Well I’ve already pried you open it’s the dissecting part that—ow!”

I’ve hit him with my bottle and he shuts up. He was so not funny.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “But I’m here if you want to talk.”

Too little too late, I think bitterly. And the strength of the bitterness surprises me. I stay quiet, not wanting to spew anything I’ll regret later. He trails behind, giving me the space I need.

Apparently I was bitter about our time apart. But I know that wasn’t entirely his fault—I’d admitted to pushing him away because I’d been too embarrassed. Too stubborn to accept I could use his help. So what was it?

I didn’t think I was any less myself than I was a year ago. But as soon as I think it I know it’s untrue.

I sigh and let the sunlight filtering through the coastal oaks and shrubbery warm my skin. Harry continued a steady pace behind me and I feel slightly sorry for getting so defensive.

I continue one step at a time on the worn path walked by so many. I’d done this several times with friends and it was supposed to be special doing it with Harry but I’ve just ruined it.

I ruined it.

If I was any lesser than in my personality, like Harry said, it was probably because I ruined things. And I was upset with myself. I feel like I let Harry go, that I failed at the career I thought I was going to spend a lifetime. I ruined the thing between Harry and I with pride, by pushing him away! And life’s beaten me down with it.

I haven’t been being very honest with myself. Because the truth did hurt. And I’ve been a wimp.

I glance back at Harry but his head his down, his head of curls bouncing at the effort of the uphill slope. My heart floods with warmth just looking at him and I can’t believe I’ve been an idiot.

“Harry,” I stop in the middle of the trail and he nearly bumps into me. He steadies himself on my shoulder and I grasp his hand there before he can remove it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a bitch back there.”

“It’s alright.” He squeezes my shoulder, but his eyes are still wary. “I shouldn’t have been so insensitive. I do that sometimes.”

“No,” I rush to answer. “No you have a point. And I don’t expect you to ever stop calling me out-“

“Likewise,” he gives me a small smile that feels like relief.

“You’re right. I just don’t think I’ve sat long enough to accept it.”

His finger brushes my cheek, wiping the fallen tear. I was not supposed to cry!

“Let’s keep going,” he suggests and I’m grateful for that.

“I think,” I sniffle as my body strains to finish the final stretch of our hike. “I feel like I should be happy and grateful for where I am now. I’m actually really passionate about this new work I’ve been taking on! But a part of me feels like I’m going through the motions. And that makes me feel so shitty.”

My life in London had crashed and burned but it had felt full. Out here I was so spread apart from everyone, I no longer worked at a steady job, and the only person I had was Deanna. Sometimes I think I relied on her too much.

“I think you expect too much of yourself,” Harry puts his hand around my shoulder as we near the end and even though I’m sweaty and it’s kind of gross I let him. “I know how that goes.”

“Yeah maybe,” I brush away another tear. “I just don’t feel very present. I’m either living in the future or living in the past.”

Harry’s face twists into what I can only describe as a knowing grimace.

“Well we made it,” I gesture to the open water below us. We stand for a little while, breathing it in. It reminds me of the first music video set I’d been on with him. When we were getting along and he had seen my enthusiasm for that sort of thing.

“I’ve been living in the past a lot.” Harry admits. “More than usual.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Y/n,” he says and I turn to look at him. Right, I flush. Me.

“What the fuck did we do to each other?” I ask and we laugh. And then laugh some more, releasing a tension neither of us realized we were carrying.

We end up sitting in the ground catching our breaths again. He pulls me into his chest and kisses the top of my head.

“I don’t know how we keep screwing up.”

“It should be a record,” I laugh. “We really don’t know how to deal with each other.”

“Fucking hell,” he laughs.

“What do we do?” I look up into his eyes that are deeper than the forest we hiked through. They’re so full of love that I could drown in them willingly.

“Firstly I should tell you something, long overdue.” He says. He kisses me with a sweetness before telling me, “I’m madly in love with you. I never thought I could feel this way about someone.”

“Well I don’t know how that someone could be me,” I joke but mostly to cover up just how hard his words hit.

“You wound up in my life when I was at my worst-“

“And taken you even lower,” I joke again.

“No.” He brushes my cheek. “No, that was my own doing. You made me believe I could be better. That I should be better, that I shouldn’t be defined by past mistakes. I love you y/n.”

Woah. I wasn’t expecting that.

I scramble to sit up and face him. “Seriously?”

“So serious.”

“Harry,” I hold his face in my hands. It was true, something I barely admitted to myself but as I roll the words through my head it feels true.

“Don’t feel pressured to-“

“I love you too Harry. God. I love you. That felt good to say.”

He laughs and pulls me to him, and even though we’re smiling too hard to actually get a proper kiss in it’s one of the most romantic moments of my life.

“I don’t think this is going to solve our issues,” he says once we’ve dusted ourselves off and prepare to say goodbye to the view. “But I want to try to stay connected.”

“You’ve told me you love me there’s no getting rid of me now.” I warn him.

“I was scared,” he confesses. “I never told you I wanted you to stay. That I wanted you so fucking badly because I was scared you would get so overwhelmed by my life, how much is in the public eye and all of that. I don’t want to subject you to that-“

“We’ve already been papped together remember?” I raise a brow. He blushes as the memory surfaces.

“The night I acted like a complete arse yeah thanks for reminding me.”

“Look at you blushing,” I pat his cheek. He brushes me off. “But I know what I’m getting myself into Harry. I’ve worked for you! I know how public your life is. And we can figure it out.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” I reassure him.

“Does that mean…?”

“What are you asking Mr. Styles?”

“Please don’t call me that again,” he groans. “I don’t want to be Mr. Styles to you anymore.”

“No?”

“Only if you’d be Mrs. Styles.”

Now it’s my turn to flush. He laughs at me the same way I did him.

“Harry I barely know what I’m doing with my life. But I do know I love you, and I want to be with you. So I’ll figure the life stuff out as long as I get to have you.”

“That’s very romantic.” He teases.

“I know,” I smile.

“Good. I’d give up the life I have now if it means getting to have you Y/N.”

“Romantic enough,” I tease.

“Remember when we realized we had been at the same Coldplay concert and-“

“Not this again,” I groan. “I’m not bloody asking you to give up your fame and money to start a family.”

“I know I know!” He laughs. “But I just want to tell you that you could. I wouldn’t mind.”

I fan myself, “It’s getting too romantic. Let’s get out of here.”

And that’s the note on which we make our way back down to our car, completely different how we made our way up. It sets the tone for the remainder of his time here.

8 months later:

“G’morning!” I wave to the front desk and walk to the elevator that would take me up to the apartment I called home now. It was spring in the city I’ve grown to love again.

“Is that you?” Harry’s voice calls out when I walk to the kitchen.

“Yes! And I have coffee!” I shout back. I couldn’t sleep last night—first day jitters that I always got when working on a new set.

“Bollocks!” Harry’s voice sounds closer. “I was supposed to do that for you for first day on set.”

“Too bad,” I push the coffee towards him on the island but he ignores it to come to me instead.

“Is it?” He arches a brow. His hands are already running up my sides and my breathing grows shallow. He never failed to pull this reaction from me. Even when we “hated” each other.

I can’t take the teasing so I lean up to press my mouth to his and the coffee is forgotten as he lifts me up on the island and trails his lips down my body. I didn’t need caffeine when I had this.

No. Wait. I had a job to get to.

“Harry,” I try to grab his face back up. “Harry, love, I can’t-fuck.”

“Sorry,” he smiles up at me sheepishly and if I could take a shot of that face it would seriously sustain me for the rest if my life.

“I can’t.” I pout.

“I know. Sorry I got carried away.”

“Drink your coffee,” I steal one last kiss. “Now I feel like I need a cold shower.”

His laugh echoes through the room. “I said I was sorry!”

He dramatically moves to the opposite end of the island and sits down, holding the coffee up to his face. “Mmmm.”

I smile at the man who had my soul and heart. I was so glad I’d made the plunge to move back to where he was.

After Harry left the States when he finished his album we had tried our best at long-distance. I was afraid to uproot my life to London again and he was willing to move out to San Francisco but I didn’t want him to. I knew his life was in London.

We tried going back and forth for a couple months. I’d invited him back home to Burbank during one of those trips and everyone had hit it off. It almost felt like the missing piece I was looking for to take the plunge. To decide once and for all I was moving away again.

The last time I moved I was running away from everything I knew because I thought it would gain me independence and a life I craved. But ultimately I came crawling back home.

This time I take the leap running to something.

I miss being closer to family, and living with my best friend. I beg Deanna to visit every time we catch up but recently she’s told me she’s moving in with the guy she’s been dating and it makes me feel less bad about leaving her behind again.

Harry decided to move his work life out of the flat to give me privacy, now his team worked out of a small office in central and sometimes I popped by when he was there. We tried to keep ourselves out of the limelight, and so far things had stayed private.

“I’m going to pick you up tonight,” Harry reminds me. “Are you sure I can’t give you a lift there too?”

“No I want to take the train,” I insist. I needed my first day to be independently mine.

We chit chat as we finish breakfast and then I’m out the door again towards my first day. It’s a cool morning but the sun climbs into the sky and I know it was only going to get warmer.

I had promised the city that I’d be back one day and this was it. I had laid down roots once before and I was back to try once more; my heart was open enough to embrace it, healed enough to love it again.

I was embracing life again and it felt like my glow was back.

Jeff keeps asking if you’re showing up to the album launch, Harry texts.

Obviously, does Jeff not want me there? I text—it was a running joke between us ever since we came out to Jeff that he hated us together. His reaction had been surprise and then resignation. He was tight-lipped about us any time he saw us together.

He’d rather you throw the party.

I didn’t miss that part of the job. Now when I look back at my old career I’m not sure how I did it for years. It was a stress I didn’t want back.

He’d have to pay me a million dollars, I text back.

I’ll let him know your new rates

I get to the tube and sit down. As I lose service I get one last text from Harry.

I love you. Break a leg

And then: but don’t get concussed or anything

I roll my eyes but the smile stays on my face. To be loved is to be known but to be loved is also to have someone else know all of your stupid moments and know you won’t ever live them down.

I send back a heart and an eye-roll emoji.

The tradeoff was worth it…most of the time.

#writingsfromhome #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #fic #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles series #musician!harry #harry stylesxreader #enemies to lovers #dos and dont’s #epilogue #please know I reviewed this piece only like once so take it for what it is #and yeah

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cal-daisies-and-briars · 3 months ago

Note

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸 🩸🩸🩸🩸Asking for Vampire fic shocking I know

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️

🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮(this might not be the right one oops but Cranberry my beloved)

*claps hands together* let's get into it!

135 for 🩸:

---

Eddie needs to find Kim first.

He eats dinner with Sophia and Chris. He helps Chris with English homework.They watch an episode of some show Chris is into, all three of them. It’s a really nice evening. Perfect, really.

Which makes sneaking out all the harder.

It feels wrong. It feels dirty. It feels ungrateful. Leaving after Sophia and Chris are in bed, off to look for the woman who symbolizes the decisions that nearly obliterated his family. Just like last time, he should stay as far away from her as possible. He shouldn’t even be considering doing what he’s doing.

And yet, how can he not? If Eddie has a chance to be rid of this, then why not take it? Kim didn’t have to lure him to her. She didn’t have to pursue him afterwards. Fuck, she never even had to come back to the house that night, dressed as Shannon. Eddie didn’t ask for any of it. It ruined his damn life. And now he has the chance to take something back?

He can’t waste a chance.

He’s just not willing to drag Buck and Sophia down into this with him.

So once he’s sure they’re asleep, Eddie leaves. He dresses in some of Buck’s protective gear. It fits a little big, but it’ll do. Takes some of his knives. Takes the gun from the gun safe and enough ammunition. He feels sick to his stomach with every action. But he’s killed before, in order to survive. He can’t think of this as any different.

It’s probably not going to lead to anything. He thinks this as he drives down towards Long Beach, in the direction of Kim’s place. If she’s smart, she’ll have moved. If Eddie was in Kim’s position, he’d make sure he couldn’t easily find her. He’d have left the damn state. Though, lockdowns and restriction levels may have prevented that. And maybe she thinks Eddie is dead? She left him for dead, after all. Maybe she didn’t stick around to check if he’d woken up.

The point is, this could go nowhere. Or it could fix everything.

Then there’s the other thing. The other consideration that Eddie isn’t taking lightly. Can Eddie look at the face that is so identical to the woman he loved, and kill her? Even if it’s not her. He knows it’s not her. He always knew it wasn’t her. But knowing and feeling are different beasts.

He tries not to think about it too much on his drive. Instead, he focuses on being pragmatic. He thinks of what happened to May in the coffee shop. She had a moment’s notice before dropping dead. Quite literally, dead. Maybe a minute or more passed before she woke up again. Eddie has to be mindful of this before he does anything. If he’s going to, well, kill her, then he has to do it in a way that makes it safe for him to then immediately die. A strange thought, to be sure.

Eddie parks a few streets away from her place. The same as he’d done when he’d first arrived back in Los Angeles. He’s had time to relax. Survival instinct is kicking back in.

As he walks towards her house, Eddie remembers the last person whose death he is responsible for. The vampire hunter. The one from whom he stole the car. The one he didn’t quite kill, but whose death he did not stop.

Things had actually been going okay for Eddie for a few weeks before that. He’d had an understanding with the owner of a yurt resort. A tenuous, new thing. The man, Paul, had seen Eddie around one of the nearby parks, realized what he was and what he was up to. Offered him a place to stay in exchange for property maintenance. Under the table, with the understanding no “vampire shit” was to go on on his property.

Who was Eddie to say no to that? He told him his name was Luis and did what he was told. He slept in a bed. Even a rickety camping cot felt like a blessing.

It lasted two weeks. Two weeks of Eddie allowing himself to feel somewhat human again.

And then the vampire hunter showed up.

At first he was just there with his family. A vacation by the ocean. Family ‘glamping.’ A father, a mother, and three little kids. A rarity. People weren’t doing a lot of traveling due to the outbreaks, so it was good for the resort. Eddie didn’t think much of why they’d feel safe to travel.

For the whole week they were there, the father watched Eddie. Eddie still doesn’t know how he figured it out. Eddie painted the yurt closest to theirs, the father watched him the whole time. Arms crossed, suspicious. Eddie fixed a step on the wooden stairs down to the ocean, the father stopped his kids from going down to the beach to play. At first Eddie thought it was racially motivated. After all, Eddie wasn’t giving himself away. He was coming out during the day, albeit with sunglasses and a hat. He was behaving normally. The guy had no reason to suspect Eddie, really.

When they left, packing up their CRV tight with three kids and their bags, Eddie was relieved. Good riddance.

When the guy came back in the same car two days later, alone? With a Browning gun case in his back seat? Eddie knew he was in trouble.

He spent a few hours, hiding in his yurt, feeling badly for himself. It wasn’t fair. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Not to this man. Not that this man knew of. And, in general, not in a while. He was really at the tail end of struggling with impulse control. He’d improved so much. And now this asshole was going to kill him? Shoot him in the woods?

It wasn’t fair.

Then, Eddie remembered who he was and decided he wasn’t going to let it happen. He remembered all he had to live for.

And he decided to fight back.

Eddie packed his shit that day, well aware he wouldn’t be able to come back. That he’d have to move on. Lose the bed and the safety and the semblance of humanity. All he had he kept in a fucking backpack anyway, so it wasn’t a huge deal to carry with him as he walked away.

He walked up the road towards a public hiking trail along a creek. West, the creek flowed to the ocean. East, it went uphill, higher and higher. Stemming from a nearby mountain. As Eddie walked towards it, he saw the CRV not far behind him. He led the guy towards the trail, and before he arrived, Eddie covered the sign that said it was closed. It had been closed for weeks, following a few mountain lion attacks.

The thing about wild animals attacking is that there’s an official way to deal with them and an unofficial way to deal with them. Same as vampires, Eddie supposes. In this case, proper, humane traps had been left out by the property government body. And improper traps had also been left out. Eddie knew, because he’d been around here for a while. He’d heard locals talking. He’d seen them. He could imagine what they’d do to a person's tibia.

All he had to do was get this guy deep enough off the designated hiking path. Most people wouldn’t stray, but this guy was arrogant. Determined.

---

78 for ⚡️:

---

The bungalow Buck pulls up in front of is nice. Buck will admit that the look of the outside captures him right away. Blue side paneling, a rock-garden low maintenance front yard, a wide enough driveway for both their vehicles. A decent sized garage, too.

“The door would need to be painted,” Eddie says, looking at the bright red coloring of the front door.

Buck nods. “I agree completely. White?”

“Mhm,” Eddie says. “Keep it simple. Blue is nice enough as it is.”

They park on the street. It’s at the top of a hill, but not angled in a way that would make anything difficult for Chris. Gianna arrives a minute later, pulling her little white sports car into the driveway.

“Hi, you guys! Isn’t this just magnificent?” She squeaks as Buck and Eddie climb out of the Jeep.

“It’s, uh, it’s nice,” Eddie nods.

Buck just smiles. It’ll be a lot more magnificent if it meets at least some of their needs.

“Okay, so this place has three bedrooms, two baths, with a pretty big living and dining space,” she explains. “Lots of storage in the garage.I think you’ll find it meets what you’re looking for, and now it’s at the top end of your budget.”

“What’s the catch?” Buck asks.

Eddie gives him a look. One that says, really? Before we even see the house? Sorry, Eddie. Buck is still suspicious.

“I know you had a yard on your list of wants,” Gianna says. “This place does have a terrace, but it might be a bit smaller than you were hoping for.”

Buck bites his lower lip, holding back from jumping to any more conclusions. Had he imagined a place with a proper yard? Yes. To entertain in, like Bobby and Athena. For their future kid to play in. All of that. But is it a deal breaker in this otherwise insane Los Angeles housing market? Nope. It’s not like they have a dog.

“Well, let’s see,” he says. Trying not to be a total downer.

“Okay, great!” Gianna enthuses.

They follow Gianna inside, through the ugly red front door, into a space that Buck actually sort of likes. There’s nice, hardwood floors. Lots of big windows with natural lighting that remind him of what he liked about the loft. The dining and living rooms are quite spacious. What the terrace lacks, the dining room with sliding doors leading out to it would more than make up for. There’s a strange carpeting in the living room - the only room in the house with this issue. But that would be easy enough to tear up. A project for a four-off.

“Does this kitchen suit your needs, Chef Buckley?” Eddie asks, when Gianna leads them into the white-tiled space.

Admittedly, it’s not his dream kitchen. Though, Buck can’t say there’s anything quite wrong with it. Maybe he’s imagining something that only exists in the fire station. Big and open and where he learned to cook. Maybe he’s imagining exactly Bobby’s kitchen. This has a lot of counter space though. And plenty of storage. There’s enough room in the back corner to fit a little breakfast table. He can imagine Christopher sitting there, playing on his Switch and waiting expectantly for Buck to make pancakes in the morning. There’s a mug rack hook board on the wall. Maybe it wouldn’t come with the place, but Buck can imagine starting a goofy little mug collection beyond what they already have.

“Yeah,” Buck says. “Yeah, I think it does.”

Eddie’s eyes widen, surprised. He was waiting for Buck to find a problem. Well, see? Not a buzzkill!

“The appliances do come with the property, too. Which is nice. Owners are showbiz types. They’re moving back to Europe and can’t take them.”

“Thank you, Europe,” Eddie says.

Buck snorts.

“It’s great,” he says after a moment. “Exactly what we need.”

---

57 for 🧟‍♂️:

---

“One second, buddy,” the man calls back.

Maddie sighs. She doesn’t know if she can trust this man for sure. She doesn’t know if this is some elaborate ruse. But how likely is that, really? That he is faking having a child just to kidnap her? More likely, he’s really just a dad looking for his kid’s mom, after being separated by an apocalypse. The same way she’s looking for Evan.

“Okay,” she concedes. But only because she suspects he’s right. She won’t get very far hurt. And she can hardly bear to stand for much longer. “I’ll come with you.”

“Cool,” he says. “You can sit in the truck. But I’m going to take my son to the bathroom.”

Bathroom is a generous word for what he surely means is peeing behind a building.

“I have to get my stuff from inside, actually,” Maddie says. The gasoline is in there. And all of Evan’s postcards. “There’s still stuff in there, if you want to look around.”

“Five minutes?” He asks.

“Five minutes,” she agrees.

As Maddie hobbles back towards the gas station, she really hopes she doesn’t end up regretting this decision.

▪️▪️▪️

The man and his son share a similar air of kindness. Maddie is disarmed by the little boy rather quickly. He’s little; younger than ten by a few years. Six? Seven? He walks with crutches. Maddie thinks spina bifida or CP, but it's hard to know. And, while his father seems to understand Maddie’s hesitance to give too much of herself away, the boy is just thrilled to meet someone new.

“I’m Chris!” He introduces himself. “What’s your name? Where are you from?”

“Uh… Hi, Chris,” Maddie answers. She’s hesitant to answer anything else.

“Chris, remember what we talked about when meeting new people out here?” His father says.

Maddie thinks he seems like a good father. Kind and patient. Much better than her own had been for most of her childhood. Hell, it’s the end of the world, and he’s got his kid in a booster seat.

Chris sighs. “I know. Not everyone wants to share.”

“That’s right,” the man nods approvingly.

“But we’re nice!” Chris announces. “I promise.”

Maddie smiles. “I’m sure you are. Sorry, Chris. It’s been a while since I talked to anyone.”

“That’s okay,” Chris says.

---

90 for 🦮:

---

Three days after a statewide stay at home order is put in place.

Eddie and Christopher cry as they say goodbye to one another.

“I don’t want you to go,” Chris whines into Eddie’s chest.

“It’ll be over soon,” Eddie tells Chris. A promise he can’t exactly be making. It’s a lot like guaranteeing you’ll save someone on a rescue. But who can blame him for trying to reassure his son? And, perhaps, himself.

“I’ll take care of him,” Buck promises when he and Eddie hug goodbye.

I’ll love him like my own, he holds back from saying. I already do.

“I know you will,” Eddie tells him. “I know.”

Their hug lasts a little longer than maybe it normally would. Who knows when they’ll see each other again?

He gives Eddie the keys to his apartment and tries not to think about the date they might have had this summer as he watches him drive away.

🦮🦮🦮

Cranberry has spent lots of days and nights at the Diaz house, so she has no trouble adjusting. Occasionally, she looks for Eddie. And she’s a little confused when Buck sets her crate up in the living room, but that’s about it. She’s glad to be here.

And honestly, thank god she is.

Chris sits on the floor of his bedroom, teary-eyed, with the back of Cranberry’s skull in his lap. She’s lying belly up in front of him. He strokes the soft fur on her chest and stomach repetitively, almost in a trance. This is how Buck finds them when he’s done setting up all their stuff.

“Hey, kiddo,” Buck says, lowering himself down onto the edge of Christopher’s bed. He’d sit on the floor beside them, but his leg is sore after a morning of activity, and he’s not sure he’d easily get up again. “You doing okay?”

Chris shrugs and keeps petting Cranberry. Cranberry, blissed out, bats her paw a little, urging Chris not to stop when he is momentarily distracted by Buck.

“I know this is really hard,” Buck tells him. “And we both wish your dad was here.”

Chris nods mutely.

“Yeah, I’m going to miss him really badly.” Buck continues. “So will Cranberry.”

Chris looks away from Cranberry for the first time.

“I wish Dad had a Cranberry so he wouldn’t be all alone.”

Buck inhales sharply. He ruffles the curls on Christopher’s head.

“You’re a really sweet kid, you know that? Your dad is so lucky.”

Chris shrugs again.

“You know what might make him feel less lonely?” Buck asks.

“What?” Chris asks.

“Maybe every day, we could get a picture or video of you and Cranberry having fun, and send it to him? You know he’d love that.”

“Okay,” Chris says. “I can do that.”

“And we can call him all the time,” Buck reminds him.

“Yeah,” Chris agrees.

“Maybe, you and I can think of this like a sort of adventure?” Buck asks.

“An adventure?” Chris echoes. “But we have to stay inside!”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Buck concedes. “Except, this is pretty new right? I’ve never had to go into a lock down before. So it’s kind of a whole new thing for me. New things can be scary, uh, or they can be an adventure. Like when I used to move to a new state.”:

It’s scary no matter what. But Chris is nine. Buck has to do what he can for morale.

“Okay, Buck.” Chris agrees. “It can be an adventure.”

Thank god.

“Why don’t we start our adventure by watching a movie neither of us has ever seen before?” Buck suggests. “I’ll make popcorn?”

“Can it be an adult movie?” Chris asks cheekily.

“Uh…” Buck struggles. “What about a teenager movie?”

“Okay!”

Buck has the slightest feeling he’s been played.

“Come on,” Buck says, rising to his feet. “Let’s get set up on the couch.”

Christopher sighs, slides out from under Cranberry, and climbs to his feet.

“Thanks for taking care of me while Dad is away, Buck,” he says in a quiet voice.

Buck steps forward to hug him. “Of course, Chris. I love you lots. You know that.”

“I love you, too. And Cranberry.”

#daisies and briars writes #long death fic #go and kill go and die fic #things we're all too young to know fic #buck service dog fic

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prince-rowan-of-the-forest · 2 months ago

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To Make a Heaven of Hell (9/?)

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Virgil finds himself in the residential levels of hell in need of a certain heroic incubus after running from his teasing friends.

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Chapter warnings: A person being a little creepy with flirting and not backing off

Notes: Okay I have absolutely no excuse for this one taking me like seven months fdjslfjds uhhh oops??

Hell's Belles coming back from hiatus definitely sparked this again - though this fic is definitely set a little bit behind the canon point of the series haha, so Ruggy and Sharkie won't be reincarnating in this fic for a little while <3

----

“Soooo…” Angel said, looking at Virgil in a way that he knew meant he was about to get teased within an inch of his life, “Did’ja get his number?”

Okay, maybe less teasing and more right to killing him by fluster overload.

“I- wha- huh-” Virgil stammered, their face bright red whilst Angel cornered them in the break room, he attempted to recover, but it didn’t really go very well, “Wha- I mean, who- who’s number? What’s a number? What’s a phone-”

Angel burst out into giggles just as Penny came into the break room too - finally, someone reasonable.

“Miss Penny please save me-” Virgil basically begged, making Angel laugh harder.

“Well-” Penny started, “Did you?”

“Did I what?” Virgil asked, the moment he said it he knew this was a trap.

“Get the cute demon’s number?” She asked with a teasing grin. Virgil groaned.

“Yes - okay! Yes I got his number!” Virgil cried, “It’s not even that special he was already in the goddamn group chat.”

“Oh,” Angel said, “Right.”

“Yeah. Right,” Virgil grumbled, before getting up and grabbing a cookie and storming out of the break room.

He wasn’t actually that upset - he’d text them both in a minute to make sure they knew, but they just couldn’t handle the teasing in the moment. The heat on his cheeks had gotten too much for him.

Not to mention thinking about Roman too much always seemed to lead to thoughts he shouldn’t be having in public.

But then again, he’d seen the books Lily read. Maybe his thoughts weren’t that bad.

“Hey Vee!” Sharkie called, “Where’s my desk buddy going?”

“Dunno,” Virgil called back as he stormed off, “I’ll be back later, call if you need me.”

“Oh - okay! Everything okay?” They called, Virgil glanced back to see them ignoring some random person at the desk, looking over at him in confusion. Virgil clutched his phone in his jacket pocket and nodded.

“Yeah just - need a break,” he said, waving them off with one had before heading for the elevator that would take him deeper into hell.

“Do you think we really upset him?” He heard distantly from who he thought might have been Angel.

—-

Virgil had never been down to the residential levels of hell before.

Lily and the others had told him all about them. Roughly they knew what to expect when they stepped off of the elevator. The hustle and bustle being primarily made up of demons was something he definitely expected, all sorts of different people - just like the demons he saw in the lobby but so many more of them. These people too seemed less scarred, he supposed a lot of the front gate demons were retired soldiers after all.

There were kids here, younger than Dante, some who were barely toddlers and a few in whom he saw himself - the fears he had had when he was first starting school, when he was taking his finals. Somehow, though, no-one looked miserable as he made his way aimlessly through the streets - looking for anything to take his mind off of his thoughts and, more importantly, feelings. They supposed afterlife school was probably easier than mortal world school.

Virgil saw a coffee shop across the road and sighed. That was good enough. Warm light spilled through the open doorway, the interior was dark but not gloomy - lit with warm yellow lights that weren’t too bright or fluorescent. Bioluminescent flowers sat in vases on the windowsill and the counter - providing extra lighting under the menu and in the window booths for those who were coming to work on something.

Right now though, the cafe wasn’t too busy. Less than half of the tables were filled and the single demon working at the counter didn’t look overworked or stressed in the slightest. In fact, they waved Virgil over when they saw him standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“Hey handsome! Welcome to Brewed Brimstone Cafe!” They said brightly with a wave, their forest green skin shimmering in the light from the flowers, they upt their hand on their hip and give him a flirty look - making Virgil frown, “See anything that takes your fancy today?”

“Just um -” The introduction had thrown him off, the immediate compliment and the flirting - what was that about? His eyes darted to the menu but he had no room to process that in his mind right now, “-Can I just have the sweetest iced coffee you’ve got?” Virgil asked, stepping up to the counter and tilting their head. The demon hummed and turned to look at the ingredients they seemed to have on offer.

“Ahh, sweet tooth, I can get behind that - I’m sure I can whip something perfect up for you! How ‘bout you sit that cute little butt down over there and I’ll bring it over for you since it’s not busy?”

“Oh - um, thank you,” Virgil said with a small, polite but awkward smile, going over to sit down at a two person table and pulling out their phone. They shot a quick text over to Penny and Angel to let them know they weren't upset. He’d just… gotten anxious and ran off. That was his fault and not theirs.

—-

“Hey hon, you look a little down there, everything okay?” The barista demon asked a few minutes later as they placed down a tall glass full of something pale with a whole heap of cream, marshmallows and chocolate powder on top.

“Yeah, everythings fine,” Virgil said, shaking his head. The demon put a straw into his drink before hopping up again.

“You sure? I’ve been told I give great advice,” they say, winking as they pull a napkin out of the pocket of their apron and fold it neatly before placing it next to Virgil’s drink. They leaned over and looked at him - as if waiting for him to tell them what was going on. Well, fat chance. Virgil didn’t even know this person - and honestly they were starting to make him a little uncomfortable with the persistent flirting despite Virgil’s complete lack of reciprocation.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Virgil said, nodding before taking a sip of his drink. It was really good - he did want to stay and finish it, of course, but part of him really wanted to get out of here.

“Okay well, anything you need, okay?” They asked with a wink. Virgil nodded slowly before looking down at his phone again as a couple walked in through the door and they hurried back to the bar.

Virgil wanted out of here - or at least the situation, but they didn’t want to leave their drink nor the cafe. This seemed like the perfect place to relax if it wasn’t for… the barista who was giving him an odd look - it almost looked like that same look Lily gave Bell sometimes before they ran off to do… things. Virgil didn’t particularly like having that look directed at him, especially not by a stranger. Yeah, he didn’t think staying here alone with his problem saying no to people was going to be a good idea.

He could text someone at the desk, he was sure they would come and rescue him, but they were all working… Bell was training, Greg was down in Level 9, Remus was off in a different realm somewhere, Janus was likely at home in his paradise - almost everyone else was busy, so that left….

Virgil shifted their hand and he noticed something written on the napkin they’d been given. A phone number. They then noticed the demon at the bar giving him a bright smile. They seemed like a nice guy, sure, but Virgil wasn’t interested and he didn’t know if he’d be able to protest if something happened. He felt vulnerable here, but if he got up and left without finishing they were worried the barista would go after them.

There was one person they could text for help. They’d just have to hope he wasn’t too busy right now - and that they didn’t die of embarrassment from texting him.

He opened up the group chat and clicked on Roman’s contact, pausing to take at least four deep breaths before typing out a quick private message and hitting send before he could think too hard.

<xx4llpanic-nod!scoxx> Hey this is gonna sound really weird

<xx4llpanic-nod!scoxx> Srry in advance esp if ur busy

<xx4llpanic-nod!scoxx> can you come rescue me?

<xx4llpanic-nod!scoxx> The barista at this coffee shop I’m at is being weird and flirty and I cna’t leave and idk what to do

<Your Prince Charming> Great timing cutie - I just got sent on my break, where are you?

<xx4llpanic-nod!scoxx> Coffee shop - Brewed Brimstone

<xx4llpanic-nod!scoxx shared a location>

<xx4llpanic-nod!scoxx> Here

<Your Prince Charming> Gotcha - sit tight!! I’ll be there in ten!

<xx4llpanic-nod!scoxx> Tysm omg

<Your Prince Charming> No problem darling!

—-

Virgil breathed a deep sigh of relief, going back to sipping his drink and playing minesweeper on his phone and attempting to ignore the barista’s longing gaze whenever there wasn’t a customer to serve. Halfway into the ten minutes he was to wait, Roman sent another text asking if they would be okay with touch and that he had a plan. Virgil sent back a thumbs up - not quite sure exactly what Roman had planned - and received instructions just to play along. They’d be okay with any sort of plan. Hell, if Roman had to kiss him to get him out of this situation he’d be okay with it (they may be okay with it regardless, but that’s irrelevant).

Five minutes later, Roman came through the door full of energy. He immediately drew every pair of eyes just with his aura - and maybe his outfit.

Roman was wearing skintight jeans with a loose flowy pale pink top tucked in with a large belt - gold buckle and all. He was wearing a whole host of jewellery adorned to his wrists, neck and horns. With a hand on his hip and his tail swaying back and forth Roman’s eyes quickly found Virgil. His hair was tied back and he was wearing platform boots. Virgil might die if he kept looking at him like that.

“Hello beloved,” Roman announced, ignoring the barista entirely in favour of approaching Virgil and taking both of their hands in his, immediately pulling them up to kiss their knuckles, “I’m sorry I was late for our date darling, just got caught up in theatre, but I’m here now! Oh! You got yourself a drink whilst you waited - perfect, I’ll just get one to go and we can head off to the museum like we planned, sound okay?”

It took Virgil just a tiny moment to process everything Roman had just said, okay, so the plan was fake dating. He couldn’t have said that?? At least given Virgil a chance to mentally prepare himself for an onslaught of cute petnames and gestures.

“Oh - yeah, of course, it’s okay,” Virgil said, doing his best to play along despite the raging blush on his cheeks and the way his entire mind was screaming, “Don’t worry about it - um - I wasn’t waiting long…”

“Oh good, I’m glad,” Roman said, helping Virgil up from the seat and immediately wrapping his tail around Virgil’s waist. He blushed deeply - even though he wasn’t all too in the know about demon culture, that felt incredibly intimate.

Turning to the barista - who was now staring at the two of them like they’d grown six heads - Roman flashed a winning smile, “Hi there! Could I get a hellfire mocha to go? With cream and rainbow sprinkles if you please, would you like anything, my darling?”

It took Virgil a few seconds to realise that the last part was directed at him, but when he did he managed to stammer his way through an order, “O-oh, um, yeah I - can I have the same thing you made me before? But um - to go as well?” He asked the bartender, he was trying not to seem so nervous, though he knew he was failing. He just hoped it would come across more as flustered.

“Sure, coming right up,” The barista said, looking significantly glummer than they did before as they turned back to make the two drinks. Virgil let out a quiet sigh of relief.

Once they got their drinks, Roman quickly took Virgil by the hand and led them outside and down the street a little way, where he let go of them and stepped away looking oddly bashful. Virgil’s face hadn’t calmed down in the slightest and now they were outside. Right, Roman had rescued him.

“Thank you so much for that,” Virgil said, taking a deep breath, “They were just - they gave me their number and kept looking at me like Lily looks at Bell sometimes and it just freaked me out - sorry for taking you away from your break-”

“It’s okay sweetheart,” Roman said, ruffling his hair in the same way Remus often did, somehow making Virgil relax even more with the soft tone and familiar gesture, “I was going to get coffee anyway - and I’ll never complain about rescuing someone in distress - I just hope you weren’t too put off by my methods.”

Virgil sighed in relief hearing that he hadn’t pulled Roman too far from his plans, before he choked at the last statement, his face returning to it’s red state where he’d just been starting to calm down dammit, “No - no it’s fine I didn’t- I didn’t mind- um-”

“Careful, you’ll be giving me a run for my money if you keep getting redder,” Roman teased, gesturing to his own crimson skin. Virgil huffed and stuck his tongue out at him as he tried to de-red his face, “Anyway, what are you doing down here on such a fine day?”

“I was - kind of running away from Angel and Penny…” Virgil admitted, Roman raised a curious eyebrow, “They were teasing me about uh - stuff-”

“Ah, stuff, I see,” Roman nodded solemnly, “Angel can be like that, don’t let her bother you too much - but if you wanted to stay down here… perhaps you’d like to come back to the theatre with me? I’m running a day-long rehearsal today, but I’m sure no-one will mind your pretty face in the audience-?”

Virgil smiled - he had never actually been to any sort of theatre production before, and this was just a rehearsal, but it was with Roman and it gave him something to do, and he’d called him pretty, so… “Sure, why not? What do you do in the theatre anyway?”

“Well I do act of course, it’s one of my passions,” Roman said, “But I also help direct and run the youth musical theatre group for this area, right now we’re putting together a medley of our favourite mortal world musical songs, We only began last week, so it’s still very much a work in progress, but the blocking process is lovely to watch with everything coming together and these kids are rather dedicated so I’m sure you’ll have fun…”

Roman kept rambling all the way to the theatre, Virgil smiled and listened to everything he said - Roman was good at talking, he filled the space well and wasn’t overwhelming even though he was boisterous and fairly loud.

When they arrived Roman introduced them to the gathered kids and they gave an awkward wave. He sat in the audience and watched with interest. Though being honest he was watching Roman more than anyone else, the passion with which he moved around the stage to give everyone tips as they practised scenes, the way he got truly engaged with the students instead of sitting up front and yelling at them… Virgil could practically feel the passion in the room.

Once the rehearsal concluded, Virgil waited for Roman - who offered chivalrously to walk him home despite it being all the way up in paradise and Virgil accepted because they were trying to learn to take nice things when they were offered to them (Lily would be proud). They walked back through hell and up to paradise arm in arm.

Virgil really hoped this was going where he thought it might be, because he couldn’t deny to anyone anymore that he had the biggest raging crush on Remus’ brother possible.

They were going to tease him something awful about this when they found out, he was sure.

----

Tags: @full-of-roman-angst-trash @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess @glacierruler @roseianxiety@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti @scalesfeathersnfur @oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat @littlerat2 @goldnskyart (if anyone wants to be added, let me know!)

Hell's Belles AU tags: @awitchbravestheverge @twoalpacas @goldnskyart @anxious-mess19 @doteddestroyer @yourchemicallyimbalancedromance :)

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#hells belles #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #virgil sanders #roman sanders #prinxiety #rowans writings #hells belles au #sasi fanfic #sanders sides fanfic #ts roman #ts virgil

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disasterbijamietartt · 1 year ago

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I think the whole love triangle stuff and Jamie’s reunion with Tartt sr left such a bitter taste in my mouth since this show taught us, especially regarding Jamie, that accountability matters.

Good people backslide and fuck up, yep, but they show accountability for their mistakes — but in these instances we didn’t see it.

Roy and Jamie didn’t apologize to Keeley for being dickheads. We are just left hanging. Instead of having them go out on a good note as friends who love and respect each other, we can have some lingering disrespect and conflict, that hopefully (like so many things) was addressed off screen.

The whole thing would have landed so differently for me if it had a follow up—e.g. Roy and Jamie bringing coffee the next morning and apologizing—or had taken place earlier in the season. This way it felt like “Oops, righty, the love triangle has to be resolved by the end of the series and we have only the finale left.”

(In addition, it doesn’t sit well with me, that we spent time on how the boys felt about Keeley, showed how Keeley kicked them out, but never had her articulate HER feelings and what SHE wants. Yeah, women shouldn’t be the ones having to do all the emotional labor, but this took away some of her agency and made it seem like her feelings and what she wanted actually didn’t matter enough to be actually heard. Like, we have to assume she wants to focus on herself and her business instead of her love life, or maybe she really is done with both of them, even though there were signs she wasn’t, but we never actually see her get to any conclusion, which is so unfair to her arc.)

While I had hoped for OT3, I had expected the trio to end up single and that stuff would be left ambiguous. But I’m not happy with the way they did it, not after we saw in Mom City how it could have ended with them.

And we have a similar issue with Tartt sr, who gets to reconcile with Jamie without ever showing accountability on screen.

(Regardless of it being a dream sequence or not, they presented it as a happy ending)

The show did nothing to humanize James before showing him suddenly and miraculously in rehab—they did a better job of humanizing Rupert, ffs.

The way they did it, his stint in rehab came completely out of the left field as if adding it was an afterthought, since this is a feel-good show and, god forbid, a child cutting out his abusive father!

Even though they had the perfect opportunity with Georgie to give him a backstory and positive traits in the same episode he is shown as a reformed man™️

Or, you know, making the reconciliation a whole arc for Jamie and Tartt sr, spanning several episodes and giving it some room. After spending so much time on showing him being an abusive asshole and the effects the abuse had on Jamie, that was the least they should have done if they wanted to go down that road.

But on the contrary, they made him an even worse dad with the whole Amsterdam trip story (that they probably forgot about).

(And similar to Keeley above, we never really get Jamie’s thought process on this, we don’t have him reflecting about his reasons to reconnect beyond the whole “forgiveness is for yourself” speech. It would have given perspective if we’d known WHY he wants to reconnect. Once again we have to fill the gaps on our own.)

And to me that were very disappointing moves for a series finale of a show that teaches how important reformation, forgiveness and accountability are.

#ted lasso spoilers #jamie tartt #roy kent #keeley jones #ted lasso thoughts #ted lasso negativity #ted lasso

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longislandcharm · 1 year ago

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TIMING: Mid-late August LOCATION: The Commons PARTIES: @longislandcharm and @ariadnewhitlock SUMMARY: It was such a nice morning that two lovely young ladies decide to enjoy their time outside at the commons. It takes no time for secrets to spill. Oops. CONTENT WARNINGS: Mentions of accidental death

A Latte to Love was busy that day, busier than Winter had been expecting, and she had a strong desire to turn right around when she walked through the door. But the pull of her coveted mocha latte was too much for the medium to ignore so she trudged through the crowd to grab said drink before she made her way out of there. Too many people were trying to test her patience. Instead, she made her way towards some place called the Common that was also littered with people but at least she could keep her distance in one of the many gazebos strewn about the place.

It was in one of those structures that she found a familiar face. A blonde was sitting alone in one of them and her mind immediately went back to the slumber party at Mack’s. She’d been there, Winter knew that much, but she couldn’t quite recall what had happened to her that night. It was all a blur really up until she went to talk to Mack after everyone had left. Moving to take a seat, she gave the blonde a nod of her head. “Aria right?”

As she paused, she took a sip of the latte in her hand trying to wake herself up. She’d been up through the night reading everything she could get her hands on, only falling asleep with her head on the desk provided in her room when her tired eyes just couldn’t stay open anymore. Now she was paying for it for sure but maybe the company she now had would be able to keep her awake without annoying her too much. “That was some party the other night, huh?”

She didn’t spend all her free time in A Latte to Love. Still, Ariadne certainly did come by more often than she ever had before she and Wynne had been… official.

Which was fine, and it wasn’t like anybody really looked twice because she wasn’t someone who stood out, and she was a college student (so going to a café made sense), and she could always pull out the ‘I’m the barista’s girlfriend’ card, if need be. So far though, she hadn’t had to do that. Which was also probably good, because she’d feel some sort of guilt for pulling that card, even as much as she loved to advertise the fact that she was Wynne’s girlfriend.

Today, she’d gotten an iced tea to go, and had decided to sit outside on the Common, a book of Mesopotamian art opened in front of her. She looked up as she heard someone sit next to her. “I - uh. Yeah. You’re… Winter?” The other’s name had been distinct enough that she recalled it (or at least she hoped she did) without too much trouble. “It was, yes. I’ve never really been to many parties, but I thought it seemed good?” She shut her book. “Though I guess I sort of checked out part way through the night.”

“Winter is correct.” It seemed the people at this party paid more attention to her than she’d thought with the zombie falling off the balcony and all. “You thought it seemed good?” She paused, her drink halfway to her lips but forgotten with this comment. Winter’s eyebrows furrowed while she lowered the coffee in her hand. “I guess if you like a terrifying time then it was right up your alley. I just didn’t get that vibe from you.” In truth, even now, Aria seemed a little...skittish? Was that the word she was reaching for? Either way, she didn’t seem like the kind of person who enjoyed being frightened to death.

She probably shouldn’t have been talking about this out in the open but Aria had been there, it wasn’t like she hadn’t witnessed all of it. Besides, all of the other people littered around the park were out of earshot of the two of them which was a good thing considering what came out of Winter’s mouth next. “Checked out? Were we at the same party? How do you zone out when someone falls off a balcony and then miraculously comes back to life and tries to eat people? Especially when that person is Mack Ross?”

She threw a look towards the blonde, a little taken aback by the fact that she wasn’t as freaked out about this night as the rest had been, Winter more than most. “Have you been around zombies before or something?”

“I don’t like terrifying!” Ariadne practically squeaked. “Not a fan. Scary movies? Not my jam. Why –” her hands shook for a moment, and she pressed them against her thighs firmly to try and get them to stop. “I just – it was like, nice and stuff, and I got to go there with my partner, so…”

She practically choked on her tea at the other’s next comment. “What?” What had happened? “I – no, my – Wynne – Wynne and I, we went off into another room, ‘cause they were feeling a bit tired, and so that’s what I meant by – who – how – what?” Was this some sort of joke? Some sort of not-so-nice-but-somebody-thought-it-funny joke? Ariadne didn’t know, and she felt tears welling up in her eyes. “I promise I wouldn’t zone out if somebody got hurt, I just didn’t see it. I have not been around zombies before. Unless like, halloween and stuff with makeup. What?”

Oh shit. Wait, no, she hadn’t just outed Mack like that, had she? This girl was at the party! SHe should have seen what hap- oh. “Another room? Oh my god…you guys were in another room…” How had Winter not remembered that the blonde was one half of the couple that had been locked away during the whole debacle? The whole night had been a blur in her mind but was she really so dense that she’d forgotten that little detail?

Then again, could anyone blame her for it either? So much had happened and Winter had been terrified, adrenaline rushing through her body while others around her were freaking out as well. Winter pursed her lips while she gripped the coffee in her hands, afraid that the cup was going to break under the weight of it. “Okay, um…you can’t tell anybody what I just told you. Nobody that wasn’t there was supposed to know. I mean, you were there, but I thought you had witnessed it, I swear.”

Not only was Winter worried about Mack hating her for this but that stupid promise she had made was in question now. What if that one girl had been fae? Did that mean Winter had consequences coming to her? The damage was done no matter what though and seeing the tears in the other’s eyes she sighed softly as she pushed aside her own fears. Turns out the other girl was skittish. “Nobody was hurt. I mean, Mack was but she’s completely okay now. It was just a very intense moment for us but no need to cry.”

“I, uh, yeah.” Which would have made her cheeks flush if such a thing were possible, not because of any shame, but more because people having actively noticed her and Wynne wandering off to go off into a room made her feel a bit odd at the thought of attention. But it felt good, too, but then again, Ariadne knew that anything to do with Wynne felt good.

“I won’t.” Her lips trembled, “I wouldn’t do that.” Except didn’t Wynne deserve to know? But Ariadne would think about that another time. Another time that turned very quickly into now with, “but maybe you should tell Wynne, ‘cause it’s not fair if everybody but them knows. But it’s – it’s up to you, sorry to suggest that I – I don’t mean to tell you what to do.” She picked at her nails briefly, not enough to do anything, but just to have something to do while she talked.

While she felt an intense amount of shame and while she had to try and figure out how to not completely and totally freak out.

Which she wasn’t doing a great job of so far. Ariadne looked back over to Winter, “it’s – okay. But she was – how? How is she – what?” She kept her voice low, but she couldn’t help but register a noticeable change in her pitch, still. “Sorry. I – I won’t cry.” Or she’d try not to, at least.

“I actually think that’s up to Mack, not me. I shouldn’t have even told you.” Maybe it wasn’t fair that the other person didn’t know what happened now that Aria did but that really wasn’t a concern for Winter. No, the only thing running through her mind was the promise she’d made to her best friend and how she had just broken it because she couldn’t think for five seconds. It was a lesson learned: never talk about the slumber party again unless Mack brings it up. “She should get the choice that I just took away from her.”

She couldn’t quite understand what Aria was trying to ask but Winter had already given her enough to break her promise so there wasn’t much point in keeping her in the dark of the whole story. Especially when Aria looked like she was barely holding herself together. “Things got stupid while playing Never Have I Ever and some people wanted to go down the staircase on a mattress like in the Princess Diaries. Mack was trying to help get the mattress in place at the top of the stairs and she was knocked over the railing.”

Winter stopped herself, the images of that night coming back to her as she thought about what happened next. She’d never been more terrified in her life, even when her ghost friend had appeared out of nowhere. It wasn’t something she liked reliving that was becoming quite clear. “She came back though.” And tried to eat everyone in the process. “That’s what matters.”

“You – I – okay.” Her words came out fragmented. Ariadne didn’t want to lie to Wynne ever, but this very obviously wasn’t her sort of thing to share, but if everyone else knew, then it seemed cruel to leave Wynne out of it. “You didn’t mean to take it away, I - I’m sorry I made you.” She didn’t especially want any more of her pastry or her drink, any hunger she had turned instead to worry.

Kind as she was, even if she was (understandably) annoyed with Ariadne, Winter went on to give more of an explanation. “To be fair, that scene is one of the coolest in the movies. I’ve just never been anywhere that had a staircase big enough to even think about doing something like that.” Mack was an actor though, and a famous one, apparently, so it made sense that she’d be able to have a staircase like one that Mia had when she was formally a princess.

“I’m glad she came… back. Came back. Yeah.” The idea of zombies (or anything remotely supernatural) still caused Ariadne a great deal of confusion, but she was also dead and had come back and even though she didn’t want to out herself to Winter, she figured that trying extra hard to make things make sense was the least she owed her – and Mack, for that matter.

“You didn’t make me, Aria.” She was side eyeing the girl now, wondering why on earth she had even thought such a thing. It had been a mistake on Winter’s part, not hers and most people would have been quick to point that out, not take the blame themselves. She tapped a finger against the side of her coffee cup as she shook her head, mad at herself for letting out Mack’s secret. If this got back to her, which she was sure it would, her best friend wouldn’t be thrilled at all and she couldn’t blame her for it. “It just…happened. I assumed you were in the room when you weren’t so this isn’t on you at all.”

She was quiet as Aria spoke, knowing that she would never be able to see that scene in the same light again. It would always remind her of that night and what happened. How fucking stupid was it that Winter was going to be triggered by a stupid scene in the Princess Diaries now? “Well, I’m guessing Mack’s staircase wasn’t big enough either. We…should have thought of that but we’d been drinking and we’re all idiots apparently.”

Looking at the blonde, Winter nodded at the sentiment. She was glad that her friend wasn’t actually gone from this world too but being dead wasn’t exactly a fun way to live either judging off what Mack had to eat alone. “I didn’t…mean to ruin your day. You looked like you were on the verge of tears so…yea, I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Okay. Okay, fine, if you say so, then I guess it’s true. It has to be, yeah?” Ariadne still wanted to panic, but that wouldn’t look cool in front of someone like Winter, who was pretty much one of the definitions of coolest cool. Because she was from, like, LA or something, and being from a big city automatically made you cool. Or at least that was what Ariadne figured. She wasn’t the most of an expert on that in any way, shape, or form, but she still believed that.

In the very least, it meant that Winter knew more stuff than Ariadne did, but that didn’t necessarily take too much to do. “Nobody’s an idiot. It – I – sorry.” She knew she shouldn’t keep saying sorry, but right now, she couldn’t help it.

“You didn’t ruin it. I – that’s selfish of me to make this about me, anyhow. Like, way selfish. Super selfish.” Ariadne sighed. “I’ll be fine, and I won’t tell Wynne unless you or Mack says I can, alright? I promise.” Though the idea of keeping yet another secret from Wynne made her stomach twist into knots. “And I won’t like, do anything mean to Mack ‘cause of it. I wouldn’t ever.”

“Right, that’s exactly right.” Winter nodded at the blonde, knowing deep down that there was no truth to that statement at all. Nothing had to be true just because she said so but she wasn’t going to break that charade if the other wanted to believe so. She would never speak against herself that way and it seemed to be calming Aria down more.

Everything about this girl seemed to be the exact opposite of Winter. Where she would try to blame others for the shortcomings of life and how things played out, Aria was trying to blame herself. Where she would have done everything she could to show as little reaction as possible to the news, Aria was a little bit of a mess. It was something that really struck Winter, showing her how pure Aria actually was. It also made her really uncomfortable. She wanted to tell Aria to suck it up, to stop blaming herself for everything, to have even an ounce of pride but she was biting her tongue. Just because the medium had a hard time showing people anything other than composure, that didn’t mean everyone else had to be the same.

“It’s not selfish, Aria. It’s a lot to process and digest. You’re allowed to have emotions, you know.” Even if the tears slightly panicked the older woman she couldn’t blame Aria for them at all. Honestly, there had been times when Winter wanted to let her own slip out but she feared she’d never stop if she allowed it to start. It took Henry shocking her out of it last time. “I appreciate you not letting the secret out. I’m sure Mack would too. I never thought you would because I’m pretty sure you don’t have a mean bone in your body but the assurance is nice.” Now things were just getting awkward. The panic in her had died down, Aria was still trying to process everything, but Winter had her assurances and she was ready to get out of this situation. “So, I’m gonna go. If you need to talk about it or anything you just give me a ring…or a message or something.” She stood, giving one last look to Aria to make sure that she wasn't leaving the girl in some sort of really distressed broken state. “Everything is going to be fine.” She nodded, trying to believe the words herself, before she made her leave. Deep down, she was certain that nothing was going to be fine.

#Threads #Thread: Ariadne #Rumor Has It #tw accidental death

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literaryoblivion · 3 months ago

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Writing Patterns 👀

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 posted fics and see if there's a pattern!

Tagged by @machtaholic (and I think some other peeps like forever ago oops)

"Imagine Stiles covered in grease and dirt, a dirty tank top and low riding jeans, and he's smart-mouthy and wearing a permanent smirk and acts like a brat." - Give You A Ride (Stiles/Derek)

"When Cas’s grace had fully disappeared and he was now completely human, Dean was ready. " - Angel Bucket List (Dean/Cas)

"As Yoongi slowly makes his way back to his apartment, he realizes two things." - Even Darkness is Beautiful (Yoongi/Jimin; note it's a WIP)

"'... You have a lunch meeting with the author of that winter short story, and then a meeting with the photographer to discuss ideas for December’s cover at 2 o’clock.'" - Paradise in an Endless Maze (Jimin/Jungkook)

"Jimin knew he shouldn’t have agreed to this." - Make A Door In Your Heart (Jimin/Jungkook; note it's a WIP)

"Ga On, still in shock from the explosion, steps into the mansion and trudges up the stairs as he tries to come up with the words to tell Elijah what’s happened." - Our Cat (Yohan/Gaon from The Devil Judge)

"Lan Zhan might be the great and wonderful Hanguang Jun, but he is the WORST patient." - 1st ficlet in One Word Prompts/Twitter Ficlets (Lan Zhan/Wei Ying in 1st ficlet)

"The tardy bell sounds, ringing loudly, and Derek stands from his desk." - Trick or Treat, Mr. Hale? (Stiles/Derek)

"When Dean finally has Castiel back with him in the bunker, safe and sound and well, what he loves the most are not the looks they exchange, the rumble of his voice in the mornings as he waits for the coffee to percolate with his hair sticking up all over, his laughter at a joke Sam makes, or the way Dean’s worn T-shirts look on him." - Touches (Dean/Cas)

"Sometimes Derek has to stop what he’s doing and put his ear to Stiles’s chest to listen to his steady, strong heartbeat, to reassure himself that Stiles is there." - Heartbeat (Stiles/Derek)

Tagging any writer friends who want to do this!

#musing about writing #my fic #this was interesting especially since some of these fics have some large gaps of time between them haha #i think sometimes in my head I felt like I always started stories with dialogue #but this little experiment suggests that what I do is start by saying who the character is/POV from the start #which I think is helpful for the reader especially for fic?#I'm rather terrible at setting description and all of these suggest that I start with the character as opposed to the setting #I don't think that's a bad thing but it is interesting to see #idk what do you guys think?

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burningrosesbythesea · 1 year ago

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You're a grandpa! (How does it feel to be old Bruce???)

beginning

Batman sat before the Batcomputer’s screen, brooding in its blue light. The three strangers weren’t lying, there was no doubt with the evidence of Magpie’s DNA. Magpie was definitely related to Bruce, albeit he wasn’t his son (thankfully); but when he mentioned this newfound information, Milo and Cindy warily glanced at Terry.

Still, Bruce couldn’t believe he allowed someone other than Cass or Damian to take on the mantle of Batman.

He sent Damian out on patrol with Dick, mostly to prevent his youngest son from scarring the three for life. A tiny and angry 12-year-old with a katana? No, that would traumatize anyone.

Figuring that Kate, Cass, Jason, Dick, and Damian could handle patrol themselves, Bruce decided that he should at least try to get to know the three teens.

. . .

“So basically, the bitch–”

“Miss Cindy, I do have to ask you to refrain from swearing.” Alfred chided, setting down a bowl of cookie batter.

“Holly,” Cindy corrected, setting down a baking sheet next to Alfred, “activated this machine that opened a portal. So Terry had to send Matt-”

“Who’s Matt?” Bruce asked, walking into the kitchen. He surveyed the scene, Terry was in the pantry looking for something while Milo looked at the microwave in awe. All three of them still had their suits on, but had donned off their masks.

“My little brother,” Terry answered, poking his out of the pantry, “he’s also my Robin.”

“Ah,”

“An actual, old-fashioned microwave…” Milo murmured.

“Baba and Otou-san aren’t that old,” Cindy scoffed, catching the roll of parchment paper that Terry tossed to her.

Alfred poured Bruce a cup of coffee, “Two dads?” Bruce wondered.

“Yes, I can see the family resemblance from here.” Alfred chuckled, gesturing to Milo and his spiky hair.

“Damian.” Bruce thought.

He was more concerned about Damian inheriting the “adopting random orphans on impulse” gene than anything really. Seeing as how Cindy and Milo called each other siblings, but looking nothing like each other.

“You’re… part Japanese, right?”

Milo nodded at Bruce, “Cindy has Australian blood, I think. Otou-san found her in a dumpster.”

Cindy threw a spoon at him, which Milo narrowly dodged. “Shut up Minoru!” she hissed.

“Miss Cindy! We do not throw cutlery!” Alfred scolded.

“Sorry Alfred!” she squeaked.

“The entire family is weird,” Terry informed, carrying a bag of chocolate chips, “Like Milo and Cindy’s other father used to be a villain.”

“Terry!” The two yelped in unison.

“Oops–” he spluttered, dropping the bag near the cookie batter bowl.

“Excuse me?” now Bruce was really worried. Damian really shouldn’t have possessed the “attracted to criminals” gene from him.

“It’s nothing!” Cindy insisted, totally ignoring how Milo began chasing Terry around with a rolling pin. “Otou-san gave up the criminal life a long time ago.”

“Not. Helping!”

“I’ll shut up now–”

Alfred let out an amused sigh as he began pouring a cup of chocolate chips into the batter, “My, my, look how much we’re learning today.”

Bruce began to rub his temples from the info overload, “Is that all? Or are you going to tell me that one of you is related to a warlock?”

The three went deadly silent.

“Oh God.” Bruce groaned.

“So back to the story!” Cindy exclaimed, eager to switch the topic, “We got sucked into this giant portal and passed out. Next thing I know, we’re in the same warehouse, but in the past! Where you’re not old!”

Alfred listened to Cindy as he began to roll out the dough to make cookies.

Milo sat beside Bruce, staring at him with wide eyes. At first glance, you could hardly see the similarities between him and Damian; but, upon further inspection, Bruce could see his son in Milo.

“So, are the cookies for the rest of the family when they get back from patrol?” Terry asked as he began to help Alfred.

“I figured that tonight’s patrol would come in hungry,” Alfred said, putting the cookies onto the baking sheet.

“Who’s on patrol tonight?” Cindy wondered.

“Dick, Damian, Cass, Kate, Jason–”

“Uncle Jason?!” Cindy squealed, “Is he coming over?! I have to meet the legend himself when he was young!”

“Schway! Do you think he’d show us some of his old-fashioned guns?” Milo wondered excitedly.

“I hope he does,” Terry grinned, putting the sheet into the oven, “I’m more excited to see the earlier versions of his helmet.”

. . .

When Matt finally found Cassandra, he didn’t even have to say anything before she scooped him up and threw him into the Batmobile before getting in herself and zooming over to the Batcave.

Now he stood in front of Bruce.

“What happened?” Bruce grunted, tinkering with the computer. “I can’t reach the rest of your patrol.”

“Terry– He– Holly–” Matt couldn’t get the words out. His mind raced with the many possibilities of what happened to the three the moment Terry ordered him to leave.

Cass placed her gloved hand on Matt’s shoulder in an act of comfort, “Think, then speak.” she seemed to say.

Okay, what did Bruce need to know? He needed to know why Terry, Cin, and Milo weren’t responding to his coms. Why? Because the stupid machine Holly turned on probably killed them. How did they get into this situation in the first place? They were on a mission– Wait, it was Cindy’s mission. She usually never patrols at night unless she conducts a heist. So when he, Terry, and Milo went out for patrol and stumbled upon Cindy, they offered to help. Cassandra and Stephanie were fine with it and continued on with their patrol.

“We were helping Cindy out with a lead,” Matt began, finding his words, “Steph and Cass said it was okay so we went out to an abandoned warehouse in the historical district.”

Bruce got up and reached out for his cane, “And?”

“There’s this machine that was considered dangerous, so Cindy needed to destroy it before anyone got hurt.”

Matt heard shuffling, and he gulped. He really hoped that he wasn’t here right now.

“We were ambushed by some guards, and Holly turned on the machine. It started making this really awful buzzing sound and it glowed blue. Terry told me to leave and I did–” he choked up, “I heard them talk before their com lines just stopped working.”

Bruce now stood in front of him, grimacing. “I’ll send Steph to check out the damage,”

“It��s going to be okay,” Cass spoke, softly squeezing his shoulder. She had removed her cowl at some point, allowing her short black hair to frame her face.

“Okay?” A voice choked out in disbelief.

Akira stormed over, adjusting his green cloak over his shoulders. “My kids could be dead for fucks sake.” he hissed.

“Easy Akira,” Bruce warned, “you don’t want to be doing something stupid and getting hurt.”

“Hurt?” the younger man scoffed, adjusting his mask, “I can deck at least 3 of your kids in a fight, don’t tell me that I’ll get hurt.”

“To be fair, you can’t beat Dick in a fight.” Matt pointed out.

“Yet,” Akira retorted as he got on his hover-motorcycle, “Tell Steph to wait up, I’m going with her.”

“I’m going with,” the boy said, “Terry’s my brother, I have to make sure he’s okay.”

Akira gestured for Matt to hop on.

Cass fitted her cowl over her head again before walking off to the Batmobile, “Returning to patrol.” she announced before closing the door.

“Don’t do anything stupid, please.” Bruce sighed.

“No promises.”

As the two vehicles zoomed out of the Batcave, the former vigilante’s shoulders slumped, “I’m getting too old to deal with this.”

#original character #oc #terry mcginnis #batman #alfred pennyworth #matt mcginnis #cassandra cain #cassandra cain is batwoman change my mind #dc batman #fanfic #batman beyond

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combatfaerie · 2 years ago

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Ficlet: My Little Monster

Title: My Little Monster

Word count: 1,178

Rating: T (probably Gen, to be honest, but to be safe...)

Pairing: Liv/Rhea (circa late May/early June 2022)

Prompt: "Two people reach for the last [can] of the same drink in a gas station fridge."

(With thanks to @sarahcakes613 for helping me figure out the read-more function!)

"Noooo! It's mine!"

Rhea's heavy rings made an ominous click against the energy drink can as she curled her fingers around it, turning so she blocked Liv. "Oops. Too late." She held the can up and grinned. "Besides, this one is orange. Shouldn't you be looking for one that changes your tongue some weird colour, like blue?"

Liv whirled on AJ Styles, who had been in Exasperated Uncle mode ever since they left the arena. "You know she's just taking it because she knows I want it!"

Pushing hair out of his face, AJ shrugged and headed for the coffee bar. "It's a free country, Liv. If she wants to drink the same flavour of toxic sludge...." He looked past her through the glass doors. "There's lots of other flavours. Just get a different one."

"But the orange is my favourite." Liv wasn't quite whining yet, but she was seriously considering it. The crowd at the house show had been flat and now they had a long drive ahead, and all she wanted was her favourite orange drink—the same one Rhea was tossing idly from hand to hand as she chatted with Damian Priest while he poured his slush.

"So either ask her for it or get the clerk to check if there's more in the back." AJ glanced back towards the counter, where the cashier was busy chatting with a friend. "You'd probably have better luck asking Rhea, from the looks of it."

Rhea must have heard her name, because she hurried over to the counter and paid for all her snacks, including Liv's coveted energy drink. "Mine now," Rhea declared, waggling her fingers in that infuriating little wave she did to dismiss people. Then the corner of her mouth twitched. "But I suppose I could share...."

AJ nudged Liv towards Rhea. "There you go! Problem solved!"

"But I'm riding with you!" Liv protested. Now that she was an honorary member of the Bullet Club, she was trying to learn as much from AJ and Finn as she could, and the long drives with them were invaluable. Finn wasn't with them that night because of a family matter, but AJ was still a fun road partner, if a bit curmudgeonly at times. "And all my bags are in your car."

AJ pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "Priest, please. Help me out here. Would you trade spots with Liv so she's not complaining about her drink for the next two hours?"

Damian glanced over at Rhea and grinned. "I don't know. Rip, you think you can put up with her for two hours?"

Rhea gave a small shrug. "I'll manage. Not like I haven't done it before. If there's another gas station on the way, I can always stop there and we can switch back."

"Excellent. It's settled then." AJ grabbed his coffee cup, wincing a bit at the heat, and plucked a few random snacks from the front display before setting everything on the counter. He hated stopping when they were on the road, but so far no one had recognized them. "Priest, put your stuff down. My treat."

Damian raised his eyebrows and gave Rhea a fist bump. "Score." After setting his slush down, he grabbed a few extra items. "Gimme the keys and I'll go get our bags switched over. I know we could leave it until we get to the hotel, but just in case something happens and we get separated, there's no way I'm fitting into any of Liv's clothes."

"That's too bad," Rhea teased. "You look good in mesh."

Rolling his eyes, AJ shoved the keys at Damian. "Sure, sure. Let's just hurry it up, okay? I want to talk to my kids before they go to bed, and it looks like there's a storm rolling in, so we need to get on the road again."

"I'll go help," Rhea offered, swinging her bag back and forth. "Don't forget your candy, Liv."

Liv glared at Rhea's back before grabbing a few bags of Skittles. "I'm surprised she left any of these," she muttered as AJ paid for his haul.

"It's only a drink, Liv. She's just trying to get under your skin." Then AJ paused, stepping out of the way to give her room to set her candy down. "Are you going to be okay riding with her? I'm sure there's another gas station on the way—"

"Heading west?" the clerk asked. It was the first time she had deigned to speak to any of them. "Next station is over an hour away."

Sighing, Liv ran back to the refrigerators and grabbed another energy drink for good measure. "I'll be fine, AJ. Go ahead. I'll be right out." By the time she had paid and left the store, the others had already finished swapping her and Damian's bags, and Damian was comically adjusting AJ's passenger seat to accommodate his much longer legs. "Thank you, Damian."

The tall man gave her a hint of a smile. "It's all good. Won't hurt me to sit under the learning tree of the old man for a couple hours."

"Old man?" AJ set his coffee cup in the holder and set the bag of snacks on the passenger seat. "I'm only five years older than you, Priest!"

"You're from a whole different decade, man. Another generation." Damian grinned at the girls as he opened the passenger door. "Drive safe, ladies. Call if you need us."

"Old man!" AJ was still muttering as he got in the driver's seat and started the engine.

Rhea lounged in the driver's seat for a moment, waving at AJ as he pulled out of the gas station parking lot. Then she handed the energy drink over to Liv. "You're welcome," she grinned. "I had to stash the others behind the milk jugs so AJ wouldn't see them."

Liv quickly opened it and took a gulp before setting it in the cup holder. "You know, we could just tell people we're together. It's not like they'd care."

"I know. But I like messing with them. Besides, you know what Vince is like with kayfabe." When she was sure AJ and Damian were far enough down the road, she leaned across the console and kissed Liv, grimacing a bit as she pulled back. "At least it tastes better than the blue."

Liv giggled as she nestled back in her seat. "Does that mean I don't have to share?"

"Not that. Maybe the Skittles, though." Rhea glanced over at Liv's bag as they pulled out of the gas station. Damian knew about them and could keep AJ distracted to a certain degree, but if they fell too far behind, she knew AJ would call to check in. "What flavour did you get?"

"Your favourite, of course." Liv ripped open a bag and poured some out into her palm, holding it out for Rhea.

Traffic was light, so Rhea dipped her head quickly and ate up the candies, letting her tongue linger across Liv's palm. "A close second."

#wrestleprompts #liv/rhea #liv/rhea fic #combatfaerie fic

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chaotic-orphan · 2 years ago

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Dec. 12, prompt: snowman

Would I ever have seen myself write like this before? No.

Do I love it? Absolutely!

Will you see me tomorrow for prompt 13? Of course!!

Prompt calendar’s/challenges I fear are becoming a bit of an addiction but oop— who cares not me!

Thank you @the-modern-typewriter @the-modern-typewriter-aesthetic for getting me addicted to writing again!

Enjoy!!!

*~*~*~*~*~***~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~~**

“-police have issued a warning regarding a high security criminal who has broken out of prison in the District of City this morning. Local police have urged all citizens to be on the look out for this man. He is 5’11”, around forty years old and lean with long brown hair that reaches his chin. “

The detective turned the radio down as they pulled into the criminal’s house. They turned the car off, not really wanting to get out. They knew criminal was here. There was no question about it. They just didn’t know what they’d be walking into. Sometimes detective hated their job.

They got out of the car. Closing the door. Catching their face in the reflection. They looked tired. Maybe they were getting too old to be chasing criminal around the country the minute they do something.

Criminal’s wife answered the door. Her eyes soft and full of tears.

“Hi Criminal’s wife,” detective said softly. Noticing the crows feet around her eyes. Maybe they were all getting too old.

“Detective, please. He- he just wants to see Child.”

“I know, criminal’s wife. I know. It’s okay, where is he?”

“Out the back,” Wife said as she moved to let detective in. “Do you want some tea or something? They’ll be done soon.”

“A coffee sounds marvellous,” detective said. He walked into the kitchen and turned the kettle on. “Do you want anything?”

“Maybe a coffee too,” Wife said and detective nodded. Out the window of the kitchen you could see the backyard. Covered in a blanket of snow. Well, it would have been. If not for the half snowman that was built in the middle of it.

Criminal and Criminal’s child packing snow onto the body of the snowman as they went.

“I’ll make them some hot chocolate or something,” detective said, “then go have fun. I’ll be in here when you’re finished.”

Criminal’s wife started to cry again, running over to detective and giving him a lung crushing hug. “Thank you detective. Thank you so much.”

“It’s okay, now go.”

Detective watched her disappear from the kitchen and reappear outside. Criminal looked up at her and a wide smile broke their face as they whispered something to child.

Child looked over their shoulder and got the same grin as their dad as they reached down gathering snow in their hand.

“Don’t you dare!” Wife screamed as two snowballs went flying at her. One missed and one hit her shoulder. She laughed as she bent down gathering snow, and soon it was all out snowball war.

The kettle clicked and detective grabbed four mugs from the cupboard, went about making the rounds as they watched the small family enjoy each other’s company in the first snowfall of the year.

Detective set his coffee down at the table and sat at the end of it, looking out the French doors. He sent a quick text to partner, telling them they had criminal and to call off the man hunt. Then settled down, taking a sip of their coffee.

They really shouldn’t be doing this, but it was Christmas. What’s he gonna be a grinch? Absolutely not.

The snow started coming down hard, and they had finally got the snowman’s head up. Criminal wrapped a scarf around it, and Child put on the hat. Stones for eyes, then criminal threw a hand to his forehead and started coming towards the kitchen.

When they got to the door they hesitated, visibly swallowing before pulling the door open.

“Detective,” criminal nodded.

Detective smiled sadly, “Criminal. You look good.”

Criminal shared the same pained smile. “Thanks. You, uh, don’t.”

Detective shrugged, bring the mug to their lips, steam hitting off their nose as they mumbled, “thought that this morning myself…”

Detective nodded out the door, swallowing a mouthful of coffee. “How’s the kid?”

“They’re good,” criminal said, this time with a genuine smile, walking towards the fridge and grabbing a carrot. “They thought it was magic that it started snowing and I was here. We never- they were so excited about the snow last visit, they don’t remember seeing it, y’know? So I thought…”

Criminal trailed off, walking towards the doors again.

“There’s hot chocolate waiting for you all when you’re done.”

“Thank you, detective,” criminal smiled, pulling the door open and braced his shoulders to the snow once more.

Criminal presented the carrot to child who smiled so wide, and plucked it from Criminal’s hands. Then stuck it halfway through the snowman’s head it nearly broke in two. Criminal and wife both held each side, laughing at the near disaster. Then criminal inclined their head inside and wife looked between criminal and the door and nodded, her face growing sad again.

“There we go, look! My friend made us some hot chocolate,” said Criminal to child as child ran in.

“Your friend?” Child asked, eyebrow cocking looking the detective up and down with a stare so sharp it could take flesh off bone. Detective knew that stare, had seen it so much in criminal’s eyes over the years. Picking apart everything about you, exposing every detail. Every weakness. It nearly made detective want to confess.

Nearly.

Instead, they took a sip of their coffee. “Yeah, my friend. From work, I have to go back after our hot chocolate,” Criminal said almost wincing at the whine child let out.

“Come on, child. It’s not that bad,” wife said forcing a smile. “We got to build the snowman, hmm?”

“Yeah,” child said, settling heavy into their chair. Then they looked at detective.

“Will you take a picture for us, after we’ve done our hot chocolate?” They asked.

Detective smiled. “Of course.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The detective stopped into a pharmacy to print out the photo on their phone for criminal while they were in the car.

The criminal cradled the photograph as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

“Thank you detective,” criminal said before getting taken away by the prison guards.

Detective nodded, not trusting their voice, then made their way back home.

12 notes · View notes

fuwushiguro · 2 years ago

Text

I Value The Times That I Take You Out

part sixteen | masterlist | part eighteen

Yuuji Itadori x f!reader x Megumi Fushiguro

Genre: Smut & Angst Notes: University AU, all characters aged up. The reader is getting on my nerves oops <3 Warnings: 18+, pet names, cheating, arguing, family drama, cocaine use, depression, (sort of suicide discussion), pining. Words: 5.9k

Synopsis: You’ve been dating Yuuji Itadori for nine months. He’s the best boyfriend you’ve ever had, he cares for you deeply and he’s amazing in the sack. When new boy Megumi moves to town and joins your art course, you are shocked to discover he isn’t the quiet introvert you suspected him to be.

Was Megumi right?

No… no, he wasn’t. Was he? You shouldn’t have hooked up with him, he’s right about that much. If you love Yuuji the way that you say you do, you shouldn’t have hooked up with Megumi. But, just because you did hook up with him doesn’t mean that you don’t love Yuuji. You were lonely. And you were high. And Megumi…

Well.

Megumi was there.

And now, in this moment, you’re alone again. You’re sobbing on the ground loud enough for Toji to hear. He’d intended on chasing after his own kid. But after hearing your agonising wails he put that task on hold. He ran up the stairs to see you crumpled on the floor.

“C’mere, princess.” he whispers, voice laced with pity as he gets down on one knee next to you. You look at him for a moment, hesitantly.

God, he looks so much like his son. You’re hesitant to trust him. You don’t want to let him in because what if he’s just like Megumi? What if he’s playing nice and he’ll switch on you like it’s nothing later down the line? He can’t have inherited that rotten trait from thin air.

“Come on, come here.” he commands, beckoning you into his arms with two hands. And you can’t resist him. You move your body so that you’re hugging him. His enormous arms wrap around you and encase you in a tight yet fragile hug. He pets your hair as you cry into his shoulder. “What’d he do now?” he wonders, but keeping his tone soft.

“I h-hate him…” you cry, the sound muffles into his t-shirt. “I fucking hate him!”

Megumi’s head is pounding.

What’s the matter with him? He doesn’t do jealousy. He doesn’t do feelings. He doesn’t do this. And yet, here he is, suffering from a killer migraine and a twisting feeling in his heart that he can’t seem to comprehend.

He’s been standing on a porch ringing the doorbell for three minutes now. It’s not like he didn’t call ahead. He asked if it was okay to come over. And he was told it was fine. So what’s the God damn hold up?

“Open the door, it’s Megumi!” he yelled. And a few seconds later, the sound of the door unlocking blesses his ears. As the door swings open, he feels himself getting hotter. Angrier. He didn’t think this would bother him as much as it is. “You look just like him.” he mumbles.

“I didn’t think you were being serious about coming over. Haven’t you got better things to do? Like be an angsty little brat somewhere?”

“I need… stuff.” Megumi looks around making sure that no one is listening in to their conversation. “And you’re the best dealer I know, Sukuna.” he finishes.

Sukuna sighs, nodding, before sidestepping and letting his old friend enter his home. Megumi hasn’t been to Sukuna’s new place. He’s come a long way from being homeless and squatting on his friends couches, that’s for damn sure.

“No compliments on the bachelor pad?” Sukuna asks, sitting on the couch and kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

“I’m not really here to talk about interior design.” Megumi responds.

“Let me get this straight,” he laughs, putting his feet back down on the ground and spreading his legs wide open. He pulls a cigarette from behind his ear and lights it dramatically, keeping Megumi on the edge of his seat as he waits for him to continue. “I haven’t seen you in, what, six? Seven years? You come to my house for a fix, and you can’t even be polite enough to make small talk?”

“Don’t say it like that. It’s not a fix, like I’m a pathetic drug addict. I just… I want a little something to take my mind off things.” Megumi defends his actions.

“Sure. Is that why you’re shivering on the hottest day of the year?” Sukuna laughs, puffing his cigarette before holding it out to Megumi, offering him a drag.

“I’m fucking SHAKING because I’m PISSED OFF. And now I’m even MORE pissed off because I came to a DRUG DEALER to do his fucking job and instead I’m getting ambushed.” Megumi rants. “I mean, come on, really? You’re judging me? You? A fucking drug dealer, I think it would piss anyone off.”

“Yeah, especially a drug addict.” he smirks.

“Ah, fuck you Sukuna.” Megumi scoffs.

“Wait, wait, I’m fucking with you.” Sukuna stands, walking to Megumi’s side and handing his cigarette to him. “I’m happy to supply. As long as you can afford it.” he states. Megumi nods, handing him a roll of cash. He smokes the cigarette he had been gifted and blows the smoke out of his nose, his eyes not leaving Sukuna as they start having a silent conversation.

“Where—” Sukuna stops himself, shrugging his shoulders and heading upstairs. “What did you want?”

“Coke. Or Molly. Both, actually.”

“Jesus, kid.” Sukuna snickers before his feet disappear from between the bannisters.

Megumi rests on the arm of the armchair, taking a few more drags than he probably should have. Maybe Sukuna had the right idea. He pissed off his entire family. His lifestyle didn’t match with their ideals. He was kicked out, but look at him now. He can do whatever he want, whenever he wants. He has his own place. Meanwhile Megumi is up to his eyes in debt with uni fees because he thought it would help him get somewhere in life.

Maybe Sukuna has got a right to judge.

He makes a small fortune everyday on idiots like Megumi.

But Megumi felt like he was superior because he wasn’t a high school dropout.

“Here.” Sukuna speaks, throwing the drugs down on the coffee table before snatching his cigarette back. “I assumed you wanted as much as that roll could buy.” he told him. Megumi nodded, agreeing as he picked them up.

“Great. See you around.” Megumi sighed, heading for the exit as soon as he pocketed his new purchase.

“Hold on, kid.” Sukuna spoke, charging ahead of him and blocking the door. “Entertain me, will ya? Have a drink with me.” Sukuna grins, heading for the fridge and pulling out two bottles of beer.

“Ugh… fine.” he relents, returning to the sofa. “Do you mind if I…” he asks, shaking the baggy of coke at Sukuna.

“Knock yourself out.” he tells him, bringing over the beers and slamming them down on the table.

“Want some?” Megumi questions.

“No, idiot. Have you never seen Scarface?” Sukuna returns with an exasperated look on his face. Megumi shakes his head, wondering what such an old movie has to do with his question. “’Don’t get high on your own supply.’”

“Whatever, guess I’ll go skiing by myself.” Megumi laughs, plugging one nostril with his finger and snorting the powder with the other. Sukuna shakes his head, disappointed. But Megumi either didn’t notice or didn’t care enough to comment on it. “Beer me.” Megumi tells him.

Sukuna cracks off the bottle cap with his teeth and slides it over to Megumi. He smirks, glugging enough liquid that he drains half of the contents. Sukuna notes how he appears visually relaxed now. Not uptight and ready to fight like he had been moments ago. It’s almost like he’s been tranquilised.

The sound of a violent iPhone ringtone disrupts the peace in the air. Sukuna squints at Megumi, noting that he hasn’t realised.

“Megs, your phone.” Sukuna comments.

“Ugh.” Megumi sighs, fishing it out of his pocket. “For fucks sake.” he adds, jarred, tossing his phone onto the coffee table after silencing it. Sukuna spins it around to see who’s calling, eyes widening when he sees Toji’s face taking up the entire screen.

“This— is this real or am I dreaming?” Sukuna wonders. “You’re talking to your dad?”

“Not at the moment, no. But he got the bright idea of moving into my house to ‘raise me right’ as if it isn’t too late.” Megumi answers him.

“What about Gojo?”

“What about Gojo? You hate him, what do you care?” Megumi laughs, swigging his beer.

“Forget I asked, then.” Sukuna tells him, drinking his own beer as the silence cuts through the room once again.

Megumi isn’t sure why he wanted him to stick around. He isn’t sure why he was so desperate for him to stay and have a beer and is allowing him to do drugs in his house. But he knows that Sukuna knows that Megumi isn’t the type to care enough to ask. So if there’s something he wants, he ought to spit it out.

“I— Megumi.”

“What?”

“Is my brother okay?” Sukuna asks, genuinely. Megumi can hear the concern in his words and he still can’t help but sneer in disgust. If it isn’t enough to be staring at his clone right now, having to hear about him is the icing on the cake. “I haven’t talked to him since before you left. I just—”

“He’s fine, probably.” Megumi tells him.

“Probably? Megumi, you’re his best friend. That’s why I asked you.”

“He’s not my fucking friend. I can barely stand looking at you because you look so much like him.” Megumi rants, finishing his beer in an attempt to calm the raging fire coursing through him. “He’s in Europe. Scholarship thing.”

“Did you have a fight?” Sukuna wonders. Megumi shakes his head, weakly, not knowing what to say. It’s been so long since this mess started. He can barely even remember it, now. He just knows that you are at the centre of it all. Stupid little you. “Megumi I don’t know anything about him anymore. Our grandfather wants nothing to do with me and neither does Yuuji. I don’t know where he lives. What he’s doing. I didn’t know he was at university. I clearly don’t know who his friends are.” Sukuna tells him.

“Why don’t you ask his girlfriend?” Megumi suggests, instantly regretting his choice of words. He stands up, knowing he’s had enough and that he’s more than ready to leave.

“I didn’t know that he was seeing anyone, either.”

“I don’t know what to do right now.” Megumi mutters.

“What do you mean?”

“His girlfriend… my dad invited her to stay at our place while Yuuji is away. I can’t— I can’t be around her.” Megumi explains.

“What’s wrong with her? Is she a bitch?”

“Yes… no. No, she’s not, not really…” Megumi sighs. “I’m gonna go to Gojo’s.”

“Why don’t you stay here tonight? There’s a spare bedroom. And I have Scarface on DVD, you clearly need educating.” he laughs. “I’ll give you a ride home in the morning.”

“… alright.”

You’ve been staring at your suitcase since you got to the Fushiguro residence. Toji carried it upstairs and put it in his bedroom, still insisting that he’d sleep elsewhere while you were under their roof so that you can maintain your privacy.

It’s like a fever dream.

You can’t believe you’re actually here. You can’t believe that you let Toji convince you that it was a good idea to stay here with them. There’s so much tension between you and Megumi, and Toji can feel it. He knows something is going on but he can’t put his finger on it. He’s putting it down to previous arguments and what happened in the past.

He can’t blame you, it’s a tough thing to get over.

But he has no idea how much worse it’s gotten.

Toji’s lightly knocks his knuckle backwards into the door before opening it. It opens slowly, his way of attempting not to spook you too much.

“Everything okay, princess?” he asks. You nod, almost slower than he had opened the door. He doesn’t believe you. Why would he? Your eyes are swollen from all of the crying you’ve been doing. Your face is puffy, and your eyes are bloodshot. “I emptied the drawers and the wardrobe so you can make yourself at home.” he reminds you.

“Thanks…”

“Do you need a hand unpacking?”

“No.”

He sighs. Toji approaches you, resting on the balls of his feet and holds one hand on your knee. You can see just how desperate he is. He needs you to confide in him. He can’t get through to his own son, he doesn’t want to fail with you as well.

“Babe, you know you can talk to me.” he tells you. “And, if you’re worried about Megumi, he isn’t answering. I don’t think we’ll be seeing him.”

“I don’t want to be here, Toji.” you whisper.

“Tell me why. Don’t make some excuse, I want to know what’s going on.”

“I can’t—”

“Bull. Shit. Sweetheart, tell me.”

“No, I c-can’t,” you begin to feel tears rolling down your cheeks. Just as he’s about to ask again, you shuffle yourself off the bed and pull one of Yuuji’s hoodies over your head. “I’m going for a walk.”

“It’s almost midnight.”

“I need some air!”

“No you can’t go out alone at this t—”

“Toji! I— I can’t talk to you! I can’t talk to anyone, okay? I have no friends. I would love a girlfriend right now to confide in but my whole class hates me or feels sorry for me! And that’s Megumi’s fault! I am suffocating because I can’t tell anybody what’s going on and I just want some space!” you yell, breaking down against the wall before Toji grabs your shoulders to keep you upright.

“I’ll take you somewhere in the car, okay? Somewhere you can cry and scream or whatever you want, I’ll stay in the car. I don’t wanna let you out of my sight at this time, it’s too dangerous sweetheart. Can ya compromise?” he questions. You sniffle a little before taking a few deep breaths. You can’t help but stare into his shimmering emerald eyes that remind you so much of his son. How can the same pair of eyes be possessed by such two different people?

“O-Okay.” you agree. “As long as you don’t try and make me talk.”

“Alright.”

He lets go of your shoulders, walking out of the room and down the stairs. You take your time, knowing he’ll need to find his car keys before you go anywhere. There’s a small mirror in the corner of his room. Nothing too fancy. But you can’t help but stare at yourself in it.

Will you ever stop being such a sorrowful soul?

“C’mon, princess.” he instructs. You exhale, deeply, before following him down the stairs and out of the door. “I’ll get us a McDonald’s on the way home.” he smiles, his scar pulling devilishly as he pulls out of his parking spot.

In hindsight, you’re glad he practically grounded you. If you had gone out alone in the dark night, you would have been terrified. There’s no way you can feel like that with Toji around. He’s so protective. And he’s scary, though you’d never tell him that. With you, he’s a teddy bear. But you’ve seen flashes of evil in his eyes when he’s giving people a piece of his mind.

Most of all, Megumi.

You feel yourself drifting off in the car. Your eyes are stinging and heavy. Toji keeps looking over to see you fighting the inevitable. And he can’t help but smile. How could he not? You’re so adorable.

“Princess,” he whispers, holding your thigh and shaking it lightly. “We’re nearly here, darlin’.” he continues.

You change your seating position, forcing yourself to be more upright and awake. You hold down the button in the car to open the window, hoping the cool night air will wake you up a little.

“You’re not gonna kill me, are you? Where are we?” you ask, rubbing your eyes. There isn’t a single streetlight around and no sign of civilisation. You can’t see a thing other than black trees against the dark blue sky.

“You’ve been here before, right? We’re not far from your parents.” he explains.

You quirk an eyebrow at him, hopping out of the car. The smell in the air is familiar. Real country smell. You look around. Once you look behind you, you see it. The brick monument on the tall hill. The one between your parents place and the city. The one you and Yuuji shared a Burger King at.

You’d kill for that moment back right now.

“Do what you gotta do, I’ll be here.” Toji tells you, almost leaning out of the passenger window to talk to you.

“I don’t know what to do!” you express. “I feel stupid in the middle of a field, what do I do?”

He jumps out of the car, joining you. He takes your hand and leads you further into the black abyss. “Are you mad at me?” he asks.

“No.”

“Yeah ya are, you’re mad I made you move in with us. Tell the truth.” Toji nods.

“Well, maybe a little.”

“Okay… so scream… ‘FUCK TOJI!’ like that.” he tells you. You giggle, thinking he’s joking and being silly to cheer you up. “I’m serious, babe, scream it.”

“Um, fuck Toji!” you imitate him, feebly.

“LOUDER!”

“FUCK TOJI!” you shout back. “FUCK YOU TOJI!” you keep going.

“Nice!” he laughs, and you can’t help but laugh back. “And you’re pissed at Megumi, right. FUCK MEGUMI!”

“Yeah, FUCK MEGUMI!” you yell, “I FUCKING HATE YOU MEGUMI!” you continue. “I HATE YOU FOR FUCKING ME OVER!”

“Keep going!” Toji encourages.

“FUCK YOU FOR DESTROYING MY SKETCHBOOK! AND FOR SPIKING ME! AND FOR—” you stop yourself, clearing your throat, knowing that you’re taking things too far. You almost slipped up. You were so close to blurting out what you had done together this weekend and the hotel.

“Why’d you stop?” Toji wonders.

“I— This was stupid.” you tell him. “I can’t do this.” Your lip wobbles, you turn away from Toji and begin running towards the monument. You know he’ll probably run after you, but you just want some distance between yourself and him.

“Where’d you think your running off too, princess?” he bellows, a laugh following soon after.

He gives you a head start, he’s just that kind of guy. He’s real sweet and considerate. But he’s not about to let you get too ahead of yourself. After around a minute, he starts running towards you. You’re almost at the first step of the hill by the time he grabs you.

It’s more like a tackle, really, though not as aggressive. He manages to rotate the two of you so that he falls onto his back, and you land on top of him. Both of you are panting, loudly, without saying in a word. Just staring into each other’s eyes as you try and let your adrenaline die down from what just happened.

“Wanna tell me what that was?” he asks, chest still heaving. You’re straddling his stomach, unable to tear your eyes away from his. You aren’t even sure you heard him. Did he speak? Is he talking to you? Is any of this real? “Huh?”

“I’m sorry.” you respond, quietly. You take yourself off of his body and sit beside him. He rolls over so that he’s lying on his side, so you do the same, facing him. “I wish I could talk to you. To anyone. I just— it’s too messy. I can’t.”

“You’re gonna drown under the weight of this secret, baby.” he tells you. “What’s so bad that you can’t tell me? You know I’m no saint.”

“I just can’t, okay? It’s bad. Life destroying.”

“There’s nothing you can tell me that would make me think any less of you, alright? I knew I was gonna like you when you fainted at your parent’s housewarming.” he teases.

“I— I never would have thought we’d be friends, Toji. I was so mad at you for being Megumi’s dad. I thought I’d just yell at you and we’d never talk again… Especially after you told me about your arranged marriage plan.” you confide in him.

“I’m sorry, I am. I’m sorry for what Megumi is, it’s my fault. And I’m sorry for seeing you with dollar signs instead of seeing you as a human being. You are… such an amazing girl, y’know? You are so strong, you never give up. No matter how much shit Megumi throws at you. I really admire you.”

“Me? Seriously?” you snicker.

“Seriously. You’re incredible, kiddo.”

There’s a lull in the conversation. One beat of silence too many to keep it from being uncomfortable. You’re speechless. There wasn’t any inkling in your mind that Toji held such a high opinion of you. And hearing him express it so confidently puts everything into perspective. It’s something Megumi could never do. Instead of being honest he lashes out. He thinks being nice for a minute is all he needs to do to get what he wants. And then when it doesn’t work, he’s back to being a complete dick.

But not Toji. He’s genuine. Sincere. He reminds you of Yuuji. He’s never shy about his feelings. He wears his heart on his sleeve and nothing is ever going to stop him from being honest with himself or anybody else.

The silence is killing you. The tension is palpable. You’re staring between his glittering eyes and scarred lips. And you reach out to him. Your hand cups his face, and you softly rub your thumb over the aged scar.

“What happened to you, Toji?” you ask him.

“Just an accident.” he answers, honestly.

“Does it hurt?”

“No. Not since I got it.”

“When was that?”

“Not long after he was born.” he tells you, it’s obvious he has zero intention to go into any further detail about it. “Is there a particular reason you’re so interested in my scar? Or why you’re stroking it?”

“I— no, just curious. Looks like we both have secrets.” you tell him, starting to pull your hand away.

But you can’t.

He holds your wrist with an iron grip, preventing you from moving it in either direction.

“Tell me yours ‘n I’ll tell you mine.” he smirks.

You’re looking at his lips intently, and then his eyes, and his lips once again. And before you know it, you’re lunging towards each other. Your lips are on his and it’s frenzied. His hands hold your entire head as you slowly rotate so that you’re above him. His hands stray, one tangles in your hair and the other is holding your hip. You can’t help but moan into his mouth, utterly powerless to resist him.

But that sound.

That gorgeous, sinful sound reminds Toji of where he is. He holds your shoulders, and pushes you away from him.

“Princess…” he sighs

“Oh my God.” you exclaim, realising what you’ve done. You stand to your feet and start walking away from him. “I didn’t—”

“Stop walking away from me!” he commands, catching up to you and turning you to face him. “It didn’t mean anything.” he tells you.

“I’m so fragile right now, Toji. You reminded me of Yuuji, I didn’t mean to kiss you.” you try and reason with him. “It’s your fault! All of your little pet names and the way you talk to me like I’m special to you, I can’t do this.”

“It was just a kiss, y’know. It didn’t mean a thing, I know that, and you know that! God, we just gotta keep quiet about this and it’s all okay.” he tells you. You scoff, raking your fingers through your hair. “I don’t want this to be a thing, babe. We’re friends, aren’t we? I say we just forget it and pretend it didn’t happen.”

“I— right. It meant nothing. I’m lonely and missing my boyfriend. We were having a moment and we got carried away. It doesn’t mean there’s anything here, it’s just a thing.”

“Exactly. There’s no reason for my kids to know it happened or your boyfriend, or anyone! Megumi’s made enough comments about how he feels about the idea of me being with someone his age, we don’t wanna give him anymore fuel for the bonfire.”

“I’m going to hell for this. I didn’t think I could be any worse of a person and then I do this.” you laugh in astonishment. You really are on a mission to find exactly where rock bottom is. This has got to be it, right? There’s no way that you can do anything worse than this. “Fuck it. McDonald’s?”

“McDonald’s.”

Megumi has been staring at the TV and hasn’t retained a single morsel of information.

“Why hasn’t this fucking movie ended yet? It’s been days, Sukuna.” he voices aloud. Sukuna scowls at him, not appreciating the besmirchment of his favourite film.

“Shut up.”

The credits begin to roll and Megumi cheers, excitedly. He picks up his jacket and his drugs and salutes Sukuna before hurrying up the stairs. The room was nothing but a bed and a window, but it was fine for one night. He takes off his clothes, except for his underwear, and climbs under the covers.

He scrolls through his phone, a stream of text threads from his dad and sister. He doesn’t care, though. He hates himself. He can’t begin to describe how much he hates himself and how angry he is at himself because he wishes you had been the one to text him.

“Megumi.” Sukuna knocks.

“What?”

He welcomes himself in, standing in the doorway and he watches Megumi scroll through his phone. “I want to meet her.”

“Who?”

“Yuuji’s girlfriend.”

“Huh? Why? You can’t.” Megumi protests, not liking the sound of that idea at all. “Listen, she’s not in a good place, okay? She— She’s been a total mess since Yuuji left and I know she won’t be able to handle seeing you.” Megumi insists.

“My little brother has a girlfriend and I want to know what she’s like! He doesn’t want me in his life, but I at least want to know the little shit is okay.” Sukuna argues.

“I can tell you what she’s like. She’s rich. Her family is rich, ridiculously rich. She’s an art student, like me. She used to love painting flowers, but not anymore. She’s sweet… really sweet. I hated it about her but, not anymore. She’s pretty, too, beautiful actually. And funny. She likes plushies, and she likes giving them human names. She thinks animals with human names are funny. And I’m pretty sure her favourite movie is The Shining. Every time I’ve been to her house the DVD case has been open and empty on her coffee table.” he rambles.

“Jesus, Megumi,” Sukuna snorts. “Are you sure you’re not the one who’s dating her?”

“Shut up.” Megumi huffs, sinking further into his bed. “You know what? Do it. Do whatever you want, I don’t give a fuck about her. Fuck with her mental health. It’s nothing to me. But if she tells Yuuji he might hate you more than he already does.”

“Alright, alright.” Sukuna agrees, knowing he’s probably right about Yuuji. “Think I’ll be able to see her at least, when I drop you off?”

“You know what…” Megumi smiles, “Not a bad idea.”

“Mornin’ princess.” Toji gruffly speaks, sitting upright on the couch. “If you’re going in the kitchen, be a doll and make me a coffee, please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” you reply. Your pink fluffy slippers capture his attention as you walk by him, he can’t help himself from chuckling.

You really are a princess.

It takes a while since you can’t get the hang of their coffee machine, but you manage. You put it down in front of him feeling proud of yourself. And he’s barely gonna rain on your parade, but he thinks it might be the worst cup of coffee he’s ever tasted.

You stand upright, completely brimming with pride. If only you knew each sip he took was reluctant. If only you knew his smiles of appreciation were fake.

Oh God.

He fucked up by lying.

What if you try and make him coffee everyday now?

Your prideful smile is short lived when you see Megumi walking across the pavement and towards the house. Even from this distance you can see the dark circles under his eyes. He must have been getting high, again.

You and Toji had both assumed he’d spent the night at Gojo’s. But the man waving goodbye at him didn’t look like Gojo.

“What the—?” you mutter. Toji looks at you. But the second he blinks, you’re gone. He hears the front door close and you’re on the other side of it. He sets his coffee down and follows you, standing in the doorway to see where you’re going. “Yuuji?!” you call out. The pink-haired man looks over his shoulder at you before continuing to walk away.

“Stop it.” Megumi tells you, standing in your way so that you can’t get to your boyfriend.

“Move!” you shout, shoving him aside before chasing after Yuuji. “Yuuji, stop!” you call, hurrying across the road. You take off your slippers since they’re slowing you down. It makes Megumi snort as he watches you run after him with your ridiculous pink slippers in your hand.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Toji asked him. “Listen, shithead, next time I call or text you better fucking answer.”

“This.” Megumi creates a circle motion with his finger. “Her being here, it’s my personal hell. You’re meant to be my dad, not hers. But you give more of a shit about moving her in than you do about how it would make me feel.”

“When are you gonna stop with this self-pity shit? It’s so boring, Megumi, I mean it. I’m fucking bored.” his dad responds, shaking his head and furrowing his brows. “Life is shit. Shit happens all of the time. Get on with it. It’s only a few days, just be fucking normal for once, yeah?” Toji adds, ruffling his sons hair.

You finally reach Yuuji. You grab his wrist and turn him to face you. You’re taken aback when you see him with a face full of; what you can only assume are tribal tattoos. There’s something different about him. Lots of things, really. His dark brown eyes look more reddish. He’s bigger. Maybe even slightly taller.

“I— missed you. When did you get back? And… what’s with the tattoos?” you question. You step forward to give him a hug, but he takes a huge step back.

“I’m not your boyfriend, sweetheart.” he tells you. His voice is rough and deep, so different from your boyfriends.

“Then who—”

“Sukuna.” he tells you, confidently. He smiles, gesturing himself as he speaks and waiting for you to acknowledge who he is. But you’re silent. Clueless. He’s like Yuuji’s twin if not for all of the obvious differences. “He didn’t tell you about me?” he asks.

“I guess not.”

“I’m his big brother.” he sighs. You gasp, covering your mouth with your hand and backing away from him. “Well this is depressing. I’m out, see ya.” Sukuna groans, ducking into his car.

You look back at Megumi with tears in your eyes. He’s laughing. You are crushed but he is laughing. You put your slippers back on, marching across the road and back to the house. Your fist is balled. And Megumi can see it coming. It only makes him laugh more. The only thing stopping your knuckles from knocking his teeth out is Toji holding you back.

“That’s enough! Both of you get in the fucking house.” he commands. Megumi goes inside first, and Toji manages to hold you back enough until you run out of energy and your arms go limp. Your tears begin falling from your eyes as you look at Megumi, unable to believe that he keeps finding more ways to fuck with you.

“You’re going to kill me. I can’t do this anymore you’re making me miserable!” you cry, using the back of your sleeves to wipe your eyes.

“I told him to stay in the car.” Megumi explains.

“Bet you fuckin’ did.” Toji snidely mutters at him.

“My boyfriend is gone. I have nobody. No friends. No family. I have nobody to cry to or lean on. I’ve done… unforgiveable things… I just— there isn’t anyone who can support me. And you, Megumi, are going above and beyond to push me to my limit.”

“No that’s not true.” he refutes.

“Well, guess what? You pushed me to my limit a long time ago. And you’re still going!” you continue. He has nothing else to say. You’re devastated, how can he tell you what you should and shouldn’t feel? “Have you ever felt so sad… that you think your body is going to give up on you? You’re just so sad that your body is gonna stop working and end it all for you? That’s how I feel. That’s how I’ve felt… for so long.”

“I’m sorry.” Megumi apologises.

“Are you?” you cry. You’ve been letting tears silently fall down your face the entire time. But now, you’re out of words. And you’re bawling. You sigh, retreating up the stairs to be away from him. You close the door carefully behind you, and scream into a pillow hoping that they won’t hear you.

But they do.

“Are you crying, dad?” Megumi asks Toji. He quickly wipes his eyes and clears his throat.

“That girl… I love her. You have no idea how amazing she is because you are too busy doing everything in your power to make her life difficult. Will you be able to forgive yourself if she’s pushed too far and—” he stops himself from thinking such a morbid thought, hoping that it will never come to that. “It broke my heart seeing her like that. Hearing her talk like that. I can’t imagine feeling so sad let alone being the cause of someone else feeling like that. But you don’t give a shit, do you?”

“Of course I give a shit…” Megumi tells him, “I swear I told him to wait in the car. He said he wanted to see her so I said look from the window.”

“It’s not the point, what about everything else?”

“Well I can’t turn back time and undo it all. Every time I think we’re gonna be okay she freaks out, I don’t know what to do!”

“Try harder!” Toji yells. “But no, you won’t, you just wanna get high and be a dick and throw your life away. I invited her here for you!”

“Fuck off. For me? Why did you think I’d want that?”

“I thought if you spent some fucking extended time with her, you’d see she’s a human being with feelings! I thought you’d find some common ground and maybe learn to live with each other. Fuck, maybe I thought you might even be able to be friends with each other. But no, you’re a fucking psychopath and it’s all my fault for making you like this!”

“You think I don’t know she’s a human being? I’m not a fucking idiot, dad. You’ve got no fucking idea how hard all of this is. You don’t know what I’m going through! Last time I spent extended time with her I—”

“What?”

“Nothing, I’ll try and talk to her.”

“Megumi, speak.”

“Dad, I really don’t want to.” he explains. “I— I just, can’t, alright? Please just… leave me alone. I’m doing my best.”

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bethdutten · 3 years ago

Note

Hi! I was wondering if I could make a request? I was hoping for either Frank Castle or Tommy Shelby. One of those age old friends to lovers. Like they had been close for years but never realized they actually had THOSE kind of feelings for each other. I just discovered your work, so I’m not super familiar with what you’re comfortable writing, but if you wouldn’t mind making it smutty…that would be the bomb dot com! Thank you and I really enjoy your work!

of course! i think frank would fit this (tommy doesn’t have friends lmao) hope you like it!! maybe a smutty part 2?? this got long oops

Frank flipped through the book absentmindedly, noticing the way the pages were worn and well-used. He saw a few had notes written in them, and smiled at the thought of you writing thoughts down in the margins, for him to find later.

“Thanks for this, it sounds like a good one.”

“It is, so bring it back,” you chuckled, waving as a regular left the bookstore with a few new finds. “Seriously, I’d reread that one.”

Frank raised an eyebrow. “Wow, high praise. I’ll start it tonight.”

“Yeah? Any other plans later?” you inquired, scribbling a note down on a scrap of paper.

He shrugged, leaning against the counter beside you. “The usual, kicking ass, taking names. You know.”

You laughed, shaking your head. You did know; you met Frank between the shelves one evening, practically bleeding out on a set of first editions. You promised not to call the cops and help him out if he told you what the hell he was doing. “Well, be safe, Francis.”

He rolled his eyes at you, pressing a kiss to your temple. “For you, always. We can meet up for coffee, later, if you want?”

“If you’re alive,” you grumbled but nodded, moving in to give him a quick hug. “I get off at 9, be done kicking ass by then, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he huffed, holding up the book you just lent him and giving it a shake. “Thanks again.”

You watched him leave, biting your lip slightly. You wondered how many people he promised to be safe for, or how many plans he made that he actually kept like he did with you.

The rest of the day went by uneventfully, and you were just locking up the shop when your phone buzzed in your pocket.

Frank.

You sighed, prepared for him to cancel on you with an exasperated, “What’s the excuse?”

“Got shot,” came the rough reply, low and muffled.

Your heart dropped in your chest, and you froze before your brain kicked in again. “Where are you, I’ll be there. Frank? Frank, what happened?”

He choked out an address, and you sped there in record time, finding his slouched body under the awning of some foreclosed Chinese food restaurant.

“Frank?” you called out, kneeling beside him and letting out a sigh of relief when he lifted his head and gave you a shit-eating grin, one cut on his cheekbone still bleeding and a black eye already forming.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He stood up with your help, his hand clutching his side where the bullet must have hit him.

In all the years you’d known Frank, you’d seen your share of injuries on him, and this wasn’t the first bullet wound, either. You didn’t understand why this one was hitting you particularly hard, carefully helping him into your car and grumbling about getting blood on your seats. Frank’s breathing was shallow, and you wondering if this was the time, this was the night you’d lose him.

And as you took him to your apartment, his arm over your shoulder as you practically dragged him onto your couch, you realized something that hit you so hard it almost made you drop him:

You loved him. You loved Frank Castle, and you weren’t ready to lose him just yet.

“Okay, just get the shit out, I think it went through cleanly,” he bit out, stripping out of his shirt and hissing as he prodded at the wound. It was still pumping out blood, and you had to look away.

“Are you sure I shouldn’t--”

“It’s fine,” he replied softly, looking up at you when he recognized the concern in your voice. He wondered, when he called you, if it was fair to keep doing this to you; pulling you into his problems, making you deal with the blood and the anger than was constantly pouring out of him.

But as he was laying there on a Hell’s Kitchen street, surrounded by two dead drug dealers and a bullet in his side, it hit him that he only wanted to call you. He only wanted help from you.

Because he loved you. He loved you, and he wasn’t going anywhere yet.

You placed the first aid kit down beside him, batting his hands away went he reached for it.

“I got it,” you said quietly, trying to ignore all the other bruises and scars on his torso as you went to work cleaning the bullet wound. He was right-- it went through cleanly, but it was going to take some work to clean it properly and stitch it up.

You worked in silence, ignoring the gaze Frank had on you the entire time, telling yourself he was probably suffering from blood loss and out of it anyway. An hour later, the risk of infection was low and your stitches were neat, snipping off the thread with a sigh.

“All done, you staying here tonight?” you wondered, prepared to argue with him if he refused the offer that was more of a demand.

But Frank just nodded, eyes flicking up to yours. His mouth was suddenly dry, and it was almost physically painful how bad he wanted to kiss you, more than the fucking gunshot wound he just received. Why had he not realized it before? You were always there for him, and he’d been in love with you without even realizing for god know how long.

You smiled slightly, happy he wasn’t going to put up a fight. “I’ll get you a blanket.” You went to stand up, but Frank gripped your forearm, stopping you.

“Thank you.” He winced slightly as he made it to a seated position, taking your hand in his and intertwining your fingers. “Really, thank you.”

You looked at him, and could feel yourself practically trembling with how badly you wanted to kiss him, kiss all the cuts and bruises and freckles on his skin. You felt yourself subconsciously leaning closer to him, swallowing.

“You’re welcome,” you whispered, your gaze shifting down to his lips before you could stop yourself. You opened your mouth to make some other crack at saving his life, once again, but you didn’t have the chance.

Frank moved his free hand to the back of your head, tangling in your hair and pulling you the remaining inches to his mouth, kissing you in a way you would not expect; he was so, so soft, languid and warm in the way his lips worked against yours, almost hesitant.

You whimpered quietly into his mouth, and that seemed to encourage him; there was a noticeable shift, as he maneuvered you into his lap with only a slight moan as he deepened the kiss.

It took a second for you to realize that you were sitting on the man you’d just stitched up from a bullet wound, and you pulled back while keeping your lips ghosting over Frank’s, grinning at the pout he was sporting. “As much as I’d love to continue this...”

You glanced down at the now-bandaged wound, but Frank just shook his head, guiding your face back up to his. “Baby, I’ve waited long enough for this, I’m not letting one gunshot stop me,” he growled, and you could almost cry at how needy you realized you both were for each other.

Frank was your best friend for years, and you knew how hard it was for him to open up, so you weren’t expecting anything but maybe a physical need with someone he already trusted. But you’d take anything he had to give you.

“Okay, okay, but--” you broke off with a groan, a hand sliding down Frank’s bare chest as you tried to catch your breath. “Bedroom, maybe?”

Frank stoked your cheek with his thumb, not exactly willing to let you out of his arms just yet, but knowing that a few pillows would definitely make this more comfortable. “Fine,” he gave in, leaning in for a quick kiss before he let you slide out of his lap.

You helped to steady him as he rose after you, craning up and pressing a soft kiss to the cut on his cheekbone. “How do you feel? Do you need--”

“I love you,” Frank interrupted, feeling like if he didn’t say it out loud for one second more, it was going to make him insane. Now that he realized it, and he knew you wanted him too, it felt like a crime to not say it.

He’d denied himself this on purpose, he knew. He didn’t want to put himself in a position to lose another person he loves. But… somehow, he fell for you without realizing, and it was too deep now. He might as well make sure you knew exactly how he felt, and how far he would go to make sure nothing ever, ever hurt you.

You paused, looking up at him. “Um... I’m gonna need you to say that again.”

Frank smirked, but obliged because he had no qualms with saying it now that it was out there. “I love you. Not because you just closed up a bullet hole in my side, but because I have loved you for awhile and I think I just realized it.”

You felt your vision suddenly get blurry, unaware you were crying until Frank reached out and wiped a tear away with a kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, mumbling against his skin. “Fuck, Frank, I love you too.”

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle fanfic #frank castle oneshot #the punisher #frank castle fluff

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tennessoui · 2 years ago

Note

"This was never right" from the prompt list? 💖

hey hi hello!!! thank you for sending this in!! this (like the last few) are based on a tumblr au: professor can-fuck-me, which does not have a fic of its own but probably could have a discombobulated one shot at this point because this lil ficlet puts the total word count over 8k oops

anyway bit nsfw but not much; sort of implies again that they got together a bit before they should have (they slept together a few weeks before the class was over, while obi-wan was still his professor) so be careful if that's a squick for you!

(1.5k)

“I think you’ve got a good thesis,” Obi-Wan leans back in his chair, tucking the red pen in his hand behind his ear. He’s taken off his glasses at some point in the last thirty minutes, which becomes very inconvenient when he goes to push them up his nose and almost hits his eyes.

God, he’s too tired for this. He and Anakin had stayed up much too late into the night yesterday, at first fighting and then fucking the fight out of each other only to go to bed still upset. He’d forgotten until his alarm had gone off at eight in the morning and Anakin had hit him with his pillow to get him to turn it down that he’d scheduled back to classes office hours every Friday morning for the first month of school.

So now here he is, nursing a bit of a hangover, his third cup of coffee, and trying to remember if the shirt he fished out of his closet would hide the hickies he knows Anakin had left on his neck.

The student in front of him is frowning down at her paper. It’d been a miracle to see someone had already started the assignment he’d given the end of the second week of classes, as it’s due right before fall break, but upon reading her work, he sort of understands. He’s trying to find a polite way to say Complete doesn’t mean viable, but before he can, there’s a knock on his office door.

“Sorry,” Anakin Fucking Skywalker says cracking the door open a bit, “only it’s been thirty minutes, and I sort of need to talk to Professor Kenobi? Oh, is that your paper? Which short stories have you chosen to write on? I’m stuck between two.”

Obi-Wan gapes at him as the girl flushes bright red and fumbles through an answer, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

“Oh, that’s a wicked dichotomy between themes there,” Anakin tells her. Obi-Wan isn’t even sure he knows what those words mean, but the girl turns even more red and jumps up with a flustered apology for taking so much of the professor’s time, and a loose-ended question as to whether or not she’ll see Anakin in class later, perhaps they could talk more about the essay prompt?

Because, of course, Anakin looks like a college student. Because, of course, in June he had been one. He’d been in Obi-Wan’s sodding class, and he’s been hanging around his house all summer—considering that he sort of lives there now—so of course he’d heard the different drafts of that prompt enough to fake his way through a brief conversation. Obi-Wan doesn’t think he’s ever read a short story in his life.

“Yeah, you bet,” Anakin tells her with a smirk, holding the door open so that she has to duck under his arm to leave. “I’ll see you around.”

Obi-Wan is livid. Obi-Wan is so livid he doesn’t know if he should try standing because if he’s any closer to Anakin Skywalker right now, he’s going to try and strangle him. “That was completely inappropriate,” he snaps. “What are you even doing here?”

“Proving to you that I listen when you talk,” Anakin lilts, locking the door and coming to stand in front of the desk. “Professor.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan warns. “You shouldn’t be here. You’ve no reason to be on campus anymore, let alone visiting me during my office hours, let alone interrupting a meeting with one of my students so you can take up my time and—”

“I remember meetings with you when I was one of your students,” Anakin murmurs, sitting on the edge of his desk and propping himself up with a hand over the middle of his papers. He leans forward and takes the red pen out from behind Obi-Wan’s ear. “You’ll forgive me from wondering what you were doing behind another closed door.”

Obi-Wan stands, and his hands are shaking with anger directed solely at his partner, who in the last few weeks has simply become unbearable. Picking fights. Prodding. Needling. Going for blood.

“Leave,” Obi-Wan tells him hoarsely. “This isn’t right.” He means that it’s not right for Anakin to be here now, for him to drag any and all personal issues into his workplace, into his office. It’s not right for Anakin to make him lose his mind like this, it’s not right that his hands have already migrated to his hips, it’s not right how much he loves this impossible man as much as he hates him in this moment.

“Professor,” Anakin murmurs, looping his arms around Obi-Wan’s neck, “this was never right.”

Obi-Wan kisses him half to shut him up and half because he can’t not kiss him when he’s wandered into his office practically begging for a kiss. There’s a lot he thinks he’s probably fucking up in this relationship, but he knows how to kiss Anakin.

Anakin, despite everything else, knows how to kiss him as well.

His boyfriend moans and arches into him, adjusts the angle so that he’s standing in between his spread thighs, sucking on his tongue and making noises that are far too loud for the current venue. It’s like—it’s like he wants to be caught. It’s lke he wants everyone to know.

Obi-Wan separates himself with difficulty from his boyfriend’s lips, pulling back to study his face.

Anakin’s eyes flutter open just as reluctantly, mouth slightly parted and spit slick.

“You remember the sort of things you told me here?” Obi-Wan mutters lowly to try and keep all arousal from his voice. “Back before I was even close to breaking. Few months in. Anything that was troubling you, anything you were trying to work through.”

“You’re a good listener, Professor,” Anakin replies, licking his lips. One hand falls to rest on his shoulder, the other to resst on the small of his back, fingers skirting the line of his ass. Obi-Wan barely resists the urge to roll his eyes. His partner loves any and every chance to feel him up.

“I’m listening now, Anakin,” he tells him, catching his chin in a bid to force eye contact. “Has something been troubling you?”

Anakin blinks at him and then his face breaks open and his mouth scrunches up and his eyes squeeze closed and when he opens them again, they’re spilling over with wetness. With tears. “I didn’t get the job,” he cries even as Obi-Wan guides him forward so he can press his head against his neck. “I was so close, I was in the—the final stages—but they went with someone else, and I really thought I would, I really thought this was the one, but they didn’t want me—”

Obi-Wan hushes him gently, soothing his hand down the planes of Anakin’s back. “It happens, darling,” he murmurs into Anakin’s curls. “Is this why you’ve been so horrible, love?”

It’s a testament to how upset Anakin is that he doesn’t immediately say anything to protest that, just shrugs weakly and tries to nuzzle closer. “It’s—it’s September, and you said that I should move in for the summer but it’s September now, and I didn’t get the job because they didn’t want me and I can’t think about you not wanting me without my chest getting all tight so I keep—I just need you to say it, alright, I need to hear it.”

“I love you,” Obi-Wan replies, nonplussed. He tells Anakin he loves him all the time, almost every time he thinks it, which is truly a staggering amount of times.

“No,” Anakin says, which isn’t usually what he says in response to that declaration. “No, I mean—if you want me to leave. I need you to—you can’t just…just wait for me to get the message, alright, I…I cling.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan pulls back. This is a feat, considering how tightly Anakin’s arms are latched around him. “Anakin, darling, I don’t want you to leave. Ever. I love you. I love having you with me. Every place I am, I want you to be there as well.”

Anakin sniffles and wipes his wet face all over the shoulder of Obi-Wan’s shirt. He really loves a horrible person, he thinks with something like awe and infinite patience coursing through him. “That’s not true,” he mutters.

“It is,” Obi-Wan disagrees immediately. “It—”

“You just said I shouldn’t be in your office during your office hours,” Anakin points out, sitting back and wiping a hand over his eyes to get rid of the last of his tears. “So which is it?”

Obi-Wwan stares at his impossible boy. But, well, Anakin had come all the way out here to see him, and he’d been so vulnerable and achingly sweet. Perhaps he should be rewarded with equal honesty. “Darling, if you don’t think I’d rather kiss you until our lips are raw here on this desk like this than read shitty, cobbled-together essays from some student obviously aiming for a recommendation letter, then I don’t know what to tell you.”

Anakin tilts his head forward so that his next words are breathed against Obi-Wan’s lips. “Prove it, then.” he murmurs. “Professor."

#asks #prompt fill #professor can fuck me au #you know if this was an ao3 they'd have gotten waay more hot and heavy before they started talking #but most of this blog is more sfw than not lol #love me a switch professor au tho tbh #not extremely relevant here but also an element of this au thats always on my mind <3 #obikin

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mercy-burning · 4 years ago

Text

Good Little Helper

Pairing: Season 5! Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader gets assigned to be Spencer’s personal assistant of sorts after he gets shot in the knee. Category: SMUT(18+) Content Warnings: fingering (female receiving), blowjob, praise kink, dirty talk, blink and you’ll miss it cumplay Word Count: 4.7k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: So, remember yesterday when I posted about how I wished new ideas would stop distracting me from everything I’m currently working on? Yeah. This wouldn’t leave me alone, and I couldn’t work on anything until I got it out of my head, so here! Have a fic! (It was supposed to be a blurb, but I got a little long-winded so now it’s too long to be a blurb oops 😙✌) Also, I apologize for any editing mistakes, I just wrote this out in one go, so hopefully it’s alright!

***

Being assigned to assist Dr. Reid with practically his every need after he was shot in the knee wasn't exactly how I expected to spend the past few months.

And that's, like... a huge understatement.

In fact, when Agent Hotchner came up to me in the break room and said he'd like me to do the job, I dropped my coffee and shattered a mug. I could tell he was a little impatient with me, even through his kind reassurances that it was quite all right as he helped me clean it up and waited for an answer.

In the end I'd said yes to the job, though the more I thought about it the more I wondered how much lust and naivete had clouded my judgement when I did.

Because there was absolutely no way I was going to be able to survive weeks, possibly months, as Spencer Reid's assistant. Not only because he was intimidatingly intelligent and there was almost nothing I could offer him in decent conversation, but also—and more prominently—the fact that I was pretty sure I was in love with him.

Maybe that was a stretch. I definitely had a stupid major crush on him that felt more like we were in middle school, but I could barely look at him without going warm all over. In fact, I think we had only ever made eye contact once and I averted my gaze immediately, afraid I'd give myself away. If I'd have held it any longer, I was positive I'd have burst into flames.

He'd tried talking to me once, a few months after I started working at the Bureau, and it was only to ask if I'd send some files over to their tech analyst, Penelope Garcia, but when I tried answering, I stumbled over my words and ended up only getting out a squeaked, "Uh huh," before taking the files from him and scurrying off.

I almost cried that day.

Basically every time I was in his presence, I was a total wreck. Even more so than I was on any other given day.

Being his assistant did get fairly easy pretty early on, though. I mostly just stayed out of his way while he worked, and if he need anything that he could've gotten himself if not for the injury, it was my job to get it for him. I worked on my own paperwork most of the time, and he was always busy working on geographical profiles and whatever else, we only ever really had to talk when he asked for something. And that only required a, "Sure," on my end, so I could just get up, get what he needed, and then go back to work.

Still, it didn't help that sometimes I'd get distracted.

He was very distracting.

I usually waited until I was sure he was so busy in work that I wouldn't get caught. And that's when I'd peek over my computer or hide behind a book and stare at him. I know that sounds creepier than it is, but if you had to spend almost every hour of the day with him, you'd have done the same. Even though for months he was put on rest from the field, he always showed up looking more like a college professor than an FBI agent. Which, I suppose suited him more anyway. Regardless, it was a damn fine look. His hair was decently long and extremely pretty, and when he got the cane?

I was a goner.

It was at that point, though, when I started to realize that he probably wouldn't need my help anymore. He'd been allowed back into the filed by then, and even when I went with them on cases it still felt like I was more out of place than usual. Sure, I'd picked up on some minor skills that aided in profiling and otherwise, but at the end of the day I was still only a desk clerk. Sooner or later, I knew there would be a time where Agent Hotchner would inevitably tell me that I'd done a good job and could return to my menial day job.

So, even though Dr. Reid and I had gotten into a pretty regular, non-awkward rhythm, I was being a little more squirrely than usual.

And of course, he noticed.

"Y/N, are you doing alright?" he asked, looking up from his stack of paperwork. That was another thing we'd ended up doing— late into the night after everyone had gone home, we stayed late in the conference room and quietly filled out paperwork.

I barely looked him in the eye when I answered. "O—Oh, mhm. I'm fine."

"Oh... You just seem... a little different today."

On any other day I would have freaked out on the inside like a teenager, excited that he'd noticed me at all enough to notice a difference in my behavior. But that was his job after all.

"Actually, you seem rather... sad."

I did look up at him this time, and the soft glow of the table lamp lit up his features— features that looked me over with concern. I could feel my face grow warmer with every second I looked at him, until I quickly looked back down at my paper and shook my head.

"N—No, I'm okay. Promise. Just a little tired, that's all."

Usually he would have left it at that, given we didn't ever really have longer conversations than that that didn't pertain to whatever case the BAU was working on. But he pushed further, and I swallowed.

"Are you sure? Because... You can tell me if there's something wrong. I'm a good listener..."

Did I dare tell him what was really plaguing me? That I was scared I wasn't going to be able to spend time with him every day, thus most likely giving away my crush? That is, if he hadn't already figured it out by this point... Truthfully it wouldn't have surprised me.

The thought made me go warm again, and still, I kept my head down.

"I'm sure..."

And then I did something I probably shouldn't have. I looked back up at him, just a quick glance, but under his intense gaze I crumbled, flitting my eyes back down and playing with my hands.

"Is it... because of me?"

Afraid suddenly that I'd made him feel bad, I straightened a little. "No! No, not at all I... Um... I—I guess I'm just... A little sad that I'm probably... not going to be of any help to you anymore. You know, now that you're healing up."

A small smile flashed over his face, and I inwardly melted.

"Oh... In that case I... I guess I'm sad, too."

"Really?" I asked softly, my heart jumping.

"Mhm," he answered back in earnest. His features were softer than they'd ever been, eyes wide and kind, smile inviting... "You've been a great help. And you're fun to be around."

I couldn't help but smile shyly at his confession, completely bewildered that he'd think of me as someone he'd enjoyed being around, though I'd offered just about nothing interesting to any conversation we'd had. "Y—You don't mean that..."

"I do."

"C'mon, really? I... I—mean... coming from you that's... that's too generous."

He laughed a little. "How do you mean?"

"I... Well, y—you're you... I mean, you're... smart, and nice, and cu— uh,... n—nice..." I stumbled hard on that last one, squeezing my eyes shut at the thought of almost calling him cute to his face... And then I realized I'd called him nice two times... in a row.

I hadn't even realized he'd gotten up and walked over to me until I felt his cane gently tap my leg. I jumped, looking up at him and almost crumbled again right then and there. He stood over me, tall and clearly amused, and I wanted to just curl up and hide where no one would ever find me.

I also didn't want to be craning my neck so far up to see him, so I stood up, sending my chair rolling back a foot or two. The added height was better, but he was still fiarly taller than me, and with the way were standing so close to each other?

Maybe I'd made a mistake...

"I—I'm sorry," I stammered.

Still amused, Spencer tilted his head a small amount. "What for?"

"I... I don't know, m—making this awkward?"

"It's not awkward."

"It... It's not?"

He shook his head, quiet for a few beats before he nearly whispered. "What were you going to say?"

I paused. "I... What?"

"Before... You said I was smart. And nice... And... What else?"

It sounded like he was trying to get me to confess something, and quite honestly I couldn't tell if it was for humiliation or amusement or clarification purposes. I mean, it was probably safe to assume he wouldn't go out of his way to humiliate me, but... it still made me nervous.

"I—I didn't... I..."

"Y/N... Tell me?"

I'd been cornered. Quite literally, too, as my lower back hit the edge of the table. My hands shook anxiously at my sides as I contemplated what to say. The truth? Embarrassing for me. A lie? I was no good at telling lies, and I'd still end up embarrassed, because he'd be able to tell.

So, after a very long silence in which he waited on me to answer, I blurted out, as quietly as possible, "Cute."

The word sounded juvenile coming from my mouth. Right now, standing under Dr. Reid's intense scrutiny, it didn't even feel like the right word to describe him. Not that it wasn't true... But it just wasn't an elegant enough descriptor for him.

And that alone probably proved just how different we were. How out of my league he was...

"That's what I thought you were going to say," he mused, slightly breaking me out of my self-deprecation.

I would have asked him something then, anything to keep myself from looking like even more of a fool with a childish schoolgirl crush, but all words escaped me entirely. All I could do was look up at him, slowly growing warm under the intensity of his eyes and praying he wouldn't think of me as silly.

Though, it wouldn't have mattered, because he kept talking anyway, his body taking up even more space around me as his arms came around to well and truly trap me against the table.

"You're right, you know... I'm almost completely healed, and pretty soon I think I won't need an assistant anymore."

I was scared that maybe I was wrong before, and he'd actually humiliate me now, though the look in his eyes suggested otherwise. I wasn't sure what to make of all of it. SO I just stood there, trying to breath steadily as Spencer studied my face.

"And I meant it... That makes me sad. You know why?"

I shook my head, afraid to make a sound.

His head dipped lower, close enough that I could feel his breath on my mouth as he spoke. "I probably won't get to see you every day."

"Y—you want to see me?" I couldn't help but ask.

He scanned my eyes, amusement and something else lingering there as he did. "Yes."

And then he kissed me.

It was a short distance, but it felt like we went far. And I hadn't even registered that I whimpered into his mouth until he returned it with a low groan that boiled my insides and absolutely melted me. I was helpless against him as he pressed himself further against me and used his hands to keep my back steady.

The whole time my mind was swimming with dizziness. It felt like my body was covered in butterflies from head to toe, particularly strong where his hands pressed into me and his cane rested firmly along the inside of my thigh.

I leaned forward when he pulled away, because I was afraid that he was saying goodbye. But one of his hands came up to my face and my eyes fluttered open, immediately taking notice of how messy his hair was now that I'd had my fingers in it.

I must have looked scared, because suddenly his eyes changed, and he removed his hands away from me altogether, putting distance in between us. "I—I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kissed you without asking..."

The relief that rushed through my body must have gotten to my head, because I breathed out a demand I'd never have had the courage to get out before.

"Do it again."

One second I was staring at him, admittedly afraid that he'd regretted all of it, and the next I was seeing stars as he came forward and kissed me again. His hands cradled my face as he did so, coming on to me with gentle care while still maintaining that hunger that surprised and excited me.

I hadn't realized how much I missed his touch until he'd given it back to me, my body once again melting into him and allowing him to do whatever it is that pleased him.

Apparently that was lifting my leg off the ground and making me sit on the table.

My body went along with it easily, and I was glad for it because my brain was nothing but mush, unable to process fully how he'd decided that I was worth kissing. All I really knew was that I wanted him. Anything he wanted from me, I was willing to give. And that must have come across very clearly, because when he pulled away and spoke to me, I whimpered at his words.

"Y/N... You've been such a good girl, helping me with whatever I needed these past few months..." Meanwhile his hand danced along the hem of my skirt, the tiny brushes of his skin against mine sending me into a mess of shivers.

"I think it's about time I've thanked you for all your help, don't you think?"

The implications in his tone made me whine again, and I pressed my forehead into his, our noses brushing as I answered. "Please."

I was so taken by the way he groaned as his lips connected with mine once more that I almost didn't realize that his hand was now fully up my skirt, his fingers drawing gentle lines over my panties and practically making me melt again. His hungry kisses contradicted the softness he took to my clothed cunt, a fact that warmed me to my core and made me want him more than ever.

When he slipped the fabric aside and ran the pad of his finger through me, I whined hard against his mouth, something that must have excited him— He nipped at my bottom lip and took a deep breath.

"How long have you wanted this, Princess?"

If not for the kissing and the finger slowly sliding up through my arousal, the nickname would have done me in. By now I was an utter wreck, but I somehow still managed to answer, even through a little stammering. "F—Forever."

It was the best I could come up with.

He breathed a laugh as his finger circled my clit. "That's a long time..."

"Uh huh," was all I could manage in response. My body and my brain were too focused on the things his finger was doing to my body, involuntarily rolling my hips forward for more. I needed more.

Thankfully he picked up on my urgency and reciprocated with slipping his middle finger inside me, one knuckle, then two...

I cried out as my head lurched forward, connecting our mouths once again. My hands clutched around his neck and my fingers tugged at his hair to keep myself from falling, because the slow, searing pace at which he fingered me made me wonder how I'd still been able to breathe.

He added another finger soon enough, picking up the pace and rendering me practically useless in his embrace. Meanwhile I registered the sound of his own little whines, still deeper than mine but little enough to tip me off that he was enjoying this just as much as I was, and that alone helped get me further along in pleasure.

I pulled my mouth from his reluctantly, squeezing my eyes shut as I allowed my forehead to rest against his. "D—Doctor, I'm c... I'm so close."

"His honorific falling breathlessly from my mouth seemed to do something sinister to him, because his fingers sped up and his breathing got heavier.

"Yeah? You gonna come for me, Princess?"

My stomach tightened and I nodded as best as I could, relishing in the sounds coming from below us, wet and downright filthy.

"Go ahead...Be a good girl and come for me... You deserve it..."

Each little sentence was punctuated with a slightly faster pace, each one bringing me closer and closer until I squeaked into his mouth and shook violently around his fingers, my vision going white. My legs had been open wide since he'd started teasing under my skirt, but now they threatened to clamp shut from the intensity. But I wanted nothing more than to be good for him, to make this as easy as possible, so I held out and kept them open as wide as I could stand as my orgasm rocked through me.

Spencer whispered praises into my skin as his hand slowed and his mouth trailed down to my neck. And even though it was more than nice feeling him lick and bite over my skin, I felt rather sad when he removed his fingers from me.

That sadness didn't last long though, not when he pulled back and studied me for a moment, eyes lust-blown and purely ravenous before he brought his glistening fingers up to my mouth.

I didn't even have to think. I brought my tongue out and let him slip his fingers over it, closing my mouth around them and sighing as I sucked them clean. This only seemed to excite him more, his features displaying all sorts of desperation until he couldn't take it anymore.

He kissed me again, bringing both his hands to rest at my waist. And with his hands so low I wondered if maybe he'd take to ridding himself of his own pants, but it never happened. Rather, he pulled away after minutes of more kissing, and sighed quite sadly as his upper body pressed firmly into mine.

Something else pressed firmly against me as well—right along the inside of my thigh—and I gasped, mind running wild through all the possible outcomes of the night.

But Spencer only stood there, occasionally nudging his nose against mine while his hands gently kneaded my sides.

"D—Do you want to stop?" I asked softly, afraid he'd regret what we did.

He proved me wrong. "God, no... It's... It's just that I'm still not cleared enough for any... strenuous activity on my leg, and I don't..."

I didn't want to push him, obviously, but I thought I could make the mood a little lighter. "O—Oh, well on the bright side... I could stay your assistant for a while longer."

The laugh that rumbled in his throat made me smile, though from the way he stood there, I knew he wouldn't risk it.

"Um... Raincheck?" he whispered.

On the one hand, that meant he definitely wanted to see me again, and I was more than happy with that. But also, that meant our fun for the night was done...

Yet... Maybe not...

"Sure," I answered, pecking his lips once more. Then I brought my hand to his chest and slid it down until I reached his belt, and I leaned back to look him in the eye, a boldness I never imagined coming from me in a million years.

"But I can still help you..."

I watched the desperation and disappointment in his features slowly dissolve into a newfound hunger—and an amusement—that grew my confidence tenfold.

"Oh?" Spencer mused. "How do you suppose you can help me this time?"

He wanted me to say it. So, without second guessing myself anymore, I grazed my finger over his erection. "I'm very good with my mouth, Dr. Reid."

He grabbed me by the hand then, dragging me along to the chair I'd kicked back before and sat himself down, one of his hands still gripping the cane. Matched with the desire in his eyes and the swollenness of his lips and the tousled strands of his hair, the sight was truly something to behold. It was something that only ever existed in my dreams, nd now it was real.

Not wanting to waste any time, I sunk to my knees and nestled myself in between his legs. He reached out and caressed my cheek before lifting my chin with his middle finger.

"You like being my good little helper?" he drawled.

I tried to nod, but he clicked his tongue and held my chin in place. "Words, Princess."

"Yes. I—I'd do anything you asked. Anything you want, it's yours..."

He hummed then, removing his hand from my face and moving to undo his belt swiftly with only one hand. The action, the sound, everything... it was enough to make me wet again, and I subtly ground down onto the heel of my foot as I watched him pull himself free from the confines of his pants.

I didn't have time to marvel at him before I was drawn forward like a magnet, my hands crawling up his legs and my eyes batting up at him, ready and eager to please him however he wanted.

"Eager, are we?" he mused once more, gently stroking himself with his hand.

"Yes, Doctor," I breathed, inching closer and kissing the outside of his hand.

His movement stopped then, and it didn't take longer than a second for him to decide to let me work on my own.

"Then have at it, Princess..."

I started by kissing my way up the length of him, taking my time to gauge his reactions as I did so, occasionally darting my tongue out to taste him. Once I reached the tip, I sucked on it gently, using my tongue to swirl around it until I could taste the saltiness of his precum.

And then I started taking him slowly into my mouth, watching above me as Spencer's eyes started to shut, obviously debating whether or not to lay back and enjoy this or watch me intently.

Either way, I was more than happy to keep it up, finally getting him to the back of my throat. I flexed my tongue and held him there as long as I could, promptly gagging over him and blinking tears from my eyes as he let out a loudest sound I'd heard from him yet. His head flew back and his tongue quivered along his bottom lip as he cursed my name.

The act made me proud, so I retreated for air, sucked at his tip again for a few seconds, and then repeated it, taking him down my throat again and watching through teary eyes as he visibly swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Fuck, Y/N, you're so... Such a good fucking girl..."

The praise caused my insides to burn hot, and I ground down onto my heel again, lifting my mouth to start bobbing up and down.

His eyes opened then, and he looked down at me, using his hand to brush stray hair from my face and the other to grip onto his cane for dear life. I looked up at him the whole time, making sure to convey through not only my actions but also my eyes that I loved this. I thrived off of his praise, I enjoyed the feel of his dick gliding over my tongue and hitting the back of my throat, and I longed to feel him coat the inside of my mouth with his release.

I was so entirely into him in every capacity, it wasn't even funny.

I was so glad he could tell, a smile grazing his features as his hand gently gripped some of my hair. "So eager to please, Princess... And so fucking good at delivering..."

I whined onto his dick as he held me down, rendering me immobile. The only thing I could do was look up at him and choke, and of course, I was more than happy to do it. In turn, I was met with a deep groan and a tug of the hair.

"Hold it, hold it... Atta girl..."

My cunt throbbed at his words, and my throat continued to burn, tears falling down my face at ten-speed until finally, he let up and pulled me off of him.

I coughed a little and blinked away tears as I caught my breath, Spencer's fingers combing hair from my face as he smiled proudly.

He didn't even need to say anything then. I wanted to give him more. So I leaned down again and took him in my mouth, quickly making work of his tip while my hand came up and stroked the rest of him.

"Fuck, Princess, just like that... Make me come just like that..."

Rather than just continuing, I offered him a high whine and a wide gaze, hoping to exceed expectations.

I guess it worked, because he came right then, his dick pulsing over my tongue and in my hand as his warm release shot down my throat and over my tongue. I hummed around him, fluttering my eyes closed at the taste and the feeling, probably enjoying the fact that I'd done this to him more than I should have.

It was worth it to see the look on his face, though, after he'd given me all he had and I purposely spit some of it out onto the tip of his dick so I could lick it up and give him just a little more stimulation after the fact. His mouth hung open, eyes heavy and unwilling to leave me, even as I finished and sat back to wipe the tears and saliva from my face with a satisfied smile.

Though, the longer he looked at me, the more shy I became. Funny when I'd just had his dick down my throat, but I'd never been good with people staring at me for long periods of time.

"Was that... Was that okay?" I asked, suddenly worried I hadn't done something to his standards. "I know I don't do this a lot, so I'm sorry if it wasn't that g—"

"Y/N..."

I blinked up at him, still on my knees and unwilling to move. Not that I wanted to, but I couldn't even if I had.

"That was fucking perfect... I meant it, you're... so good."

I knew he was capable of better words, but after having the life sucked out of you, I could imagine 'better words' were hard to come by. Still, I laughed a little, playing with the hem of my skirt. "Good. I'm... glad I could help."

He smiled at me, readjusting his pants and then moving to help me off the ground.

"Hey, uh... Even when you go back to your regular job after I get better, I... I hope you know you're always welcome to come visit me if we're not busy."

The words warmed me in a different way, my heart swelling as well. "You... You mean that?"

Spencer nodded, grabbing my hand and dragging his thumb over my wrist. "Of course. I mean, you're more than just a good helper, you know. You're also kind, and smart, and cute..."

I laughed at his emphasis on cute, heat warming my face. "Ha-ha..."

"I really mean it, though," he said softly, removing his hand from mind and bringing it up to lift my chin, so I'd meet his eyes. They were swimming with sincerity, the epitome of warmth and comfort and kindness— the kind that always drew me to him in the first place. "And... If you'd want to maybe ditch the paperwork one day and grab a coffee or something, maybe—"

"Yes," I interrupted without thinking. My heartbeat picked up upon seeing the look in his eyes when I agreed, a mixture of amusement and relief. "Y—Yes, I'd love to."

"Good. Then it's a date?"

"Definitely."

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