#saw this on craigslist and stared crying | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

marauder-exe · 5 years ago

Text

AU list!

hi! These are a bunch of Au’s that i could write,and you could request! (reposting because it didnt work the first time)

General

Fake dating (My personal favourite)

Soulmates

Coffee shop

Modern Royalty

Rockstar

Running From The Police

Rebel Against The Goverment

High School

University

Law school

Delayed-Flights-And-Were-Stuck-In-The-Airport-And-Its-Like-2Am

Roommates

Road Trip

Arranged Marriage

Im-Arranged-To-Marry-Your-Brother-But-Were-In-Love

Amnesia

Tattoo-Artist-And-Coffee-Shop-Worker

Loved-Since-Childhood

Professor-Student (of age)

Met-On-Holiday

More detailed

21.You were singing/playing guitar/etc. in the park to protest the war and a policeman tried to dismiss you for 'disturbing the peace' but you argued that you were promoting peace and things got heated and next thing you know you're being arrested for assaulting an officer. You intrigue me, so I'm here to bail you out and maybe take you on a date?

22.the nice one who everybody loves with the grumpy and strict one that the students hate and the students wonder?????????how what the fuck

23.we just had a one-night stand but a massive storm hit so now we’re snowed in, hello awkward

24. i sit at the rental booth at our local ice rink and watch you teach children how to skate

25. alternatively, i watch kids teach you how to skate because you’re a terrible skater

26. i’m running late to an important interview/meeting and you accidentally spill your hot cocoa all over my outfit

27. you’re my hot ski instructor and i’m failing the bunny hill

28. i slip on some ice and you’re the stranger who catches me

29. i gave my winter coat to a homeless person and come into your store to warm up

30. our friends rent a cabin to go skiing and we’re the only ones who stay inside

31. you’re the asshole of our group and we don’t get along, but then i find out you make soup for the local shelter

32.we’re waiting in line for the club when you complain that your roommate stole your gloves so let me warm your hands up with mine

33.my family invites you to join our holiday meal as an obvious setup and i’m so sorry

34.the power goes out in our apartment building, but i’m not prepared for this, and you come to check on me

35.i’m having a snowball fight with my friend in the park and i hit you instead

36.a storm is delaying our flight home and i’m afraid of thunder, please talk to me while we wait

37. we’re both in small claims court and i got into a huge fight with the person suing me but you stepped in to hold me back before security got there

38. i drove two hours to the closest video rental store that’s still operating and you were checking out the only copy of the movie i was after

39. i hit you with my car but luckily you’re okay, but we should still exchange information i guess

40. i was worried about buying something off of someone creepy from craigslist but oh no you’re hot

41. my friend talked me into playing a drunken game of spin the bottle even though we’re all adults and now we have to make out

42. we both decided to take a [yoga/fencing/cooking etc] class and we’re the only two assholes not taking it seriously and everyone else is giving us dirty looks but we keep grinning over at each other

43. my date just made a scene in public and got arrested and now i’m stranded in a city without a ride home

44. sharing a cab together

45. you’re trying to get me to sign a petition and i have no idea what you’re talking about

46. you’re drunk at this festival and dancing on the table and when you eventually fell i caught you

47. we both play this stupid game online and you keep beating me every single goddamn time so i called you out and you are pretty cute but can you not

48. im a bartender and you just came in here without shoes sat down and ordered a chocolate volcano and idk what the fuck that is and im scared to ask

49. we are neighbours and every night at 3:14 am you start yodeling for no fucking reason??? why???? is that you yodeling??? its been 2 months???

50.im a pizza delivery person and i just delivered a pizza to someone in the middle of a satanic ritual and they gave me their number???

51. i woke up this morning to find you sitting in my living room with a goat in a poncho??? who are you??? why is the goat wearing a poncho??? how did you get the goat in here i live on the 12th floor???

52. we work out at the same gym and you always look super legit but i know you sing hannah montana in the shower and you know i know

53. im a cashier and i saw you stuffing you pants full of potatoes and i would stop you but you already have 27 and i want to see how many you can fit

54. its 4 am and im drunk as fuck in a mcdonalds and you have been watching my trying to eat this burger for 30 minutes

55. i was playing beer pong with a coin and i accidentally threw it right into your eye at a party

56. i’m at the beach and some kids thought it was funny to bury me in the sand when i dozed off can you please dig me out

57. it’s unbearably hot and we’re both fighting over the last handheld electrical fan at the shop at the amusement park

58. hey i just met you, and this is crazy, but i get sunburned really easily so can you please help me put sunscreen on my back?

59. thunderstorm after a menacing heatwave and we’re both getting weird looks for dancing in the rain

60.i have no idea who you are but you just fainted right in front of me holy shit dude you need to drink more in this heat

61. we both chased after the leaving ice cream van like ten-year-olds and now we’re both out of breath and a bit embarrassed

62.i clearly reserved this deck chair by putting a towel on it why on earth are you lying on it who the fuck do you think you are

63. My friends bet I wouldn’t buy these three weird and questionable items and you’re my cashier.

64.Once a week I go visit the pet store just to stare at the cute kittens and puppies and you’re the nice employee who always lets me hold them and wait I think I’m going to cry hold on.

65.You’re the DJ of the University’s radio station and every time you give an opinion on a current event I have to call and argue with you because could you seriously be anymore wrong?

66.We both wait tables at the same restaurant and you’re always mad at me by the end of the night because I make more in tips

67.We have the same class and once a week you wear this graphic shirt I don’t understand and I really want to ask you about it.

68.We both work at the same craft store that literally has no customers so we have nothing to do and I’m always reading at the register but you always have to criticize my book choice what the hell?

69.I’m working the concession stand for this week’s home game and this is the fifth time you’ve come back for snacks wait are you flirting with me?

70. we’re at a bookstore and you and I seem to have similar taste in books have you read this one? How about this one?

71. you look like you need help and I’m a professional roller/ice skater but I don’t want you to feel bad about how much you suck but wow you suck

72. You ordered your food before me and they gave you a drink you didn’t want so you gave it to me

73. We’re sitting at adjacent computers in the library and I’m taking extra care not to look at your screen out of respect but what the fuck do you keep laughing at

74. as a joke I yelled out “happy birthday to someone!” in this store and you called back “thank you!” who are you

75. You heard me talking about a TV show in class the other day and now you’re passionately yelling at me about how good it is we’ve never actually spoken before

76. It’s 10:30 at night and I left my glasses at home so I can’t read any of these labels and you’re one of the only people in the grocery store and GODDAMMIT DO YOU HAVE ANY TOMATO SAUCE WITHOUT CHUNKS

77. We go to the same support group; I have social anxiety and you’re a kleptomaniac who sorta stole my heart

78. You thought you were alone at the bus stop so early in the morning so you started passionately singing Fall Out Boy but your Patrick Stump impression could use some work and I’m not really afraid to point that out

79. I’m an artist and you have a really nice face so would you mind if I drew you?

80. We’re rival up-and-coming singers and every time one of us releases a new single the other does a cover to try to make it better; we’re always trying to top each other and out-cute each other, but half our fans aggressively ship us; our agents use this to their advantage and decide we should do a duet because it’ll be popular; unfortunately now that we’re in the same studio and I’ve seen what you’re like I really wanna know what your lips feel like

81.PLEASE I REALLY CANNOT FIND MY CAT AND I KNOW IT’S THREE A.M. BUT NEIL CATRICK HARRIS AND I WOULD BOTH APPRECIATE THE HELP

82. We were both stood up for dates at the same nice restaurant so we decide to eat together and split the check but I dunno you’re pretty interesting aside from your distractingly enormous eyebrows

83. We met at a mutual friend’s cheesy masquerade party and we agree that the only good thing about this party is the masks so you can’t judge a book by its cover only now that we’ve been talking I want to see your face but I don’t know how to ask

84. You used to date my friend who absolutely hates your guts after a messy breakup and now you’re flirting with me and I really shouldn’t be so interested in you but I am

85.We pass each other every day while we’re biking on the same path so we’ve started smiling at each other and one day you’re stopped because you’re having an asthma attack so I offer you my extra water bottle and now we’re talking and now I’M the one who’s breathless

86.I lost my little sibling in IKEA and I need your help finding them

87.I'm a private detective hired to follow you, but you're endearingly boring and mostly I just like watching you and oops, I sort of find you adorable.

88. You've been sketching me for half an hour now, and just shuffled up to hand me the finished product and it's TERRIBLE but you just wanted an excuse to talk to me.

89. I'm at an art exhibit and I just badmouthed the art, because I don't get it, okay? And it turns out you're the artist. I'm so sorry, maybe I could get you coffee and you could explain what it was supposed to be?

90. We're the only two people who turned up to an underground gig and it should be awkward, but the band is amazing and you asked me to dance and hey, there's nobody watching but us.

91. You live in the apartment next to me. We're not supposed to have pets, but I KNOW you have a cat. I'll make you a deal, I won't tell, if you let me pet it.

92. I punched you because I thought you were insulting my friend, but it turns out you know each other and it was an inside joke and I'm so sorry, let me drive you to the hospital?

93. We both wanted to rent a bike for an hour but the only one they have is a tandem bike

94. I’m on a terrible date and you’re my waitor please help me

95.Our dick landlord just evicted us both

96.I’m your neighbor and I can hear you fucking someone who shares my name

97. You’re sort of famous and we vaguely know each other through bumping into each other all the time but the media thinks we’re dating

98. Your roommate cheated on me and I just threw your laptop out the window thinking it was his

99. It’s 2am on the night of my 21st birthday and we gotta fix this fucking mess by morning or else we’re fucked

100.Fuck you and your bee farm I’ve had enough

Feel free to use any of these as your own! If you wanna request you could drop an inbox saying ‘ could you do ____ AU with this character’!

#remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader #james potter x reader #lily evans x reader #cedric diggory x reader #regulus black x reader #fred weasley x reader #george weasley x reader #hermione granger x reader

187 notes · View notes

jaxl-road · 5 years ago

Text

Cat Club

Nikki had only planned on yelling at the dude whose cat got his cat pregnant. He wasn’t expecting him to actually stick around.

Pairings: Nikki/Tommy

Warnings: None

~~~~

As the door clicked shut behind him, Nikki sighed heavily, flicking on the lights to illuminate the derelict house he called home. Walking further into the living room, he tossed a handful of papers onto the coffee table before gently placing the cat carrier in his grip on the ground. Releasing the latch on the carrier, Nikki flopped back onto the couch, pressing his fists into his eyes.

It only took a moment for a solid weight to land on his chest. Moving one hand, Nikki eyed the long-haired tabby staring back at him with one bright blue eye. Huffing, he picked the cat up, lifting her above his head so he could stare blankly up at her.

“You whore,” he deadpanned. “You dumb slut. How did this happen? I raised you better than this.”

The cat blinked at him.

Nikki groaned, “Goddammit, Holly, I can’t stay mad at you,” he grumbled, placing the cat back down onto his chest. Once released, she quickly curled up right beneath his chin, Nikki sputtering as long fur got in his mouth, but relaxing as the cat started purring against him. Stroking his pet softly, Nikki stared at the ceiling and contemplated his situation.

Why the fuck hadn’t he gotten her spayed?

Oh, that’s right, he thought as he turned to glance at the bill on the coffee table. It was because he was broke as fuck, and vets were expensive as hell, and even with a payment plan this single morning appointment was going to fuck up his budget for the next month at least. God, he was not equipped for this.

Suddenly, the cat on his chest perked up, sitting up and looking towards the back door. Turning to follow her gaze, Nikki sat up abruptly, sending the cat jumping away.

“YOU!!” He snarled, eyes locking with the sleek black cat pawing at the sliding glass door that led out into the overgrown box of space that had been called a backyard on craigslist. Lurching from his seat, Nikki stormed over to glare down at the animal, “This is your fault, I just know it,” he muttered. He had seen this cat hanging around before, and had seen it wandering in the yard with Holly a few times. Right on cue, the tabby trotted up to the window, meowing to be let outside.

Narrowing his eyes, he shooed her away, “Oh no, I don’t think so. You are grounded, young lady.” He turned back to the black cat still staring after his baby, eyeing the neon green collar around his neck, “Alright, let’s see who I need to fuck up,” he grumbled, unlocking the door and slipping outside. Kneeling down to try to read the cat’s tag, the cat darted out of his reach. Frowning, Nikki took another step forward, only for the cat to jump away again. Groaning, he threw his arms in the air, “Oh come on!”

In the back of his mind, Nikki knew it was ridiculous to go chasing after a cat that may or may not have gotten his own cat knocked up. But hey, it wasn’t like he had anything else to do today, and he really wanted someone to blame for all this, so fuck it. He was chasing this cat.

Of course, the cat had to lead him up the street, climbing the stupid steep ass hill Nikki lived on. Which was bad enough on its own, until the cat led him over the hill. He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair as he looked down the street from the top of the incline. It was almost comical the way the two sides of the hill contrasted each other. On Nikki’s side, the houses were in various levels of disrepair, the street cracked and full of potholes, the occasional drug deal taking place nonchalantly outside of the drugstore on the bottom corner. Meanwhile, on the other side, the lawns were bright and well maintained, houses with fresh coats of paint and a fucking park at the bottom with happy families laughing and playing.

Figures his cat would shack up with an upper class feline. He was going to have words with her when he got home.

The upper class feline in question was sitting a few feet away, looking at Nikki lazily as if he was waiting for him. Nikki hated going into this neighborhood- he felt so out of place, with his shaggy black hair, piercings, tattoos, and tattered clothing that was held together with safety pins and spite. Even his fucking shoes were duck taped together. But he was determined, and so he approached the cat again, unsurprised but still annoyed when it once again kept a few feet in front of him.

However, it didn’t take long for the cat to trot into one of the yards, casting one last look at Nikki before darting in through a cat door installed in the front door. Steeling himself, Nikki stalked up to the door and pounded on it without hesitation. Even if he couldn’t shake the cat’s owner down for money, he at least wanted to vent some of his frustration and goddamn it he was going to let this person have it.

In all honesty, he was expecting some middle aged suburbanite who probably worked in a bank or something. So he was admittedly caught off guard when loud footsteps rushed to the door, throwing it open and revealing a kid who couldn’t be older than Nikki was. He was tall and lanky, long, dark brown hair flying wildly around his head, and a few tattoos dotting his arms. Tight leopard print pants left little to the imagination and it looked like he had probably owned that tank top since middle school.

All in all, not at all what Nikki was expecting.

“Hi!” The stranger looked surprised, but still smiled brightly, “Can I help you?”

For a moment, Nikki couldn’t seem to find his words. Then, his eyes drifted over his shoulder, glancing around the cluttered but spacious living room with pictures and posters on the wall and a tv surrounded by video games in the corner until his eyes landed on the creature that had led him here in the first place.

Fury reignited in him, he pointed accusingly past the stranger, “Is that your fucking cat?” he snapped out.

“Uh,” blinking in confusion, the other boy followed his hand to look at the cat in question, “yeah? Why?”

“Because that fucker got my cat pregnant!” Nikki exclaimed.

“What?! No way!” he looked between him and the cat in disbelief.

Narrowing his eyes, Nikki crossed his arms, “Is your cat a dude?”

“Yeah-”

“Is he fixed?”

“No, but-”

“Then guess what! I’m now dealing with a fucking vet bill and a knocked up cat all because your cat is a fucking tramp!”

The other man gasped, looking offended and appalled, “Excuse me?? Catrick Stewart has never done anything wrong in his life!”

Whatever comeback Nikki had planned was lost as he felt a record scratch in his brain. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath through his nose, “I’m sorry,” he spoke slowly, “what did you just say his name is?”

When he opened his eyes, the stranger had a bright blush on his face, but he still crossed his arms and huffed, “It is a strong name fitting for a cat of his level of refinement,” he insisted.

Nikki knew he was gaping, but he didn’t care. This day sucked and this confrontation wasn’t making him feel better like he hoped it would. He felt like the universe was laughing at him.

But then again, he thought to himself, what wasn’t the universe laughing at him?

“Oh my God,” he ran his hands through his hair, laughing with a tinge of hysteria, “I can’t believe I’m going to starve because my cat got knocked up by a fucking pun.”

The stranger frowned, face turning serious, “Wait, what?”

But Nikki ignored him, glaring as he pushed at his chest weakly, “Get your fucking cat fixed, you can obviously afford it,” he spat out. Turning on his heels, he stormed away, ignoring the voice calling after him. He practically ran home.

He didn’t understand it, but it felt like something fragile was cracking in his chest- a helplessness he hadn’t felt in a while. Or maybe, it occurred to him as he shut the door behind him, he had just been ignoring it. Leaning against the door, he slid down until he was sitting on the stained carpet, looking around him at the blank, cracked walls and water-damaged ceilings, the furniture he’d dragged out of alleyways before they could be hauled to a landfill, the crooked cabinet doors in the kitchen that hid a painful emptiness.

It’d been a long time since he felt this alone.

He didn’t even realize he was crying until a taste of salt hit his lips, and by then it was too late to hold it back. He just let the tears fall, because even though he was used to struggling by himself, it never got any easier.

Something soft and warm brushed against his side. Looking down, he saw Holly looking up at him, her one blue eye bright and warm. She crawled up onto his lap, and Nikki couldn't help but wrap his arms around her gently, burying his face in her back and letting his tears soak into the long, soft fur. He held her close, and she stayed with him, purring loudly against him until he felt ready to face the world again.

Sniffling, Nikki lifted his head, smiling shakily as he looked down at his companion.

“We’re gonna be okay, aren’t we, girl?” He whispered. She blinked up at him slowly, and he nodded, hugging her a little closer.

“Yeah. We’re gonna be just fine.

~~~~~~~~

“Mick, you’re a sketchy guy- do you know where I can sell a kidney?”

The smaller man paused, frozen mid-motion in cleaning the bartop, before slowly turning to narrow his eyes at Nikki.

“What are you, a cop? Fuck off.”

Nikki groaned, leaning heavily against the bar, “Mick, I’m serious. I’ve got a fucking vet bill to deal with and I’m still rationing food from when I needed to get my brakes fixed last month.”

Humming nonchalantly as he returned to his task, Mick glanced at Nikki out of the corner of his eye, wearing that expression he got when he wanted to convince you he didn’t care but he actually cared very much, “What happened? Holly get into a street fight or something?”

“Worse,” Nikki huffed, putting his chin in his hand, “she’s pregnant.”

Mick’s eyebrows flew up, “You didn’t get her spayed?”

“Don’t even start, I’m already kicking myself,” The conversation was cut short as a large group entered the bar, Mick and Nikki busying themselves serving drinks and already internally groaning at the rowdy kids that would surely only get more annoying the more they drank. Still, Nikki was on his best behavior- good tips were more important than ever.

By the end of the night, as the two bartenders finished cleaning up and breaking down the bar, Nikki was twelve kinds of tired.

Mick looked at him with sympathy. As much as he tried to be a hardass, he had always had a soft spot for the kid ever since he'd used a blatantly fake id to get a job at the bar nearly two years ago as a 20-year-old, “Hey, why don’t you take the next few Saturday shifts.”

Nikki looked up in surprise, “Really? Are you sure?” Saturdays were one of the busiest nights, and thus one of the heavier tip days.

“Yeah, why not,” Mick nodded, “You need ‘em more than me, and honestly I could use a few quieter weeks. My back has been killing me,” he grumbled.

Smiling sincerely, Nikki gave him a soft punch on the shoulder, “Thanks man, I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, now go take the fucking garbage out.”

~~~~~~~~

The next morning, Nikki was awoken by a familiar yowling next to his ear. Groaning, he pulled his pillow over his head, “Shut up, Holly, I’m not letting you out.” A weight settled on his back and the yowling got louder. Huffing, he sat up, Holly jumping off him and staring at him judgmentally.

He glared right back, “Hey, you’re the one who got knocked up. This isn’t even a punishment, I just can’t have you out there eating garbage when you’re eating for who-knows-how-many?”

Nikki hated the situation, and the next two months were going to involve a lot of financial gymnastics, and he was already frustrated beyond belief, but none of that changed the fact that he was going to do everything in his power to make sure his cat and her kittens were taken care of. Fuck feeding himself, he was switching her to namebrand cat food as soon as he went to the store.

Maybe she understood, because the yowling stopped, the tabby moving to curl up on Nikki’s lap. As he scratched her ears, she started purring contently. Nikki smirked, “Yeah, I love you too, bitch.”

Finally forcing himself to get up, he stretched his arms over his head as he made his way to the kitchen to get some coffee started and fill Holly’s food dish with fresh wet food. Once they both had their morning fix, Nikki wandered into the living room, dropping down onto the couch, stretching his legs in front of him and sipping his coffee slowly as he thought about his day.

His shift wasn’t until that night, and he really should go grocery shopping. But first he should actually look over that payment plan he’d signed up for at the vet’s office and recalculate his budget. He had a credit card payment coming up too, fuck. Finishing his coffee, he decided he could allow himself one more mug before cranking some tunes and tackling a plan for the next few weeks.

Suddenly, a loud banging noise had Nikki nearly jumping out of his skin. Shooting up, a voice called out.

“Hey! Dude!”

Turning towards the sliding glass door Nikki thought for sure he must be hallucinating. Because there was no other explanation for why he was seeing the lanky stranger he had harassed yesterday grinning and waving enthusiastically at him from outside the door, a familiar black cat pacing around his legs.

“Dude!” He gestured at two heavy looking paper bags he held in his arms, “Hey, let me in! I got something for you!”

Blinking slowly, Nikki waited for the hallucination to end. But when the other man didn’t disappear in dust and smoke, he stood slowly, creeping through the dim room towards the door, his eyes narrowed in suspicion at the sunlit stranger.

“How the fuck did you find out where I live?” He asked through the glass. He wasn’t just going to let this weirdo into his house without figuring out what the hell was going on.

“Oh, Catrick showed me,” he said casually, pointing at the black cat beside him. Grinning, he raised an eyebrow at Nikki, “That’s how you found out where I live, right?”

Nikki flushed. In his surprise and suspicion he had nearly forgotten that he had been the first one to show up unannounced on a stranger’s doorstep. He shook his head, crossing his arms with a huff, “Your fucking cat needs to learn not to give out personal information so easily.”

To his surprise, the man laughed, a bright and sunny sound that made something tighten in Nikki’s chest, but not necessarily in a bad way. “Yeah, he really does, the little shit,” he smiled down at the cat fondly. Turning back to Nikki, he was still smiling, but his voice was gentler, “But seriously, I have some stuff for you,” he nodded towards the bags in his arms, “Think of it as, like, child support!”

Barking out a surprised laugh, Nikki hesitated for one more moment before finally giving in. Shaking his head, he lifted the security bar from behind the door before flipping the latch, sliding the door open and standing back as the black cat darted inside followed by his owner.

Nikki couldn’t help but be a little self-conscious of his living situation, but he shoving the feeling back as the other man set the bags down on the kitchen counter before turning and holding his hand out with a wide smile.

“I’m Tommy by the way! We didn’t exactly exchange pleasantries yesterday,” he teased.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, taking the offered hand and shaking it firmly, “I’m Nikki.”

“Nice to meet you!” Tommy’s smile was practically blinding. Nikki’s kitchen had never been this bright, even when all the lightbulbs were working. “Anyway,” he continued, “I got you some groceries and stuff. I wasn’t sure if you had any food allergies or anything, so I got a bunch of different stuff, and anything you don’t want I’ll take. Same with cat food, if there’s like, a flavor or something you know she doesn’t like, Catrick eats pretty much anything.”

Nikki’s eyes widened as he looked through the bags. Bread, peanut butter, eggs, milk, apples, frozen vegetables, two bags of dry cat food and probably a dozen cans of wet food. There was more, but Nikki took a step back, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. It was one thing when he had to fight tooth and nail to get something from someone. Being just… given it? Filled him with guilt.

“Dude, you…” he cleared his throat, trying to keep his cool, “This is awesome, but you really don’t have to do this. I know I’m the one who showed up and yelled at you, but I was just blowing off steam, honest. You don’t have to do all this.”

He doesn’t know what he’s expecting, but it’s not for Tommy to shrug nonchalantly, “I know, but I want to. It’s not fair for you to have to deal with a pregnant cat on your own when my cat is half responsible. So seriously, don’t worry about it.”

Normally, Nikki’s pride might prevent him from accepting something like this. But something about Tommy just felt so… sincere. It didn’t feel like charity or pity. Just some weird guy taking responsibility for his wayward cat. Nikki could respect that.

“Well… thanks,” he said, smiling as he gave Tommy a grateful pat on the shoulder.

“No problem,” he beamed. At that moment, Holly wandered into the kitchen, hopping up onto the counter to inspect the bags of food.

“Holly, no!” Nikki slid the bags away from her. The last thing he needed was his cat chewing up the first decent food he’d had in ages.

Tommy gasped excitedly, “Oh, is this the mama-to-be?” he reached out eagerly, but pulled his hand back just as fast when the tabby flattened her ears and hissed at him.

“Hollywood Riot Sixx!” Nikki scolded, putting his hands on his hips, “We do not hiss at the dude giving us bags of free food!”

Watching as the tabby jumped down to run back into the living room, Nikki shook his head with a huff. Turning back to Tommy, he found the other man with a hand over his mouth, clearly muffling laughter.

Nikki immediately narrowed his eyes, “What?”

Unable to hold it back anymore, Tommy burst into giggles, speaking as best he could between his laughter, “You-... her name is ‘Hollywood’? And her middle name is Riot??”

“Excuse me, your cat’s name is ‘Catrick Stewart’!” Nikki exclaimed, “At least her name is actually cool.”

“Catrick Stewart is very cool!” Tommy argued, trying to look serious, but still grinning.

Something about the easy way Tommy joked and laughed was infectious, and Nikki couldn’t help but smile too, “You fucking nerd,” he shook his head, something like fondness coloring his voice.

Perhaps having heard his name, Catrick trotted over and, to Nikki’s surprise, rubbed against his legs happily.

“Aw, he likes you!” Tommy grinned.

“He’s just trying to butter me up after he hooked up with my baby,” but even as he pretended to scowl, Nikki knelt down to scratch the cat under his chin. Glancing back up at Tommy, he impulsively offered, “Hey, do you want a beer or something? It’s the least I can do since you’re helping me out.”

“Uh, it’s like 11am?”

Nikki raised an eyebrow, “That doesn’t answer my question.”

Laughing, Tommy nodded, “Fair point. You know what? Sure. Honestly I could always use a drink.”

“Excellent,” Nikki went to the fridge to pull out two bottles, “I’m a bartender so alcohol is like, the one thing I can offer you.” Passing him his drink, they both moved into the living room where Nikki moved to sit on the couch. Almost immediately, Catrick hopped up onto his lap, rubbing his face against Nikki’s chin, drawing a startled laugh from him as he stroked the cat’s back.

Meanwhile, Tommy was kneeling in the center of the room, hand held out in careful determination towards Holly, who watched him suspiciously. Tilting his head as the tabby finally stepped forward to sniff his hand, he spoke up questioningly, “How’d she lose her eye?”

Shrugging, Nikki scratched the black cat on his lap under his chin, feeling a gentle purr against his legs, “I dunno. It was like that when I found her.”

“Oh, she was a stray?” Nikki nodded, and Tommy asked, “How’d you find her?”

“Um…” Nikki flushed with embarrassment, “Y’know, I just… found her wandering around,” he explained weakly. He couldn’t bring himself to admit that in truth, she had found him; that he had been a homeless teen sleeping in an alleyway and had woken up to a cat licking his hair and then she simply never left.

But Tommy accepted his halfhearted answer, grinning widely when Holly finally allowed him to scratch her ears, “There, see! I’m not so bad,” he cooed at her, “You gotta get used to me, I’m gonna be around for a while.”

Nikki nearly choked on his drink, “Come again?”

Turning to face him, the younger man pulled out the biggest puppy eyes Nikki had ever seen, “You’re going to let me help with her, right? Please let me help- She’s going to have kittens, Nikki! Kittens! Little baby furballs! I can’t miss that! Plus, Catrick deserves a chance to know his children!” He clasped his hands together, literally begging.

Which was hilarious to Nikki, because he had assumed that once the kid got his sense of responsibility and obligation taken care of, he’d be done and gone. But here he was, asking to be allowed to help.

What a weird dude.

Huffing out a laugh of disbelief, Nikki shrugged, “Hey, if it means that much to you, I’m not gonna stop you.”

Tommy cheered, which of course sent Holly jumping away. His disappointment quickly turned to exaggerated offense when she hopped onto the couch, curling next to Nikki and allowing him to pet both cats at once.

“No fair!” Tommy whined.

Nikki only smirked, “Suck it.”

~~~~~~~~~

The next few weeks passed in a blur. Tommy continued to stop by whenever he could, usually bringing little treats or toys for Holly, whose belly was slowly filling out, and restocking Nikki’s groceries every few days. With food taken care of, and working Fridays and Saturdays at the bar, Nikki actually managed to get all his bills paid on time, heaving a sigh or relief when the payments all cleared and his account wasn’t overdrawn.

He felt a little bad that there wasn’t more he could give in return, but Tommy seemed thrilled enough at getting free drinks, plus just being allowed to hang around, so he tried not to worry about it too much.

Weirdly enough, Nikki realized that he and Tommy were actually becoming friends. It didn’t fully hit him until he showed up at the bar during Nikki’s shift. At first he had assumed he was just cashing in on the free drinks he offered, but he insisted on paying, tipping him and Mick generously and hanging around for almost two hours just chatting and joking around. When he finally took off, waving enthusiastically as he did, Mick raised an eyebrow at Nikki.

“Well, you two are certainly getting… friendly.”

“Um, yeah, I guess,” Nikki replied in consideration, “Holly’s warmed up to him, so he can’t be that bad, y’know?”

“Uh-huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“What?”

Mick smirked, walking away to refill a guest’s drink, “Nothing at all.”

Nikki huffed, but Mick was always being weird, so he let it slide.

Things got a little more interesting a few days later. Despite Nikki’s house being a complete shithole, that was where he and Tommy mostly hung out, Catrick following him over to curl up with Holly who was still on house arrest. But on this evening, about an hour after Tommy had left, Nikki was listening to music and messing on his phone when he noticed something laying on the floor by the front door. Closer inspection revealed it to be a wallet with a driver’s license in it for one Tommy Lee.

Rolling his eyes at the absent minded boy, Nikki headed out to return the item. Walking to the other side of the hill and knocking on Tommy’s door, he figured it would only take a minute- just return the wallet and then head back home. No big deal.

That plan was thrown off the minute the door was opened by a short young man with blonde hair and bright white pants. For a horrifying moment Nikki was afraid he had knocked on the wrong door.

But before he could backtrack, the other man’s eyes brightened mischievously, “No way,” he drawled with a slow smirk, “You must be Nikki.”

Nikki crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes, “And who the hell are you?”

“Tommy never mentioned me? I’m hurt,” he put a hand over his heart dramatically, but he was still smiling, “I’m Vince, Tommy’s roommate, and the guy who’s been hearing all about you.”

Raising an eyebrow, Nikki’s voice was heavy with suspicion, “Excuse me?”

“Oh yeah,” Vince laughed, leaning against the doorframe, eyes glinting as he spoke, “he hasn’t shut up about you. Nikki this, and Nikki that. Fuck dude, I recognized you immediately just from how often he talks about all the things about you that make him h-”

As he spoke, Tommy suddenly rushed up behind him, frantically slapping one hand over Vince’s mouth while the other wrapped around his waist. Vince made a muffled noise of indignity as Tommy lifted him completely off the ground, the blonde flailing and struggling as Tommy laughed nervously, his face bright red.

“Nikki! Hi! What are you doing here? I hope Vince wasn’t bothering you too much hahaha.”

“Um…” Nikki looked between the two of them, “You left this at my place,” he held out the wallet.

“Oh! Thanks!” Tommy reluctantly set Vince back on the ground so he could take the item back.

“Right. Uh, I’ll see you then-” Nikki took a few steps back, still reeling from the whole situation.

Before he could get far though, Vince finally escaped, freeing himself to call out, “Hey dude! You should stick around a hang out! We were just gonna play some Mario Kart and it gets boring kicking Tommy’s ass all the time.”

Without even thinking, Nikki snorted, “Oh, so you wanted to get your ass kicked instead?”

“Oh, Tommy, I like this guy,” Vince grinned, elbowing the still flushed Tommy in the side. With that, the two roommates ushered Nikki inside.

“I would have invited you over sooner,” Tommy shrugged, “But someone can be a little bitch sometimes, so-” he glared petulantly at the blonde, who merely laughed and flipped him off.

Keeping his word, Nikki did indeed kick Vince’s ass at Mario Kart. The demand for a rematch turned into the three boys breaking out some beers and rifling through their collection for more games that Vince could challenge him to. Tommy was careful to always sit between Nikki and Vince, always ready to smother the smaller boy mid sentence every now and then. Nikki didn’t get it, but apparently the two of them were high school buddies, so maybe it was just some weird inside joke.

“You know, it’s Vince’s fault I never got Catrick fixed,” Tommy complained at one point.

“Oh please, you can’t keep blaming me for that!” Vince shoved his shoulder.

But Tommy continued, “I was going to, honest! But then this fucker started going on about ‘how would you feel if someone chopped your nuts off in your sleep?’ and I just couldn’t do it!”

“Oh my God,” Nikki pinched the bridge of his nose, “Just for that, I’m going to chop your nuts off in your sleep.”

“No!!”

Vince howled with laughter.

When Nikki finally left, pleasantly buzzed and having played video games he didn’t even know existed, Vince waved his fingers at him, “Don’t be a stranger now~.” Tommy blushed next to him and quickly shoved him back into the house. Nikki just shook his head and hiked back to his side of the hill.

Weird dudes.

~~~~~~~~~~

Before either of them knew it, six weeks passed, until one morning Nikki was frantically calling Tommy.

“Dude, I think it’s happening!”

Tommy ran to his house in record time.

One of the gifts Tommy had brought along earlier in the month had been a plush cat bed, which Holly had immediately dragged into one of the empty cupboards under the sink in the kitchen. That was where she was now.

“She was pacing around and meowing like crazy earlier,” Nikki explained, crouching in the corner of the kitchen and looking into the open cupboard anxiously.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe it!” Tommy knelt down beside him. On the counter above them was a bowl of warm water, a towel, and a few old t-shirts. Both of them had looked up everything they could to try to be ready for this day. Now all they had to do was wait.

So they waited.

And waited.

Holly shifted around on her bed, and they could see her stomach clenching, but nothing was happening.

Biting his lip, Tommy turned towards Nikki, “Dude…”

Nikki was chewing on his nails as he shook his head, “It’s not supposed to take this long.”

“Maybe it was a false alarm? Maybe she’s not actually in labor yet?” Tommy’s voice was unconvincing even to his own ears.

Standing abruptly, Nikki practically ran to grab his phone, “I’m calling the vet.”

Half an hour later, he was gently loading Holly into her cat carrier and Tommy was volunteering to drive. Nikki gave him directions absently, staring down at the carrier in his lap and whispering soothing words to the cat within it. When they arrived, luckily the office wasn’t particularly busy, so Nikki was able to go in right away, leaving Tommy waiting anxiously in the waiting room. It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes when the other man returned, but to Tommy it felt like ages.

“Hey, is she alright?” He asked as he jumped to his feet.

Nikki was tapping his fingers against his legs rapidly as he answered, “They’re going to try to assist her, and hopefully she won't need surgery or anything, but…” he trailed off with a shrug.

Tommy nodded and tried to smile encouragingly, “Hey, I’m sure she’ll be fine. She’s in good hands now, yeah?”

“Yeah…” Nikki replied softly. Then he turned and walked towards the door, “I need a smoke.”

As he left, Tommy followed after him, figuring he definitely wouldn’t mind a smoke right now either. Standing a few feet away from the building, they both lit up their cigarettes, smoking in silence for a few minutes. Tommy was about halfway through his first cigarette when Nikki was moving on to his second.

Looking at the other man in concern, Tommy spoke softly, “Hey. Are you alright?”

Exhaling shakily, Nikki clenched his eyes shut as he ground out, “No.”

He shoved his cigarettes back into his pocket as he turned to face Tommy, face caught somewhere between frustration and sorrow, “No, I’m not fucking alright, Tommy! That’s-” his voice cracked, and he scrubbed his hands over his face roughly, “That’s my cat. And... and she’s all I’ve got,” he admitted softly, “It’s been just the two of us for so long. She's the only thing that’s kept me from losing my fucking mind through all the endless bullshit! Because even when I had fucking nothing at least I had Holly, y’know? And now…” he dropped his head, hands shaking at his side as he whispered, “I don’t know what I’ll do if something happens to her.”

Part of him was ashamed when he felt tears start dripping down his face, and he half expected Tommy to start laughing at him. But instead, he felt long, lean arms wrap around him, pulling him into a warm, firm chest.

“She’s gonna be fine, dude,” Tommy whispered into his hair, rubbing his back softly even as he tightened his grip on the other man, “And even if something happened… you’re not alone, man. You’re not dealing with this on your own anymore.”

Nikki choked out a sob and then he couldn’t hold back anymore, reaching out to cling desperately to Tommy’s back, allowing himself to be held together by someone else for the first time in a very, very long time.

And Tommy let him, only hesitating for the briefest moment before placing a soft kiss on his wild black hair.

“We’re in this together now, dude. I’m right here with you, no matter what.”

~~~~~~~~~

Forty-five minutes later, when Nikki was called back into the office, he laced his fingers with Tommy’s and tugged him along with him.

~~~~~~~~~

“Vince, help me out here! Nikki keeps shooting down all my name ideas!”

“He wanted to name one of the girls ‘Catricia’!”

“We agreed that you would name the boys and I would name the girls!”

“I have to step in! Think of the children, T-Bone! They’re going to get bullied by all the other cats!”

“Oh my God, you two are worse than middle aged married couples,” Vince laughed, dangling a string with a feather on the end in front of one of the more adventurous kittens, luring it towards him with a wide grin.

Tommy had spent every possible moment of the last two weeks at Nikki’s house with the kittens. The previously empty home now felt full, with Catrick and Hollywood curled up together on a large cat bed with their kittens around them. Holly had given birth to four pitch black kittens, two boys and two girls. It was hard to tell so early, but it looked like three of them would be long hair, with one of the girls being short hair. One of the boys was crawling around Vince to bat clumsily at the colorful toy.

As for the other three…

“Mick, this is ridiculous, it’s like they’re perfectly camouflaged on you!”

The older man barely suppressed a grin. He was wearing all black, as he usually did, and the result was that at certain angles it was difficult to see the three kittens crawling around in his lap, “At least I won't have to worry about using a lint roller or some shit,” he grumbled.

“That’s actually not a bad strategy. I still can’t believe Vince still wears white after living with Catrick for so long.”

“Some of us are dedicated to our style!”

Laughing, the four men hung out for a few more hours, eventually leaving the cats alone to curl up together and rest while they drank and argued about everything from music to cat names. Eventually, Vince had to leave for work, giving Tommy a pat on the back and a wink on his way out, but Nikki was used to his weird shit by now. Mick decided to head out soon after, but before he did, he pulled Nikki aside.

“What are you guys planning on doing with the kittens, anyway?”

Nikki shrugged, “Well, they have to stay with Holly until they’re like, ten weeks old or some shit. After that, I dunno, probably post fliers and try to find some good homes for them.”

Mick nodded quietly. Then, after a long moment of silence, he looked up, “Can I have them?”

Nikki felt his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, “You want them?”

“Yeah.”

“All of them?”

“Yeah.”

“...Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“...You’re not going to like, use them for a ritual or something are you?”

“Oh for fucks sake,” Mick rolled his eyes.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” Nikki laughed, holding his hands up in surrender, “It’s just surprising is all. But sure, man. Once they’re old enough they’re all yours. It’s perfect cause then I get to come over and bug you all the time to visit them,” he smirked.

“I knew telling you where I lived was a bad idea,” Mick grumbled, but he still looked pleased.

After he left, Nikki told Tommy about the new development, and the lanky boy threw his arms up in excitement, “Fuck yes! Now we don’t have to give them to strangers! And we can visit them all the time!”

“That’s what I said!” Nikki laughed as Tommy crashed into him in an enthusiastic hug. Ever since the day at the vet, they’d been closer than ever, hugging and goofing off and spending most of their free time together. Nikki didn’t even stress when he got the second vet bill- he knew he wasn’t dealing with it alone.

So maybe he should have been less surprised when Tommy pulled back just enough to kiss him firmly on the lips.

Still, he certainly wasn’t surprised when he found himself kissing back.

When they finally broke to breathe, they both couldn’t help but laugh giddily. “I’ve wanted to do that since the day we met,” Tommy admitted.

“The day I followed your cat to your house and yelled at you?” Nikki raised an eyebrow.

“Hey, it’s not my fault you’re hot when you’re angry.”

“Oh shut up!”

“Make me.”

Nikki kissed him again. And again, and again, and ran his fingers through his hair, and convinced him to spend the night. They laid on the couch tangled in each other's arms, and Nikki didn’t think he’d ever felt less alone then he did in that moment, with the sound of Tommy’s heartbeat under his ear and the occasional patter of little paws in the dark.

#Poor terrorcest has been so neglected by me lately lol #I'm not actually particularly happy with this but sometimes you just got to let it go #Motley Crue #terror twins #terrorcest #nikki/tommy #Nikki Sixx #tommy lee #my writing

133 notes · View notes

rawrmeansilyindinosawr · 2 years ago

Text

THE L GOT YASSIFIED N GHANDI IS AT 14TH ST UNION SQUARE!!!!!!?!??!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

the L stawped being a cunt on the weekendz w it’s fuckin delays n got individual seats that don’t clap back when u sit down ! Altho i am a “clap back “ advocate (Let ur cheekz Speak if they must ) i do wonder why

why is it always so awkward to hit on someone on public transit ?

we sit across each other staring each other down n i wish u were clumsy enough.

to leave a bag or your phone or wallet on the seat so i could say something to you but nothing is scripted here on this island of a city. there are only real moments. and this includes the pain in the people watching cuz sometimes we just end up watching them live their lives so much so in admiration we watch them leave.

I wrote dat ab some rly long white person with a maroon jumpsuit. N i don’t hav the energy to post a misc connection on Queer craigslist /LEX soooooo. Whut eve.

Dis week i hav been severely depressed n isolative besides for the day that the pilgrims decided to say it wuz the day that wuz gonna b ab slaying n giving . i ate sum dead bird n made sure even their bone marrow life mattered n cartilage cuz post veganism n peta rites advocate type beat a life is a mf life . Hoe .

Mi boss at union square Market s@id she saw her nekked neighbur whilst walkin around the duck truck. whut wuld u do if ur nekkid neighbor came to ur place of werk n every1 sais he is a rly nice person but he had a big SSHLONG. Now i kno whut ima wish 4 on my wishlist. No this isn’t 4 other bitchez . Nor is it for sshlong reveal. I wish some1 wuld notice meh as the nekkid neighbur at the union Square holidey market.

I whuhz almost in luv w a gurl who luved big patty wattyz n raised awareness for autism via tiK tok last yr n also i hate lex now!!!!!!!!!!! 2 many ppl wanting to give out their used sheets n Service tops who dont wanna Host . But i do thoroughly enjoy when Ppl wanna give their free concert tickets out . So lex gonna b the new ticketmaster to me but anarchist - community fridge version Without the food . Smfh . Y it gotta take watching perks of being a wallflower to realize we regret picking the boy w the eyebrow piercing when we culdve picked the 1 who got hit by a car butt still ended up pullin up to bossa limpin .

Im in luv with club E n gave them my tiara cuz they r a tucking princess and cuz their music reminds meh of myspace era sheit. Also they name is ren like me TWOOOOOO. twinnem:-] <3

As car seat headrest sayz in its only seggs i think bc of his demisexual cusp of asexual self .

“

OK, so I've been reading all the sex blogs

And they all talk about how OK it is to be gay

And straight and bisexual and asexual

And have sex however you like

But I don't care about hundreds of hypothetical people

And their hypothetical sex deals

I care about me, and my sex deal!

What about my problems?

Baby, my body

Constantly betrays me

I try to betray it

I only hurt myself

Yeah, yeah

I can't tell you if I like it, I like it

What happens if I don't like it? I like it

I can't tell you if I like it, I like it

What happens if I don't like it? It's only-

It's only sex

It's only

It's only sex

C'mon, sexual desire, speak! “

My brain is too fried from vyvanze dependence to decipher n explain it all right meow . I jus kno i luv those lyrics n i luv when post club - post party we all come back to mi lil floor mattress in mi tiny room n we kuddle puddle!!!!!!

Saw a Zyn nicotine ad omw to my lobotomy apt at callen lourde this mornin n i miss the dude who gav tht to meh while me werkin this japanese restaurant once n holy sheit i wuz shaking n shitting n crying my entire shift . I miss werking there cuz i made $400 a shift n lowkey I could get any vacation hours i wanted. Now im like a finance bro who goes to reggae bars in the city N gets pussy on hinge . v_v RIP!!!!!

i havnt been to saint vitus penus yet but thts Ok cuz i heard someone saw pee pee juice n eyeball juice on the bathroom mirror once n ill just stick to duffz if i wanna find a punk goth giorl to destroy my Third hole . Im crying a lot these days super fragile as well as today being a significant date for me N i missh ketamine so damn much butt i refuse to sniff anymore cuz i nvr kno how to dose w the diff german strainz n i always get sickie or khole n see myself on a train n being someone’s mutha . Weird!!!!!!!!!!’

Idek if i givin up on life or life givin up on meh but im just mf done . N i kno dis cuz im in my candle era yall . Where i lie n say i’m “running errands “ but sniffin diff candles at target n burglington ALONE . all dis for some mf seratonin biotch ????!!!????? Alsoo last randomo thot but i luv one of my good friendz from nyu n they were ganged up on bc of some DUMB RUMORS n i gots to say i kant stand a fucking bully or ppl who kant extend grace to others cuz it just feels v cliquey n stupid . Lik if we rly gonna believ rumors n gossip n not see someone’s character or try to understand i don’t see how ppl can b ok wit the ppl they hav to be with when they r alone with themselvez at nite . We r constantly evolving and it’s wrong to hold things against people esp in this age and this goes for me as well. I hope to receive the grace and love and empathy that I extend .

Soooooo many more fuckin thots n ramblingz like how i wish there was a poll i could start somewhere outside of instagram ab who wuld fuck G Eazy post halsey (Cmon , “tumblr girls”was an AMAZING song!!!!!!) N how much i luv egg by the garden but. Til nxt wk Babez.

Xx , ketaminechic NOT CHICK who doesn’t do ketamine anymore but kant put the energy into changing it then changing it on all platforms cuz omfGGGGGGGggg who cares that deeply ab this social media Bullsheit anywayzzz , Renny baby <3 :-] visit me at union square market Booth c20til Xmas eve !!!

0 notes

ncomiis · 7 years ago

Text

i pulled an all nighter and this happened

— flashback: creative writing class. beginning of junior year.

naomi sits patiently at her desk, waiting for the rest of the class to fill in so that the creative writing class could begin. she was really excited for this since writing has been a way for her to let all that darkness within her out. it was a form of therapeutic expression. so far she recognizes a few faces. the blair maxwell was sitting a few seats away next to her beau daniel taupo ( whom naomi has had a crush on since middle school but has made no attempt in telling him because hello; he was dating the blair maxwell ) then brother and sister duo bryce kings and damaris lennox sitting in the front row. so far, they’re the only students in the classroom and naomi can tell this class is going to be small. she wasn’t sure if she liked that. just then, her best friend verena enters and naomi smiles, waving her over.

“ you’re in this class? no way! it’s going to be so much fun. how was your summer? we didn’t hang out as much as i wanted us to. my dad and his family went on a cruise so i was left housesitting. which i mean, is whatever i don’t even like the bahamas. ” she shrugs her shoulders, rambling to the other girl and too busy trying to play catch up that she doesn’t notice when cristian ramos ( cleveland high school’s bad boy slash heartbreaker ) and his friend enter the room and take the seats directly in front of them, as if there weren’t other empty desks littered around the room.

the smell of cigarettes hits her hard and she cringes, wasting no time in tapping the stranger cristian’s friend ) on the shoulder, “ you stink. ” naomi boldly says, interrupting their conversation and raising her eyebrows as he turns around.

“ and you’re annoying. ” the words fall from his lips so swiftly yet heavy and naomi sits there, a little stunned.

“ i’m sorry, what? ”

“ deaf too, apparently. ”

naomi snorts and looks over at verena, giving her a who is this and why is he talking to me like that look. vee just shrugs and looks down at her notebooks, going back to ignoring the interaction all together. she’s about to reply when the teacher walks in and begins to introduce herself to all eight of them; setting the class into motion.

— time jump to after class.

“ and he has a name. micah. very fitting. ” and once again, naomi interrupts whatever he’s doing as she leans against the lockers that lined their high school’s hallway.

“ naomi, or should i say cry baby. please don’t flood the hall with your crocodile tears. ” micah looks so unimpressed as he shuts his locker closed and gives her a bored look.

“ i’m not— are people still saying that about me? ” suddenly, she’s no longer interested in telling him off but more into wanting to finding out what her peers have been saying behind her back.

“ yeah, they also say you grow a tail when there’s a full moon and that you have a daniel taupo shrine in your room. is he your favorite member of one direction? ” the end of his lips quirk up into a smug smirk and she frowns, crossing her arms against her chest. she can’t lie, there’s a slight pink tint coating her cheeks at the mention of the ginger haired boy.

“ you still stink. ” and with that, she turns to walk away from him and that embarrassing conversation.

“ and you’re still annoying. ”

naomi laughs to herself slightly, remembering the first time she met micah byeon. the memory feels like it was lifetimes ago. a time where things were normal in her life. no kids, no ghosts, no murders, no serial killers. just an angsty teenager trying to graduate from high school. her laugh slowly fades and she’s in silence, laying in the backseat of her car where she’s been sleeping for the past few days; too embarrassed to ask any of her other friends if she could crash at their place and too broken to go back home.

she thought that the pain would go away a few hours after the big fight and that maybe, just maybe, she’d be able to return the following day where they’d make up and forget any of it ever happened. but naomi isn’t dumb, she knows that simple i’m sorry’s wasn’t going to fix the mess she and micah had made. it wasn’t going to fix them. if anything, the pain has only gotten worse and no one knows she’s hurting. she briefly mentioned it to daniel the night of, but she didn’t tell him the whole thing. he didn’t need that on his conscious,

not now and not ever.

letting out a small sigh, she sits up and ignores the headache, climbing into the driver’s seat and turning the car on. she sits there, emotionless and pretty dead on the inside as she thinks of what her next move is going to be. the party she and verena had planned was slowly creeping up and she was in no mood to attend, let alone dress up for it. with everything going on with her and micah and zach; the last thing naomi castillo wanted to be is festive. but alas, she had to go. it was her party after all, and she didn’t want to raise any red flags within the team. she wanted them to at least have one night where they could have fun.

— flashback: becoming roommates. end of senior year. high school.

“ i’m in. ”

naomi’s eyes move from the textbook in front of her and up to meet micah’s, a confused look on her face.

“ what? ”

“ i said i’m in. you sure you’re not deaf? ”

with a roll of her eyes, she bookmarks the page and shuts the book, waiting for micah to further™ explain himself.

“ your craigslist ad. for a roommate. saw it last night and thought why the hell not? i can’t afford to live in the dorms. ”

naomi’s face lights up and she lets out an excited squeal, “ oh my god? yes of course. yes! this is going to be so much fun. i found the apartment about a month ago and it’s like, right near campus. i expected it to be super duper expensive but it’s not. and it’s really nice. ugh, i can’t wait to decorate for all the holidays! do you celebrate christmas or do you do like do hanukkah because— ”

“ i regret this already. ”

this time, her laugh is mixed with a few sobs as she begins to cry, head resting on the steering wheel. how could they let it get this bad? they were supposed to break the cycle their parents had so selfishly created. they were supposed to be stable. they were supposed to be happy.

“ oh god, micah… what did we do? ” she says to herself, replaying the argument over and over in her head.

“ you’re the one who decided to fuck a serial killer, and you’re the one who decided to have his kids. no one told you to do that shit, and ava and noah sure as hell didn’t ask to be born. all of that? that’s on you. you’re the reason you have twins right now, and you’re the reason you’re so motherfucking tired. whatever the fuck it is that you’re so upset about? frankly, it’s probably your fault, too. ” she lets out a cry, hitting her palm against the wheel

“ i don’t care what you want. ” another cry, another hit.

“ i don’t need to project my shitty childhood onto them naomi, you’re already giving them a one. ” this time the hit is harder and the cry is intense.

“ get out of my apartment. ” and finally she breaks down again, feeling her chest shake as the sobs come out stronger and stronger, vision blurring as the tears pour out.

things weren’t supposed to go like this. they were supposed be different. where the hell did they go wrong? silverwood? each being too broken to fix the other? or was it because they depended on each other far too much? the pressure, the weight was too much for these broken birds to handle. one of them had to snap first.

wasn’t it funny that they both snapped at the same time?

the seconds that pass feel like hours but naomi is finally able to semi recover from her breakdown. taking a few deep breaths, she wipes the tears away and reaches over for her water bottle, gulping down the whole thing before tossing the empty plastic into the backseat.

putting the car into reverse, she backs out of the parking lot of the hq and onto the main road, making her way towards last place she should be at the but the first place she finds herself going to.

her dad’s house.

— time jump.

the argument made naomi realize a lot of things about herself. the main being that she was her mother. there were no similarities, no, they were the exact same person. from their mood swings to the bedridden depression to the way they treated their kids. naomi had always been preoccupied with trying not to be like carson that she didn’t even realize she had become alejandra. the realization hit naomi hard and still, she doesn’t know how to react to it.

at first she was very confused but slowly, it all began to make sense. the reason why she and her father never got along, her fervour heart, why her brother ran away the second he turned eighteen, her inability to keep her emotions in check. it all screamed her mother and it was right in front of her the entire time. how could you be so blind, naomi? all the years you spent asking why things where the way that they were; the answer was in the mirror, staring right back at you.

taking a deep breath, naomi enters the familiar neighborhood and she slows down once the house is in sight. her palms begin to sweat and she feels a ping of fear shoot up her spine as she pulls in to the driveway.

you can do this. no you can’t. yes you can.

after fighting with herself for a few minutes, she finally cuts the engine off and steps out the car ( first making sure she looks and smells presentable ) walking up the steps to the front porch and knocking on the door.

she knows he’s home, his car is parked out front. she doesn’t see jacqueline’s which eases her nerves slightly. she wanted to confront her dad alone and not in the presence of the woman who helped ruined her life.

naomi’s train of thought is put back on track as she hears the door unlock then open, revealing the man of the hour.

“ naomi? what are you doing here? everything okay? where are the twins? ”

things have been weird with her dad since he was attacked by mayer all those months ago. he doesn’t scold or nag on her as much as he used to. don’t think he doesn’t do it though; because he does. about two weeks ago he called only to tell her off for buying the wrong medicine when noah got sick. mortin, naomi. the name is not that hard to remember.

“ i finally get it. ” she ignores his questions, instead letting her statement stand in place of an answer

“ get what? you’re really starting to worry me. ”

“ why you left mom. why you left us. ”

he goes silent and his eyes divert from hers, she notices the shift in his attitude.

he opens the door and motions for her to come inside and she does, turning to face him as soon as the door closes behind him.

they never talk about it. they never talk about her mom or her death or him leaving when they needed him the most, no. the only thing they talk about is how bad of a mother naomi is and how irresponsible she is as an adult. any time she’s ever tried to bring it up, he either gives her some bullshit answer of how things were hard for her to understand and that she’d never get it.

but boy was he wrong.

“ naomi please don’t do this now… ”

“ it’s hard taking care of someone who feels all at once then nothing at all. it’s hard to love someone like that, huh? ”

silence.

“ i loved her. ”

“ i’m sure you did. ” words come out flat, “ especially with how much you talk about her. ”

“ you don’t understand naomi— ”

“ but i do, dad. i do understand because i’m going through it right now. i’m hurting like she was and i walked away like you did. ”

and for the first time since she was a child, carson shows emotion towards his daughter. not sternness or disappointment, no, he shows something she’d never thought she’d see him express.

empathy.

“ what happened to my little girl? ”

“ my mother died, my brother left and my father stopped loving me. ”

“ i never stopped loving you naomi. ”

“ then why did you push me away? why did you choose jacqueline and matthew over me? ” voice cracks as the questions pour out, heart racing a hundred miles per hour as she anxiously waits for him to reply.

his jaw tightness and she knows she’s hit a spot but she doesn’t care— it’s time for the two of them to finally sort this shit out like the adults that they were.

“ you reminded me so much of her. i couldn’t do it. i couldn’t go through that again. ”

“ oh fuck you, carson. ”

“ naomi vienna castillo— ”

“ you’re my first heartbreak, did you know that? because of you i have problems with getting close to people because i’m scared that they’re going to leave me like you did. you were a selfish asshole, you only thought of yourself and because of that mom killed herself and lukas left! ”

“ i tried fixing things. i was by her side at every waking moment. i took her to the doctor i got her the help she needed but she refused to take it. she liked being that way. she loved watching her family fall apart— ”

“ please, don’t— ”

“ no, no, ” her shakes his head, interrupting her, “ you want to come to my house and tell me that you know what it’s like but you don’t know. you really don’t. the crying, the screaming, the—” things begin to get intense. naomi has never seen her dad this way and honestly? it’s frightening.

“ the sleepless nights. the mood swings. the leave me alone’s and the please don’t leave me’s. ” she finishes his sentence, and that stuns him. “ i told you that i know what it’s like. and it pains me that i walked away just like you did. for the past month i’ve been feeling the same exact way she was. i couldn’t stand being around my kids, i ruined my relationship with zach and i left micah. this family has a problem with walking away when things get tough and i’m tired of it, carson. i’m sick and tired of it i need you to finally man up to your fucking mistakes and make things right. ”

“ what do you want me to say? i’m sorry? fine. i’m sorry, naomi. i’m sorry for leaving you and your brother with that basket case… ” naomi doesn’t listen to the words that come after that, no, instead her mind takes her back to the argument and how she had used the same word to describe herself. it all feels surreal, how things just keep coming back in a full circle.

— flashback: police station. after silverwood.

naomi sits in the police station, away from everyone else. they’ve just been rescued from silverwood and were currently waiting for the ambulance to arrive so that it could take them to the nearest hospital. she sees everyone reunite with their families. daniel’s parents are crying and checking to see if he was okay. damaris and bryce are with some of their family member’s and vee is also with her parents, deep in conversation but with their arms around her. even blair’s dad was here, hugging his daughter with a relieved look on his face. the only people missing were micah and cristian. micah had left with the first ambulance that was on the scene since his condition was the worst of them all ( apparently mayer had stabbed him in the church and he had lost a lot of blood; which worried the fuck out of naomi ) and cristian was currently being questioned.

she had been approached by some of the other parents and even some police officers, asking if there was any family that she wanted to contact to let them know she was fine.

“ no, there’s no one. ” she answers, “ i’ll be okay. ”

“ … and i told you to stay away from that micah boy. i told you he was bad news and you didn’t listen. you just had to let him move in and look at you now, having episodes like alejandra and coming to my house in the middle of the day throwing a fit. you asked why i pushed you away, well here’s why, naomi. here’s why. ” she opens her mouth to say something but the words come out, instead she stands there, defenseless to his words.

there’s a long pause. long enough for carson to know that he’s about to fuck everything up with his next words.

“ i don’t regret leaving, naomi. it wasn’t a mistake. ”

her throat tightens at the confession and she feels like she’s having an out of body experience.

“ mom... mom killed herself because of you and you... you don’t care you just left... you killed her. ” she chokes out, feeling the room spin around her as she came to the realization that carson castillo was the true villain in her life.

not mayer. no. her father.

and as if on cue, mayer appears next to carson and this only causes her to stumble back slightly.

“ oh, naomi. this goes deeper than you thought, doesn’t it? both of the prominent men in your life are killers. one offinig your own mother and the other, slowly chipping away at you until you meet the same fate as her. ”

“ s-shut up please, ” she cries out, covering her ears and shaking her head.

“ what would it take, naomi? for you to end it all. for you to jump and fly. fly away from your fucked up life. because there’s really no way to fix all of this. you should just put yourself out of your own misery. ”

“ PLEASE. ” she cries out, dropping to her knees.

“ what’s wrong— ” her dad begins to walk closer to her

“ g-get away. stop. ” she stretches her arms out, causing carson to stop in his tracks.

“ she looks just like you. your mother. very beautiful, the two of you,” mayer kneels beside her, ghostly fingers comes out to caress the spot on her neck that’s been hurting ever since she’s been seeing him.

naomi winces.

“ i know ava’s going took like both you and her. let’s hope she doesn’t inherit the crazy that comes with the castillo women. ” he speaks, tone of voice as calm as her.

“ but if she doesn’t get it from you then she’ll definitely get it from her daddy. ”

— flashback: hospital. after silverwood incident.

“ jesus christ naomi. ” carson walks into her hospital room, jacqueline hot on his heels as they stand at the foot of her bed.

“ what are— how— who— ” naomi’s confused, she never told anyone to call them to let them know where she was. in fact, she was very specific on making sure that they didn't find out. well, not yet at least.

“ daniel called us. are you really this ignorant? you didn’t even call. i was worried sick. see i told you, i told you this was a bad idea. ”

“ dad... ”

“ and you did it anyway. this is so typical of you naomi. when are you going to realize that your stupidity has consequences? this was all fun and games in high school but now you’re a full grown adult and you’re still doing this shit. ”

“ yeah, dad i’m fine. my leg is broken because i got it caught in a bear trap. a serial killer tried murdering me and my friends in a town crawling with demonic ghosts, i was kidnapped by a set of cannibal twins and oh— i’m pregnant. but no, don’t let my problems intervene with your lecture. please, continue. ”

the room falls silent and the tension becomes so thick and awkward, it’s like a mirage.

“ you’re pregnant? oh my god, just when i thought things couldn’t get worse. ”

naomi looks down as she feels the tears forming in her eyes.

“ oh, here come the waterworks. ” jacqueline’s annoying voice cuts through the air and that is enough to let a few tears fall.

“ dad i can— ”

“ who’s the father? ”

the question catches her off guard and naomi has not had enough time to come up with a lie for it, so instead she stays quiet.

“ answer me. who is it? is it micah? i’m going to kill his punk ass— ”

“ it’s daniel. ” as soon as the words leave her lips, she regrets them. naomi knows how much her father hates micah and he would follow through with his words of killing him if she admitted to being pregnant with micah’s kid. thankfully she was not but she was too ashamed of telling him the truth. plus, she knows how ‘fond’ carson is of daniel, so his reaction would definitely soften at the news.

“ does he know. ”

“ no. ”

“ are you keeping it? ”

“ dad… ”

“ are you keeping it? ”

“ i don’t know. ”

“ we’ll talk about this when you’re home. ”

and just like that, he leaves. no tears, no hug, no kiss, no i’m so glad you’re alive, no anything. naomi castillo almost died and it didn’t even phase her father.

naomi stands from her spot, mayer’s energy gone completely but still feeling the tension between her and her father.

“ coming here was a mistake. i knew that but like a dumbass bitch i still came. i still tried giving you a second chance. because that’s who i am— i try to see the good in people. but there’s nothing good left in you anymore, carson. frankly, i don’t think there ever was anything good to begin with. ” she snaps back into reality, looking at him straight in the eyes as she speaks.

“ naomi— ”

“ you’re dead to me, dad. ” she says the last word with such hatred and intensity, she wants him to know that she means it. that she’s finally done with him and all his emotionally abusive bullshit.

not waiting for a reply she pushes past him as she walks out the door, much like she had done to micah days earlier, and gets into her car, ignoring the fact that he was calling after her and following her.

“ don’t do this, vienna. you’re going to regret it i promise you. i can’t lose you too. ” and she laughs, finding it funny ( even though it isn’t ) that he was even saying that. just a few minutes ago he was telling her off, not even bothering to give her a proper apology, blaming her for how fucked up she was, being the heartless person she knew he always was. and now he wants to play the grieving father?

fuck. that.

she cranks the car up, putting it in reverse. she sees him standing a few feet away from the car and she rolls down the window to say:

“ you lost me the day you left. ”

— flashback: hospital. seeing micah for the first time since silverwood.

“ micah … micah where is he?! ” naomi frantically looks around, trying to see if she can catch a glimpse of her best friend. it’s been days since they were rescued from silverwood and naomi has no idea what his condition has been or where he was. there’s a panic within her and one of the nurses tries to calm her down, informing her that if she kept freaking out like this, they were going to sedate her.

“ no you don’t understand, i need to know where he i— micah. ” as soon as she sees him walk through the doors, naomi gets up and runs over to him ( well as good as she could with the boot around her broken leg ) , wrapping her arms around him. she tries not to squeeze him too hard, knowing he’s probably still recovering from all the wounds silverwood has left on him. but she holds him tightly enough for him to know how happy she is to see him.

“ you fucking idiot, you scared me. ” she says through her tears, pulling back to inspect him, seeing his face was bruised and bandages on his arm.

“ i scared you? not the ghosts or lunatics in silverwood? ”

“ fuck off, you know what i meant. ” she pulls him in for another hug, so glad to see that he was okay.

naomi wouldn’t know what to do with herself if something had happened to micah. if she lost him. they’ve been ying and yang for so long, that she feels so deeply connected to him, more than she has with anyone ever. he was her rock as she was his. they kept each other from floating away into the abyss that was the world. they kept each other from being chewed up and spit out. micah byeon has had such a powerful impact on naomi castillo and her life that she really would not know what to do if he were to go away.

she loved him.

sniffling, she catches whiff of hospital all over him and she cringes.

“ you stink. ”

pause.

“ and you’re annoying. ”

#i started writing this at 11 pm cst and im posting it at 4:41 am cst #BUCKLE up bitches issa ride #and its so long i cant #i blame ricki and everything she stands for #also typos? grammar errors? i know her and she told me to tell hyall to leave her alone!#&. │ 𝟎𝟒. › para.#&. │ 𝟎𝟔. › micah.

7 notes · View notes

iluvmyogblog · 7 years ago

Text

Roommates, Routines and Best Friends

A/N: he looks sooo damn good in that gif????????? 💗😤ik this plot line has been used a whole lot but i just wanna dabble into it, it seems interesting tbh. im kinda excited to be writing this story. also, i want this to be the Bucky that is super cocky and comfortable around girls? ya feel? Plus this is pt 1 of more to come !!!!!!

Summary: (AU) being roommates with the infamous womanizer Bucky Barnes is tough, especially when all he does is bring home different girls every night and complain about you and your choice of men. masterlist.

Words: 2120

Warnings: none!!!! ima cry

Roommates, Routines and Best Friends

You tossed and turned underneath your sheets - silk. You adored silk sheets. Although they were gorgeous and felt like a dream against your freshly shaved legs, they would always slip off of your bed. These sheets were on your bed no longer than two weeks. The last comforter you had turned black after your roommate decided to be generous and wash them for you.

You sat up frustratingly and huffed, crossing your arms across your chest. The sounds of moans filling your room. You absolutely hated that the only available and affordable place for you to stay was with some stranger from Craigslist. Being a college student was hard. Every one of your checks from work usually went to student fees and loans. You had found this ad while scrolling profoundly on Craigslist. ‘Roomie needed! I don’t bite… hard. Kidding. I really need a roommate. Give me a call. Only $300 a month.’ It was ideal. The last place you stayed at asked for $800 a month. Granted, you kind of felt like it was too good to be true. And walking into the not so fancy building and up the very dimly lit stairs proved to be about right. But still, it was fairly nice for just $300 a month. You were assuming that the apartment was around probably $600 a month, the rent split between the two of you.

Pulling the covers aside, you swung your legs off the side of your bed and stood up. Your tank top slightly rode up your torso and showed some skin. You didn’t sleep in shorts. You hated it. There was no way in hell you would sleep in shorts, even with a male roommate. Your door was always locked. He would tease you about that every day. ‘What do you do in there? Afraid I’ll walk in on you pleasuring yourself?’ You walked over to your dresser, tugging your hair into a messy bun, and ironically pull out some pajama shorts. You walked into your restroom and began to brush your teeth, letting the water run. The water always blocked out morning moans. Fortunately, his room was on the other side of the apartment. Unfortunately, the girls he would bring home were screamers. You were pretty sure they didn’t even know he had a roommate. You spit out the foam from your toothpaste and rinse out your mouth. You splash water on your face and pat it dry with a towel.

“I had so much fun, Bucky. Bummed that you work today,” you heard an annoying voice say. You shook your head as soon as you realized Bucky doesn’t even have a job. He would use the most colorful excuses ever. Last weekend, he said his cousins turtle passed away and that he was supposed to design a coffin and ‘it would take all day long to perfect a small, little box for the poor animal’. You unlock your bedroom door and head to the kitchen. You watch Bucky pull out the milk from the fridge.

“Oh, look. It’s my roommate,” he says as he sees you open a cabinet, pulling out Fruity Pebbles. You turn to him, sarcastically smiling.

“Oh, look. It’s Mr. Feel Good.”

He chuckles and pours some milk into your bowl of cereal as you pour some cereal into his bowl. “Wanna find out why they call me that?” You groan and get two spoons, sticking one into his cereal and putting the other in your mouth.

“Don’t be disgusting,” you mumble, taking your bowl to the island in the center of the kitchen. You pull yourself on top of the counter and place the bowl on your lap, taking spoonfuls of the delicious, colorful pebbles into your mouth. Bucky leans against the counter directly in front of you, bowl in his hands. The two of you eat in silence for a few minutes. This was a usual routine. It was Saturday morning. You didn’t work Saturdays. Bucky would always have something planned for you. He knew how much you liked structure, without having a plan for the day, you get in a really grumpy mood. Bucky hates bitchy you.

“So, I was thinking,” he says through his chewing, “we can have a Saw movie marathon today.” You watch him as he talks. Milk running down his chin, his black long-sleeved shirt hugging his defined body. His grey sweatpants resting on his lower body perfectly. You hated that he was so handsome. You would never dare tell a soul that you found him handsome. You swallow your spoonful and lift up your chin.

“Um, that honestly sounds fun… but I have a date today,” you say with a soft smile. You watch Bucky lift up his eyes to yours, furrowed eyebrows and mouth opened slightly.

He sets his bowl down and steps closer to you, “I’m sorry. You have a date.. ? You said date right?”

You roll your eyes and set your bowl down besides you. “Yes, James. A date.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just..,” he says throwing his hands up, “you’ve been so cooped up in Sam land, I figured you’d be depressed about it longer.”

“Right,” you say as you hop off the counter, pushing past him. He sighs and grabs your empty bowl, putting it in the sink.

“(Y/n), I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I just meant that I’m glad you’re finally putting yourself out there again.”

You nod and sit down on the sofa, searching for the remote in between the cushion next to you. Bucky cleans up the kitchen quickly and walks over to the living room, opening the blinds. You squint at the new light source, flicking the tv on. “’Oh, okay Bucky. No worries. No hard feelings,’” he says as he tries his best to imitate your voice.

He glances at you as he takes a seat at the opposite end of the sofa. You roll your eyes and hide your smile with the remote. He always made you laugh, without even trying. Bucky was just that type of guy that made everyone laugh. No one can ever be sad around him. He just wouldn’t allow it. You shake your head and look over at him. His arms resting across the back of the sofa, his eyes focused to the tv. “No hard feelings. You know I hate when you bring up Sam,” you say as you rest your head on the comfortable cushion, extending your hand out to Bucky. He turns his head to you and copies your movements, grabbing the remote out of your hand.

“I know, doll. I hate bringing him up too. He’s a dick. You deserved better,” he says back to you with a sympathetic smile. You smile genuinely and mumble a ‘thank you’. He throws the remote onto his lap and pats your hand. You look at your hand and scoot closer, sitting in the middle of the sofa. He pulls you closer and lets you rest your head on his lap. “So, who’s the lucky guy?”

You bite your lip and smile, bringing your hands to your chest. “His name is Steven. Steven Rogers.” You stare at the ceiling, biting your finger softly, “he’s such a dream, Buck.”

“I know that name,” he says barely above a whisper. He knits his eyebrows together and tilts his head back. Clearly in deep thought. You look up at him and pinch his chin. He looks down at you and smiles. He liked how different you were. From the very first day you walked into his apartment, he knew he’d like you. He knew he’d never want to just treat you like he treats every other girl. He knew he would be able to talk to you and have fun without taking off each others clothes.

“From where,” you asked curiously. He moves your baby hair out of your face, stroking the bridge of your nose with his finger. He smirks.

“He’s my best friend.” You sit up abruptly and turn to him with a shocked look.

“Your what?” He chuckles and sits up, nodding.

“Where’d you guys meet?”

“Uh… um at the- that party you dragged me to,” you said, still stunned. How did you not know he knew Bucky. You furrow your eyebrows, thinking. If he was best friends with Bucky, was he also like Bucky? Would he just kick you out the next morning?

“Ahh, I see,” he says as he realizes that you were the girl Steve told him about the other day. “Wasn’t that party like three weeks ago?” You nod slowly. “Wow, so you guys actually talk…?” You look at him with your infamous ‘duh’ face. He scoffs and pushes your face away softly.

“How come you never brought Steve over,” you ask as you playfully slap his hand away. He shrugs and avoids eye contact. Steve. The way you casually said his name. He didn’t know how to feel about this yet. If you had asked Bucky, he’d say you were his second closest friend besides Steve. His two best friends, and roommate, dating.

“Do you like him,” he asks, searching for your eyes as you blush and look at your hands.

“Bucky, this is our first date,” you laugh out and shrug. “I mean, like I said, he’s a dream. I mean, yeah. I can see myself liking him.” You look up at Bucky with a smile, resting your head on your hand against the sofa. Bucky nods slowly, propping his left elbow on his thigh, his right hand pushing against his right knee.

“He’s a good guy, (y/n).” He watches your smile grow bigger as you look at the wall behind him. You nod, knowing that your cheeks are probably redder than a tomato.

“Yeah, he is.”

Bucky sits back and looks at the tv. There’s a black and white movie playing. He feels you shift next to him. He feels your hair fall onto his shoulder. The smell of fruits and flowers consume his senses. You had let down your hair. You usually did this when you needed to get ready soon. He let out a quiet sigh and watched you slide your hair tie onto your wrist, putting your head on his shoulder. You shift until you’re in the perfect position. Bucky was so comfortable. His clothes always smelled like Downy, soft to the touch. You rub your cheek against the fabric covering his arm. You wrap your arms around Bucky’s arm. He liked when you did that. And he couldn’t help but think of you doing that with Steve now. He clenches his jaw and shakes his thoughts.

“Bucky, I’m nervous,” you whisper. He glances down at you, taking in your features. The very first word that he always uses to describe you was ‘angelic’. Your eyelashes battered perfectly when you’d blink. He liked how your nose was the perfect size for your face. And that one dimple you’d have when you would smile and talk and eat. And your lips were a perfect shade of pink.

“Don’t be,” he whispers back. You sigh and look up at him.

“What if he doesn’t like me after this date?”

Bucky’s lips curl into a smile and he chuckles softly, scanning your face again. “Come on, doll. He’s gonna love you after this date.” You smile and hide your face in his arm.

“If you’re wrong, Bucky… i’m moving out,” you mumble into his arm. You hear his hearty laugh.

“Shut up. You’re not going anywhere,” he says. You pull yourself away from him, getting off of the sofa.

“You’re right. Your pancakes are the ones that keep me here. I’m gonna go get ready. It’s a day date. Bet you’re not used to those, huh,” you say, adding a playful wink at the end, earning a smirk from Bucky.

“Whatever, doll.”

But you were right. He’d never been on one of those. Let alone, an actual date. Hanging out with you was as close to a date he’s ever had. He’s never hung out with a girl. He’s only slept with them. The girl he sees himself settling down with is someone like you. Works for what she wants, works for what she has, genuine and sweet. Oh, so sweet. Sometimes he even dreams that you’re the one who he sleeps next to every night and makes breakfast for. I mean, he does half of that. But he can’t shake the uneasiness he feels when he thinks of you with Steve. It’s not that he has feelings for you, because he doesn’t. He couldn’t. You’re his roommate, his close friend. And now his best friends girl, probably. That is if the date goes well.

•••

if u wanna be added to the taglist, lmk!!!! 💗

But what do you guys think so far?? What do y’all think Sam did?? 👀

tag(s): @coal000 @goldenstateof @cherrywinedarling @justahappylilblog @faakelanadelrey @juicyqueenlme

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes AU #steve rogers

645 notes · View notes

phantom-ellie · 3 years ago

Text

The Art of (Smashing) Crockery Chapter 11: Nostos

Summary: Stede and Ed leave the party, reveal secrets, and make a new friend.

Click here for CWs/Full Chapter List

Stede stumbles to his car, still taken by a fit of terrified giggling. It takes him two tries to hit the correct button on his key fob to unlock the door.

“Uh, Stede? How much did you have to drink?”

Stede deposits himself behind the wheel and tears off Ed’s hood. “As much as I needed to make it through.”

“Yeah, no, I’m driving. Give me the keys.” Ed expects Stede to protest handing him the keys to a car worth twice Ed’s yearly rent, but instead he shrugs and slaps them in Ed’s hands before awkwardly lifting his legs and scooting over the center console to the passenger seat.

“Why do they call it shotgun?” Stede asks as Ed peels out of the parking lot before the approaching flashing lights of the authorities.

“Call what shotgun?”

“The front seat of the car.”

Ed shrugs. “I dunno, mate. What’s your address?”

Stede looks at him. “What for?”

“So I can take you home, man, you’re drunk.”

Stede looks down at his phone and sighs. “I don’t think I should go home tonight.”

“And why is that?”

Ed glances sideways to see Stede staring out the passenger window. The sidewalks are busy with people in costume, laughing at each other’s looks as they go from party to party, carefree.

“Gee, I don’t know, I assaulted my father?”

Ed chuckles.“Throwing a drink is hardly assault.”

“It is, it is in fact legally assault.”

“Well he did worse to you.”

“He always does.” Stede whispers. “Just once I’d like to come out on top.”

Ed shakes his head. “Listen, I’ve been there, okay? My old man… he always won, against me and my mom. And one time, I did it. I came out on top.”

Stede looks over. “Yeah?”

“It wasn’t worth it.” Ed grips the steering wheel a little too tight.

They drive in silence for a minute before Stede gasps.

“Ed! Pull over! It’s him!” Stede points to an opening in an alleyway and Ed spots a man in an orange shirt and a familiar set of tit-clams. Stede is already rolling down the window.

“Hey! Are you all right?” Mermaid Man jumps in shock and backs away a bit as Stede opens the car door and jumps out.

“Uh… yes, I’m fine! No need to call the police or anything! I’m fine!”

“You look like you’ve been crying.” His face is puffy and he has streaks of tears running down his face.

“I’m not crying, I’m sweaty because I’ve been… exercising… by runningreally fast.” Mermaid Man reaches down and tugs at one of his shoes. “I swear to god if I get blisters…”

Ed walks around the car and folds his arms. “I don’t blame you for running. That was the wildest shit I’ve seen in a long time. Geraldo isfucked.”

Mermaid Man snorts. “He’s not the only one. There’s no way I can show my face at that job again.” He sighs.

Stede moves closer and holds out a hand. “We never introduced ourselves. I’m Stede.” Mermaid Man snorts and shakes his hand.

“I’d tell you my name but I’m pretty sure I’m a wanted criminal by now…”

Stede laughs and shakes his head. “It was an accident. It was the best possible accident. I should be thanking you. Nigel is such a piece of shit.”

“Accident? You mean the fire? Those idiots in the band started that, they’re double fucked if those pyrotechnics weren’t licensed.”

Mermaid Man waves it away. “Oh, those guys? Yeah, they are idiots, but they’ll be fine. They booked the gig over fucking Craigslist. Frances and the Business Professionals isn’t even their real name, it’s Wand Erection-” He stops and covers his mouth like he’s said too much.

Stede and Ed look at each other and burst out laughing.

“Wand Erection-”

“He booked them on Craigslist-” They are practically holding each other up now. Stede pulls off his eyepatch and dabs under his eyes with it.

“He wasn’t talking about the fire, Ed. He was talking about what happened to Nigel.”

“Why, what happened to Nigel?”

Mermaid Man sighs dramatically. “You didn’t see? I was sure everyone saw.”

“He blinded him, Ed. Took his eye right out.”

“He did that? On purpose?”

“What? No! It was an accident. I don’t know how to open a champagne bottle, what kind of posh life do you think I live?”

Stede starts giggling again. “Oh, you are the worst caterer ever.” He’s still dabbing his eyes. “I should feel bad but I don’t, I just don’t.”

Ed nudges Stede. “Do you think Nigel got a good look at him?” Mermaid Man looks at Ed nervously, but Stede shakes his head.

“No way. His eyes were on me the entire time.”Just like Stede wanted, Ed thinks to himself. “Besides, Nigel doesn’t pay attention to the help. Abshir has cleaned his office every day for the last seven years and Nigel still calls himboy.”

“Wow… that’s… really racist.” Mermaid Man says awkwardly, and suddenly Stede doubles over again in laughter.

“I just… he’s going to have a fifty percent harder time recognizing him now!” Ed reaches out to hold Stede up as he becomes hysterical, laughing and crying at the same time.

“Oh, uh…” Mermaid Man lifts his hands up as if he wants to comfort Stede in some way but is terrified of touching him.

Ed pats Stede on the back and looks up. “Listen, man, we aren’t going to say anything. I’m getting this one home safe. You want a ride?”

Mermaid Man relaxes a bit. “Well-”

“I don’t want to go home,” Stede gasps. “I want to… torage.”

This elicits a confused look. “Uh… that’s… that’s certainly a vibe. Good for you, pirate man.”

Ed holds out a hand. “He means he wants to go to my rage room. I’m Ed.”

“Lucius.” They shake. “My boyfriend is always trying to talk me into going to one of those.”

“It’samazing,” Stede says with stars in his eyes. “It’s the best thing that ever happened to me, going there.”

Ed chuckles. “Mate, you have children.”

“Oh, you know what I mean.” Stede waves his hand and then stands up straight and smiles. “Lucius! You should come with us! To rage!”

Lucius scoffs. “What, like, to break a bunch of glass shit like some kind of… dirty barbarian?”

Stede nods eagerly. Ed hasn’t even agreed to this plan, and he wants to protest and demand that Stede return home… but come on. He’s just so adorable. He’s had a rough night. They all have.

“Yeah mate, after-hours special. I’ll charge it to Stede’s account. Comes with free chauffeur service.” Stede blushes and slaps Ed on the back.

Lucius frowns. “That sounds absolutely insane and a ridiculous way to spend Halloween.” He pulls out his phone. “Let me text my boyfriend and tell him I’m safe and where I’m going.”

“Yeah!” Stede laughs again, and to Ed’s surprise pulls him into a hug before getting back in the car. Lucius slides into the back.

Ed gets back in and looks over at Stede. “Text your wife, mate. Tell her you’re okay and when you’ll be home.”

“You’re a good friend, Ed.” He says, bringing out his phone, and Ed feels atwangof something, somewhere inside of him. He’s happy to be Stede’s friend, that he has one. But he feels something else, too. He wonders briefly if the reason Stede doesn’t have any friends is that anyone who gets close to him falls in love with him, because why wouldn’t they? How could anyone allow this sunbeam of a man to be lonely?

His thoughts are interrupted by Lucius leaning between them from the back seat.

“I just want you two to know, that if you are actually serial killers or want to steal my kidney, that I know a lot of dangerous people, so…”

“Yeah, noted,” Ed smirks.

“I’m pretty sure you’re the most dangerous person in this car, Lucius, but we’ll keep that in mind.” Stede hums happily. Ed wishes that were true.

“You two are dicks!”

Ed pulls up to the rage room, and they enter and begin donning safety gear. Stede begs Ed to join them this time, and he can’t say no to those hazel eyes, right? Stede’s had a bad night, he needs friends close by. So Ed finds himself putting on those dorky protective glasses (although secretly he’s grateful for them if he’s going to be in an enclosed space with Lucius) and hauling items into the room before he notices Stede, who is at the front desk messing with his computer.

“Do I want to ask, mate?”

“I’m making a playlist! Unfortunately don’t see anything from Wand Erection on Spotify…” Stede mumbles, and Ed knows he should tell him to get off the computer, but he can’t seem to say no to him tonight. So he calls Lucius over and they add some choice songs of their own.

Which is how Ed ends up in an enclosed space with two new friends, listening to a playlist so disjointed it gives him auditory whiplash. Stede sticks to the theme, picking a bunch of songs he swears are about piracy and sailing, probably, while Lucius seems to prefer what he calls, “Teenage Gay Nostalgia.” And Ed? Fuck it. No one else is here to judge him. He fills the list with K-Pop, and only K-Pop, and fuck you for judging. The kids in those bands are real talented and work hard for it, okay? And Stede and Lucius hold their hands up and shrug at Ed’s outburst and get ready to destroy shit.

Of course, the thing about being in a rage room with friends is, you can’t do it in silence. You have to be loud about it, you have to show your rage. So it’s only a couple of minutes of masculine grunting and shouting before an escalating flow of confessions come tumbling out of their mouths as they throw coffee mugs at the wall and hit space heaters with metal bats.

“My nan still doesn’t know I’m gay!” Lucius smashes in the window of a microwave.

“Everyone thinks I’m gay!” Stede throws a mug at the wall.

“I’m not a fucking hobo, this costume is from fucking Skyrim which is a fucking great game, okay?!” Ed hurls two mugs at the same time.

“I’ve never been able to keep a job for more than three weeks in my adult life!” Lucius stomps on a lightbulb.

“I’m not sorry my mother is dying of cancer!” Stede pants, picking up a wooden picture frame and hurling it at the wall, followed by a small, “Yikes, that’s harsh,” from Lucius.

Ed grabs the metal bat and thinks about his hand wrapped around Stede’s upper arm, his inability to watch Stede fight his own personal monster, even after hearing the contact of Edward Bonnet’s fist against Stede’s cheek where a bruise has been forming for the last hour. Ed breathes hard and looks up at the ceiling, and it just comes tumbling out.

“I killed my dad when I was thirteen.” He stands unmoving in the ensuing silence, wondering why on earth it would reveal that to these people, that they probably thought he was a monster, or a freak, or dangerous, except he feels the bat being taken from his hand and looks over to see a solemn look on Stede’s face, free of judgment.

“I wish I’d had that courage,” is all Stede says as he turns around and executes a perfect swing of the bat at a tea kettle, sending it flying into the wall as it shatters into pieces.

“Oh my god… I am not the most dangerous person here.” Lucius says in horror.

Ed and Stede look up at him as if he had materialized out of thin air.

“What, like you’ve never thought of offing one of your parents?” Stede asks, as if Lucius is the unreasonable one.

And then Ed laughs. “Yeah, mate, don’t be such a prude. Not like you’re in any danger.” Stede wraps an arm around Ed’s shoulder like they’re celebrating in a bar.

“Well, no, my parents are dicks, but they’re justregulardicks, I don’t want themdead!”

Stede shrugs. “Lucky bastard.” And claps a hand on Ed’s back, like his revelation was nothing, like it changes nothing between them.

Ed beams at Stede and he knows he has stars in his eyes, and all he can say it, “You’re a fucking lunatic.” And they begin to clean up together, all three of them (though Lucius is sort of keeping his distance), and Stede is asking Lucius if he really needs a job, and they’re exchanging numbers, and they find themselves being added to group chats with a familiar group of weirdos, and Ed is in shock at the realization that maybe he is making new friends for the first time in decades. And it’s nothing compared to how Stede must feel based on the look on his face, this feeling that he might be wanted, that someone watched his heart break and heard his lunacy and thought that he was worth knowing anyway.

And Ed is happy for Stede, happy that he’s made a second friend and might make more, but he also feels a small pang of jealousy for no longer having Stede all to himself. But he pushes that aside as he locks up the business and gets on with driving them home.

Except from the blog Hear Something Weird:

Ahoy there, mateys! Today’s song is a piratey one. And yes, piratey is a word, because I say so.

Nostos by Orion’s Reign and Minniva may by the sort of song that would have gotten me shoved in a locker as a kid for enjoying, but I am an adult and as I am always telling you people, you deservegood shitand this song isgood shit.

And yes, I am in fact posting this at 3 am after consuming a bunch of alcohol, but it’s Halloween and I’m wearing an eye patch and I deserve it. I hope your holiday has been as exciting as mine was.

Comments: DreadNordGreybeard: Arr! What a parrrrrty! LuciFlawless: oh my god the blog is real i’m telling all my friends

Chapter 12

#ofmd modern au #modern alternate universe #ellie modern au #cross posted on ao3 #ofmd fanfic #our flag means death fanfic #ellie aosc

0 notes

crsinclair · 8 years ago

Text

No Extreme G-Force Required

This whole thing is based off this post by @shir-oh-no.

Enjoy! (cross-posted onto ao3 here)

It all went downhill for him after the motorcycle crash.

He’d just accepted a job at the Garrison as a Test Pilot and of course the day before he was to fly out there and officially join the ranks some idiot in a red corvette ran a red and did their damned best to smear him across the streets of Manhattan. When Shiro had woken up, his hair was long, his bangs were white, and he was not only missing his right arm but four months.

When he’d finally had the strength to figure out what had happened, he contacted the Garrison to find out what had happened to his position. “Due to the unpredictability of your recovery,” the woman on the phone had said, chipper and not caring that Shiro’s heart had stopped, “we canceled your position here at the Garrison and handed it over to the next available applicant.”

And not only did Shiro suddenly no longer have a job, they had taken his medical coverage with them.

The hospital was nice enough to not kick him out immediately, but Shiro had only gotten his legs under him again (literally) before they had said he was “good to go” and let him walk out the door, massive bill in hand. He couldn’t remember how he had made it back to the small house he owned (he was so thankful that it wasn’t an apartment he could get evicted from), but he flopped down onto his couch with a heavy sigh and stared at the number of zeros attached to his medical bill.

“…Fuck,” Shiro whispered roughly.

It was a few days after that he was finally able to sit down and try to come up with…something of a plan. A bit hard, especially when he realized he couldn’t just write things down anymore considering his dominate hand was gone and let’s not go into where that thought left him for nearly an hour but he made due. He didn’t need the car in his driveway – he wasn’t going to try and drive stick with only one hand, and especially since he couldn’t afford the physical therapy to help him figure things out – so that could go. And he didn’t really watch television, so the 50” in his living room could be sold on Craigslist, right? And while his motorcycle was totaled and he would never be able to ride it again, he still had all the tools he used to keep it in perfect condition. Those were expensive, right?

In the end, the list of things he was getting rid of was about 3 pages long.

It was several hours that he spent posting each thing online individually, painstakingly doing his best to take photos of everything with his phone and not cry type everything up one handed. Once that was done, notifications of people liking his postings popping up every now and then (but not offering to buy), he took a deep breath and looked up jobs.

And if Shiro had thought his situation was depressing before, then wow he was in for a surprise.

Turns out, even with the excuse of being in a coma for four months, not having a job for too long was not good for your resume. Didn’t matter that he lost his last position due to a medical emergency, didn’t matter that he had two separate degrees in both Aeronautical Engineering and Astrophysics, didn’t matter that every manager or boss he’d ever had thought he was God’s gift to mankind. He apparently was unable to hold a job and “disabled”. So all the salary jobs that he knew he was qualified for?

Well.

Every cent, every penny that he’d managed to put away into a saving account over the years was soaked up by bills so quickly that within days of his fruitless search for a job he knew that if he didn’t cut back somewhere then he was probably going to starve before he ever got a call back. So with great reluctance – great, great reluctance – Shiro turned off the heating. “It’s fine,” he told himself, ignoring the tightening in his chest, “that’s what blankets and layers are for, right?”

It didn’t matter that since he woke up he couldn’t hold onto heat, but who cared?

Two weeks after that he stopped trying to buy fresh food and stuck with things in cheap packaging.

Four weeks after that he had to call his internet provider and cancel, deciding to just use the unlimited data on his phone plan.

A few days after that he sold his laptop - it was a recent model, and it’s not like he really needed it now without internet.

The week after that? Shiro found himself staring at the paperwork to sell his house.

He had managed to save half of the money he had made off his house and use it to rent out a small, cheap, small efficiency. Did he mention it was small? It was small. There was just enough money to pay for the first three months and a month of electricity, which gave Shiro a little bit of time to try and find some place that would hire him.

Salary jobs were now out of the question, and so Shiro turned to the papers for just about anything.

But no one - no one - would hire him.

The restaurant owner? Politely told him that they’d already found someone to man the host stand and that they were looking for servers with “more experience”.

The grocery manager? Didn’t look him in the eye to tell him that he didn’t fit the personality profile they were looking for at the register.

The convenience store manager? Nervously said that they were looking for people who were younger and “more capable” while staring at where he’d pinned the sleeve of his right arm up. If Shiro had the money for it, he’d take the discrimination to court. But hey, he couldn’t afford to pay for the gas to heat the water in his fancy efficiency, so hiring a lawyer was out of the question. Instead he slowly made his way through the papers daily, hiding around the corner at the local Starbucks to steal their wifi, and called any and every place looking for a helping hand.

He just needed one. Please.

One morning he’d blearily stumbled into the bathroom and caught himself in the mirror. Still tall, but his hair had grown…even longer, the stubble on his face was forming into a beard peppered with white, and his face seemed thin. Thinner than he’d ever seen it.

“Wow. No wonder no one will hire me,” he croaked to himself. He didn’t spend much longer looking in the mirror after that.

But that once look told him that, yes, he did need to try to do something about his appearance. The only problem with that was, of course, the cost. A hair cut? He’d go down to a Sport’s Clips and get a cheap cut - his usual undercut was pretty cheap, and he could just skip the hair wash - but getting a shave? That was…a bit more.

Shiro did his best to shrug on his jacket and walk down to the shop, struggling with himself over the decision to get both. Perhaps he’d just get the shave and leave his hair? He never did like having more than just a little bit of stubble. But then he’d still have all his hair that he had no way of putting up. So maybe he’d get his hair cut and stick with the beard.

But. God, he hated having a beard. And his brief look in the mirror showed him that he really didn’t look good with one.

He needed to look his best whatever that was anymore for an interview.

Of course, Shiro’s internal conflict distracted him from reality, and just as he was passing by the entrance to the Starbucks, something thin suddenly met his shoulder. He stumbled, yelping a bit and startled when something hot and wet splashed across his shoes.

“Ah - ¡Mierda!”

Shiro blinked, turning to look at what he’d stumbled into, and saw a young man, clear tanned skin and dark brown hair cropped short yet stylish, and was that an Armani scarf draped across his shoulders? “I - I am so sorry,” he managed to get out - and his breath was punch from his lungs when two fierce blue eyes snapped up to meet his.

“Dude, I haven’t even had to chance to have a sip of that!” the man snapped, one hand moving to his narrow waist and the other waving his now empty coffee cup in the space between them. “I’ve been out of state for months and I haven’t had a good Pumpkin Spice latte since last year, and because you can’t fucking watch where you’re going it’s gone!”

Shiro winced. “I’m sorry, really, I-I was just lost in thought - “

“If you’re really sorry then you’ll be paying for a new one!”

“I - you’re right, absolutely,” Shiro babbled, hand going into his jacket pocket and fumbling his wallet out. “Right, sorry, I - here - “

He was doing his best to pull the twenty out of his wallet out of the money pocket when he froze.

‘Wait,’ he thought, staring at the wrinkled bill caught between his pointer and middle fingers. ‘I can’t just hand over the money. I need this - to get a shave or a haircut to get a job, to pay for groceries.’ He pressed his lips together and blinked quickly. ‘Damnit, I can’t…’

“I…” Shiro swallowed, licked his lips and avoided the man’s eyes. “Sir, I’m sorry, but. I can’t afford to pay for a new cup.”

“What?”

Shiro winced, chancing a glance up and cringing at the frown on the unfairly pretty face. “I’m sorry. If I had the money, I’d pay for the drink, I promise, but I can’t - “

“No, no, no, wait. Hold on.” The stranger stepped back a pace, frown deepening and looking him up and down. Shiro fidgeted, anxiety creeping up his throat. What was with this guy?

He was stared at for a few uncomfortable moments, and just when Shiro was about to try walking away - seriously, what was with this guy - the man’s frown smoothed out, lips twitching upwards. “…Okay,” he suddenly said, shoulders dropping and whole posture going from tense to loose in no time at all. “So I probably could have been watching where I was going, too. My bad, all’s forgiven. And I might have ruined your shoes, so.”

It was Shiro’s turn to stare.

“Hi, I’m Lance,” the man chirped, sticking hand out - his left one - with a wide grin. “You’re Takashi Shirogane, right?”

“I - how - what?”

Lance snickered, reaching out and taking Shiro’s hand - still holding his wallet - and shook it firmly up and down a couple times. “Nice to meet you. Though, uh, I wish it coulda been under better circumstances,” he said sheepishly. He released Shiro’s hand (Shiro barely managed to not drop his wallet in bafflement) and pointed down at Shiro’s feet. “Seriously, I think I might’ve ruined your shoes. I can buy you a new pair, if you want?”

Shiro did drop his wallet at that.

“Wh-what? No, no, that’s - that’s fine, it’s fine - “ Though now that Shiro looked down at his own feet he could see that his shoes had definitely seen better days. “I’ll just, just throw them in the wash or something - “

Lance slapped a hand to his mouth in horror, face actually going a few shades pale. “NO! You can’t do that! That’s - no!” He shook his head, frantically tossed his empty cup into a nearby trash can, and grabbed Shiro by the wrist. “No, my dude, I can’t let you do that, nuh-uh, I am buying you a new pair of shoes right now!”

“What!? No! You don’t need to - sir!” Shiro attempted to dig his feet in, but Lance’s thin frame was surprisingly strong or maybe he’d lost strength.

“It’s Lance, Mr. Shirogane, and you not having a pair of nice shoes is a goddamn crime!”

The next hour was the most fast paced Shiro had ever experienced in his life. Lance had drug him into Paul Evans - Paul Evans, what even - slapped him onto a bench next to the dressing rooms, where an attendant quickly came up and Lance started quickly speaking to the man in rapid Spanish, and suddenly Shiro was trying on several different types of shoes of all different styles. He blanched the first time he caught sight of the price on one of the pairs, but Lance simply rolled his eyes and said they were going in the keep pile. The attendant refused to say anything to him unless it was a complement.

Lance had then flipped out his phone and called a cab, said some short words to the attendant with a smile, told Shiro to quickly slip into one of the pairs in the keep pile, and without even grabbing the rest of the shoes grabbed him by the wrist and out the doors to a cab that was already waiting. “B-but you didn’t even pay?”

“I’ve got a credit there through some business,” Lance shrugged. “They’ll box up the rest and get them delivered to my place.”

“I, um. Thanks, Sir - “

“Lance.”

“ - but I was really just stepping out to get a hair cut?”

Lance beamed. “Where do you think we’re going?”

Shiro shortly found himself in a very stylish Salon - the kind he thought he’d only ever see in movies - and sitting in a chair getting the best scalp massage he’d never thought he’d ever get. Lance was speaking swiftly to the woman rubbing magic over his head, again in quick Spanish, and before he knew it Shiro was getting his hair towel dried, brushed, and buzzed into…into his old undercut. He didn’t even get a chance to ask about it before he was being leaned back and a warm towel draped over his face, and ten minutes later he was staring at himself in the mirror with smooth cheeks and his white bangs a soft floof styled just out of his eyes.

Lance grinned, slipped a few bills into the woman’s hands - w-were those one hundred dollar bills - before kissing her on the cheek and pulling Shiro out of the chair. “Come on, hot stuff, you’re not done yet!”

“Sir, why - “

“Lance!”

“ - why are you - ?”

He never got the answer to that question, as he was dragged into a store just across the street - O.N.S., Jesus - and Lance was tossing shirts and jackets and pants at a very eager attendant and Shiro was pushed into a changing room to try everything on. The storm of clothing eventually ended (in which Lance had Shiro come out so that everyone could tell him if it worked or not - and Lance, strangely, seemed to pray whenever he came out to the main area), and Lance simply popped the tags off the clothes Shiro had on and tossed them onto the keep pile before grabbing his wrist again and pulling him down the street.

Which is how, finally, Shiro found himself in a booth of a busy restaurant with a pasta dish in front of him, smelling strongly of lemons, garlic, and butter.

“I mostly come here because the garlic knots are amazing, though not nearly as great as my Uncle Estaban’s,” Lance said, waving around his fork of spaghetti. “Come on, eat up, my dude, you look half starved!”

Shiro blinked down at his food - chicken limone, with penne pasta instead of linguini (much easier to eat with just one hand) - and carefully picked up his fork, stabbed a few pieces of penne, and took a bite. For the first bite of real food in over two months, it was phenomenal. He groaned around his bite of food, loving the taste of the lemony sauce mixed with the sprinkles of parmesan and minced garlic.

“…Oh my god,” he choked out once he’d swallowed, and Lance grinned brightly.

“Right!? Amazing food, I swear.” Lance chomped down on his forkful of noodles, slurping it up noisily - and spattering the marinara sauce over his nose. “Seriously, eat up - I’ll keep chattering away to fill up the awkward silence and when you’ve finished eating what you can then we can talk, m’kay?”

Shiro hesitated, glancing from his plate of steaming food to Lance’s face. “Are you…I mean, why are you - “

“Eat up, and then we’ll talk.” Lance softened his grin into a soft smile, blue eyes sparkling. “I promise, nothing bad - I don’t even want anything. Promise.”

He licked his lips, turning his eyes back to his plate, and slowly started eating. He heard Lance giggle - of course someone that pretty would giggle - and start to fill the air between them with nonsense, talking about the weather, the price of gas in Taiwan, whether or not he was going to throw a surprise party for a ‘hunk’ after New Years.

Eventually Shiro had to concede defeat and lay down his fork, little less than half a plate of pasta left. He noticed Lance give his plate a calculating look, but the man quickly sported a sheepish expression once he saw Shiro looking at him. “We can get that boxed up to-go for you,” he said, taking some bread and using it to swipe up that last of the sauce on his near empty plate. “Maybe even get you some dessert? The raspberry cheesecake here is amazing.”

“Um,” Shiro said eloquently, fiddling with his napkin. “No, thank you. You've already bought so much for me today, I don't, don't want to put you out of house and home. This is – I really was only stepping out to get a hair cut?”

He wasn't entirely sure why that came out as a question.

Lance laughed, pure and hearty and lighting up his face. “Oh, no, no, you're good. I wanted to, really! You're not putting me out of house and home, promise. I've been looking for something to spend all this money on.” Lance leaned back in his chair, giving Shiro a considering look. “Which it's looking to me like you needed.”

Shiro tensed in his seat. “I...”

The man across from him blinked, then suddenly flushed pink, expression going sheepish again. “Wow, sorry, um. Foot in mouth,” Lance snickered to himself, scratching at his cheeks. “Hold on, I keep forgetting I didn't fully introduce myself earlier. Lemme start over, 'kay?” He straightened in his seat, stretched his hand across the table – again, his left – and put on a wide, charming smile. “Lance Mcclain, Professional Dancer, Dance Instructor, and Former Airforce Hopeful.”

“Oh,” Shiro said, blinking, and with a small smile shook the hand offered to him. “Former Airforce Hopeful?”

“Yep. I'll be honest, Mr. Shirogane, I had followed your career for a long time, back when you had first started in the Airforce,” Lance said, hands breaking up the bread into little pieces. It seemed like he was constantly needing something to do with his hands. “I'd always wanted to be a pilot, and watching your career there grow was a huge inspiration for me. Never got the chance to join, though.”

“Why not?”

“Well, I'd been dancing since I was seven, and when I was sixteen I was good enough to take part in some small time gigs back when I lived in Florida – paid enough for me to save up for college and help out my Mama some.” Lance gave a somewhat bittersweet smile to the table between them. “At one show, though, the technicians didn't secure the lightening too well and halfway through it all tumbled down. Lot of heavy electrical equipment falling onto some more really sensitive equipment, which sparked a hell of a lot, and as luck would have it, that show also had a lot of pyrotechnics. Needless to say, it all blew up – and I was the lucky fella who was closest.”

Lance reached a hand up to tug his scarf aside and tilted his head so the dim lighting of the restaurant caught on his slim neck. Shiro gasped when his eyes landed on the twisting scars that curled up towards Lance's ear, his own arm throbbing in sympathy. A thin smile twitched on Lance's lips and he smoothed the scarf back in place. “I mean, I healed up fine. But the damage had been done, and I was rejected by the Airforce due to a 'Compromising Spinal Injury'.”

“I'm sorry. That sucks,” Shiro said meaningfully. He was already going through life with the knowledge that he'd never be able to pilot again. But having the dream and then having it ripped away before it could be realized? He didn't even want to think about it. “And you're – you're still dancing?”

“Oh, yeah, no troubles with that at all! Dancing just fine! In fact I just got done with a tour down in South America doing some Star Camps for the young and hopeful. Lots of fun, lots of dancing. But yeah, no extreme G-Force required. Though now that I think about it, some really cool things could be done with a show using G-Force, but wow I am off topic, that's not really what I wanted to talk about!” Lance laughed. “Normally I'd be more than happy to talk about my dancing exploits and skill – I am amazing on a pole - “

Shiro choked on his tongue.

“ – but the reason I brought that up is to say that, yeah. I recognized you, though it took me a bit to place your face, what with the beard and 80's rock band hair you were sporting.”

“Ah. Yes, that was...I didn't mean to let it all get quiet out of control like that.”

“Yeah.” Lance frowned, leaning forward on the table, blue eyes kind. “I remember hearing about the crash you were in seven months ago. That's, uh...that's how that happened, yeah?” He nodded at Shiro's arm.

Shiro licked his lips, suddenly nervous. No one since the hospital had bothered talking to him about the accident. Everyone just “politely” ignored the fact that he was short a limb or stared at him but never said anything.

Honestly...it was nice that Lance was making an effort at all.

“Yeah. Some idiot ran a red and...well, I woke up from a coma four months later to this,” he said roughly.

Lance's frown deepened. “And the job you'd been promised at the Garrison to test the new model planes was given away to someone else.”

Shiro paused. “How'd you know that? I didn't think that was common knowledge.”

“I've got a... Well, I wouldn't call him a friend, pre se, but I know someone who works for the Garrison,” Lance said. “Also someone who looked up to you, though I think you guys may have met. Do you remember Keith?”

“Keith?” Shiro furrowed his brow.

“You know, never smiles, tends to be kinda angry, mullet?”

“...Keith Kogane?”

Lance smiled. “Yep! That's him. He was still in training when you guys met. He said it was a few years ago, and shortly after Keith completed training he was offered a job at the Garrison. Lemme tell ya, he was so looking forward to working with you, but when he'd heard you'd been dismissed from your position there while you were still in the hospital, he threw a fit.”

Lance's smile tightened a bit, and a somewhat fake laugh escaped him. “I mean, he called up while I was still on tour down in Argentina to rant about it. He may have also gotten in trouble with...uh, what's his name. Some dick named Iverson, I think. Almost got kicked out.”

Shiro eyed the man across from him carefully. “Okay...so, where are you going with this?”

Lance's lips quirked up, and the tightness almost disappeared. Though not quite. “Well, Mr. Shirogane, I...I mean, you're life kinda got flipped upside down in the last year,” he started slowly. “From what Keith told me, you get kicked out of your job and that...probably took your insurance.”

At Shiro's involuntary wince, Lance continued. “And spending that long in the hospital wasn't...cheap, right? I mean, I know mine wasn't, and I was only stuck in the hospital for a few weeks. I was lucky I'd been saving up for college...” He shook himself. “Anyway, no job, lots of bills, and down a pretty important limb? I...I can't really imagine it's been easy.”

Shiro kept his silence, frowning down at his lap.

“Um.” Lance cleared his throat. “Um, okay, don't take this weird or anything but. I mean, if you'd like,” he giggled nervously, “I could...maybe help you out?”

A shock speared through Shiro.

“Wha...” Shiro blinked, eyes snapping up to Lance's. “What are you – “

“I mean, it's just, I know you don't know me all too well but I promise I'm not weird or, or anything – okay maybe a little bit, apparently the fact that I like pineapple on my pizza is freaky to others – and you've been such a huge inspiration to me, even after I was rejected from the Airforce, and then I spilled coffee on you and I think maybe God or someone is telling me to help you? You can say no it you want, I promise I won't get mad, though I may spend a good hour crying into some double chocolate ice cream later because wow I'm not the best at rejection and you're like, my hero, but yeah, you can say no, I just think you look like a sad puppy and wow I should probably shut up now.”

Shiro blinked again, staring at the rapidly flushing Lance across from him, the spew of words having been rushed and hard to take in. He took a moment, brain not quite catching up with everything in the last...however long it'd been since he'd stepped out of his tiny efficiency that morning. He furrowed his brow.

“You like...pineapple pizza?”

Lance stared back at him, blue eyes wide, and then burst into laughter, bright and delighted. “Out of everything I just word-vomited out at you, that's what you took away? That I like pineapple on my pizza?”

Despite it all, Shiro couldn't help but laugh as well. “Well, it was either that or focus too much on the fact that you just offered to...be my Sugar Daddy.”

For the first time since meeting him, Shiro got to watch Lance choke on his tongue. “W-well, I mean...not...it's...” He coughed. “Technically?”

“That's, uh, very kind of you, Sir.”

“Lance.”

“Right. Um. But...I don't think...”

He looked down at his plate, still half full of pasta. Even though he'd just eaten as much as he could and knew he couldn't eat another bite, his stomach turned at the thought of going another day of eating cheap canned and boxed food. Who knew how long it was going to be until he managed to eat this well again.

'You can't say yes,' a small voice in his head said, indignent. 'What about your pride?'

'What pride, though?' Shiro wondered, frowning. Ever since he'd woken up, everything that his pride once was apart of had been falling apart on him and just...rolling away from him. His pride in his work, his pride in his body, his pride in his home and belongings. Nothing stayed.

“...Can I think on it?”

Lance's guarded smile broke out into a hopeful one, and Shiro's hesitancy broke just a little bit more at the light he saw in his eyes. “Really? Uh, yeah, yeah!” The man near bounced in his seat, fumbling out his wallet and pulling out a small card. “Here, it's my business card if you wanna take a couple days.”

He practically threw it across the table in his enthusiasm, leaving Shiro chuckling. He glanced down at the sleek card, seeing Lance's name in full print, an image of a man mid-dance on one side, followed by a couple of phone numbers and a web address. “I guess I'll let you know?”

“Yes! That'd be - “ Lance was grinning so hard Shiro was sure his face was going to split. “That's great, yeah, let me know, I promise I won't pressure you or anything – just – yeah, okay!” Shiro couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him. Lance, the pretty, well-put together man in front of him, was...really a huge dork, wasn't he?

Lance had swiftly moved the conversation after that to lighter things. And it was actual conversation, not just Shiro listening to the man talk about things. It turned out that Lance had a rather interesting understanding of the field of astrophysics, which...was a huge surprise and yet wasn't. The man was practically made of starlight. They talked about that for a while, followed by a chat about knowing Keith, which delved into a lengthy debate on whether or not the Garrison did human experimentation.

(“You can't really believe those rumors, Lance.”

“I can if there's some sort of proof! And I've got a man on the inside – he's looking for evidence every chance he gets!”

“Careful, Lance, you're starting to sound like a Cryptid hunter.”

“What? N-no! That's Keith! Keith!”)

Eventually, though, Lance smiled apologetically and called their lunch to an end. He paid without letting Shiro see the bill, calling their server over to box up the leftover food. “Let me know, okay?” he had said, pressing the to-go bag into Shiro's hand and opening the cab door (that he had called for him at...some point) for him. “Even if it's just to turn me down. Don't leave me hanging, man.”

Shiro couldn't help the smile on his face. “I'll let you know,” he promised.

He climbed in, Lance shutting the door gently behind him, and the cab slid smoothly into traffic. He turned in his seat, meeting Lance's eyes through the rear windshield, holding the image of him until the cab took a turn and the sight of the slim, pretty man disappeared from view.

The ride was silent in comparison to the past couple of hours. The radio played softly in the from of the cab, just loud enough to sooth over Shiro's ears and quiet enough not to clog up his tired brain. It made it easier to think around everything that had happened.

Shiro looked down, taking in the sleek shoes Lance had purchased for him earlier. Sleek, just barely broken in from being dragged around New York. The cuffs of a pressed pair of pants sitting just atop the sleek shoes, light as silk and soft as a cloud. He lifted his hand, pressing it to the fabric on his side – a fitted long sleeve with a high collar and a smooth vest over it. His hand rose and the pads of his fingers brushed his now smooth cheeks and drifted to the line of his hair, cut how he liked and styled for the first time in...a long time. Maybe it was a little over the top of what he'd personally buy for himself (and especially with the non-existent budget he currently had), but he felt...normal.

He let out a short laugh, more a breath than anything else. 'Well, more normal than I've felt since waking up.'

It wasn't long until the cab stopped in front of his apartment building. The driver waved him off when he attempted to pull some cash out for a tip. “That pretty boy already paid and tipped me,” he said. Really, Shiro should have seen that coming.

The cab drove off, tires crunching over concrete as Shiro turned to the building. He tucked the to-go bag into the crook of his arm as he pressed the buzzer; when the door clicked open – the whole frame shuddering, which always made him wince – he stepped through, tossing a tired smile at the young attendant working the desk.

“Hey, you the man living in number 237, right?” she called, voice heavy with the thick twang of New York.

Shiro paused, turning partly to give her a confused look. “Um. Yes?” he answered. He hoped it wasn't a warning about the water bill again, but instead of being met with a stern stare like he was expecting the young woman nodded before hopping off her stool and shuffling into the back office.

When she came back, her arms were laden with several boxes – with familiar name brands on them. Shiro's mouth opened in shock at the pile in her arms.

“These were dropped off 'bout fifteen minutes ago,” the attendant explained. She squinted at him, eyes dragging over his right side. “I, uh, take it you might need some help getting them up to your place?”

“I...sure?” he said. 'When did Lance...?' he wondered to himself, leading the woman dazedly towards the stairs and towards his apartment. From what he could remember, Lance had only gotten his address so he could call him a cab home – which happened about half an hour ago. Which, if Lance had taken the time to get the address sent out to get what basically amounted to a new wardrobe delivered to his place? 'That man sure works fast,' he thought. 'And has a lot more pull with those businesses than I thought.'

He unlocked the door to his apartment quickly and held the door open for the woman. “You, uh, you can set those on the table,” he said. “Thank you for your help.”

“No prob,” she grunted, rolling her shoulders after finally putting the boxes done. She sent him a wry grin. “Man, most people that live here can barely afford the rent. Iunno what you're doin', man, but if you can afford to shop at these stores and get it all delivered home, what the hell're you doin' livin here?”

Shiro could only let out a strangled laugh and show her out. He leaned against the door for a moment, breathing. He peeked over his shoulder at the boxes piled on his tiny table. They sat there, innocuous and innocent, and with a sigh Shiro locked the door and put his to-go bag on the counter. Walking over to the pile, he pulled one of the smaller ones to a clear space on the table and looked it over. O.N.S. was on the side, and with a bit of relief Shiro noticed that it wasn't taped shut. He didn't need the stress of trying to open anything with one hand and a sharp implement.

By working a finger under the lid he managed to pull it open. Thin packing paper was wrapped carefully around the contents, and Shiro tugged it aside to reveal a stack of neatly folded socks.

“Socks,” he said to himself. He stared at them – they ranged from plain black and white to bright pink and purple, some ankle length and some tube. And for some reason that made him laugh. A snort caught him by surprise, followed by a chuckle that crept out of him and the next thing he knew he was curled against the side of the single chair that was at his table, gasping for breath against the hiccuping laughs that kept escaping.

“S-socks,” he gasped. “He bought me fucking socks.”

It took a few minutes, but eventually he wrangled some control back to himself and, after wiping the tears from his face, carried the box over to his closet to tuck the new and stylish socks into their proper place. He eyed the socks that were already in place – old, all either white or black, and most of them with holes due to an irregular wash schedule and crappy washing machines and driers.

Over the course of the next hour, Shiro took the time to unpack all the shoes and clothes, carefully tucking them onto hangers (he'd figured out how to hang up his clothes with one hand the previous month without having to resort to using his mouth), tugged the older, less cared for clothes he'd been holding onto and packing them in the boxes like he'd done with his old sock. When he'd finished putting the new clothes away, neat and orderly like his belongings hadn't been since before the crash, he'd taken the boxes one by one downstairs to the dumpster. He'd hummed and whistled all the while, another thing that he hadn't done in ages.

The last box finally thrown out, Shiro eyed the closet with a since of right. He wasn't even really sure why he felt so good – all he'd done that day was step out for a haircut and then get dragged along on a wild ride.

'Maybe,' a small part of him whispered, 'you just needed someone to give you a chance.'

Shiro smiled.

He turned back towards the rest of the small room, and jumped when his eyes caught the to-go bag he'd left out on the counter in the kitchen area. “Dang it,” he muttered, swiftly walking over to the bag. “Complete forgot about this.”

He blamed the socks – he wasn't expecting the socks.

With a sigh he reached into the box, knowing that as long as he put the food away as soon as possible it would still be good to eat, but was surprised when he hand came across two boxes. He blinked, and pulled them both out.

One box was his leftover chicken limone, cooling condensation from the original heat dripping from the inside of the lid onto his food. The other box? A single yet generous slice of cheesecake, swirled with a dark pink and a thick sauce poured ontop. A small arrangement of raspberries were tucked around the slice, making everything look delicate and delicious.

“The raspberry cheesecake here is amazing.”

Later that night, as he tucked himself into bed, stomach full with good food for the first time in too long, the taste of raspberries and the cream of the cake on his tongue, he realized that he'd smiled more in a single day than he had in seven months.

“Hello?”

“Lance,” Shiro greeted warmly into the speaker of his phone. “How are you? It's Shiro.”

There was a crash and the sound of things – many, many things – falling over for a moment, before Lance's voice piped up eager over the line. “Oh! Hey, hey, h-how's it going? What's up?”

Shiro laughed. “Nothing much. Though it sounds like you've, uh, got your hands full on your end.”

“N-nah, this is nothing, nothing up, everything is just – cool,” Lance finished, and Shiro tried (he really did) to hold back his snickers, but he couldn't. The man was the same over the phone as he was in person.

“So I thought about your, um, proposal.”

“...And? I mean, it's entirely up to you, man, I said I wasn't going to pressure you into anything or anything and I just said anything twice, wow what is wrong with me - “ Lance's voice got quieter, as if he were holding the phone away from his mouth and trying not to be heard. Shiro laughed again.

“I think I'd like to take you up on it.”

There was a quiet on the other end. It stretched, long enough that Shiro worried for a moment that he might have broken the young man with his words. It wasn't until a tinny, distant, “Hey, Lance, you okay?” came over the speakers that he heard an intake of breath.

“Yeah, Hunk, I'm fine – more than, just...wow,” Lance replied to whoever was talking to him. He cleared his throat, and Shiro could near feel the nervousness over the phone. “So you're okay with me...um...being your sugar daddy?”

A choked off laugh escaped Shiro at the words, and he could swear he heard the person that was with Lance on the other end burst out into bewildered expletives. “Uh, yes, Lance. Under a few conditions.”

“Right! Yes, anything, man, whatever you say – Hunk, shut up, this is important!”

“One, never say Sugar Daddy again.”

“Well, I mean, you said it first, remember? When we talked about it - “

“Two,” he cut in, and Lance trailed off with a giggle. “I don't want to completely rely on you. Thanks for buying me those clothes and the food – you were right, by the way, the cheesecake was good (“I know, right?”), but I need some independence.”

“Sure,” Lance easily agreed. Shiro could imagine him nodding. “Yeah, no problem. I completely get that.”

“Great. Which brings us to three.” Shiro took a steadying breath. “No exchange for...favors. Completely non-negotiable. I'm not a, a prostitute, and I expect not to be treated like one.”

There was a great amount of sputtering on the other end of the line. “What!? Why would – prostitute!? Dude, I dunno where you got that idea – okay, wait, I kinda get it, but still, how could you – I would never – ”

“That being said,” Shiro continued, smile firmly in place as he listened to Lance sputter. He'd known before he said the words that Lance would be offended at even the idea. Of course he would be – the awkward embarrassment and babbling he'd done when he'd first brought the idea up to Shiro at the restaurant couldn't be faked. “I'd really like it if we could go on a date.”

“...Huh?”

“I said, 'I'd really like it if we could go on a date,'” he repeated. “Not now, since I only just got a job and it'll be a couple paychecks before I can afford to take you out - “

“Um, I – congrats on the job – wait, take me out?”

Shiro grinned. “Well, yeah. You might be my sugar daddy, but that doesn't mean I can't take you on a date, does it?”

“Why do you get to say sugar daddy?”

Shiro laughed. He couldn't help it. “Does that mean yes?”

“Uh, it means hell yes!” Lance laughed a bit, giddy, before coughing nervously. “Um. Can I ask why?”

“Why what?”

“Why you said yes,” Lance said. “I mean, you had only just met me, and when I look back on it I feel kinda like I was a total creeper, which sucks because I am way too young and pretty to be creeper, but – “

“You bought me cheesecake and socks.”

“....Huh.”

Shiro smiled. “You took the time to buy me cheesecake and socks. The cheesecake was an unnecessary treat that...well, honestly, it just made me smile, which.” He blushed, and was thankful that Lance couldn't see him at the moment. “It'd been a long time since I really had reason to smile. And the cheesecake was delicious.”

A breathy laugh came over the line, more a small, quiet rush of static in his ear, and Shiro's heart warmed. “And, uh, the socks?”

“I mean, you bought me shoes. Brand new, not even broken in brand new. Which means blisters if I walk in them too long at first without a good pair of socks,” Shiro said. “You could have just bought me the shoes and not bothered at all with a decent pair of socks. In fact, most people that buy someone else shoes just assume that the person the shoes are for have some socks they can wear with them.

“But you didn't. You didn't assume anything. You just...bought me socks.”

“I mean...sure?” Lance said, confusion coloring his voice. “But I still don't really...”

“I means you're thoughtful,” Shiro explained, smiling. “And like with the cheesecake, it's been a long time since anyone has been thoughtful towards me.” He paused. “Or you just really wanted to buy me socks.”

Lance burst out laughing, a helpless string of 'ha's' that tugged at something in Shiro. “Um. Wow, okay. That's great.”

“So... We're doing this?”

Lance hummed, a warm note in Shiro's ear. “Yeah, let's do this.”

#ravyn writes #quick note: the italicized bits didn't transfer for whatever reason...#voltron #lance (voltron)#shiro (voltron)#shance #modern au #shiro needs a break #lance offers to give him one #car accidents #implied bad medical care #sugar daddy au #sugar daddy lance #dancer lance #pilot shiro #former pilot shiro #lance calm the fuck down #shiro needs a hug #amputation

184 notes · View notes

lady-divine-writes · 8 years ago

Text

Klaine Advent - “The Eternal Question” (Rated G)

When Blaine and Kurt make a grim discovery, they are faced with the eternal question - how do they tell their daughter that her best friend is gone? (1660 words)

Notes: Written for the Klaine Advent Day 2 prompt - bucket. It bounces back and forth between comical and melancholy, and comes from a very personal place. Warning for pet death and loss of faith.

Read on AO3.

“Kurt! Kurt, come here! Quick!”

“Where’s here?” Kurt jokes, descending the staircase from their daughter’s bedroom, where’s he been busy putting away her clothes.

“The kitchen! Hurry!”

Startled by the urgency in his husband’s voice, he rushes through the living room towards the kitchen. “What? Why? You didn’t hurt yourself, did you--- oh … oh no!”

Kurt stops short of the kitchen door when he finds his husband kneeling on the floor beside the very stiff, very dead body of their daughter’s beloved cat, Professor Fluffers.

“What happened?” he asks, alternating between crouching down to get a better look at the poor thing and stepping back in disgust because even though Professor Fluffers has been a cherished family pet for the past ten years, he’s still deceased, and Kurt can’t stand death.

Kurt and death haven’t had a good relationship.

“I don’t know for sure,” Blaine says, his fingertips hovering closer to the dead cat’s fur than Kurt is personally comfortable with. “He doesn’t seem injured. It looks like he just keeled over and died.”

“When do you think it happened?” Kurt tiptoes around his husband to fetch a plastic trash bag. “We went to bed after midnight, but up until then he was lying on the couch with us, remember? He seemed fine.”

“I have no idea. I’m no forensic expert, but it looks like he may have been here a while. He’s not just stiff, he’s freezing cold, too.”

As a consequence of that remark, Kurt returns with not only the trash bag, but a container of antibacterial wipes for Blaine’s hands. Kurt stands over both husband and corpse, hands on hips, overwhelmed by a sudden surge of irritation.

“Dammit, Fluffers! Couldn’t you have waited until after Thanksgiving break?”

“I know, right? I mean, I’m not prepared for this! I knew he was getting on in years – moving a little slower, not grooming that well - but I didn’t think he was close to death!”

“You don’t … you don’t think he was sick, do you?” Kurt asks, horrified that they may have missed the signs of something that could have been completely curable – or, at least, manageable - had they caught it in time. “Like diabetes? Or cancer?”

“I don’t know,” Blaine admits, racking his brain with similar questions.

“What are we going to do about Tracy? How do we tell her that her favorite thing in the whole world kicked the bucket?”

Blaine stares at the cat while he wipes his hands, the unbreathing body of this animal he’s hugged and petted so many times so alien now without the spirit of their beloved cat inside, it doesn’t seem real. He expects to see their Professor Fluffers walk in any second, sidle up to the imposter, and meow in defiance. He cleans his hands in silence, lost in thought, deep in thought, which makes Kurt more anxious by the second. Suddenly, he balls up the wipes, tosses them into a nearby trash can, and rises to his feet.

“I say we don’t.”

Kurt stares at Blaine, wide eyed, not sure his husband is serious. “What?”

“Mercedes isn’t scheduled to drop Tracy off for another hour. I say we text her to stall till later this afternoon. Then we go to every pet shop in New York City until we find a cat identical to Professor Fluffers, and when we do, we switch them out before Tracy gets here.”

Kurt shakes his head, sure he didn’t hear his husband right. “I’m sorry … come again?”

“It’s perfect, Kurt! She’ll never know!”

“Are you insane!? Professor Fluffers was ten-years-old! When’s the last time you saw a ten-year-old cat in a pet store?”

“You’re … you’re right,” Blaine concedes, and Kurt hopes that’s put an end to it, but he knows his husband better than that. “We should … go to the pound! We have a better chance of finding a mature cat there! In fact …” Blaine pulls his cell phone out of his pocket and opens a web browser “… I’ll hop on some websites. That’ll be quicker. Then, when we find an animal we like, we can put it on hold!”

“Blaine …”

“Or maybe Cat Finder! And Craigslist! Maybe there’s a family looking to re-home their adult cat! If I can find …”

“Blaine …” Kurt puts a hand over Blaine’s phone and lowers it, taking his husband’s focus back “… what I mean is we adopted Professor Fluffers when Tracy was born. He was her cat. They grew up together. She knows every hair on his furry little head. Thinking you can replace him easy-peasy without her noticing isn’t just ridiculous. It’s an insult to our daughter’s intelligence.”

Blaine looks up at Kurt with sorrow-filled eyes – eyes so much like their Tracy’s.

Eyes that look exactly like Tracy’s will look once she finds out about her friend.

Blaine sighs. “I know, I know. I just … I don’t want to see the look on our daughter’s face when she finds out her best friend is dead. Did you see her when she left last night with her mom? She was the happiest little girl in the world!”

“Telling her that her cat is dead isn’t going to kill our daughter’s happiness. Not forever. Death is a part of life. These things happen. And as parents, it’s our job to help her through it, not hide her from it. Who would we be if we kept replacing her pet cat every time it passed away?”

Blaine’s shoulders sag, like a talked-down little boy who’s just been told Santa Claus isn’t real. “We’d be liars.”

“That’s right. And how would we get her to trust us again once she found out? And you know she’d find out. She’s way too smart for that.”

“That’s because she takes after he father.”

Kurt jerks back. He crosses his arms, fixing Blaine with his steely, judgmental glare. “You know, biologically, she’s yours.”

“I know.” Blaine peeks up at his husband, eyes sad but teasing. “And I happen to be brilliant.”

Kurt chuckles, wrapping his husband up in his arms. “Yes, you are.”

Blaine exhales into his husband’s neck until there’s nothing left, then breathes back in so he can fill his lungs with the warm, floral scent of his husband. Why? Why did this have to happen today? Not that there’s ever a good day for a pet to die, but Blaine isn’t ready for this conversation. Every day he wakes up, he takes inventory of his parents, of Kurt’s dad and his stepmom, of Mercedes, all of their closest friends and family, because he’s not ready for the death talk. They’ve done the bullying talk, the homophobia talk, the “womanhood” talk, even the sex talk, and though he’s internally cringed through some of those and nearly broke down in tears during others, he made it through fine. But this one … this is the one he knew he couldn’t handle in the least.

Not since he’d recently parted ways with his Christian faith.

Not since he’d stopped believing in God.

He hadn’t intended on losing his faith; it just sort of happened. It became too difficult a thing to blithely hold on to with all of the hate and violence and destruction going on in the world; watching people he’d admired, and the morals they’d claimed to hold dear, crumbling before his eyes.

“I know,” Kurt whispers, as if Blaine had said all of that out loud. In a way, he had. He’d started sniffling, the pattern of his breathing stuttering, on the verge of tears without even realizing it. “It’ll be okay. I promise. We’ll get through this together.”

Blaine nods. He winds his arms around his husband and squeezes tight, but he knows that soon he’ll have to let go. There’s nothing he’d rather do than stand with his husband like this all day, but there are things they have to take care of.

Things they have to prepare.

“We should still text Mercedes and warn her,” Blaine suggests. “She’s Tracy’s mom. She should be a part of this.”

“I agree.”

“Who knows?” Blaine says, composing a text while Kurt grabs a pair of rubber gloves – his least favorites since he knows he’ll have to chuck them after. “Maybe she’ll jump on the grenade for us, tell Tracy before she brings her home.”

“I hope not,” Kurt admits. “I think it would be better coming from all of us.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“I am right, because I’m brilliant, too.” Rubber gloves on hands and trash bag open, he looks at his daughter’s cat with a heavy heart. He wouldn’t say he feels like crying, but he knows that’ll change the second he sees Tracy. “I’m going to wrap up Professor Fluffers and put him on the patio. It’s cold enough outside that he should keep. Then we can sit down on the sofa and decide exactly what we want to say to …”

The click of a key in the front door lock and the turn of a knob cements both men into place. Paralyzed by what they know is coming far too fast and far too soon, Kurt, in particular, finds himself stuck between doing nothing, and the prospect of yanking the dead feline by its tail and tossing it unceremoniously into the bag.

He doesn’t get the chance. The speed of an overexcited elementary school child has no equal.

“Hey, Kurt! Hey, Blaine! We’re back! Did you miss us?”

“Daddy! Papa! We’re …”

Kurt hears a gasp. It’s a sound he’d know anywhere. He’s heard it after nightmares, after falls off bikes, when Mufasa died ...

He doesn’t have to turn around to know his daughter is standing behind him, with a clear view of her cat between his parted legs.

He looks at his husband’s furrowed brow and trembling lower lip, and knows: “It might be a little too late for that.”

#klaine advent 2017 #klaine advent: bucket #klaine fanfiction #frankie writes

45 notes · View notes

wideislandblues · 7 years ago

Text

Craigslist Couch

I’ve been searching Craigslist real hard the last few days for a couch. I’ve got a loveseat and a recliner, but no real place to LAY, and no good place for guests to sit spaciously or for a guest to sleep when there’s already someone in the bed (what a problem, amirite?).

Enter Craigslist Couch. After narrowing down my choices, I settle on a sturdy, small-framed couch with a woven look. A bit like a country couch we had growing up. Dogs + micro suede = gross spit stains, so basically all other choices were out.

Something about this couch seemed familiar.

It was a neutral tan sofa, with a somewhat-scratchy/somewhat comfy look to it. It looked like I could get a few good years out of it. Any the guy was willing to deliver? Hot damn! Let’s go for it.

So I get this couch in my house, and there’s this strange familiarity I can’t place. It’s comfy, but not COMFY. It could use some solid breaking-in.

I positioned it along the wall, and it just looked...funny. I like it just fine, though?

I did my best to adjust it to the house and to adjust myself to it. During the afternoon when I had to sit, I was sure to sit there. I flopped, I lounged, I sprawled.

It wasn’t until I got home this evening and saw this couch staring at me from the cold, still room that I realized why this couch seemed so familiar.

It finally struck a chord with me. The semi-stiff cushions. The scratchy, country feel.

I’ve sat on a couch just like this before. Several times, actually.

My dad had a couch just like this. Maybe not 100% the same, but at least 75-80% the same.

I sat on that stiff couch when I’d visit him. I’ve fallen asleep accidentally on that couch.

He, uh. Well. He died on that couch. In this very room. Feet from where this couch is positioned. His body decayed and sank into the couch before he was discovered. There was a large stain on the bottom side. That’s the last I saw of him. There was no funeral. Just a stain.

That’s the couch I flung into the yard by myself and burned both because the county officials wouldn’t take it despite being covered in decay and body fluid, and because I shouldn’t have to look at it ever again. The cursed vessel that carried my father into the afterlife.

And here it is again, reincarnated into my living room.

Upon realizing this, I couldn’t tell whether to scream or to cry or to force myself to accept it or to reject it immediately. It was like staring death in the face. It IS like staring death in the face.

Only I can’t bargain with it for anything. I can’t demand or deceive.

I can’t escape it.

Someone please take this from my house immediately.

5 notes · View notes

authorclaribelortega · 8 years ago

Text

SOFIA ON FIRE - Part 1

Chapter Zero: WHY THE FUCK IS THERE A CHAPTER 0

It’s easy to be a villain when your nemesis is an expired jar of yogurt. I’m Sofia Castillo, you probably haven’t heard of me but you’ve definitely heard of my nemesis: Blade. Oh wait, her name is Zade. There are so many people in my life I can’t keep them straight. Just a few months ago I was the lead in a magic show in Vegas, dating a guy who looks like Harrison Ford, and generally living my best life. Then Zade came into town and shit on everything I love. Her side of the story was put out there in some sort of handbook, but I’m here to set the record straight. Tell you what really happened. Trust me, it’s nothing like what you’ve heard.

Chapter One: Kill Me Now

One thousand four hundred and sixty days. That’s how long it took me to reach the main stage of Lords of Illusion, a mediocre magic show in Las Vegas. It’s not easy getting on the main stage, even of a shitty show like this one, and I had to work my ass off. I’d spent countless hours honing my magic tricks, taking dance classes, working out to be in good physical condition for the show. It was grueling, but worth it. I’d spent months training and now I was one of the lead acts of the show. Guess how long it took the new girl to get her own illusion and bump me out of the spotlight? Two fucking hours.

“Hey,” a girl with faded rainbow hair smiled at me. If you could call it a smile. She looked like she rather be anywhere but in the theater and I wondered if she was a nervous intern. “I’m Zade,” she continued, holding her hand out like she expected me to kiss it. Uh, I don’t think so.

“What’s up, Zade. Sofia,” I waved and made my way to the main stage.

I didn’t need to stick around to chat to know she was a butthole. Plus I was late for my rehearsal since fucking Tad kept staring at me through the crack under my door and I had to get dressed in my bathroom. Don’t worry, I put some ballerina tea in his Monster drink. He’ll be pooping for hours.

I heard a shrill laugh, like a cat being run over by a tractor. I turned around to see Zade holding onto Charlie’s arm like he had a fifty percent off coupon for Sally’s. She had a Sally’s Beauty Supply tshirt and hat on, so I had to assume the girl loved that place. Charlie was my boyfriend, we’d been dating for a few months and things were going well. I really loved him.

“Oh, Charlie!” she laughed loudly again. Charlie covered one ear.

“I’ve asked you to call me Charles, now please let go of me. You smell like bleach.”

Zade gave me a dirty look, sticking her tongue out like she was trying to lick Charlie’s chin. He looked horrified but I just laughed. Serves him right for putting a job ad on Craigslist.

On the stage I wrapped my long brown braid into a bun and gave Mac, the douchy stage manager a thumbs up. He tipped his fedora at me and the music began to play. I hate that guy.

I began to stomp my feet to the Flamenco music, the only part of the magic show that incorporated any sort of culture in it was mine. The dance illusion. As I danced I did a quick change right on stage. My costume was made up of ten layers of light silk, and using a combination of loops and straps I’d use to shift the fabric of the dress around, it gave the illusion of ten completely different outfits during the ten minute routine.

The music swelled as I danced around the stage, the stomp, stomp, stomp of my heels keeping rhythm with the hand claps of the music. With one final flourish of my arms, I picked up my skirt and twirled into the final stance.

Out of breath and sweating a smile spread across my face. Dance exhilarated me. It was the closest I could get to flying. The closest I could get to feeling truly free. A few people clapped, and Charlie cleared his throat. I looked down, the smile still on my face. It faded once I saw the look in his eyes.

“I’m…sorry, Sofia but we’re going to have to cut the dance illusion.”

“What?” I jumped off the stage and walked over to Charlie. Zade was sitting there with a face like a five year old who’d stolen candy.

“I’m sorry, Sofia really but Zade here is my d-”

Zade coughed loudly and opened her eyes wide. Shut up, the gesture said.

“We have to make room for Zade’s illusion.”

I took a deep breath. And as calmly as I could manage I pleaded my case. “Charlie, I’ve been working for you for over four years. I’ve never been late, I’ve never given you grief. I have worked my ass off for you. I don’t deserve this. Can’t we work out a way to have both illusions during the show?”

“Nope,” Zade cocked her head to the side. I wanted to slap that smug smile right off her face. “We can’t have two stars of the show now can we,” she blinked her eyes a lot. I wondered if she had a tick.

“So what’s your illusion then? What’s so great that my illusion has to be completely bumped for it.”

“I’m glad you asked,” Zade pushed past me and onto the stage. Charles held onto my hand, which had been ready to punch that bitch right in the vagina.

On stage, and looking like a swollen Britney Spears, Zade climbed up the rafters with no harness or safety net.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Mac yelled from behind the sound board. When she didn’t stop he ran over to the stage.

But Zade didn’t stop. She just kept climbing, stopping every rung or two to pull up her skinny jeans. She really was not dressed correctly for whatever this trick was. I stood there arms crossed, wondering if I was about to witness her death. She reached the top of the rafter and closed her eyes, raising one leg like the Karate Kid. Was this bitch about to do the crane kick?

About ten tech people were trying to get her down now, but they had been on the other side of theater and I doubted they’d get to her on time. I grabbed my cellphone out of my bag and dialed 911 right as Zade swan dived onto the stage. Holy shit!

Somebody screamed and just when I turned away to avoid seeing Zade’s body crash onto the stage a loud whooshing noise swept through the theater. I looked and what I saw was so batshit unbelievable that I rubbed my eyes to make sure I wasn’t seeing things. There she stood, with sparks coming from her hands and feet. Like fucking Iron Man. She landed jerkily onto the stage and grabbed a rose from her back pocket. She tossed the rose at me and winked. I let it fall to the floor, mouth agape.

“A rose for the pretty lady,” she winked. What a tool.

Despite her overall level of cringe, which was at about ten thousand now, that illusion had been great. Unbelievable even.

“How the hell did you do that? That was incredible,” I said.

“I…can’t tell you!” Zade ran off stage crying.

“What did I say?”

“Way to go, Sofia,” Mac was running after her. I threw my hands up. What the actual fuck?

“Sofia, I’m sorry,” Charlie put one hand on my waist.

“What the hell, Charlie?”

“Please, don’t say anything to her but, she’s my daughter. And she’s kind of an asshole. I promise I’ll reinstate your illusion soon, just let me work things out with her.”

I closed my eyes. Daughter. Charlie is older than me, sure, but I never knew he was a dad. And a dad to a gremlin.

“Say something,” he pleaded. I opened my eyes.

“Work it out. Fast. I didn’t leave my country, learn a second language and come to Vegas to be kicked off the show by a whiny kid. I trust you, Charlie. But please don’t make me regret it.”

“I won’t,” he hugged me and I melted like the fool that I am. Hey, he looks like Harrison Ford, can you really blame me?

****************************************************************

Thanks for reading part one of my HANDBOOK FOR MORTALS “Fan” Fic!

Part Two of SOFIA ON FIRE!

http://authorclaribelortega.tumblr.com/post/164977966253/sofia-on-fire-part-2

Part Three: http://authorclaribelortega.tumblr.com/post/165236300643/sofia-on-fire-part-3

#Handbookformortals #Fanfic #Sofia on Fire

67 notes · View notes

somaybeimbiased · 8 years ago

Photo

SHINee 5- Ghost Hunters

With increasing reports of things going ‘bump’ in the night, a team of 5 guys formed, and they travel around South Korea. They film their findings and post them on youtube.

Onew- Research Analyst

Didn’t believe in ghosts

Has also gotten locked in a room before

But he sure does now

Joined becuase he was Jonghyun’s best friend and figured why not

Now all he reads is nonfiction on the supernatural

Really into the concept.

Upset he didn’t pick up on all this sooner

Can sprout facts whenever though

Can also answer basically any question

Only mildly afraid of ghosts

But the posibility of demons, or possession scare this bunny

Only one other than Minho allowed to use the equipment.

M: It’s becuase you’re the least likely to scream and drop it or get possessed and break it.

Always scares Key by tripping or running into something

K: ARE YOU OKAY DID A GHOST GET YOU?

He is fine

Really.

Never gotten touched by a ghost, or possessed

Has seen it happened enough though

That wasn’t fun.

Jonghyun- The Leader

He was a dumb 13 year old

Him and Key decided to use an Ouija board during a sleepover once

They were laughing about how dumb it was

Until is moved by itself

Next thing he new

His house was haunted

He was interested in the paranormal

Invited Key and Onew to help him

They started with crappy Iphone recording and a cheap voice recorder

A lot changed once they proved their was something in his house

The word spread

They were internet famous after Key posted their shitty recording online

They got a lot of emails

Once Minho and Taemin joined his team, they were complete

Scared easily though (Not as bad as Key)

Screams sometimes becuase of Key

Skeptic of Taemin, but he wont admit it

Always gets scratches on his legs

Can’t wear shorts anymore

“No, I don’t own a cat”

Dresses up as a ghost for Halloween every year

Key- The Comic Relief The True face of the group

This guy is scared of ghosts

Doesn’t know why he let Jonghyun join this group

Tbh he was only in it for the camera and face time

Overjoyed when they went viral

“SO MANY PEOPLE HAVE SEEN MY FACE”

Became a meme instantly

OT4: lol Key Look

“I KNOW”

Got possessed once

For like, 10 seconds

He cried and almost quit

Taemin had to talk to him

T: It happens to me all the time, and I’m still fine

“NO YOU ARENT”

Tae wouldn’t talk to him for like, 2 weeks before Key apologized

Now he brings dolls or stuffed animals to places

“The ghost can possess the doll instead of me”

2min hides his dolls sometimes to make him think it worked

Also makes them go to the library before every new place to do research

The fun cop

“Jonghyun, stop putting paperclips in Taemin’s hair”

“Onew, I said put the chicken away, we can eat once we finish”

“Where did Minho go?”

“Taemin, wake up you’re drooling all over the phonebook from 1987!”

Done with them

Minho- The Man behind the Camera

He was lounging at home one night, and Tae showed him a youtube vid

OT3 was hunting ghosts

“Look at that crappy camera work, who let that happen?”

Mind you, he is a film student

Appalled.

Left and angry comment telling them to get a proper camera man

A week later he found an Ad on craigslist

In search of extra crew to help inverstigate paranormal

“YO Tae, wanna become ghost hunters?”

Were the only ones serious about it

He told them that he was there just to handle equpiment and be a camera man

Given a crash course on the good angels of Kim Kibum

Purposely sooms in when he screams

Never gets used to what happens

Especially when he watches his best friend get possessed

Did not cry

One time he saw something when no one else did.

Took a peek

It was a skunk

Now he checks the site for animals before sundown

Also keeps tomato juice in the trunk of his car

for emergencies

Taemin- Mr. Medium

When they asked Taemin what he could contribute to the team he just deadpanned

“I see dead people”

They asked if he had seen a therapist

He almost cussed them out for being closedminded when they were the ones hunting the ghosts

He is a self acclaimed Clairvoyant and a Clairsentient

He found out at a young age that he wasn’t normal

His Mother died in an accident when he was 7

When his father got home to tell him the news

“Don’t joke! She’s right behind you!”

Therapy sucks.

It’s a touchy subject for him

He has fun with this though, he is able to feel and see the ghosts when they don’t hide themselves

This makes him a valuable asset to the team

He got fangirls from this though

Like oh hello, how did all these flowers end up at our house Minho?

Gets possesed all the time though

OT4 asked him why he was the one to get targeted all the time

“What can I say, I must just be irresistible”

“They like me becuase I sympathize with them and my emotions are easily manipulated to suit them”

Jokes around a lot outside of the site and when around OT4

But once they arrive, he is all business

Randomly stares off into the ditance all the time bc he sees a ghost

Lowkey afraid of ghosts, but only becuase he has gotten really hurt in the past from them

Prays all the time to try protect himself more

A/N idk what this was for honestly, I just thought that OT5 as ghost hunters would be hilarious, and Taemin has said multiple times he has seen many ghosts, so I thought it’d be cool to make him a medium.

If you want ore of this let me know!

Requests are open!!

204 notes · View notes

dee-vine · 8 years ago

Text

Shutter Speed Ch. 6

It’s a long one, guys, but it’s my favorite so far. Goes into more depth with the characters, finding out some more stuff about them. Good stuff all around.

As always, please let me know what you think. Your comments really do mean a lot to me, and it’s hard to write without knowing what people think. So please, please, please tell me what you think-- whether it’s in the tags, replying, sending a message or ask, or on ao3. It’s much appreciated!

Lots of love, Dana xx

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | AO3

Betty was not having a good day. It started off fine-- she went for a run in the morning, got coffee from her favorite cafe, and even made a large breakfast for Veronica and herself. But then she got a call from her mother.

It started off as they normally do. She asked Betty how Veronica is, how her job is. But then she asked about the city, and she told her about some news stories. She reprimanded Betty for leaving home to live in a big city, even though she’s been here long enough. When Betty snapped back at her, Alice turned it up a notch, bringing on the guilt trip.

“I am your mother, Betty. I have done nothing but try to protect you and your sister, and this is how you repay me?” Alice had said, venom dripping from her words. Betty tried to argue, but was cut off before she could even speak. “I failed with your sister, but I will not fail with you, Elizabeth. I will not let you end up like her, do you hear me?”

Betty heard her loud and clear, tears forming in her eyes. She wasn’t sure how her mother always made her cry after their phone calls, but she always did. Betty told her mother what she wanted to hear, made a quick excuse about having a load of laundry to take out, and hung up with a shaky goodbye. As soon as she dropped the phone onto her bed, she let the tears run free. It had been a while since Betty last cried, like really cried, and it had felt good. She sulked in her room for a good half hour before realizing that she had to get ready for dinner with Jughead.

She tried to put on a smile while she got ready, to convince herself that she might just be okay. She forced her smile to be wider every time she saw her reflection, and by the time she saw Jughead standing in front of the diner, her smile was practically splitting her face open.

Jughead was perfectly normal, of course. He had no idea what had happened to Betty shortly before she arrived, and Betty was actually grateful to not receive his pity. She could have a nice, normal evening without being reminded of Alice Cooper’s claws dragging her back home where she could control her.

It wasn’t so nice, however, when Betty’s calm and collected facade slipped, her anxiety taking over and making her go slightly insane. She thought Jughead would for sure run off, but he handled it perfectly, calming her down in such a gentle and sweet way. Betty was more surprised than anything, and now she can’t stop thinking of how soft his voice had sounded as he soothed her.

They eat their meals, Jughead actually seeming pleased with what Betty ordered for him, a satisfied smile on his lips as he takes a bite. Betty smiles at the thought, her innerself happy that she could please Jughead.

“Aren’t you glad you chose something different?” Betty asks finally, biting down on a fry and watching as he lifts his head up. She watches as he finishes chewing his bite, swallowing it down and clearing his throat to answer.

“It’s good, I’ll give you that. I’m pleasantly surprised,” Jughead tells her, stealing a fry from her plate. She goes to yell at him but stops when he smirks at her, popping it into his mouth. She steals one of his fries in retaliation, laughing at the shocked expression on his face. It quickly morphs into a smile, Jughead laughing himself, and they settle back into a comfortable silence as they eat.

Betty can’t help but glance at him every so often, taking him in. There were things she hadn’t noticed before, like how sharp his jaw is or the curly piece of hair that falls into his eyes in just the right way. Her eyes drift down to his adam's apple, bobbing as he swallows down a bite of his sandwich. She's staring at his mouth when his eyes flick up towards her, catching her. Betty’s eyes widen and she quickly stuffs a fry in her mouth, staring down at her plate as her face turns beat red. She hears a low chuckle come from him, but she doesn't dare look up until she's finished with her fries.

When she does look up, he's not looking back anymore, and Betty sighs with relief. Her brain, however, doesn't see that as a good thing, and the voice inside of her is nagging because why would he be staring at you? He doesn't like you, there's much better girls out there he can get.

Betty’s breath hitches, her left hand clenching into a fist while her right grips her glass of water. She can see Jughead stop his movements and look at her, but she keeps staring at her plate, willing herself to calm down. The voice sounds just like her mother, and that makes Betty want to run out and cry, but she refuses. She won't subject Jughead to that.

“Can I take more pictures of you?” she heard Jughead say, instantly snapping her out of her trance. Shocked, she looks up to find him with his bottom lip between his teeth, and his hand on his beanie.

“What do you mean?” Betty asks, trying to see if she heard him right. He clears his throat at the same time as he adjusts his beanie, his hands settling in front of him on the table.

“I mean, will you be my model again? There’s this hotel that’s really, just, perfect? And I’ve had my eye on it for a while and I just really want to try a shoot there because the lobby is picturesque and the rooms are very, uh, cute I guess and-” Jughead rambles until Betty finally cuts him off.

“Did you, Jughead Jones, just say the words ‘picturesque’ and ‘cute’?” she asks, her lips quirking up in amusement. Jughead stops talking and stares at her, mouth gaping open. She laughs as his cheeks flush pink, his eyebrows knitting together as he pouts at her.

“I'm trying to be serious here, but you're not letting me, so I guess I’ll just post another ad on Craigslist and see-” Jughead starts, crossing his arms and looking away as she interrupts him with a laugh.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'm just teasing you,” Betty tells Jughead, who just mutters something incoherent, so she continues. “Of course I’ll be your model again.”

He looks back at her when she says this, and his smile actually lights up his face. Betty can’t help but smile back at him, and they sit there smiling until Jughead finally clears his throat and breaks their eye contact. He looks down at the table, pushing his empty plate away. Betty notices that he adjusts his beanie again, which is about the tenth time tonight.

“Do you ever take your hat off?” she asks suddenly, catching him by surprise. He looks up at her, slowly nodding his head.

“Of course I do,” Jughead claims. Betty levels him with a questioning look, about to argue with him when he continues with a smirk. “In the shower, when I sleep...sometimes it falls off accidentally when I bend over or something.”

Betty laughs out loud at that, Jughead smiling back at her. He chuckles quietly and shakes his head, adjusting his hat again.

“To really answer your question, no, I really don’t. I’ve had it for as long as I can remember, just ask Archie,” he tells her. She bites her bottom lip, glancing up at his hat and then back into his eyes which are watching her.

“Why? Why do you always wear it?” Betty asks timidly. His eyes widen slightly, and his mouth gapes open to say something but he quickly shuts it. He looks scared, almost, and Betty rushes to amend that. “I’m sorry! You don’t have to answer that. I don’t mean to pry or make you uncomfortable.”

“No, don’t worry about it. I, um, I don’t talk about it much so it’s a little weird for me,” he explains, slumping down in his seat. Betty nods her understanding, encouraging him to go on. “I guess I just- it’s kind of like a protection thing? Like, I feel safe with it. And when I’m not wearing it, I just feel naked, I guess?”

Betty takes in his words, watching him. He looks uncomfortable under her gaze so she smiles reassuringly, reaching over the table to put her hand on top of his. He looks into her eyes, shyly, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. She squeezes his hand once before leaning back in her seat. “So, this photoshoot?”

“Are you free tomorrow? It’s sudden, I know,” Jughead bites his lip nervously, hand moving up to adjust his hat but stopping mid-air before bringing it back down. Betty watches the movement, suddenly feeling confident enough to grab his hand.

“Tomorrow is great. You can text me the details,” she tells him, smiling. He smiles back at her and nods, turning his hand over to squeeze hers.

“You can bring Veronica again, and meet at my apartment. Archie has a car so we can drive there,” he informs her. She nods in agreement, already knowing how excited Veronica will be. The waitress finally comes with the check, and Jughead quickly grabs it before Betty can, bringing it up to pay. She watches him, smiling and wondering why she feels lighter than she did before she came her. But she secretly knows the answer, staring her right in the face.

Just as Betty guessed, Veronica had freaked out when Betty returned home and told her about the photoshoot. She immediately ran to her closet, filing through all the clothes she owned.

“You are going to look so hot Betty. Just you wait,” she had said, pulling things out of the closet and throwing them anywhere. “You know that jacket you bought last week? That blue shiny one? Get that right now.”

Betty did as she asked, getting the jacket from her closet and bringing it back to Veronica. She had laid out a light blue pencil skirt and a white and black crop top, setting them out nicely on the bed. She was still going through the closet so Betty sat down on the bed, patiently waiting. Veronica finally gasped, pulling something out of the closet and looking at Betty.

“Jughead Jones has no idea what is coming for him!” Veronica squealed, tossing the clothing to Betty.

And Betty doesn’t even know what’s coming as she stands in front of Jughead’s apartment, knocking on the door. She’s carrying her garment bag with her outfits, Veronica carrying everything she needs for hair and makeup. She’s rattling off everything she needs to do when the door swings open, Jughead pulling a shirt over his head in the doorway. Veronica pushes right past him without introduction, but Betty lingers to smile at him. He smiles back and steps aside to let her follow Veronica, who walks straight to Archie’s room. Archie himself is seated on the couch, and he offers a wave to Betty as she walks past. She enters the room and closes the door behind her, Veronica already setting up.

“Get dressed. I’m thinking a smoky eye, what about you?” Veronica asks, but it’s a rhetorical question so Betty doesn’t answer. She gets dressed in the outfit Veronica picked out for her and sits down in the chair she set out.

“Are you putting my hair up?” Betty asks her, looking up at her. She makes a noise of affirmation as she rummages through the bag she has.

“Aha!” she exclaims, pulling out a pair of diamond earrings and handing them to Betty. “Put these on. They’ll show since your hair is up.”

Betty puts on the earrings as Veronica works on her makeup. She’s quick with it, since they practice last night, and puts her hair in a messy ponytail before dismissing her. Betty silently walks out of the room to find Archie and Jughead playing video games. The latter looks up when she walks in, completely forgetting about the game to stare at her, allowing Archie to successfully kill his player.

“Hah! Suck it, Jones!” Archie yells, throwing his controller down on the sofa beside him. Jughead seems to snap out of it, looking at the tv and groaning.

“That’s not fair. You killed me when I wasn’t looking!” Jughead retorts, but Archie just laughs loudly, clapping him on the back.

“War is hell, Jug,” Archie explains, smirking. He stands up as Veronica leaves his room, getting up and going to greet her with open arms. Betty smiles and moves to sit on the couch beside Jughead, who smiles back and nudges her with his elbow.

“Nice outfit. Veronica’s?” he asks, looking her up and down. His eyes linger one where a sliver of her midriff is showing, and she smiles slightly.

“The jacket is mine, that's it. I don't think I've ever even worn a skirt this short,” Betty mutters, making a point of trying to pull it down. Jughead's eyes follow her movement, staring at her thighs for a moment before clearing his throat and standing up.

“Well if you're ready, we can go. I made a reservation for a room so you can store your things there. Might even take some picture there too. Do you have a second outfit?” Jughead looks at her, words rushing out. Betty just nods and stands up, adjusting her skirt as she does. “Perfect. Arch? Veronica? You guys good to go?”

The pair are giggling in a corner-- Veronica leaning against the wall and Archie’s right arm bracketing her in, leaning close. His head snaps up to look at Jughead, a dopey smile on his face. “Yeah, sure Jug. We're good.”

Jughead rolls his eye and grabs his messenger bag, muttering softly under his breath, “you two are gross.”

Betty, being the only one to hear him, barks out a loud laugh. Embarrassed, she claps her hand on her mouth, eyes apologetic when Jughead smirks at her. He shakes his head, amused, and walks towards the door, expecting them all to follow.

Archie’s car is an old, tattered Jeep Cherokee, which Betty can't help but admire. She has always loved Jeeps, always wanted to get her hands on one but never been able to. Jughead slides into the driver's seat and watches as she runs her hand along the dashboard, smiling.

“You want to fix this car, don't you?” Jughead smirked, putting his key into the ignition as Archie and Veronica slide into the back. Betty looks up at him, shock all over her face.

“You remember?” She asks, genuinely surprised. She hadn't expected Jughead to actually read her paragraph. She just thought he'd pick the prettiest girl to model.

“Of course I remember. Why do you think I asked for the paragraph?” He raises his eyebrows, but Betty just shrugs, unknowing. “I like having that real aspect in my photos. I wasn't going to pick some shallow, already-doing-professional-shots type of girl. You're real, Betty.”

“Yeah, and I’m real hungry, so can we stop and get some food along the way?” Archie pipes up from the backseat, breaking their little moment.

“Archie!” Veronica reprimands, slapping his shoulder. Archie, bless his soul, has no idea why Veronica is hitting him, and Betty just laughs. Jughead shakes his head at his friend and starts driving, pulling out of the parking garage.

“How long of a drive is it?” Archie asks, slinging his arm around Veronica's shoulders. Jughead glances in the rear view mirror and rolls his eyes before settling them back on the road.

“Not long. Twenty minutes maybe. There's a little coffee shop next door that we can stop at,” he explains.

“Oh, perfect. Betty forgot to make coffee this morning,” Veronica sighs, giving Betty a pointed look.

“I did not forget, Veronica just had to practice different makeup looks. Again,” Betty argues, crossing her arms. Jughead glances at her, eyes drifting over her face briefly.

“Well, it paid off. Looks great,” he says, still looking at Betty. She smiles warmly as he looks back at the road, Veronica cooing from the back.

“Aw, thanks Jughead!” she squeals, Jughead nodding his regards. She rounds on Archie and slaps his shoulder again. “Archie, why can't you say nice things like that?”

“It does look great, Ronnie. I just didn't notice before because I couldn't take my eyes off of you,” he says smoothly. Veronica, satisfied with his answer, gives him and peck on the cheek.

“Yeah, nice save, Arch,” Jughead laughs. He pushes a button on the dashboard, music suddenly surrounding them as the radio turns on. Veronica and Archie talk quietly in the back, but Betty just looks out the window, not wanting to disturb Jughead and his driving.

After a short while, Jughead finally parks the car in a parking lot. They all file out and Betty looks up at the building they're next to, a cute bed & breakfast with a front porch and everything Betty loves.

“How do you find all these places?” She asks Jughead, who's walking around to her side of the car. He shrugs, looking up at the building.

“I walk. I wander,” he says, simple as that. Archie and Veronica are already walking towards the cafe, Jughead watching them before looking at Betty. “You go with them. I'm gonna check in and then I'll meet you guy.”

She nods and they part ways, Betty following shortly behind them. The cafe is just as cute, seeming to follow the theme of the hotel. It's practically empty, Veronica wandering off to find a seat while Archie orders for her. Betty looks around the place, taking in the eclectic style of it. She always looked forward to finding cute little coffee shops in the city, just out of the public eye for a nice place to study.

She's lost in space when Archie finishes ordering. Just as she's about to step up to the counter to place her own order, someone gently grabs onto her elbow. She spins around, startled, but relieved to find it's only Jughead smiling gently at her.

“Sorry to scare you. Go ahead and order what you want, on me,” he tells her. She opens her mouth to protest but he shushes her, winking. “Payment.”

“You don't give up, do you?” She asks, smiling slightly.

“Rarely. Now order, we don't have all day,” he jokes, nudging her forward. She laughs and goes willingly, tell the guy at the counter what she wants. He smiles charmingly at her, punching it in when Jughead steps up to place his own order. The worker’s smile drops, being completely casual, and if Jughead notices he doesn’t react to it. He pays for the both of them and leads her to where Archie and Veronica are talking next to each other. They sit across from them but don’t interrupt them, Jughead instead looking around the place, taking his camera out and placing it on the table.

“Do you always bring your camera around?” Betty asks, taking note of it.

“No, not always. A lot of the times, yeah,” he tells her. He turns the camera on and brings it up to his face, pointing at Archie and Veronica, snapping a picture without them noticing. “I told you I like real. So I like to take pictures of people, my friends, without them noticing.”

He angles the camera to show her the picture, and she smiles at it. “You’re really good, Juggie.”

“You don’t have to tell me that every time you see my pictures, Betty,” Jughead mutters, but Betty can see the smile on his face. She nudges his arm to make him look at her, smiling when he does. Just then the waiter arrives at the table with their orders. He gives everyone their meals and drinks, his smile widening as he lingers by Betty.

“Enjoy your meals,” he says to everyone but only looks at Betty. She smiles and mutters a thanks as he walks away, her face flushing red. She can feel Jughead staring at her, so she glances at him to see his eyes hard.

“I think he likes you,” he mutters, watching him walk away. Betty would almost think he’s jealous, but she dismisses that idea.

“It’s probably just the makeup,” she shrugs. He opens his mouth to say something, but chooses to shake his head instead. He turns to his meal so Betty does too, and the four of them eat in relative silence.

Halfway through his meal, Jughead stops eating, staring at something to her right. “Betty, would you be opposed to posing for a few pictures here?”

Betty stops eating and looks at him, then to where he’s looking. In the corner of the cafe there’s a small nook that reminds her of an old timey ice cream parlor. The nook is all mirror on three sides with a large statue of an ice cream cone off to one side. “There? Right now?”

“It’s fine if you don’t want to. Just thought it would be fun,” Jughead shrugs, taking another bite of his sandwich.

“It would look really cute with that outfit,” Veronica supplies, sipping her latte. “No one else is even in here, and the cute guy surely won’t mind.”

Betty blushes when Veronica winks at her, wiping a napkin across her mouth before standing up. “You’ve swayed me. Come on, Jones, work your magic.”

They go over to the nook, Veronica and Archie watching them. Jughead orders her to sit down in the nook while he fixes the frame on his camera.

“I want you to have fun with it. Try smiling, unlike last time,” he tells her, bringing the camera up. She poses with her hands up against the nook and smiles. “Don’t look at the camera.”

She does as he says, trying to look like she’s having a fun time. She feels her shirt ride up, exposing her stomach, but she doesn’t care. She hears Veronica whistle and Betty laughs, right as she hears the camera click. He takes a few pictures before she tries different poses, and soon enough Jughead tells her he has enough. She hops off and immediately walks over to Jughead to see the pictures.

“Amazing, but that’s really no surprise,” she comments, nudging his side. He laughs and shakes his head, walking back to the table.

“Betty! You looked so great,” Veronica tells her as she returns to the table.

“Yeah, that was like really cool. Good eye, Jug,” Archie adds, holding his hand out for a fistbump. Jughead bumps their fists together, muttering a ‘thanks dude’ as he does. Betty is about to thank them when the waiter from before walks over to their table.

“I saw what you were doing, and I thought it was really cool. You’re very beautiful and I would love to take you out sometime, if you want. Here’s my number-- I hope you use it,” he hands a piece of paper to Betty, who stares at it speechless. The entire table has gone silent, and Betty looks up at the guy to smile weakly. He winks and walks back behind the counter, when Veronica finally says something.

“Oh my god, swoon!” she exclaims, clapping her hands together. Betty stares at the number on the paper, gobsmacked.

“What just happened?” Betty asks no one in particular, looking up at Veronica and Archie, who are both smirking back at her.

“You, Betty Cooper, just got asked out on a date by a very attractive barista, who also gave you his number that I will use if you don’t,” Veronica states. Archie looks very offended, but doesn’t get to say anything because Jughead suddenly stands up.

“I think we’ve taken long enough eating. Better go do what we came here for,” he mutters. He keeps his head down as he grabs his camera and stalks out of the cafe. Confused, Betty turns to Archie to question him, but he just waves his hand.

“Don’t mind him. Just being his normal, moody self,” Archie tells her, standing up himself. Betty glances at the door after Jughead, slightly concerned, but stands up anyways, walking out with Veronica and Archie. Jughead is nowhere to be seen, so they assume he’s already inside and go in themselves.

They find him sitting on an antique looking loveseat, toying with his camera. Betty walks over and sits down next to him, their legs touching. He glances up and just stares at her, a strand of his hair falling in front of his eyes. Betty impulsively moves the hair out of his eyes, tucking it into his beanie. His lips part as he stares at her, eyes drifting down to her lips, until they’re interrupted by Veronica’s voice.

“This place is so cute! Everything is so antique and luxurious, I love it!” Veronica exclaims, spinning around to take in the lobby. Jughead stands up quickly, walking a few paces away from the sofa. Betty stands up to follow but he turns around and stops her by holding up a hand.

“Stay there. The lighting is really good in this spot so we might just stay here,” he explains. She nods and sits back down, following his instructions. He snaps a few photos, alternating between serious and fun, lounging and sitting. At one point he tells her to stand on the couch, so she channels her inner Alice and takes her shoes off, standing just in her black, frilly ankle socks. Jughead seems to be amused by this and makes no comment, instructing her to take her jacket off and hold it above her hand. She pretends to jump, she holds her hands up high, she slings it over her shoulder--she has fun, like he wanted. She ties the jacket around her waist, posing in front of the painting , and Jughead takes a few shots before putting his camera down. She hops off the seat and puts her shoes back on before walking over to him to see.

“You were right about the lighting,” she comments as he scrolls through the pictures. He snickers and looks up at her, putting the camera down.

“Please, don’t doubt my photography skills. It really brings me down,” he teases. She laughs as Veronica comes up and hugs her from behind, leaning her chin on Betty’s shoulder to see the camera. Archie is on the other side of Jughead, making comments every now and the. A few couples walk past them, checking in to the hotel and looking at them curiously, but they don't care.

They go through all the pictures until Jughead decides the should head upstairs. “The shoots not done,” he claims, grabbing his bag. They follow him up to the room on the second floor, unlocking the door and letting them in.

“Betty and I will take the bathroom, you set up whatever you need in here,” Veronica tells them, walking to the ensuite with Betty in tow. Betty barely got to see what the dress looked like before Veronica shoved it in the bag, claiming she wanted to surprise everyone with it. She changes out of her outfit as Veronica pulls out a pale pink dress in a silky fabric, and Betty's eyes widen.

“That's the dress?” She asks, like she can't really believe it. Veronica smirks and takes it off the hanger gently, handing it over.

“I can't wait to see how it looks. Even though I know it will be smoking,” Veronica grins, waving her hand with the dress impatiently. Betty quickly grabs it, glancing it over before slipping it on. It's softer than she imagine, and falls perfectly on her, despite one problem.

“This bra doesn't work,” Betty notices, looking up at her friend. Veronica glances her over, eyes moving from Betty’s bra straps and the rest of the dress.

“You'll have to take it off,” Veronica tells her. Betty starts to argue the absurdity of that, but gets shushed immediately. “Trust me, Betty. Take it off.”

Betty complies, albeit reluctantly, and manages to take the bra off, tossing it onto her other clothes. Veronica orders her to sit down she she can give her darker lipstick and different earrings. She leaves the hair the same before pulling out a pair of silver strappy heels, grinning maniacally. Betty sighs and takes them from her, putting them on carefully. She stands up and steadies herself, smoothing her dress down, when Veronica gasps.

“Please marry me. How are you so hot? How do you not dress like this everyday?” Veronica asks, staring her up and down. Betty flushes under the attention but straightens her posture, looking in the mirror briefly. She can appreciate that she does look good, and silently thanks Veronica for that.

“Anything else?” Betty asks quietly, staring at herself in the mirror. She makes eye contact with Veronica who's smiling at her in the mirror.

“You're perfect, B. Now how about I open this door and you go out there and be a smoking hot model that every guy will fall for,” Veronica says, placing her hands on Betty's shoulder. Betty nods and smiles, turning to the door as Veronica opens it.

Archie notices his first, as he's lounging on one of the beds playing a game on his phone. He sees the bathroom door open and is about to say something to Veronica when he drops his phone on the bed, staring at Betty.

“Oh shit,” he says, eyes blown wide. He looks at Veronica who is just smirking behind her, before looking at Jughead. He's setting something up of by the other bed and the window, maneuvering this sheets and not paying attention, so Archie tries for his attention. “Jug. Jug. Hey, look, Jug.”

“Archie, I already told you that game is stupid so please stop bothe-” he turns around as he talks but is frozen when he sees Betty. Betty keeps his eye contact and moves her arms from her chest, not hiding herself anymore. She feels Veronica move past her to join Archie on the bed, but she's not looking. Jughead is looking her up and down, mouth gaping open, and she's very satisfied with it. She assumes this is the reaction Veronica was going for.

“Not to much?” She asks timidly, smoothing it down around her hips. Jughead shakes his head quickly, seemingly unfrozen.

“No, of course not. It's--it's perfect, Betty,” he says quietly. Normally she'd cringe and shy away from that word, but instead she walks closer to him, his eyes following her. She sits on the bed, keeping their eye contact, and leaning back. He clears his throat and looks down at his camera, and Betty can hear Archie snigger in the background.

“How do you want me?” Betty asks with a smirk, taking note of the innuendo. Archie and Veronica burst out laughing while Jughead blushes furiously, shaking his head.

“Lay across the bed, propping yourself up with one elbow,” he mumbles, bringing the camera up to cover his face. Betty poses just so, bringing one knee up and placing one hand behind her arm. She tries to come off as sexy but doubts she's actually pulling off. Jughead takes the pictures without any comment, giving her a different order every now and then.

When she's posing by the window, Veronica interrupts them to fix something on Betty. She pulls down the dress in the front to expose more of her cleavage, and bunches it up at the bottom to have Betty hold it in her hand, exposing her leg. She pecks her cheek before returning to the bed, hip checking Jughead on her way. Jughead grunts and brings the camera up, snapping the picture quickly.

After a few more poses, Jughead calls it a day. He makes quick work of packing his camera up, keeping his head down and avoiding Betty’s gaze. Betty smiles to herself and walks to the bathroom, Veronica following and closing the door behind her.

“I think you should keep that dress and wear it every single time you see Jughead, because that boy is in love, Betty,” she claims, smirking at her. Betty rolls her eyes and turns around for Veronica to unzip the dress.

“I think you're imagining things,” Betty says, slipping the dress off her shoulder. She quickly puts her bra on to not be as exposed before slipping the dress off completely.

“Betty, it's obvious he likes you. Did you see how he reacted when that barista asked you out? Jealousy, B. Blatant jealousy,” Veronica states, hanging the dress on the hanger it belongs to. Betty shakes her head, slipping on her shorts and shirt she arrived in.

“We’re friends, V. He barely knows me,” Betty tells her, taking her earrings off and putting them in the bag.

“Friends or not, he likes you, Betty Cooper, and I will do everything in my power to prove you wrong,” Veronica threatens, giving her a pointed look. Betty chooses not to say anything, deciding to just shrug a smile. Veronica can do what she wants, but Betty and Jughead were friends. Just friends.

Right?

#bughead #bughead fanfiction #bughead fanfic #bughead fic #bughead au #riverdale #riverdale fanfiction

47 notes · View notes