#one nice pillow should do its damn job don’t just get the cheap ones they deflate | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

latte-fairytaekwoon · 4 years ago

Text

𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳: 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐒𝐞𝐱/𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲 (𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝)

Warnings: NSFW content. Read at your own discretion.

❥𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

Hongjoong was already frustrated. He was on a deadline to finish up a song and he was nowhere near even getting halfway. Eden had just recently scolded him and he felt extremely agitated and irritated at this point.

"Hey Joong? I brought you lunch so-"

"Just leave it on the table, I'll eat it later." He cut you off rather sharply, barely even sparing you a glance.

"I was actually thinking we could eat together." You were off put by his short temper.

"I don't have time Y/N." He huffed out, a hand running through his hair.

You were pissed at this point and were not about to take his crap anymore.

"Exactly! You don't have time for me anymore! I get your job demands a lot of your time, but to not even take a break and enjoy just 10 minutes without....these." You gestured to all the mess scattered around his desk.

Hurt about being reminded about his neglect of you yet angry at being scolded once more, Hongjoong slammed his hands on the table, swiftly pushing off the chair before going over to where you were standing and stared you down.

"All right. Fine. 10 minutes you say? I can work with that."

Without a warning, he pushed you onto the couch, making a quick work of your pants and stripping them off you. You let out a sharp cry when he began devouring your pussy, animalistic growls spilling out his lips as he slurped you up as if he'd been starved. When you tried pulling away, he landed a harsh slap on your clit, making your hips jolt up and a shriek come out.

"Shut up and take what I give you you needy desperate whore. You wanted 10 minutes? Let's see how many times I can make you cum in that time."

❥𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

Hearing the front door slam, Seonghwa brace himself for yet another one of your moods after a long day at work. Wanting to help your day be less stressful, he had prepared you some of your favorites food.

"Y/N." He called out to you in a sing song tone.

Stomping over, you just looked at him with an eyebrow raised, total resting bitch face plastered on.

"I made your favorite." He happily told you, but you still didn't seem to bat an eyelash at him, you simply turned around and began walking out.

"Wait Y/N come on. Here at least try some. It'll help you with your stress-"

"Can't you take a damn hint Seonghwa?! I don't fucking want it!"

When he tried to approach you with a spoonful of food, you actually snapped and slapped it out of his hand, making it stain his perfectly polished floor. Seonghwa looked at it then looked back at you.

"You know Y/N I think I put up with your bratty attitude and bitchy behavior for too long."

You gasped sharply when he suddenly turned you around and slammed you up against the table, grabbing your arms so he could hold them behind your back.

"Maybe I've been a little too nice to you....making you baths, preparing you food, all in hopes of helping you release stress....but its clear a little bitch like you doesn't need that."

You squirmed under his grasp, trying to get free but with no use as his grip was tight on you. The sound of him unbuckling his belt made you stop moving entirely, and you shivered when pulled your skirt up before ripping your tights and pushing your underwear to the side.

"Clearly a bitch like you needs a good pounding, fuck that attitude right out of you."

❥𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

You knew you were screwed the instant Yunho roughly pulled you off Mingi's lap and took you into his room, shutting the door right behind him before staring at you with fire burning through his eyes. You had never seen him so mad before.

No soon afterwards, you were currently on top of him, his hips bucking up at you at a relentless pace that had you screaming his name over and over again. His hands were practically digging into your skin, holding tightly onto you with such ferocity.

"Look at you, being so desperate for a good fuck that you'd actually try and whore yourself out to my best friend like a cheap bitch."

When one of his hands came up to grasp at your throat, you were shivering on top of him.

"Weren't you?! What! Is my cock not enough for you? My cock and these hands you love so much not satisfying you anymore? Hmm? Is that why you were all cuddled up to Mingi? Hoped he'd actually take pity and fuck you?"

You knew it wasn't your intention to make him jealous, but god if this is what jealousy did to him, you would totally do it again.

"Stupid slut. Mingi's not going to fuck you. You're just a dirty, filthy hole, he doesn't want you...."

Even after you came, you were still a crying mess as Yunho kept fucking up into you, not caring that you were beyond your limit, your inner thighs getting sore.

"But you're my little hole for me to fuck. Got it? And if I need to fuck you dumb to get it through that stupid useless brain of yours to understand that only I can make you feel this good, then so be it. I'll fuck you til you break, my little sex toy."

❥𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

Yeosang was not very pleased by your behavior lately. You had been giving him the silent treatment and avoiding him for no good reason. Trying to coax what was wrong out of you, he came up behind you as you were washing dishes.

"How's my little princess? Did you have a good day?"

He was only met with you elbowing him in the rib and shoved him off you.

"Ok seriously Y/N? What did I even do? Stop being so childish and talk to me like a mature adult."

Hearing you scoff and seeing you roll your eyes at him made him furious and irritated with you. As you tried to walk past him, he grabbed your elbow and picked you up, setting you down on the kitchen counter as his eyes burned a hole through you.

"If you're going to keep acting like a brat, maybe I should just treat you like one then."

You don't know if you truly regret breaking Yeosang's patience. On the one hand, you were definitely not going to be walking straight for a week. On the other, you utterly enjoyed having your face pressed against the pillow, ass up as Yeosang was shoving his dick in and out of you, red handprints scattered across your butt cheeks and hands tied behind your back with one of his ties. Everytime you tried to hide your face in the pillow to muffle your screams, he'd yank your hair up.

"I said I wasn't having you ignore me anymore princess. Now come on, scream my name. I want this entire floor to hear your pathetic whimpers."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

San looked at you with an unamused gaze.

"Repeat what you just said.....I dare you to."

He was pissed off, it was more than clear. But maybe that's what you wanted, wanted him to be as pissed as you were, even just a bit of what you were feeling. It's not that you meant to take out your jealousy on him, but seeing his co-host be extremely clingy towards him backstage and he never did anything about it made your blood boil.

"I said you're nothing more than a fucking horn dog. Probably let that skank suck your dick." You exclaimed in disgust.

The sudden slam of his hand against the wall behind you both scared and thrilled you. Looking at you with a hungry smirk, he opened the door behind you, trapping you inside a closet. In minutes, he was pressing you against the wall, his frantic grunts mixing with your whimpered cries. San would occasionally let out a sadistic laugh at how wrecked you look.

"You're right baby, I am indeed a horn dog. Absolutely love getting my dick wet and fuck a pussy all the time."

Hand reaching between your legs, he began to harshly pinch and rub at your clit, his other hand that was holding onto your hip keeping you from collapsing on the floor as your orgasm took over you.

"But get this straight: I only fuck this pussy right here. Ok? I fucking claimed this a long ass time ago and I'll fuck it whenever I want to."

❥𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

Ending the call with your friend, you were coming out of the bedroom when you were suddenly shoved back inside by none other than your usually caring and sweet boyfriend, who looked angry as he closed the door behind him.

"Mingi? What-"

You couldn't finish your sentence as his large hands cupped your cheeks, his long body pushing you back until you landed on the bed. He was kissing you harshly, nothing like the usual tender and loving kisses he'd be known to give you. His hands clutched at your covered breasts, groping at them before he unexpectedly tore your shirt in the middle.

"Mingi! What has gotten into you?!" You exclaimed in shock at his sudden change in behavior.

"I heard you talking to your friend. Saying shit like I'm too soft and vanilla for you."

You moaned out when he began to suck along your neck, his hands cupping your bra and pulling it down enough to have your breasts spill out.

"Oh princess if only you knew I've just been holding back all this time."

With a taunting chuckle, he pulled of you. Undoing his zipper, he began to strip out of his jeans and briefs, letting his long cock spring free, precum leaking at the tip.

"I didn't want to be selfish and break you like I wanted too....... but if that's what you want well then, I'd be happy to oblige my little princess."

❥𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

Neither of you knew how it started nor exactly how it escalated. One minute Wooyoung was being the annoying shit he was, with you playfully shoving him away and calling him names, and then the next you were both pushing each other rather abruptly. When you called him a particularly degrading insult, he retaliated likewise and now it seemed like a screaming match between you two.

"You know what? This is fucking stupid!" You hollered and turned away, making a bee line towards your room.

"I'm not done yet!" Wooyoung trailed after you.

"Well I am! Now excuse me, I'm going to go take a shower and hopefully cool off this rage." You stated firmly before slamming the bathroom door right in his face.

The refreshing water seemed to calm you down a little, so you just stood there under the shower head, just letting your body soak in the cold. You were so unaware of your surroundings that you failed to notice Wooyoung had entered the bathroom and didn't realize it until you felt his arms turn you around to face him. No explanation, he just began kissing you, his tongue taking control over your mouth while one hand hiked one of your legs over his waist.

"Still think I'm an annoying bastard?" He grunted fiercely as he thrusted up into you, not giving you time to react as he began pounding into you.

"Yes you are!" You hissed at him, hands swooping his wet hair and tugging at it rather hardly.

He just looked at you with a shit eating grin.

"Yet you still let me fuck you. "

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

You were frustrated and stressed out, so was Jongho. Even as you two did your own little things inside the apartment, even the smallest things either of you did made the other let out an annoyed huff. It all culminated when Jongho accidentally spilled his cup of juice on the floor, that little action had you both looking at each other with near contempt.

"I feel like punching something." Jongho confessed.

"Me too." You admitted.

"Wanna punch me?" He offered.

Smirking at him, you thought about something better.

"No.... I think I'd rather fuck you."

So now here you were, underneath your inhumanely strong boyfriend, his cock balls deep inside you, your legs thrown over his shoulders while his hands were already leaving bruises around your inner thighs from how hard he was squeezing at them. You two had already cum several times but you still kept going, pushing past your sensitivity as you both still had a lot of rage and energy to release.

In a particularly sharp angle of his hips, you were quivering under Jongho, for the first time you were actually squirting under him.

"Oh fuck!" Seeing you break down and make a mess all over him and yourself had him cumming soon after, his body collapsing on top of yours.

Both of you were beyond exhausted after all that. Your bodies were so sticky with sweat and your breathing had not yet returned to normal. Looking over at you, Jongho smiled sincerely for the first time in days.

"So.... now that we got that out of the way.... can we cuddle?"

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners.

#ateez #ateez reactions #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez seonghwa #ateez smut #ateez hongjoong #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho #ateez headcanons

2K notes · View notes

bakugousbabygirl · 5 years ago

Text

Toxic Aizawa Headcannons

genre: angst i guess?

pairings: aizawa x fem!reader

cw: || cheating || jealousy || cursing || manipulation || overall toxicity ||

A/N: this is kinda short, but i might do more of these and make them longer and add scenarios at the end. idk

SFW

• he's a scorpio.....that shit is toxic enough on it's own lmao

• but fr everyone seems to have this image he's a patient caring man and i mean he is, with his students

• but you? no

• you're an adult, you should just GET things but you don't which frustrates him beyond belief

• you're his partner, not his student he shouldnt have to baby you

• i also feel like aizawa has a thing for younger women, he's 31 and he likes his women in their early to mid 20's

• i feel like that isn't inherently toxic but the way he uses your younger age against you most definitely is

• when you get in an argument he throws it in you face calling you childish and stating how he should've just dated someone his own damn age

• shota definitely prioritizes his job over you, will stay out late at night patrolling. he will stand you up on dates to go to hero meeting and even be gone for weeks on missions without contacting you

• luckily toshinori and hizashi are nice men knowing how their colleague and friend is so they send you updates about him to keep your mind at ease

• this causes a lot of fights. he questions you on why you're talking to his friends, he wants you to stay out of his personal life. you try to rationalize with him that you are apart of his personal life and needs to start acting like it. if he's gonna be gone for long you tell him the least he could do is give you a heads up

• he argues back that you should just KNOW if he hasn't shown up he's gone for hero work and should be content with that. he tells you that you KNOW what you were signing up for when you started dating so why are you trippin now.

• he never yells but his tone becomes really harsh and his words cut like blades tearing you apart cutting you down until you feel so belittled that your argument isnt worth it anymore making you grow quiet

• he'll glare at you and make a few snide remarks before leaving like a upset father after scolding his daughter

• definitely avoids you afterwards, i mean he doesnt come home for a solid 2 weeks after and you dont get any updates from hizashi and toshinori because he told them to but out of his business

• when he comes back he pretends as if nothing ever happened, he already said what he had to say. why rehash it? and if you're really still hurt it's just gonna reinforce the fact he thinks you're childish and thinks he should've dated someone his own age

• speaking of people your own age if he catches you texting or hanging out with a guy your age he's gonna be pissed

• "what am i not good enough for you, you think i'm too old or something!?"

• like no bruh we were just having a friendly conversation what's your deal, PLEASE get over whatever complex you have dude

• I feel like aizawa would definitely judge the way you dress lmao

• with alternative fashion coming back in style you have a stab at it and start dressing like an e-girl because it's the easiest look to manage

• aizawa laughs his ass off at you saying how that isn't true alternative fashion and calls you a poser

• yeah yeah aizawa is a fuckin gate keeper, you can't tell me he wasn't emo back in the day

• tells you to change and never dress up like that again because it makes you look like some cheap cam girl

• if you ever try to walk away when hes scolding you he will use his scarf to tie you up making you sit down and admit you're wrong

• he's the type to stress that communication is key but doesn't communicate himself

• its more like he talks and you listen if you haven't gotten that by now

• he refuses to open up to you and keeps you 100% separated from his work and personal life

• probably makes fun of your trauma, nothing too fucked up like if your parents are dead or anything. hes not that much of a douche, but if its something like your sister use to lock you in the dark cold cellar at night and told you a monster was gonna get you he'd definitely laugh

• would even go as far as locking you in the basement closet to see how you'd react

• also gaslight you using your age against you saying how he knows more because he's older

NSFW

• wanna start this off by saying aizawa is defo cheating on you with midnight lmao take that how you want but he is

• when you catch him he just says it's not that serious and it just happened because they have history together and shes more mature and experienced. he said it wont happen again so why cant you get over it, stop being so childish

• i have a feeling he'd probably complain about how annoying you are to her during pillow talk 😹😹

• he's the type to keep a straight face when you're giving him sloppy toppy to give the illusion that you're underperforming and can't satisfy him but in reality his toes are curling and he's doing his best to hold back his moans because your head game is out of this world

• definitely is the dominant one and he'd laugh in your face at even the slightest mention of you taking over ( he does let midnight dom him tho😒)

• it was this one time where you asked could you ride him so he allowed it, you got on top of him and just when you were getting into the groove of it he rolled his eyes flipped you over and growled in your ear saying to never waste his time like that again

• when you try to initiate sex with him laughs at your cute efforts of trying to seduce him saying he's too old for that stuff to be appealing to him

• he'd use sex to take out all his frustrations on you

• it seems hot but not the way he does it, he'll have you in his lap infront of a mirror as he pounds into you while degrading you

• it starts off cute and light with just calling you things like his pathetic kitten but then the insults start getting a little too real saying how he could go find a better girl with a cunt just as tight as yours who doesn't annoy him and how you're such a bitch and you can't nag at him now that you're stuffed with his cock

• yeah needless to say you start crying and hit his ass with the safe word making him stop and he just rolls his eyes and mutters to himself about how the younger generation is so sensitive and kinda just....leaves you there to mope

• also yeah theres never any aftercare even after particularly rough scenes like that he just showers then goes to bed and expects you to do the same

• and it's not like he doesn't know with aftercare is, i mean he's banging midnight our bdsm queen he knows what aftercare is but just doesn't see you as important enough to be that intimate with

• if you do something that turns him off during the middle of sex and kinda just pushes you off of him and goes to sleep on the couch and won't have sex with you for a while

• drags himself at all types of late nights and early mornings crawling into bed with you whole you're still sleep and kisses you're shoulder saying to himself outloud "i'll do right by you one day"

560 notes · View notes

keelywolfe · 4 years ago

Text

FIC: Welcome to Backwater ch.7 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Stretch knows he can't really depend on the kindness of strangers, but oh, sometimes he wishes he could.

~~*~~

Read ‘The Kindness of Strangers’ on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

It was with a heavy, weird-ass book in hand that Stretch returned to the heat of the afternoon. This time he made haste getting back to the store while his knees were cooperating, almost jogging on the sidewalk and waving to any regular customers as he passed. The sun was on its downward path by now and the strollers were out in full force, the Human moms and pops pushing them hardly paying him any mind past a ‘good afternoon’ as he went by.

His knees were back to the wibble-wobbles when he slipped through the door, the bell announcing him with a muted clank. The first thing he noticed was that Red wasn’t behind the counter. He was standing at the back of the store, leaning on his cane and blocking off the hallway that led to both their living quarters. Yeah, that looked like insurance that Stretch couldn’t hurry on past him upstairs; Red wasn’t quick, but he also wasn’t stupid, and Stretch could feel his hard gaze scrutinizing him from across the store.

Wonderbar.

Stretch pasted on a grin and tried to act like someone who hadn’t been recently felt up by Red’s little brother in the public library. Not that Red said that he couldn’t, but some things, (for example, random groping) could probably be inferred.

“hey, what’s up?” Stretch said brightly.

“my bro called,” Red said bluntly, and Stretch’s feeble hopes deflated like yesterday’s party balloon. So much for discretion.

“i can explain,” Stretch blurted, “it wasn’t my idea, seriously, i was only—"

Red interrupted him with an amused snort. “easy, kid, don’t haul out your guilty conscience on my account. all he did was give me the gist of things, said you had yourself an unexpected adventure.” Red jerked his head towards the hallway. “g’wan, string bean, you can use my bathroom. take a shower and cool off.”

A cool shower pouring down on his dirty, sweaty bones sounded like Eden itself right about now, apple not included.

“thanks,” Stretch said gratefully. He skirted around Red, who didn’t move, only squatted there like a grouchy stump in the middle of the doorway while Stretch squeezed around him. Must be tempering his kindness with a little extra asshole to keep things even.

On his way to showerland, Stretch took a quick detour to leave the book on the coffee table amidst the clutter. Maybe he could ask Red about it, get the cliff notes version.

The shower in the downstairs bathroom was stuck with the same crappy water heater as upstairs, not that it mattered since Stretch was about ready to cuddle with an iceberg to cool off. Added bonus, the showerhead was a lot better and it managed to crank the feeble water pressure up to its max. There was a cheap plastic stool sitting in the tub, way too short for Stretch. He sat on it anyway, knees almost up to his chin as the cool water poured down on him and washed away the sweat and filth.

He was shivering a little by the time he was done, dragging a ratty towel over his dripping bones. The pile of his clothes was missing and there a new folded bundle sitting on the closed toilet lid. He must’ve been out of it more than he thought, he’d never even heard Red coming in. Unless laundry fairies were a thing and wasn’t that idea a lot more pertinent than it was yesterday.

Stretch picked up the bundle and part of it fell on the floor. Pajama pants, luckily not a pair of Red’s although it might’ve been hilarious to see Stretch wandering around like a scrawny hulk who sprouted upward out of his clothes instead of sideways. They were red plaid flannel and worn to the stage of being shiny at the knees and elbows. Probably an old pair of Edge’s, the fit was pretty close and not too many Humans wore their waistband quite as skinny as a guy without a waist.

(he was not getting a cheap thrill out of wearing a pair of Edge’s pajamas, no matter what his libido was trying to tell him)

He wandered out into Red’s living room, still squeegeeing his skull dry with the damp towel, and saw the sofa was made up with some blankets and a pillow, the television remote set helpfully in reach.

“you done?” Red’s voice echoed up from the store and his peculiar gait made its way down the hallway until he appeared again in the doorway. “then lay down and turn on the boob tube, zone out awhile. you’ll feel better.”

“what did your brother tell you?” Stretch asked. Not that he wasn’t willing to do what he was told. The couch was saggy in the middle, but the blankets were clean and smelling of laundry detergent. They felt blissfully cozy after the cold shower.

“said you met edgar allen,” Red said. “under less than stellar circumstances, i’m guessin’, since i don’t think ya got an invite for a meet and greet with the local scarecrow.”

This time his shiver had nothing to do with the temperature. Edgar Allen was an okay guy, (guy?) but Stretch was still on the fence about the corn’s attitude problems. “not exactly, no. thanks for the heads up, by the way.”

Red tilted his skull to one side, baffled, “heads up about what?”

“i dunno,” Stretch leaned up on an elbow to see him better and hopefully increase the effect of his dirty look, “maybe when you’re warning me off from the local landmarks, you could’ve touch on that fact that a stroll through the fields might involve the corn trying to hold me as a captive audience?”

“naaah,” Red scoffed. Stretch didn’t miss the way he absently started picking at his gold tooth; that was a nervous tell right there and maybe all this wasn’t just concern but dealing with a little guilt that Stretch’s latest town bonding experience was less than top notch. “that's why the damn scarecrow is there t'begin with. ‘sides, even without him you’d have gotten out before dark. anyway, never expected you to go tromping off into the corn in search of a maze, sorry i misgauged the direction of your dumbass.”

“no, i’m sorry, not your fault.” Stretch couldn’t hold back a yawn so wide it nearly split his skull, yeesh, it wasn’t even dinner time and he was ready to sleep for a week. The imaginary hamster running on the wheel in his head wasn’t quite as ready and it decided to race back to thoughts of Edge sitting in the library, alone. Researching he’d said, so intent on his books from the so-called restricted section, like a bargain basement Hogwarts. “hey, what does your brother do?”

“mostly he’s a pain in my ass.”

It was said with great feeling and Stretch snerked out a laugh. Yeah, kinda a universal trait with little brothers. “no, seriously, i mean, for a living, what does he do?”

Red shifted his feet, his cane scraping the floor. “why are ya askin’?”

“curious. bored,” Stretch shrugged, “take your pick.” He didn’t really want to explain to Red that his brother wasn’t just a sexy pair of legs in boots anymore, (but those hips would never be forgotten). He was interesting, no, fascinating. This whole town was turning out to be some kind of puzzle and it seemed to him that Edge might be a big piece. He’d said that figuring out Backwater was a fool’s errand, but he’d never met Stretch’s kind of fool before.

“kid—” Red sighed and that resigned tone snapped Stretch out of his whimsies. He cringed internally. What was he even trying to do here, he owed Red so much and not just for the job, and here he was digging for information about his bro after Red already warned him off, not once, but twice, so maybe what he was really digging was his own grave, if he didn’t knock it off.

“nevermind,” Stretch said hurriedly. “i shouldn’t’ve asked, none of my business, i get it.”

Red shook his head. “that ain’t it.”

Stretch tried on a little laugh, ha ha, see, it wasn’t that big a deal, right? “look, the state of your brother’s ass aside, i get it. that’s your little brother, and i didn’t forget what you said. we only bumped into each other at the library, i’m really not trying to get into his pants.”

He left off on making it a promise; he was telling the truth, but why take the chance on not keeping it.

He didn’t expected the hand that suddenly scruffed over his skull, like the noogies he used to give to Blue when he was little…well, okay, Blue was still little but noogieing was off the table since he’d started his guard training.

This wasn’t like that childish roughhousing, Red’s knuckles only scraped softly along his coronal sutures. “no, kid, you don’t get it. my bro can handle himself, it ain’t him i’m worried about. but you? don’t ya got the feeling you ain’t up to any new affairs of the soul right now? might want to take it easy awhile.”

That unexpectedly gruff kindness made tears sting in his sockets. Stretch guiltily leaned into that touch to absorb every drop, and how was it he could accept it from Red when he couldn’t take it from his own brother? “i don’t get you. you barely even know me. why are you so nice to me?”

Red huffed out a laugh. “you want i should be an asshole? okay, but i gotta warn ya, i’m a contender when it comes to dick moves.”

“thanks, but you can keep your dick in your pants.”

“your loss.”

“seriously, though, what i mean is. i just don’t get it. this place is so weird, but everyone is nice.” It didn’t exactly line up with Stretch’s view of the world. His brother was always nice sure and Snowdin hadn’t been too bad, if you didn’t count the fact that all his friends were from drinking his nights away at Muffet’s. The surface world ran about fifty-fifty with Monsters being on the kinder side of the scale…until he got dumped and found out he lost all his friends in the divorce, how was that for loyalty.

Red only chuckled. “now you’ve gone and cursed yourself. can’t say everyone is nice, you ain’t met everyone yet.”

That was true, fuck, he hoped the universe wasn’t listening and if it was, that it didn’t decide to drum up a little drama. “red?”

“yeah, kid?”

Stretch craned his head back on the pillow and met Red’s crimson gaze upside-down. “thank you for being nice.”

“don’t tell anyone. i’ll lose my resident asshole status.

“secret is safe with me, promise.” Stretch yawned again and the cow bell suddenly jangled loudly out front, startling them both.

Red shouted. “yeah, i’m coming!” He tossed over his shoulder back at Stretch, “take tomorrow off, sleep in, you ain’t had a day off since ya got here.”

“thanks, boss.”

Stretch started to settle in, nap ahoy, captain, hard to starboard and all that, and his eye lights snagged on the book. Shit, he forgot to ask Red about it. Probably didn’t matter, Red’s ingredient label kinda went equal parts of cryptic and cryptid, so he probably wasn’t gonna give the right answers even if Stretch figured out what to ask.

Wait.

If Red and Edge want to share the part of the local Obi-Wan with their mysterious ways, that was fine. He already had the perfect person lined up to ask about the town’s history. Well, part of a person, anyway, the most important part.

Plan formed, Stretch turned on the television and snuggled into the blankets, letting the dulcet tones of Pat Sajak lull him to sleep.

He didn’t dream.

~~*~~

The next day, Stretch headed over to the theater bright and early, still munching on the muffin Red handed off to him as he settled on the stool for the day with his latest book, this one with a bare-chested pirate embracing a busty Human woman as the ocean sprayed up over the hull over them. Seemed to Stretch that would be less smokin’ sexytimes and more cold and wet, but what did he know, his closest encounter with the ocean was extra salt on his Applebee’s margarita.

“thanks, mom,” Stretch said as he took the little paper lunch bag Red held out to him. Red only grunted and didn’t look up from his book. In the midst of rummaging for his tasty free breakfast, Stretch hesitated at the front door.

He felt a little guilty even though Red was the one who told him to take the day. Before he started working at the store, was Red really sitting there all day long, twelve hours of a cash register and customers while he drank beer and soaked up a little romance language in the form of a cheap paperback?

Not that Stretch was judging, hell, if that made Red happy, more power to him. Still, there had to be more to his life than that, didn’t there? Maybe he’d see if Mitch sold sudoku pads at the gas station, pick him up one along with a six-pack. Hard to guess if they carried that kind of entertainment; Mitch was either some kind of crossword grand champion or the kind of guy who ate ketchup on his cheerios and Stretch still wasn’t sure which.

The first movie showing wasn’t for another hour, but Igor didn’t make a fuss when Stretch asked him if he could go sit down early. (and holy shit, the proprietor’s name was actually Igor? He wasn’t sure if the guy’s parents hated him or if the universe sense of irony rolled a natural D20 when it hit this town.)

Igor only grunted and handed over two cups of popcorn without being asked, handing back a crumpled dollar in change. Aww, Stretch had a usual, see, he was settling into town just fine, suck it, Edge.

(don’t think it, don’t think it, don’t think it…)

Stretch made his way to the theater to his regular seat, propping his sneakers up on the chair in front of him. The popcorn he set aside for now, it wasn’t exactly his idea of a breakfast treat and that muffin Red gave him was still settling into his magic. To be honest, he wasn’t entirely sure if Doris could show up very long before the movie. He was no expert, but he did know that ghosts could have some peculiar rules about manifesting. Hopefully this wouldn’t mess with her morning routine, whatever it was.

He didn’t have to wait long. Maybe Doris could sense him or maybe she could just feel it when a living person came into the theater. She slowly came into focus next to him, pale ectoplasm coalescing, and the already cool air chilled even further.

Doris happily sniffed at her popcorn as she said, whispery soft, “Good morning, Stretch, you’re here very early.”

“yeah, took the day off work,” Stretch said. His voice sounded too loud in the empty theater, not even the elevator music was playing yet. “i need your help with something.”

He might as well have flipped Doris’s switch to ‘on’. She lit up, a smile curving her pretty mouth and seeming more solid than ever. The seat behind her was barely visible through her pale pink dress as she said eagerly, “Of course, anything that I can do.”

So that was how Stretch came to tell her the story about Edgar Allen. He didn’t leave out any details, including the bit about the kids shouting at him not to go in the field, the corn closing in around him in a dizzying maze of green, Edgar Allen’s assistance, and Edge’s cryptic warning that the scarecrow would disappear with the harvest.

Doris listened to it all raptly, her eyes wide and startlingly blue, and she never flickered once the entire time. The only unsettling sight was a single trickle of blood running down the side of her face, gathering in a heavy droplet on her chin.

“My, that sounds terrifying,” Doris breathed, unaware of the irony of her saying that while a slender thread of ghostly blood ran down her cheek. The droplet swelled fatly, growing until it finally fell with a plip onto her dress, leaving behind a perfectly round spot that would slowly vanish, only to be replaced by the next drop.

It didn’t really bother Stretch much anymore; he was getting used to it and an old memory of blood was nothing compared to his recent woes. “yeah, it was spooky all right.”

“But I’m not sure I can help you,” Doris continued sadly, “There wasn’t a scarecrow in my day, not that I remember. But the corn. Yes. That I recall.” She shivered delicately and her chair let out a strange groan of springs. “A person could get lost for days in the corn. I remember…” Her already faint voice went softer and Stretch strained to hear her, her gaze distant. “I remember one year at harvest time, they found a skeleton in the field, it was awful. Oh!” She gasped and pressed a gloved hand to her mouth, “I’m so sorry, it was a dead person, not a skeleton like you!”

“no offense taken,” Stretch assured her. He slouched down in his seat even more and waggled his feet, his untied shoelaces laces bobbing against the seatback “huh. so at least one person died out in the corn.”

“I’m afraid I don’t remember much about it,” Doris admitted. “whoever it was, they weren’t local.”

“uh huh.” An outsider, then, like him, getting munched up by the corn triffids. “who owns the corn fields, anyway?”

“I…” she hesitated, then apologetically. “I’m not sure. I don’t know if I’ve forgotten or if I never knew.”

Another mystery. If he was gonna play at Sherlock Holmes, he really needed to start taking notes. Maybe get a pipe.

“welp, either way, edgar allen bro out there saved my ass,” Stretch told her. He picked up a piece of popcorn and didn’t eat it, only crumpled it between his fingers and let the mangled bits fall to the floor, “and he’s gonna die come harvest time. i feel like i owe it to him to at least hear his story, you know? edge wouldn’t tell me much, just gave me that book and a scavenger hunt.”

“This Edge person doesn’t sound very nice,” Doris said disapprovingly. Her mouth pulled down into a frown that flashed briefly to a bloody smear. “Is he local?”

“kinda? he’s a monster like me, so he could only have been in town for a coupla years. since we came to the surface, anyway.”

Sudden relief washed over Doris’s pretty face. “He’s not a human, then.”

“nope, he’s another skeleton monster.” That seemed to satisfy her. Note to self, Doris wasn’t real keen on Humans, in a way that didn’t seem like it was only about the way they ran away when they got a good look at her. That mystery wasn’t all too mysterious, not with a big, bloody clue flickering in and out of view like a gory version of a kid’s flipbook. If that was a going away present from another Human, he didn’t blame her for being wary. He wondered if she’d met Edge before but Stretch hesitated to bring up that idea, or to mention Red; he didn’t want her to feel bad if she didn’t remember. “yep, another skeleton monster in town. he’s kinda rough around the edges, but he’s okay.”

“Okay, is that all?” Doris said with unexpected mischievousness, “he didn’t sound simply ‘okay’ when you were describing him.”

A blush flared hotly in his cheekbones and Stretch hunched down in his seat, weirdly embarrassed in a way he hadn’t been with Red. At least Red could see what he was staring at, Doris only had him waxing poetically about Edge’s hips to go by, and Shakespeare he wasn’t.

“yeah, yeah,” Stretch grumbled, and damn, he should’ve brought along his hoodie, at least he could’ve hidden from the laughter shining in her translucent eyes. She had a dimple in the cheek on her good side and it deepened as Stretch admitted, “could be that i enjoy the view. but that’s it, okay? just a little sightseeing, i don’t need any souvenirs.”

“Uh huh,” Doris clicked her tongue thoughtfully, “Stretch, my mama always told me you can’t hurry up a good time by waiting for it.”

Other people were starting to come into the theater now. One of them gave him a curious look, but they didn’t stop, only followed the others down to the front row.

“the only time i’m looking for is in the nick of,” Stretch sighed. “guess there’s no way around it, i’ll have to read the book.”

He should’ve known not to try to find an easy way out; seemed like all his shortcuts had abandoned him, lately.

Doris laid a hand on his arm and a sudden chill sank its teeth in deep enough for his bones to ache. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help,” Doris said softly.

“nah, you helped plenty,” Stretch told her. She had. Now he knew that scarecrows were slightly more recent, at least within the past century and that maybe the cornfield wasn’t quiet as safe as it’d been played off to be. At least a cornfield without Edgar Allen in it.

The lights started dimming, the first credits beginning to roll. His popcorn was cold, the butter congealing it into clumps of greasy blobs that stuck to his fingers. Stretch ate it anyway, hey, it cost him a dollar, and laughed with Doris as Buster Keaton escaped from a bumbling crowd of cops by grabbing onto a passing car.

His phone was in his pocket, tucked in deep and only lightly pressing against his femur through the thin cloth of his shorts. It vibrated once in a quick, staccato burst while the movie was playing but Stretch ignored it.

That was one lesson he’d learned very well while they still lived under the mountain; if you focused on the task at hand, you didn’t have to think about the ones you left behind.

~~*~~

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #underfell sans #welcome to backwater

35 notes · View notes

notaburgler · 5 years ago

Text

Grocery Shopping

The grocery store. A place to gather the essentials, or if you were Soramitsu Tabe, a source of power. Normally, this was a solo job delegated to some subordinate. But Overhaul felt the need to go himself, the rest of his posse following behind.

They gave him a list of what to get, but Overhaul and his short fuse snapped, ‘if you all want this so bad, just come with me!’ He was regretting that outburst already.

It wasn’t that his men were unruly or loud; it was more so that Overhaul found solace in grocery shopping. It was a relaxing moment in time where he wasn’t the boss of the feared yakuza. He was just a simple civilian out getting the week’s food.

With his own reusable basket over one arm and a quick adjustment of his gloves, he was off. He did his best to ignore the ramblings of the rest, but since he was the one with the credit card, it was only reasonable that they would be bothering him with questions of whether they could get something or not.

He sighed. He did, in fact, ask for this.

Rappa, the rebellious and hot-headed man he was, just tossed what he wanted in the cart Chrono had grabbed. Why ask? He needed it, even if it was the sugar-coated cereal Overhaul hated.

But if he was trying to piss off the boss, he failed. Overhaul was actually happy he had just made the decision for himself. They were only down the first aisle and he was already getting irritated with the small group. Maybe offering to let them come along, even if it was out of anger, wasn’t the best call.

****

Arms crossed and a scowl on his face, Shigaraki grumbled, “Why do I have to be here?”

The league of villains had needs, too. It wasn’t odd to consider that their fridge needed replenishing, and even with a moderate, but small budget, Kurogiri would manage to get what was needed.

“Because Tomura Shigaraki, you are our leader and as our leader, you must make decisions for our little group.” Kurogiri stated, pushing the cart into the store.

The rest followed the two. They loved this. Dabi intended to cause a scene. Toga wanted Lucky Charms and a body pillow so she could draw a picture of Deku on it to sleep with. Spinner was still searching for the perfect lotion to help with how hard his scales had gotten. Twice was trying to stick to a diet, but the other half of him felt eating instant noodles and cookies for dinner was perfectly acceptable. Mr. Compress had a new recipe he found on Pinterest he wanted to try.

There was a fear that, since they were villains, they would be caught. But Kurogiri chose the store, and Costco couldn’t have been a better choice. It was huge and there were a lot of people swarming the isles. He insisted Shigaraki leave his hands at home and wear his hoodie. After a quick hissy fit, the hands remained behind and he tossed his hoodie up, ‘I’m not doing it because you told me to… I’m doing it because I want to.’ His stubbornness was endearing.

“Chrono,” Shigaraki perked up at the overheard name and glanced through the aisles, “make sure Tabe doesn’t eat us out of house and home.”

Overhaul. Shigaraki scowled at his voice. “Our funds are limited and we can’t use it all up here.” He continued on, Shigaraki following them as they walked down the aisle. “And make sure that Sakaki stays away from the liquor aisle,” Overhaul noted nodding.

Shigaraki’s glare was joined by Dabi. Both glaring holes through the yakuza boss. “Tomura Shigaraki,” Kurogiri gained the attention of his leader again, “we need your input.”

Shigaraki, being the adult that he is, had a new plan, “Kurogiri, you do the shopping. I have something else I have to do.” He said with a devious smirk.

****

“Boss,” Mimic rode in the child’s seat of the cart going over the budget, “here is what we can afford. If we can spend less, that would be ideal.” He held out his calculator, “don’t forget, we have to get a few things for Eri.”

Overhaul sighed, but he knew keeping the kid happy— or at least content— was important. A new doll house or a stuffed animal should suffice. Her daily food rations would come from what they gathered for all, but he did intend to get something a bit more fun for her as well. She was, after all, the reason he had gotten so far in his research. A nice gift would do the trick in maintaining her submission.

Overhaul glanced at his list, then at the prices, then back at his list. It should be doable with the budget Mimic had placed, but it would be tight. He had to remember that toilet paper and laundry detergent weren’t cheap; and with the monstrosity that was that store, and the countless opportunities to go over budget, he’d have to keep a watchful eye on what they got.

Overhaul scanned the men in front of him. “Get what you like, just don’t go too crazy.”

Chrono pushed the cart, Mimic had hopped to the floor and grabbed the lower items so Overhaul didn’t have to bend over or touch anything. The reason Overhaul preferred to go alone was silence and space. The selections he made were precise. He’d always grab the item farthest to the back so the least amount of hands had touched it. Mimic knew this. He handed it to Chrono, who plopped it in the cart.

The trip was surprisingly relaxing. Overhaul would hate to admit that his subordinates were quite well-mannered in public, even if they all didn’t look the part. They were polite and kind. A few of them would gain a passing glance and a look of horror from the other patrons, but that was expected. So long as they minded their manners and didn’t cause a scene, they would be left to do their shopping in peace.

With a half full cart, Overhaul stopped to examine their findings. Several extra bottles of wine gained Sakaki a glare. He quickly took a few out and returned them to the shelf.

An overabundance of food was crammed to the side like a rat hoarding food for the winter. “Tabe…” Mimic sighed, “I said only get what is needed. If you plan to buy all of this, get your own cart and pay with your own money.”

Again, the men scattered with their designated items as Overhaul scanned the aisles. He placed a few things in his cart and moved on. Chrono stepped away and Mimic followed his boss talking about how many extras were tossed in that weren’t on the list.

****

Dabi chuckled watching them leave, “Now’s our chance,” he smirked.

Shigaraki slipped into the aisle and pulled the cart back, Dabi pushing another into its place, “This always drives me up the wall,” he laughed as he got back to his leader.

Shigaraki went through their cart, checking it out and decaying anything he didn’t like. “Serves them right,” he huffed, placing all five fingers on a giant can of soup.

****

Rappa passed a free sample stand and stopped. He loved the store for this reason. Tabe would go nuts at these if it wasn’t for the looming threat of their boss scolding him— or worse.

“Care to try a sample, good sir?” “Come on, you loser! What are you? Scared?” The sample vendor was an odd one.

“Have I seen you before?”

“I don’t think so…” “Just try the food, you overgrown weasel!”

Rappa, as confused as he was, gripped the small cup in his massive hands. His eyes never left the strange vendor. He felt like he must have seen him before. Taking away the comically large chef’s hat and the pink apron, he looked so… familiar.

With a wondering glance, Rappa scooped the yogurt sample onto the tiny spoon and shoveled the entire thing into his mouth. “Well that’s damn good!” he said, reaching for more.

“Please, take another.” “Save some for the rest of the people, fat ass!”

Rappa left with a few more samples to share. He knew his comrades would enjoy them and there hadn’t been many other samples available that day.

“Here.” He handed one to Tengai and another to Tetsuno. “Free samples,” he said, eating yet another.

****

Overhaul walked alongside Chronostasis as they gathered more items and put them in the cart. There seemed to be a bit more than Chrono remembered before they left.

Chrono hummed to himself, “Maybe Hojo put more in. He didn’t want to come here to begin with anyway.” He shrugged moving along having a harder time with the cart than before.

It seemed that in the short time he had walked away, the back wheel to the cart had jammed up. He was using more strength to push the cart than before. And now the front wheel on the opposite side had a mind of its own too. If he did manage to get the cart moving, the front wheel would flip in the wrong direction and send the cart hurling into the aisle. He grit his teeth, bearing it with stoicism. Overhaul hated complainers.

It was a petty thing to be upset about, and his boss had no patience for the like. When they arrived, Chrono made well and sure that the cart he grabbed was perfect. He made an ordeal out of it holding the lot of them from even entering the store before he selected it. If Chrono had a major pet peeve: it was a faulty shopping cart.

His pride, and dignity, prevented him from returning to the front of the store and getting a new one. He was a leader in this group after all; and after making a big deal out of which cart to grab, he couldn't turn around and claim his selection unworthy. No, Chrono would have to bite his tongue and press on, fighting the urge to admit defeat via a shopping cart.

“Everything alright?” Overhaul hummed.

Chrono forced the words out as he powered through the stubborn cart’s resistance. “Yup. No problems here,” he said, breath strained.

He kicked the wheel hoping to knock it back into place so it would work properly again, but to no avail. It was as if this cart had been struck by his quirk. And now, Chronostasis would suffer for it.

****

Shigaraki and Dabi chuckled at the sight. He hadn’t even noticed that their new cart was littered with junk food and frozen items. Dabi made sure that the frozen food was at the bottom and had been thoroughly thawed out before exchanging the carts.

“Stupid yakuza.” Shigaraki snickered, sneaking away as they turned a corner, out of the other villains’ line of sight.

The two caught up to their own small group reassembling in the frozen food aisle.

“Spinner…” Dabi pointed.

Shigaraki glanced at his reptilian ally and a wicked grin spread across his face. With a ‘borrowed’ can opener, Spinner opened some tuna.

His eyes flicked to meet Shigaraki’s and he locked up in fear. Yet upon seeing that sickening smile, he proceeded with his plan knowing his leader approved.

With a short grunt, he tossed the can over the tall row of food. Shigaraki and Dabi, now hiding behind a stack of potato chips and pretzels, watched as the can landed just behind the group. The yakuza pressed on without noticing the splattered fish a few feet away from them.

Shigaraki nodded to Spinner as he hastily opened another can and adjusted himself according to Dabi’s directions.

A step to the left, then to the right. A small shuffle back to the left and he was in place.

****

Overhaul glanced inside the freezer for his favorite meal and nodded to Mimic to grab a few. He graciously plucked the food from Mimics hand, paying close attention as to not touch him, and gently placed them in his basket.

“Boss,” Mimic scooted along the floor, “we come to Costco, the bulk capital of the food world, and you shop with a tiny basket?”

As Overhaul began to answer, a can of tuna fell from above, landing between them, and splattering across the floor.

Overhaul held back his urge to destroy everything in sight. This trip was turning into a nightmare. His men all stopped and stared, wondering what the boss would do. His arms held out in disgust and a rancid look on his face made them fearful of the outcome of this mess.

Overhaul took a deep breath in and let it out slowly with closed eyes. He had a reputation to uphold and couldn't go killing random citizens because of this. If he was going to continue his experiments, he needed to keep a low profile; and murdering people in such a public and crowded place would not help him in the grand scheme of things.

��Well!” Mimic yelled, “get something for the boss to clean himself up!”

****

Kurogiri was enjoying the silence. On occasion, one of his comrades would pop by and toss something in the cart. They would leave as quickly as they came, off to grab another useless item. He would spend a moment looking it over and deciding if it was worth the money. Most of the stuff the League of Villains would throw at him was junk food and unhealthy. He had tried so hard to get them off of this instant noodles and chips diet, but Shigaraki was a tough cookie to crack. He was so stubborn and hard to convince that a healthy diet would help his work later.

He tossed a few bags of chips back on the shelf and shook his head at the amount of soda and energy drinks piling up at the bottom of the cart.

“You can have one or the other.” He said putting back the energy drinks and changing them out for coffee instead, “this will be much better for you anyway, Tomura Shigaraki.”

Kurogiri really was the glue that held the League together. Without him, they would have already been caught by the heroes or starved. He took pride in his position, and made sure that at least once a week, a good hearty meal was on the menu.

****

Overhaul cleaned up the best he could. His pure, unadulterated rage had calmed to a gentle frustration. Clorox wipes definitely helped. He could still smell the fish on his pants, but at least he got the majority of it up. Now he didn’t care about getting what was on the list; he just wanted to go home and take a properly scalding shower.

The next aisle was his favorite though. A soft heat throbbed in his chest. His eyes sparkled with a ray of happiness. The once fuming aura of pure disgust was erased and replaced with a shimmering delight. He passed a wet floor sign and stepped around a large puddle of detergent on the floor and stopped to admire the beauty.

The soap aisle.

The bleach. The detergent. The smell of freshness. It made his heart, as black and emotionless as it was, flutter in his chest. This aisle was as dangerous to him as a liquor store was to Sakaki. If he didn’t have someone stopping him, he’d end up buying the entire aisle. Luckily, Tengai had come to his side seeing him alone.

“Boss,” he piped up, catching Overhaul off guard. “Only get what you need.”

Overhaul hated being told what to do, especially by those he deemed expendable like Tengai. But he was right, they couldn’t afford to spend so much money on cleaning supplies. With a hopeless sigh, he placed the box of gloves in his basket and moved along to the detergent.

“Got the coffee.” Rappa stated, rounding the corner.

Tetsuno followed with the tea in hand. With all of this, they wouldn’t have to get more for quite some time.

All three men suddenly stopped in their tracks as they moved along, Overhaul leaving them behind.

“Oh….” Tetsuno gripped his stomach.

“Oh man….” Rappa whined.

Tengai remained silent, standing still.

“What’s wrong with you three?” Overhaul looked back at them with raised brows.

“Bathroom… now…” All three collectively turned and rushed as one toward the restrooms.

Before they even managed to leave the aisle, they slipped on the puddle of detergent. All three tried so hard to use the others as a means to stay on both feet. They were sliding around, a moving pretzel of villains, before inevitably falling flat on their asses.

Overhaul ignored them, enjoying the sweet scent of the detergent. He took in a whiff of the fresh linen smell and smiled. Even through his mask, he could smell it; it was wonderful. But that scent was quickly destroyed by a truly awful smell. He glanced back at his men, all three of them looking ashamed and embarrassed.

Rappa growled. “This is your fault.” He held Tengai by the shirt collar.

“I don’t understand how this could possibly be my fault.” He rolled his eyes trying to hide that he too, had shit his pants.

“Who cares whose fault it is…. I need new pants now.” Tetsuno scanned the aisles until he saw the clothes.

He made a beeline for them hoping the smell wasn’t as bad as it felt.

****

Toga held back her laughter, clutching the wet floor sign to her chest in glee. All she wanted was to watch them fall. Watching the light leave their eyes as they voided their bowels was the delicious cherry on top she desperately needed. It was sweet, sweet payback for what they had done to poor Big Sis Magne.

Shigaraki had called a truce with them; but that didn’t mean messing with them was out of line with her leader’s orders.

She chuckled, pinching her nose. “Nice job Twice. Laxatives in the yogurt samples… classic.”

****

Katsukame scanned the bulk dry foods section. They needed more rice and he was selected to get it. Normally, he would grab a large bag of it from another store, but being on a tight budget made him come here.

He grimaced at the faint scent of feces and shook his head, “Damn kids.” He glared at a mother and baby.

The white rice was on sale too. This was a good thing. Any deal they could get would be a winner, and anything to get praise from the boss or Mimic was a good thing.

He would never outwardly admit it, but he loved the praise he got for a job well done. He loved being the go-to guy. Getting the job done right the first time was his life’s motto.

“Lucky me.” He said, hefting a 20-pound sack in his arms.

He walked the store in a bit of awe— this was his first time in such a large establishment. The free samples, the huge variety, the giant TVs, even furniture! What didn’t this place have?

He made note of a rice cooker he passed. The one at the hideout was getting beat up from its constant use. Once he got paid, he might come back and buy it for the group. They all had been working so hard lately and a nice treat like this would be appreciated.

****

Dabi followed Hojo around the store wondering what he would select. He’d scan a few items and pick them up to examine, but never bring them back with him. He seemed to be looking for something specific but couldn’t quite find what it was he was looking for in the vast array of gifts this store had to offer.

He hummed, holding up a bundle of leeks. “This should do us well,” he said, placing them in his grocery bag and continuing on.

He was looking for ingredients for a recipe.

Dabi kept a close eye on him and his mission, each ingredient thoughtfully selected and put into his bag.

“Now for some sugar.”

Dabi cackled lowly and slipped past him. Hojo’s attention was directed towards the commotion in the detergent aisle. He could only assume someone had told his boss he couldn’t buy it all.

He shook his head, “Fools. Just let the man get what he wants.” He dropped the sugar in his bag and moved along.

****

“I don’t get it?” Shigaraki huffed at Dabi’s seemingly stupid move.

“His meal is gonna be great. But replacing salt with sugar is gonna make it even better.”

Shigaraki grinned. This evil work was more fun than he had thought.

Tormenting the Shie Hassaikai. This was a great stress relief that even he wouldn’t think would help. The undeniable desire to get even with the man that not only belittled him and destroyed his hideout, but also killed his comrade was fulfilling.

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention.”

The loudspeaker cut off his next thought. That voice was familiar. “Toga…”

“The young man in the plague mask and green coat has had a horrible day. He’s in the detergent aisle. He loves getting tightly hugged and cuddled when he’s feeling down.” Shigaraki’s smile split his face. “If you see him, please, give him a big hug and tell him how important he is. Suicide is not an option and many people will miss him.”

“Thank you!” “Tell them he loves it when you touch his dick.”

“Shut up Twi-”

The crackle of the loudspeaker screeched before turning off.

****

“Oh no…” Chrono left the cart in Nemoto and Mimic’s hands and dashed to his boss.

With how busy the store was, there was already a small crowd surrounding him. This wasn’t good. If even one of them touched him he’d break out into hives and start disassembling each one of them.

“Please, everyone.” Chrono announced making his way through the small gathering, “the boss is fine. There is no need to hug or touch him. We, his… friends, have made sure he won’t do anything drastic. Return to your shopping.”

An old lady passed, “here’s a candy young man.” Her voice broke and sweet like a grandmother.

Her wrinkled smile flashed to the young boss. He wasn’t the least bit amused by her presence. He already felt his skin start to bubble just from the people looming around him so closely.

****

“Clean up in the detergent section... and the clothing section…”

Twice snickered as he and Toga tiptoed off, seeing Sakaki stumble past them. They couldn't get caught yet.

“Hey,” he reunited with Shigaraki and Dabi, “this is fun!” “Let’s make them cry!”

Dabi rolled his eyes. “Calm down. Where’s Spinner?”

“Right here.” The lizard man’s smile made them all giddy, “just had to take care of a…. rice situation.”

****

“Boss,” Hojo waved, “I got the rice like you asked.” He held up the bag by the cloth handle.

Half empty, rice trickled out of the hole in the bottom. Overhaul watched silently as it continued to drain out onto the floor in front of Hojo, a small pile of rice forming at his feet.

Hojo kept his hand up, letting the last few grains fall before lifting his gaze to the boss. This was embarrassing. His one job, the only job he was given, was a complete and utter failure.

He fell to his knees, “I’m so sorry boss!” He begged for forgiveness, “Please, let me try again!”

Overhaul was over this trip. He was frustrated and irritated— not to mention he still smelled like tuna. The store reeked of shit and half of his gang had somehow been hit with an illness. He’d have to correct that before getting into the same automobile as them. Maybe he’d just leave them behind and make them walk. A good brisk jog should do them well.

“We are leaving,” he sighed. “Gather the rest.”

Hojo took his orders seriously and rushed to get them together. Mimic and Chrono had made way to the checkout counter and waited as Overhaul grabbed a few more things he needed.

He stopped for a moment and closed his eyes. This trip was bringing shame upon his group. A rice trail scattered along the floor showed exactly where Hojo had gone. An exceptionally large pile of rice sat in the lingerie section; what an embarrassment.

He still needed something for Eri. She hated the tea set he got last time. Refused to play with the doll house from the time before. She loathed the stuffed animals. Normally this task would be given to her caretaker, but an unfortunate ‘accident’ rendered him useless and disposed of immediately.

Overhaul lifted a giant sucker up and examined it, “this should do.” He dropped it in his basket and headed to the checkout stand.

He passed Tetsuno, Rappa, and Tengai getting escorted to the back. For a moment he panicked, but seeing the clothing section a mess and covered in layers of runny shit made him turn a corner and go the longer way. Somehow, those three managed to get sick at the same time. It was disgusting. He had settled on it, those three would walk home. Either that, or they’d be sprayed with the hose outside before getting into the same vehicle as him. The thick stench of human excrement was filling the entire store.

“What an embarrassment…” he shook his head.

Once at the checkout line, he felt the calm return. It was almost over.

Chrono and Mimic knew better than to place the groceries on the conveyor belt without him. He had a routine and a method and he wouldn’t allow anyone to mess it up.

Frozen food first, then the fresh meats, a blockade of boxed or bagged items to keep the meats from touching anything, and the fresh veggies. Last was the cleaning supplies and his own basket of items. The checkout lady knew him from past visits and prepared to separate his basket from the rest.

“Boss, I don’t think we wanted this…” Chrono held up a box of plus size tampons.

“Or this…” Mimic showed the bulk extra strength deodorant.

Chrono looked over all of it, “none of this is ours!” he stated furiously. “Someone switched our god damn cart!” He gripped the handle to hold back his anger.

Overhaul remained silent. He grabbed his basket and went to another line, “I’ll be in the car when you are done returning all of this to the proper place and getting what we need.”

****

It took forever, but with teamwork and cooperation, they all managed to get what they had come for and out of the store without any more incidents. Rappa, Tengai, and Tetsuno were given adult diapers to wear home after cleaning up in the employee locker room.

The clothing section was closed off and was still getting cleaned as they checked out and left. “Finally!” Chrono groaned.

They quickly started to pack up the SUV. All they wanted was to get out of there as soon as possible.

****

The League of Villains excitedly packed the car. Shigaraki knew he could trust Kurogiri to get what was needed. He did throw a bit of a tantrum when Kurogiri didn’t buy the chips they all asked for, but they would get over it soon enough.

“Compress,” Dabi got his attention. With a hum, Mr. Compress turned. “What exactly were you doing this entire time?”

The league rolled past Overhaul and his gang— windows down and sunglasses on. Dabi took it upon himself to blast some gangster rap to try to look cool.

They smiled, waving at their rivals. Overhaul’s eyes widened as he finally caught on to why this particular trip was such a disaster.

Mr. Compress smiled. He hung out the window as Twice slowed. With a snap of his fingers, their entire car practically exploded. Canoes, couches, TVs, bookshelves, refrigerators, all of them came bursting out of nowhere, effectively destroying the car and everything inside of it. His quirk had come in handy, dropping small marbles into their bags as they left.

Shigaraki, making eye contact with Overhaul, nodded and puckered his lips as he flashed the peace sign like the gangster he is.

Twice sped away laughing.

Shie Hassaikai would never forget: members of the League of Villains were petty and cruel.

#overhaul #8 precepts of death #leauge of villians #shigaraki tomura #dabi #bnha fanfiction #bnha #my hero academia #funny shit #revenge for magne #Shigaraki is a dick #the league gets revenge #overhaul never saw it coming #I still laugh reading this #please like this #please tell me im funny

51 notes · View notes

nekojitachan · 5 years ago

Text

AFTG fic - Medicine

This is for @sig66, another owed fic from the @aftgremix fic challenge where she guessed correctly which one was mine. She asked for a Clouds fic, so here you go! I hope you like it.

Hmm, think this is pretty safe here, other than the usual Hatford warnings?

*******

Andrew stood still while Neil fussed with the collar of his shirt. “I don’t know why it won’t – ah, there it is.” He smiled as he smoothed his hands over Andrew’s shoulders then stepped back. “You look great.” There was a slight roughness to his voice, a lingering to his gaze as he looked Andrew up and down, and if Nicky and Erik weren’t out in the living room….

Telling his damn hormones to calm down, Andrew clicked his tongue as he reached for his black gown with the fancy sleeves and purple hood, while Neil grabbed the black cap; he wouldn’t put it on until he had to, and wore black slacks with a black dress shirt for his graduation ceremony. Neil was dressed up for once, too, in dark grey slacks with a silvery-grey dress shirt (which Andrew had picked out). They left the small bedroom made even smaller with all the boxes, to enter the living room also crammed with boxes.

Right after graduation, they were moving in together, into a larger apartment in the same building. Andrew looked forward to an office where he could study for his Master’s degree, and a decent sized bathroom.

“There you are! Excited to graduate?” Nicky asked as he jumped to his feet with a big grin on his face; he’d gone back to the US for Aaron’s graduation two months ago, and shouldn’t be so excited to sit through another boring ceremony that summer.

“What, where I sit on my ass listening to a bunch of old people talk way too much until they call my name?” Andrew huffed as he tugged on the cuffs of his shirt. “Only going because Bren promised me decent drinks afterward.”

“But it’s a major life milestone!” Nicky insisted while gazing at Neil. “Aren’t you looking forward to graduating next year?”

Neil shrugged as he leaned down to pet Pita, who rubbed against his shins. “They don’t really do anything for those of us who take classes online. I’ll probably just keep taking classes until I get bored, anyway.”

“But… but… I’d be happy if I were you,” Nicky sniffed, which made Erik give him a big one-armed hug. “It’s a big deal.”

It was just a piece of paper, in Andrew’s opinion. What mattered to him was what happened afterward – the fellowship he’d received which allowed him to continue studying at the university, and the new lease which had both his and Neil’s name on it.

He had a future in front of him, one he’d earned on his own and one where an impossible pipedream wanted to wake up next to him each morning.

“Fine, you go in my place,” Andrew offered as he held out his gown to his cousin. At first Nicky gaped at him and then laughed.

“I’m tempted just to see the looks on their faces,” he hiccupped as he wiped at his left eye. “That’s okay, I’ll be busy keeping your sweetie company.”

Andrew narrowed his eyes at the moron for the ‘sweetie’ comment, but that was mild for Nicky and he couldn’t exactly argue that nothing was between him and Neil when several of the boxes around them bore his name.

“Uhm, we need to leave,” Neil said in a rush as he motioned to the door. “If we want to be on time.”

“Yes, I imagine there’ll be some traffic,” Erik agreed, a proud smile on his face as he held out his arm for Nicky to take; both men were dressed in suits as if attending a formal affair.

They finally left the apartment and went down to the car which Erik and Nicky had rented for their visit. On the way to campus, Andrew’s phone pinged with a text from Aaron – a short message to congratulate him and remind him to call when everything calmed down.

Andrew hadn’t been able to attend his twin’s ceremony since he was busy with classes at the time, but he’d gone back over Easter break to tie up some loose ends (sell the GS, box up whatever he wanted to keep to either bring back with him or mail to the UK, and get rid of the rest) and have it out with Aaron one last time. To his surprise, it had gone better than he’d expected; he doubted that his brother had ever thought he’d just ‘walk away’, would leave Aaron and the States for good, so they managed a sort of ‘détente’.

Distance seemed to work well for them.

Campus was a mess with all of the visitors there to see their family and friends graduating, even if they had split up the classes as much as possible. After they’d parked and gotten to where the ceremony was held, Andrew (barely) allowed Nicky to give him a quick hug and Neil a longer one before he went off to join his fellow graduates, including Prasad. He exchanged a fist-bump with his now former roommate, who updated him on his job search (a couple of promising leads) and once again congratulated him on the fellowship before they split up to go to their seats.

After that, it was as boring as he’d expected, save for Neil sending him texts during the droning speeches; asking him if he was certain that he was related to Nicky (had there ever been a blood test? Neil knew people who could do genetic testing on the sly if Andrew wanted it done, just saying), future menu items at the café (now that was just mean), possible vacation spots for them, and yes/no on accessories for the new ‘flat’ (no on the cat-themed pillows, yes on the new duvet). When it was Andrew’s time to go up for his diploma, he was hard-pressed not to flash the middle finger at the crowd with the way that Nicky and Erik acted like immature morons, yelling out his name and clapping so loud.

When it was all said and done, he was grateful to make his way back to where Neil waited for him; he had to endure a congratulatory pat or two on the shoulder from a couple of professors along the way. As soon as Neil spotted him, he smiled at Andrew and leaned in for a quick kiss once close enough, which somehow made the whole ridiculous ceremony worthwhile.

“Let’s go,” Andrew insisted when they broke apart, and ignored Nicky’s protests about him posing for pictures.

The man really should know better by then.

They waded through the crowd and managed to get back on the road after a short (not short enough) wait, then drove to the Bolthole, which was closed for a ‘private’ party. Andrew would be honored by the event, if he didn’t know how little money the café made on a regular basis and how much some of its ‘regulars’ enjoyed drinking.

Along the way, Nicky babbled on about Andrew and Neil visiting Germany before their classes resumed, maybe the four of them meeting up in Berlin like they’d talked about around New Year’s. It was a possibility, especially after Andrew bought a car so he and Neil could plan out some road-trips.

There were times when it still didn’t seem real, the fact that he’d left the US behind to live in the UK, that he’d be looking for a job here after he graduated with his Master’s, that he’d cosigned a lease and had a student visa (and been told by Bren that it wouldn’t be any problem to get a more permanent one once he graduated).

That he was planning a future with Neil and a spoiled as hell cat.

Okay, he’d never plan on including the spoiled as hell cat. Or the annoying, cloying as fuck family members like Stuart and Will.

Especially Stuart.

That wasn’t even including Ally.

The one thing he’d finally accepted was that Neil was real and wasn’t going away. Not with that signed lease, not with all those boxes waiting to be moved into the new apartment (flat – what the hell was a ‘flat’?), not with all the exchanged texts about what they should buy for their new home (home, what a concept), not with the casual mentions of how they’d get a townhouse (‘terraced house’) when they graduated and figured out where they wanted to live (where they got jobs – probably London but maybe Glasgow or Edinburgh since Andrew liked those cities, too).

Neil cared about finding a place to live where Andrew liked, where Andrew wanted to live.

After all those years of tearing himself into pieces for others… Andrew had found an improbable idiot who worried about making sure that Andrew was happy.

(Well, Andrew and a spoiled furball.)

(Andrew could put up with a spoiled furball who was placated by a full dish of food and a soft blanket to sleep upon, as long as he got Neil most of the time.)

Neil had just told Nicky to send him some ideas of where to stay in Berlin when they finally reached the Bolthole (or at least where they had to park), and everyone got out of the car. Neil smiled at Andrew and held out his hand a little in a gesture that meant he’d like to hold hands but it was up to Andrew, which made Andrew click his tongue and entwine their fingers together.

Such an idiot.

They only had to walk half a block to reach the café, and ignored the signs posted on the door about it being closed for a private party; Andrew actually blinked in surprise to find more than Bren and a glowering Stuart inside, but a smiling Jamie, Henry, Ally (okay, he could do without that cousin), Will, Miriam and a few of the family’s bodyguards and errand runners as well.

They made an obvious sign of brandishing crackers in the air before setting them off (Neil still flinched a little at the noise), before closing in to wish Andrew ‘congratulations’. “How does it feel to be an educated man?” Henry asked as he handed Andrew what looked to be a glass of champagne (it better not be anything cheap).

“Hungry. Where’s the cake?” he asked as he rocked up on his toes to look beyond the wall of Hatfords, which made most of the people laugh.

“It’s over there,” Henry remarked as he waved to a table laden with appetizers and what had to be an entire sheet cake despite the fact that there was less than twenty people in the place; like the rest of his family, he was dressed up for the event (why?) in nice clothes (suits and dresses – but then they dressed up to ‘deal’ with people so no big deal). “So, are you happy with the new flat?”

Despite being drawn to the cake (an entire sheet cake, embellished with his name and lots of buttercream roses), Andrew paused to consider the question and the man asking it. Henry might appear like some mild-mannered twenty-something with his friendly smile, pale grey eyes and blond hair, but Andrew had yet to see the young man without at least three weapons on him (knives in his ankle boots and gun holstered in the small of his back), had heard enough stories from Neil and Bren to know that the Hatford’s heir wasn’t one to ignore. Yet Henry strove to put him at ease, to ‘chat him up’ each time they met… after ensuring that he was serious about Neil.

Hadn’t that been a ‘fun’ conversation.

Yet Henry (and Jamie and Miriam) seemed to believe that Andrew was serious (he was) about Neil and so treated him with respect (what a concept), while Stuart and Will were still a bit standoffish (considering what he’d heard about their sister and her relationship with Neil’s father… well, he’d accept ‘standoffish’).

“I can shave in the damn shower without knocking my elbows into the walls, so ‘yes’,” Andrew remarked after a sip of the champagne (it wasn’t the cheap stuff).

“Well, you know Neil,” Henry remarked with a slight smile as he gazed over at his cousin, who was being hugged by Jamie. “He insisted on the smallest flat in the building, so Dad was rather happy on giving him an upgrade this time around.”

Which worked out for Andrew, didn’t it? “For future reference, tell him ‘no’,” he insisted. “At the least, it’s animal cruelty.”

“Not to mention boyfriend cruelty, no?” Henry laughed as he held up his own glass as if in a toast. “Don’t worry, I believe it won’t be a problem anymore.” He gave Andrew a knowing smile as he walked away, only to be replaced by Miriam who offered her own congratulations and wanted to know if he needed anything for the new apartment (she didn’t seem to trust Neil’s ‘we’re fine’ – the woman wasn’t an idiot by any means).

After spending ten minutes or so going over some vital necessities (Andrew had no issues hitting up Neil’s wealthy relatives for stuff when they were eager to provide them) while snacking on the appetizers since he hadn’t eaten in hours (the croquettes were delicious, as were the mini chicken pies and the Welsh rarebits, among others). He figured any guilt Neil felt over the purchases would be assuaged by how happy his aunt was over making them, so it would work out in the end.

Bren and Davis came over with a few pints to ‘toast’ his graduation, and then he was able to escape to find Neil, who was chatting with Stuart and Jamie. “-seriously, we can put you to work in some side businesses once you graduate,” Stuart was telling Neil, whose body was stiff with tension.

“I appreciate that,” Neil said in a flat manner as he stared at his uncle with a bottle of water clutched in his right hand. “But there’s a lot I can do with the degree, maybe I’ll get a Master’s like Andrew and… I don’t know, see what happens after that. Mathematics and language intersect at some point, which opens up a lot of options for me.”

Stuart frowned as he jabbed his right forefinger at his nephew. “I don’t see how-“

“Neil’s right, there’s potential there,” Jamie was quick to jump in while Andrew rubbed his right hand along his boyfriend’s nape. “Something with security and code breaking, if I’m guessing right, which could be valuable to us… or if he wants to strike out on his own.”

“Exactly,” Neil said in a quiet voice as he slumped against Andrew. “Could set up my own business but still help out the family.”

Stuart eyed him for a couple of seconds before he nodded. “You know you’re free to do whatever you want and we’ll support you, but… but yeah, tell me and Will about this some night, okay?” He smiled, the expression blatantly proud, as he reached out to ruffle Neil’s hair. “Obviously you got all the smarts intended for Ally.”

Jamie laughed at the comment while Neil managed a slight grin, and Andrew felt the tension leave his lover’s lean body; no matter how much Neil struggled to stand on his own, his uncles’ opinion mattered to him. “That’s a classic example of damning with faint praise,” Jamie claimed as she gave her cousin a fond look. “You two are coming to London for a week or two, right? Maybe in another month?”

Neil fidgeted with the left of his shirt while he gave a curt nod. “We need to get everything set up in the new flat and then figure out where we’re all going during the summer break, but we planned on stopping there.”

“Still need to get the car first,” Andrew added as he glanced around for Bren, who was over by the impromptu bar talking to Davis and a couple other Hatford ‘employees’. They’d discussed options for an affordable used car (something not too boring with low miles), but the man had been awfully quiet on the matter the last few days.

“Yeah, right.” For some reason, Stuart gave Andrew an indecipherable look while Jamie smiled, and then the topic switched to how Andrew and Neil better not stay at any cheap hostels again on their getaways (it had been one time, when their hotel had ended up overbooked, and while Andrew hadn’t been happy about it, at least they had a room to themselves and the place had been clean). While an indignant Neil argued with his overprotective uncle (good luck – usually Andrew would put his money on his lover, but not that time), he wandered off to fetch a drink.

Bren gave him a pat on the shoulder while the others wished him ‘congrats’ and handed over at least a double of a very nice whiskey; he was toasted first to a successful Master’s and then a ‘happy life’ in the new apartment (flat). He tried a few times to bring up the car, but kept being interrupted by Davis or Quentin before Bren could say more than a couple of words.

Then Bren pointed out that Ally had challenged Nicky to some ridiculous drinking contest, and Andrew had to go put a stop to it before Stuart and Will decided they didn’t want someone related to such a blithering moron anywhere near their precious nephew.

By then, Neil seemed to reach the limit of his uncles’ fussing and all but glued himself to Andrew’s side, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. They sat down at a table to eat (more meat pies, not that Andrew was complaining at all, along with mashed potatoes); Neil nursed a cider while Andrew had a pleasant buzz from the whiskey and looked forward to the cake for dessert. Jamie and Teddy (Wednesday pick-up) sat across from them and talked to Neil about possible places to see in Portugal while Andrew exchanged a few texts with Aaron and did his best to ignore Nicky’s hints about how he needed to make things with Neil ‘permanent’.

Right, he’d just sold most of his belongings (the GS) and moved across the ocean to live full-time with another person (whose family could very easily make him ‘disappear’ if they wanted) and a cat – all on a whim.

Maybe if he asked Stuart very nicely, the man would make Nicky disappear.

(It was a nice daydream.)

At the moment, what annoyed him the most about Aaron was that his twin was thousands of miles away from Nicky. “You need to go spend the summer with Aaron,” he told his cousin.

“Huh? But I just saw him a few weeks ago, that and I can’t take that much time off at once,” Nicky complained as he frowned at the platter of pies before he picked one at random. “Besides, I need to save a week in case, you know.” His left eye did some weird spasm thing, which Andrew took to be a pathetic attempt at winking. “Something important happens with you and Neil.”

“Time to cut him off,” he told Erik, who was already handing a glass of water to his inebriated husband.

Neil leaned against Andrew after he had a sip of his drink. “Can we just go somewhere far away when I graduate? I mean, this isn’t too bad but….” He gave a significant look to the family gathered around them.

Andrew nudged him in the side while pointing to the half-eaten chicken and mushroom pie on his plate before he answered (in German as well). “Not a bad idea.”

His boyfriend smiled and resumed eating while Jamie rattled off all the family events in the second half of the year that they were clearly expected to attend; Andrew inwardly sighed and wondered if he could walk off with whatever bottles of alcohol were left over at the end of the party as Neil’s smile faltered.

He was about to tell Neil to create a distraction while he grabbed the cake and then they ran like hell (well, more Neil than him) when Will stood up and cleared his throat as if preparing to speak. “I want to thank everyone for coming tonight. It’s not a grand occasion, but it’s still an important one.” He nodded to where Andrew sat, a slight smile on his face; Will wasn’t the most jovial of people, but he’d always treated Andrew with respect and politeness even while he made it clear that Andrew wouldn’t live long enough to regret harming his nephew. “Someone we’ve all come to know has reached an important milestone, and so we’re here to recognize that achievement. With that in mind, Stuart and I have a gift for him.” He motioned to Andrew. “If you would, Andrew.”

“If I’m about to be shot, I’ll be very upset,” Andrew murmured to Neil, who’d gone perfectly still during the speech. The look his boyfriend gave him indicated that Neil didn’t appreciate the joke (well, semi-joke), but there was little he could do since Andrew had stood up and went to approach the mob boss (crime lord, whatever).

Stuart stood as well, his expression blank, but Andrew caught the way that Miriam smiled, along with Henry and Davis (who were seated near the men) so assumed that he wasn’t about to bleed in the next few minutes (assumed). Still, he had to force himself to not go for one of his knives and heard Neil mutter in Russian when Will reached into the pocket of his black pants for something, which he held out to Andrew. “A present for you. We heard you might like it.”

“Something better than that used Japanese shite you had Bren looking into,” Stuart muttered; upon seeing the ‘Jaguar’ logo on what was apparently a key fob, Andrew almost remarked what did it matter when the company was now foreign-owned, too… and then he realized that it was a new key fob for an F-type.

Yeah, he supposed it was a bit better than something used that he could afford with the money from selling his GS….

“Are you serious?” he asked as he rubbed his right thumb over the logo; he’d gotten some gift cards (mostly Amazon and one for IKEA from Nicky and Erik) for graduation, while Neil had surprised him with a new laptop. But this? This was….

Andrew didn’t know what to do with this.

He was ready to throw it back at Will when Neil appeared at his side. “You didn’t have to,” he told his uncles with faint reproach.

“We wanted to,” Will explained as he smiled at his nephew. “This way we know that the two of you are driving around all over the place in something reliable.”

While Neil frowned at their usual protectiveness, Andrew clicked his tongue and slid the fob into his pocket, suddenly all right with the extravagant present – it was more of the usual Hatford ‘must coddle Neil’ BS. “It better not be some lame color, like white.”

Stuart’s face grew flushed as he jabbed his forefinger in Andrew’s direction. “Listen, you little shit! You don’t-“

“It’s grey, nothing too flashy,” Will said with a knowing smile as he reached out to tousle Neil’s dark hair. “And the insurance is taken care of, too. Just don’t wreck it.”

“I won’t let Neil behind the wheel,” Andrew promised, only to give his lover a bland look. “What? You think speed limits should be doubled, at a minimum. And you switch lanes at will.” The one time he’d let the idiot drive a rental car was also the last.

“It’s just… what I’m used to is… oh never mind,” Neil grumbled as he rubbed at his eyes. “Cake now?”

Considering how little Neil liked desserts, Andrew knew it was a diversionary tactic yet accepted it, because he wanted the damn cake (and then to go find his new car and drive it home).

(Go home and spend the rest of the night alone with his boyfriend.)

Several other people spoke up in agreement that yes, definitely time for cake, so Miriam and Neil went over to cut the damn thing at last (Neil made sure that Andrew got a huge end piece, and the rest of his own after he choked down a couple of bites). There were more presents, mostly along the way of gift cards (Andrew didn’t complain), though Henry did give him a very nice set of knives and Bren a pair of Doc Martins with skulls on them.

“Just think about it,” Nicky mostly whispered after he sidled up to Andrew after Andrew went back for seconds on the cake. “If they give you a car now, imagine what your wedding present would be.”

The moron made a good point for once. Andrew had a bite of dessert (chocolate layers with the rich buttercream he liked) while he watched Neil make Ally take a piece from a center of the cake – the ends were reserved for Andrew, apparently - and felt a familiar warmth fill his chest.

The moron made a good point, but there was no reason to tell him that, to say that there wasn’t a need to rush things. First, he and Neil had to settle into their new home and then still had to finish their university degrees. Maybe after they graduated and found steady jobs, they’d consider it… or maybe not. After all the changes in the past year or so, the one thing that Andrew had grown certain of was the life he’d found with an improbable pipedream.

Neil looked over at him and smiled, the expression turning into a grimace as he licked a bit of icing off his fingers without thinking.

“I’m just saying,” Nicky continued to harp, “guys like Neil don’t come along every day. Put a ring on it, will you?”

Oh, Andrew knew how rare Neil was, but judging from the smile that returned as Neil walked over to him… for once he believed it would be all right. “Enough,” he warned his cousin before he said something to upset Neil.

“I’m just trying to help you out,” Nicky said with an offended sniff before he returned to Erik’s side, his husband busy chatting with Davis about something.

Probably, but Nicky never knew when to quit. Hopefully he got it all out of his system tonight and wouldn’t bring it up when they visited later in the summer.

Hmm, maybe the Hatfords could do something about that as a future present, Andrew mused as Neil sidled up to him - full of cake and good whiskey, a new car waiting for him, and content to have his boyfriend at his side once more.

*******

So, one more owed fic - I may post the next Ghost in You chapter next week and then I’ll have to see what happens next, fic-wise. Especially since I’ll be out of town the first weekend of December.

#aftg #nekojitachanfics #aftg fic #andrew minyard #andreil #neil josten #the hatfords #nicky hemmick #erik klose #stuart hatford #aftg au #clouds fic #andrew's in deep and not fighting it for once

123 notes · View notes

punkinroses · 5 years ago

Text

Yugioh Season 4 Quotes Prompt Meme

I am stressed, tired, sick of my job and needing a brain break. Yugioh Abridged is my go to for that at the moment. So. Have a sentence meme thing. Feel free to reblog, change pronouns, etc. Go have fun kids. Be wild. Be gay. Do crime. Love you

“The whole saving the world thing really eats into your study time.” “But my teacher gave me, like, a bunch of gold stars! And an A+ in trying.” “I already know everything I need to know about mathematics from playing card games.” “I was also thinking about doing some of the drugs later.” “(name)’s hand is on fire!” “That sounds like a commotion! .......Yes. Definitely a commotion.” “Well, I’m sure the city can defend itself.” “Those neutral motherfuckers. I never cared for them.” “How the hell did you people get in my house!?” “I’m not sure I like the rich douchebag channel.” “We figured you had more of an emotional connection to these.” “Damnit, (name), we agreed I would do the monologuing.” “My spirit guide has once again served its purpose.” “It’ll be called the bitch ass retirement plan. Named after you, ya bitch ass!” “That’s some OP bullshit right there.” “Broseph...Brosephine...Bro DiMaggio.” “I’ve got shoulder pads!” “Now what are you gonna do, Bromeo and Juliet?” “It’s not often I get to hear the worst insult ever coined by a human being.” “Yeah, they once sucked out Channing Tatum’s soul as a joke.” “I have nothing else in my life, please!” “So you’re someone I haven’t seen in a really, really long time? .........Are you my parents??!!” “Stop abusing the concept of friendship!!” “You must have spent YEARS researching this! Even though you can find this exact information on the back of any Yu-Gi-Oh! DVD!” “King of doors, bitch!” “That’s two points for Middle Earth, zero points for (name).” “I was not prepared to watch this today.” “Okay, so, you’re a lost cause.” “If even one of you makes a Sharknado reference, I will end you so hard.” “Try this on for size, you Sauron-looking motherfucker!” “I thought we had an agreement! You agreed to not be a little bitch, but now you’re being a little bitch!” “Maybe they’ll take someone’s soul that we don’t care about this time.” “Goddamnit, you never help me, ever!!” “Alright, douchebags! I’m sick and tired of us not being on top!” “These meetings get fucking weird.” “How much more specific can I get? SOMEWHERE in CALIFORNIA.” “I wonder if there are card games on the moon.” “I knew it. This is just some cheap trick to get me to come see you, so you can hit on me with a bunch of cheap innuendos, isn’t it?” “And, to think, people call you a diluted egomaniac.” “That’s not possible! I’M the adorable one!” “For some reason, cruising for chicks has caused me to become severely injured.” “I would be so turned on if that wasn’t such a huge waste of trading cards.” “I’d like to spread some vegemite on those things.” “You left me on a blimp with a known psychopath, while I was in a coma, so you could go off and play video games.” “So, in other words, since we’ve never seen your balls drop, we can assume it hasn’t happened?” “My douche-senses are telling me that (name) is mocking me somewhere.” “Should I remind you to tell them to go fuck themselves when we get there?” “He will eat you with his crocodile face.” “Okay, did you have to include the part of the story where they insulted me?” “Hey, a sword! I can stab people with this!” “Seriously? That was your one Koala joke?” “Try believing in the heart of the cards.” “Quiet, you sorcerer.” “If you’re seeing this, (name), it either means I’m dead, leaving behind a very fabulous looking corpse, or my soul has been captured.” “Maybe it had something very kinky on it and 4Kids had to censor it.” “I’ll leave that up to the fanfic authors.” “I’ll write a highly unfavorable research paper about you! With inconclusive findings!” “I feel like I should be concerned, but I just can’t stop thinking about how Copernicus is such a stupid name for a horse.” “You know that thing takes people’s souls and I found it on a dead guy, right?” “That was acting, children! Bravo for me!” “According to my research, I’m in a crapload of pain.” “Learned that trick from playing Super Mario World.” “I’ll just be over here wibbling to myself. Please, pay me no mind.” “Okay, everyone. I’m going to go scream into a pillow for the next five minutes.” “Are you telling me that we can't build an elevator into space?! Because that sounds like something a guy who doesn't want to keep his job would say!” “And let me tell you one last thing. All those times I got angry and declared that I would have my vengeance on you: I WAS FAKING!” “I'm glad we spent all our money on this bag of potato chips and generic brand soda.” “By the way, I memorized several dozen dinosaur puns, just so I could use them in this.” “The only reunion that’s about to happen is my size ten up your buttocks!” “Dorō! Monsutā Kādo!” “You're right, (name). I lost control. At the end of the day, this is just a game.” “We’re going to disturb the spirits of the dead! Yay!” “What the fuck even is this season!?” “Won’t somebody fetch me some ice cream!?” “I’m old and I hold a stick. That automatically makes me the wisest person in the valley.” “It’s a good thing I played all that Assassin’s Creed!” “It’s a good thing I played all that Banjo Kazooie!” “Oh, thank God, because I really wasn’t listening to any of that. Any of it.” “Now, I have to go back down there and challenge that vulture to a card game.” “Okay, (name), I’m going to level with you; I may have lied about the pizza.” “It makes me look really bonkers cool while I kick the shit out of you.” “Actually, he says his name is Cornelius Jr. and he wants to play basketball, just like how his father wanted him to.” “You can talk to snakes!?” “Hey, are you sure it’s safe for us to fly straight into that strange weather phenomenon?” “I guess we’d better confront whatever villain of the week that is.” “Well, these buttons look important.” “We mostly get by using our street smarts and ingenuity.” “No, I'm mad because I never wanted to know what one of Hideo Kojima's wet dreams looked like, and now I do, so thanks for that.” “I swear on my life we didn't keep a single flying war machine of death.” “Well, it would be way more intimidating if its face wasn't so damn adorable.” “Yeah, they’re dead. Dibs on their crappy broken stuff!” “Did you guys notice that this episode had the exact same ending as Bee Movie?” “I'm also glad we're not going to Florida as it means that we are not going to Florida.” “OK, but wait! I'm almost to the part where we met two ghosts in the California desert who just happened to be related to the guy we're fighting. Oh God, you're right; it's all just bullshit, isn't it?” “Breaking stuff will fix it!” “I'm bi a lot of things, but lingual is not one of them.” “Welcome back, asshole.” “Hey (name), wanna reenact a scene from Back to the Future Part II?” “I'd rather throw myself off the roof.” “Damn you, Microsoft Flight Simulator!” “Yes, but you had to steal my catchphrase to do it! Is nothing sacred to you?” “That is the single most offensive thing anyone has ever said to me.” “OK, children, from now on, everybody uses the Buddy System. When I say "Go," I want you all to choose a buddy and form an everlasting and inseparable bond between them 'till death do you part. OK, go!” “(Name), remember, whatever happens, you mustn't become an evil little sh*thead.” “Suckers! Consider yourselves ditched.“ “Well if any other anime in existence has taught me anything, most of the drama tends to happen on...the roof.“ “Just my luck. Dork Fest continues.“ “No! It's got a scythe. The deadliest farming implement known to man.“ “This heavy-hearted metaphor was brought to you by Da, a subsidiary of Doy, Inc.” “OK, this is also total BS. When I came back from the dead, I didn't get a chorus of heavenly music and a light show.“ “It's a good thing I'm so buff or that fall would've killed me.“ “(Name), promise me you're not going to embarrass me in front of the U.S. Military.” “ Guys, I think we took a wrong turn, because I'm pretty sure this is the Chamber of Secrets.” “Those aren't Funko Pops! They're much more disturbing!” “Yeah, makes your measly five thousand years look like a five thousand years of being a bitch, bitch.“ “Okay, but why are we in space?” “I have no idea who that is. You are talkin' fucking crazy right now, man. Are you okay? Do you need water? How long were you in the desert for?“ “For the record, I was dressing up in suits of armor before it was cool.“ “(Name), this is like, the third time you've tried to murder one of my friends, stop it!” “Nah. As a teenager with unlimited access to the Internet, I get to do that every day.” “As I was saying, (name) is a damn handsome and valuable person. Thank goodness for them.” “They died as they lived... pissing me off.” “Okay, who let the posh shithead in here?” “I'm so happy you escaped the cold embrace of death so that I could experience your deathly cold embrace again!“ “Wow. My eBay sensors are tingling.“ “You know, we really have no idea where this portal will take us, but I have total confidence in this decision.“ “None of this matters to you! You're already dead! Blah, blah, blah, omae wa mou shindeiru.” “Glad we came all the way up here so that we could not know what was going on.“ “Does this mean I can take back all the nice things I said?“ “I'm not doing any of those things. I'm just enjoying being with you.”

#sentence prompt #rp prompt #rp prompts #writing prompts #writing prompt #sentence prompts #rp meme #rp memes #rp starters #writing memes #ygotas #ygotas season 4 #ygotas memes

31 notes · View notes

comicteaparty · 5 years ago

Text

June 13th-June 19th, 2020 Creator Babble Archive

The archive for the Creator Babble chat that occurred from June 13th, 2020 to June 19th, 2020. The chat focused on the following question:

What is your physical and digital workspace like when you’re working on your story?

🌈ERROR404 🌈

LOL it really depends on what stage I'm in of the process - My storyboarding space is at home, as comfortable as I can be, a beer and some food at the ready and pure silence. The cats have to be freshly fed, otherwise I'll be harassed and lose my headspace entirely LOL. I usually work on my story boards digitally, just at a very small scale, with my script/outline on my computer and working on my ipad! The double screen helps a LOT, although i would just print out the script if I had access to a printer, haha. When I'm working on the actual page itself, it's a very different story. I usually just try and work on it in tiny little batches during the day when I'm stuck at home, and usually work around the animals as best i can, lmao. Truthfully, I really prefer to be in a coffee shop when I'm working on finishing pages, it makes me so much more productive than i am in this house with so many things to take care of right in front of me, but, obviously, that's a bit difficult to do these days. ;; I usually reserve food and drink until after I pass a milestone in inking/sketching to help motivate me to keep going for as much as I can before taking a break, and I need some kind of music or video playing in the background to keep myself from being absolutely bored out of my mind. My shading process, since it's in black and white, is very easy and i can finish it in one setting, easy, no matter what I'm working with. I also work digitally for my pages, of course, although I don't need more than my ipad and clip studio for it!

DaeofthePast

freshly fed cats

🌈ERROR404 🌈

They are BEASTS when hungry, the little bastards (love them)

I may only work in peace when they're post-food napping lmao

DaeofthePast

we only have one, but same

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

I work almost entirely in the corner of my IKEA couch at home I used to work at a proper desk with a Cintiq, but when I switched to Procreate on an iPad, I migrated to the couch and surrounded myself with a nest of clothes and blankets and books and... here I am, bein' cozy. With terrible posture But when I was between jobs last year, I did rent a little coworking space down the street so I could get out of my pajamas and go get comic stuff done there. It was a godsend. I like drawing at my favorite coffee shop every so often too, but I tend to hide my work while I draw, and there, everyone can look over my shoulder The coworking space had a tall artist desk that was rarely used, so I often grabbed that one. Not cheap, but to stave off cabin fever, heck yes, worth it.

🌈ERROR404 🌈

Ahhh I've been really thinking about getting a studio space one of these days I really shouldn't rn, with my finances as they are, but I could REALLY make use of one recently

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

I loved the space I used last year. They recently had to close for... current-event reasons... and are going to reopen with all sorts of plexiglass barriers between the desks I feel so bad for them. Good studio spaces are wonderful, I would support them again if I ever was out of a job!

🌈ERROR404 🌈

it's good they've found ways to make it safer, though!

carcarchu

My old workspace was in the basement of my home in canada and it was always perpetually freezing even in the summer and i was frequently visited by spiders so my current workspace is a huge improvement in that regard. I do miss my old ergonomic desk chair though. I'm definitely not the kind of person who can draw in bed or on the couch. I need to be in workmode and having a designated space just for that is necessary for me to get in the right headspace for that.

DaeofthePast

my workspace rn is just my desk with my laptop and my drawing tablet. my laptop is stacked on top of a pile of books so i can see the screen (otherwise my tablet blocks my line of sight). it's kinda simple

chalcara [Nyx+Nyssa]

Depends. I have a Cintiq Mobile Studio, so I can draw pretty much every where and sometimes in the oddest position, but most of the time I am on my desk with the cintiq hooked up to a second monitor so I don't have to look down so much.(edited)

Holmeaa - working on WAYFINDERS

For Wayfinders: Thumbnails are somewhere cozy and the only physical work. Me and Q sit and plan them out together. The rest of wayfinders are made on Photoshop, and flat colors in clip paint studio. In the world I would love a nice studio place in an office with others. During corentine I have been working from home, and I am not that good at it, being quite the extrovert. Before corentine I was in a artist residency where I worked on Wayfinders which had a workstation and all the programs we could need. It is so nice and me and Q are going to return there when it opens up again!

Miranda

I have an iPad so usually on the couch, cozied up with coffee and pillows and blankets. But sometimes at the table. But usually on the couch like the gremlin I am

FeatherNotes(Krispy)

I have a large drafting table, a mini drafting table, and a lapdesk in my papasan when we ink/draw! Toning and letters are all done on the desktop in its own space

Miranda

I need to get a good lap desk. But that sounds like a grand setup!

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

My first time hearing about a lapdesk

Omg I need one

FeatherNotes(Krispy)

They are the best things ever Mine has just the pencil holder !(some come with cup holders and its a waste of space imo)

Joichi [Hybrid Dolls]

Wow I like your setup of the drafting tables

FeatherNotes(Krispy)

I wanna show pics of them....if im allowed in this chat?

Joichi [Hybrid Dolls]

I hope so, I'm not sure which channel we can post studio photos at? I did see some did before?

FeatherNotes(Krispy)

Ill post in shop talk since creator babble gets archived

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

my current space is uh.... a bit better than my last one. I used to work on an old writers desk for a decade and I did most of my comic work sitting there cramped up with my desktop taking most of the space. Now I have an L shaped desk where I have my desktop on the shorter end. The longer end it's my pen, pencils, and watercolor stuff. my display tablet occupy the space at times so switching from digital and traditional without worrying about setup hassle is a lot better than what I dealt with before lol.

I'm glad the days I had to curl up and draw with no privacy are long gone now

kayotics

I’ve got a little drafting table where I draw all my comic pages. I’m messy with my pens so they’re kind of strewn about until I start to lose them. Then I put them back. I’m not particularly neat. I spend most of the comic process off the computer, so most of my digital work is just on an iPad where I can sit anywhere. I try to keep good lighting around my drafting table and there’s always loose eraser shavings all over.

Natasha Berlin (Pot of Gold)

I got myself a lil corner desk by the dining table. Not as well-lit as I'd like, but it's decently ergonomic and I started putting posters on my wall Plus I can leave work mindset easily by turning off my computer and forgetting about the dark corner in the dining room XD(edited)

sssfrs (JOE IS DEAD)

My desk is really sloppy and covered in all kinds of junk. I have a harmonica, a ball of yarn, a bunch of ink bottles, etc on my desk. I have my sketchbook under my tablet and usually a notebook somewhere for writing. My tablet sits to the right of my laptop (on top of sketchbook) while I'm not using it and when I'm using it it goes over my computer keyboard. I sometimes have a glass of water or some food sitting to the lefthand side

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

The only thing I wanna share about my workspace is this

once i spent over three hours looking for that damned pen

never again

🌈ERROR404 🌈

Ajkdhfkjs the models for hte magazine im crying

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

Oh my God

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

mad giggling

Deo101 [Millennium]

youre gonna manage to lose the string

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

omg

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

i know in my heart deo is right but still i hope

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

You should weld a metal chain to it

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Watch me lose the whole tablet

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

Oh nooo

I believe in you!

TaliePlume

My workspace is a black table with a white, yellow, blue and green tablecloth with 3 black chairs. It's next to the kitchen. On it, is my laptop and the left side is my clipboard, 3 blue folders full of writing. Then above it, is 3 sketchbooks and another blue folder from a class that I took in community college.

June 16, 2020

sagaholmgaard

I have one long desk at almost three meters. On the left side is all my coffee and tea supplies, in the middle is my work space and on the right is my dining table xD I get everything done from there, despite having a mobilestudio so I COULD sit anywhere and work, lol. It's a blessing during holiday seasons to be able to bring it everywhere, but at some I like my designated working space. Although I am moving in a few weeks, so who knows what my new workspace will be

Moral_Gutpunch

My workspace is anywhere I can draw or write. It's more of a "Will I be interrupted over something petty or stupid" issue than space. Not that I don't want more space.

Mitzi (Trophallaxis)

My workspace is a big, broken corner desk I managed to lug out of an old apartment when it was gonna be trashed. Before then, I'd just draw in bed. I don't remember, but I'm pretty sure the folding chair I sit at is a similar affair. It's got a Dollar General throw pillow on it so I can at least say I'm trying to save my back. The top of the desk is a mess of mostly old bottles and cans, pencils, incense ash, and my old tarot deck. I love this setup dearly. This is the first time I've ever had my own desk space, much less a space I can decorate or leave as messy as I want. Got my own art up on the walls with sticky tack and all! Also the cat's scratching post is directly behind me, because we've learned the cat won't use it unless it's as in the way as possible. What can ya do, lol.

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

Oh cats...

Desnik

I got spoiled with an adjustable desk. It is six feet long, and has a whiteboard top for noodling with dry erase markers

my main computer is set up on an adjustable stand so it floats over the desk, and then I have my cintiq, which we tried to mount on a similar stand but then it was just too heavy

I keep my dice collection nearby because fidgeting helps think things through sometimes

and rolling to make odd decisions never hurts

lately during the quarantine I've been sharing the office with my spouse so we've had to establish rules over when it's okay to bug each other(edited)

oh yeah and we also have a whiteboard installed in the office, and it rules!(edited)

Shizamura 🌟 O Sarilho

Mine is pretty simple: I have a laptop that's long stopped being portable and is now mostly just sitting at my desk at all times and a 19 inch Ugee as my display. I usually keep a lot of stuff on top of my desk, but it's mostly just a mess because I have been using it for work too for a while now

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

I suppose I'll talk about my setup too :) My main setup is where I do digital art. I share an office with my SO, so we both have workspaces on opposite walls from each other. I work on a corner desk that holds my beefy computer, two monitors, and a Huion Kamvas GT-191. That's where I draw my comic and pretty much everything else done digitally. Ngl, it's a mess right now. I have comic notes and location floor plans in sketchbooks and DnD character sheets spread out all over the surface, and random pens and sticky notes. In the corner of the room, we have a nice large-format printer where I produce prints for conventions. I actually sketch my pages on an iPad pro in Procreate, so during the sketch phase, sometimes I'll just bundle up on my couch and do it, or before quarantine, sometimes I'd sketch on the go. My other workspace (which hasn't gotten much love as of late tbh) is a drafting table in the corner of our living room. I keep a tabletop easel on it and my Copic markers, as well as whatever I'm working on at the moment. (RN it's some ink washes.) The drawers hold all my ink, pencils, erasers, etc. Next to the drafting table is where I keep all my large charcoal, graphite, and oil pastel drawings (mostly school projects), and my large paintings. Other than that, I have a nifty little cart where I keep painting supplies :) I will say, this setup is by far an enormous improvement from my previous setups.

#ctparchive #comics #webcomics #indie comics #comic chat #comic discussion #comic tea party #ctp #creator interview #comic creator interview #creator babble

1 note · View note

cupidsmusings · 5 years ago

Text

The Affair That Never Happened

Description: It was here third and final and final year at Seishun High School. A year that was coveted by most and looked back on with cherished memories. For this particular student though, she found herself in a peculiar situation that set a catalyst for things to come.

Rating: PG-13

Series: The Affair That Never Happened

Chapter 3: To Pen and Paper and Out the Door

Couples: Eventual reader x Shinichi, unrequited reader x Chiharu

Author’s note: In Japan, some love hotels have age restrictions while others do not. In Tokyo, the legal age is 20, which is why the MC is worried about entering a love hotel. Another thing, most love hotels don’t have your normal front desk workers and instead have a touch screen TV in the front lobby to pick which room you’d like. Most staff working in the love hotel are never seen, which is why none were included in seeing her enter the place.

Chapters: 1, 2

Fuck. Literally what the fuck. She would be finding the entire situation hysterical if it weren’t for the fact that she was almost about to piss herself from fright. What was she supposed to do? Thank God he looked too concerned with keeping himself from vomiting again to take notice of her.

“Sorry,” Was all he managed to say and held out his hand to her.

What did he want? Was he having trouble standing and needed help? Moving to the side of him, she grasped his other arm and threw it over her shoulders so he could properly lean against the side that wasn’t covered in vomit. Wait… This could become an even more troublesome predicament. She couldn’t take him back to the dorms. He was drunk as a skunk and she doubted she could handle a fifteen-minute walk back with a grown man basically leaning atop her. Also, it seemed that he hadn’t noticed her, so if she thrust him into a cheap hotel room for him to sleep everything off, she’d be able to leave quickly and return back to the dorms without trouble.

“Just hang on okay, I’ll find you a hotel for you to stay at tonight.” She told him gently and started to walk forward.

He released a noise and made a heavy thrust of his head. What an interesting way to nod, but to each their own. The two of them walked at what felt like a snail’s pace and {Name} found herself more and more agitated as the minutes passed. Where was a damn hotel that wouldn’t suck the life out of her wallet?

“I’m sorry for taking so long,” she apologized and made sure to keep her face out of view of his gaze as she looked about them. “It seems that I’m having trouble finding you a cheap hotel.”

Without a word, he tightened his grip on her shoulders and guided them down the streets of Tokyo. Despite not being aware of where she was being taken she let herself be guided to a row of hotels. Love hotels. Oh wow. She looked up at him and was fairly amused by the triumphant smirk on his face.

“Found some.” He slurred, and she couldn’t hold back her laughter.

“I can see that.” She hummed and looked at the prices listed outside.

Indeed, love hotels were cheap. What worried her was that she was underage. What would she do if they asked her for her ID? Well, maybe not? A high-school student wouldn’t be out so late with a drunk man. With forced bravado, she guided the two through the entrance of what she thought to be the cheapest hotel amongst them. And when she went to the front desk, she found herself curious about the “themed” rooms mentioned. Imagining the ever so serious Kagari-sensei waking up in a ludicrous room was far too tempting to pass up.

“What kind of themed rooms do you have?” She found herself asking with a kittenish smirk.

She clicked the themed rooms button at the top of the touch screen panel and found herself abuzz with excitement. Which one should she pick? The Princess Room? Carnival Room? Medieval Room? A heavy S&M inspired room?

“Which room would make you squirm the most?” She asked him with a cock of her head.

He didn’t say anything, and she didn’t expect him to, but when he pressed a button on the Carnival Room, she stared at him with widened eyes.

“I can’t believe you’re afraid of Carnivals.” She whispered in slight disbelief.

“Not scared,” he shrugged, or at least tried to but it honestly just looked like he had gotten a cold chill. “It’s just girls like Carnivals, right?”

That’s when he was staring down at her and she was so stupefied by his answer she forgot to look away. The key-card popping out for them to retrieve was what broke her attention.

“Well, whatever, let’s hurry up.” She grumbled, a little saddened that she couldn’t choose the S&M room for him.

The two made their way to the elevator and once on their respected floor, the black tile lit up, pointing them in the direction they needed to go. That was pretty neat.

“Love hotels are kinda cool, huh?” She commented as they walked to the door of their room. She rummaged through her purse for her wallet, but the large man that might as well have been a large child moved to go through his own pockets.

“Calm down, I’m paying for it.” She said and tried to swipe her card, but he shoved her hand away with his own so he could swipe his.

“A gentleman should pay.” He said.

What a weirdo. It wasn’t as if she was going to stay the night with him, so he didn’t have to act like he was paying for both of them. It made sense for him to pay for it, she knew this because he would be the one staying the night after all. But her stubbornness roared its ugly head and she was more determined than ever to pay for his stay. She shoved his hand away and went to swipe her card, but he, in retaliation to her retaliation, took her wrist in his free hand and moved it sluggishly away so he could successfully swipe his own card.

Again, that stupid smug smirk was plastered on his face once more. She rolled her eyes and patted him between his shoulder blades.

“Good job, you true gentleman you.” She commented dryly as she swiped the key card in the door to open it.

What greeted her was cotton candy-colored walls with large surgery sweets painted on them. The floor was a sparkly pink with blotches of see-through glass randomly placed atop it. Upon further inspection, she could make out glass confections in the shape of balloons and wrapped candies that were surrounded by a gentle layer of soft stretched cotton that gave the falsehood of it being cotton candy. The bed was king-sized, with the four posters striking upward all the way until it touched the ceiling. It twisted and turned like a unicorn's horn and was painted rainbow with a sparkle finish. Carved into the backdrop of the bed was a carousel with nude women and men having sex atop the different animals. There was a couch to the right of the bed that was an ungodly bright shade of yellow with hot pink trimmings. The ceiling was covered with sheets that gave the impression that they were inside of an outdoor circus tent.

“Toilet,” he managed to mutter out before wrenching himself from her to clumsily make it to the bathroom in time.

She watched him with pity and slight curiosity. What made him go out drinking so heavily in the first place? Was it the sorrows of love? Was he in debt? Did he realize he’d never get a woman with his rude attitude? Well, that last one could be a part of the sorrows of love but it was an extra jab she couldn’t help giving him. With one final once over of the impressive room she walked into the bathroom. She crouched down beside him and ran a soothing hand up and down his back.

“You sure did drink a lot, huh?” She smiled at him, not bothering to hide her amusement. “Did you get dumped?”

“No,” he managed to say after he heaved a few junks in the toilet. “Just met up with an old school buddy that wouldn’t let me leave until he had me drink my fill.”

“You’re an adult, right? You had the choice to say no, so don’t blame it on your friend. You’re not young enough to experience pure pressure anymore.” She laughed and restrained herself from playfully smacking him on the back.

“What an astute answer.” He couldn’t say much more because he was throwing up before he could.

“Not astute, just true.” She hummed and went to gently comb her fingers through his hair. When her father was dealing with a hangover, he liked her mother doing it, so she unconsciously assumed it would help him.

She should remove her fingers, she knew this, but his hair was so soft. She had never felt such feather-like hair. To be fair she wasn’t going around delving her fingers into the hair of strangers, but it was an honest comment none the less. Once it looked like he was finished, she went ahead and used her already dirtied cardigan to wipe away the leftover vomit that coated his lips.

“Feels nice.” He smiled at her, and oh boy if he smiled like that more often he would definitely have more suitors.

“Glad to hear it, I guess.”

She helped him to his feet and dragged him over to the plush comforter and what seemed to be a thousand pillows that decorated the bed. She watched him sit up and laughed as he put on a dramatic show of trying to remove his suit jacket. Not wanting to waste any more time there than she already did, she hurried to help him remove his jacket. Once out, he reached out and with a contradictory of unsteady but firm hands he tried to undo the buttons of her cardigan, to what she guessed was in order to remove it from her person. She very much liked it on her person though, so she gently pinched the foreskin of his hand.

“Quit it,” she said but he looked up at her with a stern expression.

“We have to get you out of your dirty clothes.” He told her, his tone matching that of someone who was telling another that they were about to go into battle.

“You should take a bath as well,” he started just as she opened her mouth to protest. “You got some in your hair.”

“I what?” She almost snapped but was thankful that her voice came out more confused than shrill.

“Here.” He said and gently cupped a few strands of her hair underneath his fingers.

“Well, that’s just disgusting.” She grumbled on the verge of hurling herself.

“But it wasn’t when I threw up on your cardigan or when you cleaned my lips for me?” He asked, sounding rather amused despite being the source of her problem.

“That was on my clothes, but my hair is part of my body, so it’s grosser that way.”

“Is it?”

“Yes! Yes, it is!”

Why was he the one sounding amused now? With a huff, she walked over to the bathroom door before turning a sharp glare at him.

“If you peek I’ll do some not very nice things to your baby maker.” She warned him before she shut the bathroom door.

She gently peeled her cardigan off her and made sure that no aspect of vomit touched her skin. Time passed and though she only meant to wash her hair, she had been too tempted by the jetted tub. She had never been in one before, so it was purely for curiosity reasons. It was definitely not because she felt weird leaving the bath after a shower in front of her teacher. Because that would just be silly. And she was a mature woman that didn’t get embarrassed by such things.

She had been soaking in the jetted tub for about ten minutes when the door was thrusted open, with Kagari-sensei running in. He did not run to the toilet and instead went over to where she was.

“What the hell are you doing?” She growled and sunk her shoulders deep into the water.

Thankfully the bubbles from the jets prevented the intruder of seeing her nude form.

“There’s a camera in here. I pressed a button on the remote and the bathroom popped up on the screen.” He explained, but that was it.

“One: When did you do this and how much of my body have you seen? Two: Why did you feel the need to enter the bathroom while I bathed? It would have been easier to just pretend like it never happened.” She sighed and quirked a brow at him.

She wasn’t embarrassed, not at all. Because she was a mature woman and mature women didn’t grow nervous over such things such as the bizarre situation she found herself in. Screw it. This was so embarrassing. She wanted to die. Thankfully the room was also quite dim, so she doubted he could make out her face, let alone her body. But still, death would be appreciated at that point in time. Or the power to teleport. Or the power to erase memories. Both would be amazing to be quite honest.

“But that would be lying.” He stated firmly. “And I don’t lie.”

“Everyone lies.” She found herself arguing.

Was now the time to be arguing? No, no it was not. But here she was, naked as the day she was born arguing with her teacher.

“Not me. Lying is wrong.”

“It’s also wrong to come barging into a bathroom where a lady is busy trying to clean herself. Especially after it was the said male that came barging in that caused it. You might as well be the one bathing me.” She replied soddenly.

That was when he knelt beside the bathtub, readying himself to bath her. She looked to the wall opposite of him, clearly mortified. But with him so close she couldn’t take the chance of him seeing her face. But he saw her face before this right? Maybe he was too drunk to notice? He had not made the comment of knowing who she was. That wasn’t the point though. The point was that she was being sarcastic.

“I wasn’t being serious. You can leave.” For the love of God leave.

“Oh, alright.”

She listened to him walk to the door and waited a minute or two after he left to sink her entire head into the warm water. What a nightmare the night turned out to be. When she left the bath she hurriedly dried her body and only dried the bare minimum of her hair, because if she did all of it, it would take way longer than she would have liked. She just wanted to leave. When she dressed herself she didn’t bother putting her cardigan on and instead opted to just hold it.

Once out of the bathroom, she found Kagari-sensei’s shoes, pants, and shirt strewn about the floor. He was neatly tucked underneath the sheets like a child. All peaceful and blissful in his drunken state. Screw him for that.

“Alright,” she started and made sure to reframe from saying his name. “I’ll be leaving now, do you think you’ll be okay?”

“You can stay too, it’s late after all.”

“Can’t do that.”

If he found out who she was he would get her expelled from school before resigning himself in shame. He was far too serious for his own good. At least he seemed to let loose at some points in his life, which was interesting. It was then that she considered that perhaps her school’s teacher’s actually had their own lives outside of being prude-y and stuck-up.

“At least leave your cardigan.” He urged and before she could reply he gripped the front of her shirt.

“Fine,” she let out a troubled sigh. “I’ll leave it with my phone number so text me when you’re finished washing it or whatever.”

“Or whatever? What else would I be doing with it?” He asked, amused once more.

“Just go to sleep.” She snapped and gently smacked her palm against his forehead. “Set your phone alarms so you don’t oversleep. Bye.”

She laid her cardigan out on the armchair of the couch before she quickly wrote down her number on a napkin from the bedroom’s wet-bar. She put the napkin on the bright pink coffee table and made sure it was in plain view for him. When she looked at her phone and, upon seeing the time, let out a curse.

She turned to glare all her frustration out onto the bastard that caused her such trouble. He was, of course, peacefully asleep. With gentle steps not to wake him, she walked over to the bed. With care, she removed his glasses from his face and placed them quietly on the night-stand before leaving the room. It wasn’t until 2:20 that she got back to her room on campus.

#voltage inc #after school affairs #shinichi kagari #chiharu utsumi

7 notes · View notes

demonicpiano · 6 years ago

Text

Cold-Blooded

RusCan Sprite AU

Everything is just a normal human AU except these guys called sprites are running around. Snow sprites manipulate the cold, heat sprites do well in the hot weather...yadda yadda. Our boy Canada isn’t doing so well. He keeps shivering but gets nauseous if he tries to warm himself up. Maybe it’s just a second onslaught of puberty. Either way, he’s not the only one.

Check it out on my AO3!

~.~

"It's a little chilly, eh?"

"It's winter, yeah."

Matthew gave his coworker at the next desk over a long look. No acknowledgement. He turned back to his own computer screen with a light sigh, flexing his stiff fingers before going back to compiling these ungrateful bastards'—oops, lovely reporters'—findings into a somewhat presentable column. He wore a thick turtleneck. He still shivered.

A glimpse around the cramped clumps of desks and lost souls bent over in their seats foretold nothing of sharing his blight. That guy was wearing goddamn shorts in the middle of winter. Matthew gave him a subtle shake of the head, although the tough guy wouldn't notice - he was too worried about bending over some newcomer's work and shaking his buttocks at her.

Matthew whispered to his adjacent sufferer-in-arms, "I'm going to get something warm to drink. I'll be right back, in case one of the bosses comes by."

No reply.

Matthew rolled his eyes, saved his work, then pushed from his chair. The only reason there were cocoa packets for the taking in the break room was because they were leftovers from a manager's party, and nobody wanted cocoa without marshmallows. And milk. Water would (very unfortunately) have to do. It was something warm.

Chilly hands clutched a cheap Styrofoam cup, shaking and sloshing around cocoa powdered-flavored water as Matthew slowly lifted it to his face. Instead of a nice wash of steam opening his nostrils, a slap of sweaty, undesirable muck came over him. He jerked away, waggling his tongue at the sink tempting him to dump the rest of the watery abomination out, but he decided to take it back to his desk and use it as a hot pack.

Matthew set the cup down, curling and uncurling his fingers. The cocoa's spell backfired; instead of relieving numbness, his fingers turned into noodles. At least those were supposed to soak in hot water. Not cocoa. Yes, this ruined the whole point of a steamy beverage. He was raised with standards. At least for hot chocolate. And men.

His shivering lessened to a nauseous quivering. Matthew crammed a lump back down his throat before tacking on his keyboard. He tossed more cocoa back as he started to get toasty under his sweater, regretting doing so as the taste washed over his tongue, but persevered through the rest of the dull day.

On the walk back home, Matthew tried to remember what he did for eight hours, but could not think of anything besides white walls of text. The snow banks seemed to give extra cold to the air, like Canada was a giant refrigerator and God just turned down the temperature dial.

Matthew eyed their grayed, gravel-infested lumps along the sidewalk, imagining too easily how the cold drifted and curled over his skin. Even under three thick layers, it was as if the cold was inside of him, posing as miniature ice cubes in his veins.

An uneventful walk, an uneventful handful of hours before bedtime. His flat was quiet. He kept the TV set low as news reporters poured over anything wrong with the world. Oh, and a local puppy adoption. Hey, puppies were the best.

Matthew violently shivered on the couch. He sent a weird look to the thermostat before relenting and hobbling over to give it a nudge for warmth. Back to the couch. Shivering. Thermostat again.

Oops, too warm now. Matthew shed his blanket and turned down the temperature a little. Back to the couch. Blanket intact. Weather time. It was going to be cold all week. Then a snow storm by the weekend. He bet the school kids were excited at the sound of that. He would muster up a smile at the thought of pretty sparkling flakes before relentless feet stomped it to pity if he weren't shaking in some kind of fit.

Matthew decided to keep the thermostat down, as he could always add more layers and more blankets, as opposed to shedding his skin when it got too warm. Under five blankets—yes, five thick comforters—he shivered. Of course he shivered. As if the blankets weren't going their job. Or he wasn't giving them warmth to give it back to him. Huh.

Matthew glared in the direction of his bedroom wall, twitching and shaking and quaking so much his darn muscles started to get sore. He plucked his cell phone from the nightstand, trying for the weather again, but this was so damn ridiculous, especially without his glasses, and the screen was just a blur of light jumping back and forth. He slammed the device back on his nightstand and flipped himself over with a growl.

He couldn't shiver all night. Eventually, he would pass out.

~.~

"Agh! Ow, oh, what...?" Matthew pulled his hands from the covers, gawking at his bone-white fingers. He was white, but not that white. He whipped his blankets away, putting his icicles-for-legs to the floor and hobbled around his room like the cold from the floor seeped into his feet.

"Ooh, man, this is bad," he spat between trembling teeth. "Just how freaking cold is it? This is starting to get ridiculous."

Matthew grabbed for a pot for tea or even more damn cocoa-water, something warm! Okay, he managed to fetch some milk from the fridge, hissing at the cold coming from there, like there wasn't enough in the world. He stared at the milk gently steam like an insane person would, tempted to stick his fingers in the flames below.

Hey, there was a good idea. Matthew lifted his hands, holding them a little ways to the fire warming his milk. He smiled and nodded to himself as the almost-non-metaphorical sheet of ice against his skin started to melt. Then it burned. He yelped and jerked away.

Matthew was not even close to the stove. Not that close. He twisted the knob to lower the heat, grumbling at his own stupidity. He had a roof over his head; he'd warm himself with his heating bill, not the stove top, for crying out loud.

~.~

However, Matthew did not get warm. He got ready for work with stiff fingers. Ate some doughnuts with hands made of ice instead of muscles and what not. Shivered some more. Sometimes the quiet flat was too quiet, but not in a suspicious-spy movie way. It was quiet in a 'damn, I need a boyfriend or a dog in here' kind of way. The teeth chattering filled the silence and rattled his nerves.

Surprise, surprise! It was a cold walk to work, too.

Matthew has been cold many times in his life. Sometimes it was fun. Other times, the snow or freezing rain soaked his socks, and that wasn't as fun. But he never, ever got freaking sore from shaking so much. He wondered how much of a workout was shivering. Maybe he burned (or froze off) plenty of calories from those two donuts he ate that morning.

"Oh, Mister Williams!" A middle-aged 'Can I speak to the manager' woman strode to his desk with too bright lipstick for the sorrow in her eyes. "Hey!" She nasally brayed, "How's the column going? Did you get my e-mail?"

"Um...the one about the cat pictures? Yeah..."

"Yeah?" She smiled, parting the sea of pink that shouldn't be on someone's face. "You like it? Don't lie, I can see that you do. Everyone's gonna love it. They all love cats. They better, anyway, providing you do your little keyboard magic, and move everything just right...!"

Matthew just blinked as this lady went on and on how one of the previous programmers left a stray code in the middle of her article last quarter, and they received a bunch of angry letters from people that had nothing better to do than complain that they saw 'greater than' and 'lesser than' symbols outside of a school classroom. He let out a shaky exhale, trying not to bite a chunk of his tongue off from his teeth trying to rattle up a band.

"Oh, honey!" The lady cried in a decibel that would make dogs whine. "You look so pale! Are you sick or something? Oh!" She pulled her scarf over her mouth. "I hope you don't give me anything!"

"Mm, n-n-no, I d-don't think s-s-so."

"I'll see about turning up the heat a bit for you, okay? Just...make sure you cough into your sleeve! I'll come by again to see how things are working out! I can't wait to see those kitties on the front page!"

That was new. Asking how Matthew felt. Usually the quick, 'Hey, how's it going?' did not warrant an actual response. Yet if he didn't toss a fast, 'Fine, thanks,' then he would seem rude. What a cruel world.

Matthew managed a stiff nod. Words were improbable.

His neighbor gave him a long side-eye, like the chills were contagious. Were they? Matthew didn't know. He almost started to type in the search bar, but his hand quaked as it hovered over the keyboard. A jumble of letters. He could hardly get himself to press the proper keys.

"Ugh," Matthew bemoaned his blight. He sat in his chair, glaring down his keyboard as his glasses slid down his nose. If only the keys would tell him they had everything and not to worry about his work; they got it. Another shudder grabbed a hold of him, and he squeezed his eyes shut to stay sane through its hold.

"Uh...hey," his neighbor leaned forward to eye him up. "Are you...going to be okay?"

"No."

"I think you should go home."

"I just got here."

A long look.

Matthew wanted to say his colleague didn't want to get sick, that's all. He twisted, planting his heels flat to the ground before pushing himself from his chair. A slap of heat came over him. He grunted, and a sticky sheen of dampness poured from his, well, pores. The world and the bewildered faces of journalists swirled around and around and around. "Oh, maple."

The carpet came for him in a flash of ugly stained blue.

~.~

Murmuring. Beeping. Constant beeping. Brightness. Matthew groaned at it all as his head lolled to the side of a...pillow. He was lying down. His eyes flew open.

"Oh...fuck!" He spat to himself in a hospital. A damn hospital. "No, no, come on..."

Matthew was surely sick, but not that sick. Jeez, those reporters are so dramatic. They probably clutched their pearls and flapped their hands in front of their faces at the sight of him passing out. He had to have passed out. How would he have gotten there?

"Oh, God, oh, no," Matthew warbled as a strong shudder griped his body. His teeth snapped together, and he let out a furious hiss of breath. "Damn it with the shivering!"

A pretty nurse came into the room, poking around, and tossed a glance toward him looking and feeling miserable on the bed. "Oh, you're awake!" She sang. "Hi! How you feeling?"

"Cold."

"I bet!" The nurse had her best service smile on, but her eyes screamed terror. "Your body temperature was down to thirty-five! Everyone's amazed how you were still up and about like that! So...just take it easy, and the doctor will be right in to...ahem, discuss things with you."

She left in a hurry. Matthew gawked at the ceiling as his insides were shivering now, too. "Thirty-fucking-five degrees."

(Ninety-five for Americans.)

"It's getting colder," he let out a whimper. Grown adult or not, he hurt. He was freezing from the inside out like someone stuffed ice packs under his skin when he wasn't looking. Maybe they did. Those bastards.

The vent in the ceiling kicked to life, slapping his face with a wave of heat. He moaned, squirming to get away without getting anywhere. "No, no, no, turn that off, please-!" Another sickening quake grabbed him and would not let go. He doubled over and gagged. The warmth kept coming.

Matthew drew in a sharp breath, snapping, and yelled in annoyance, pain, anger, anything cold-blooded inside of him, it needed to come out. A noise from the side of his bed crinkled. Then the IV bag leading to his arm burst, raining icicles on the floor. He lifted his arm up to gawk at the tube flailing uselessly from his skin.

Okay, kids, nobody is supposed to do this, yet everybody in movies does - however, instead of ripping it out like some kind of grunting barbarian, Matthew slowly wiggled the needle out of his arm with a little 'Ooh!' and 'Ouch, ouch!'

The tube started to fog in his grip, and he went to peel and detach anything between him and the monitors. Then he was free. Now Matthew could panic.

"Agh!" He ran to the window and smacked his palms to the glass. It was snowing. Wait, snow wasn't called for days. How long was he out?

"Mr. Williams?!"

"Sir, sir! We're going to need you to come back to bed right now!"

Matthew gazed at frost etching from his fingertips, fanning icicles into crystal white designs along the glass.

Nurses approached, "Mister Williams?"

One grabbed his shoulder. The man immediately recoiled with a cry of pain, grabbing his arm as his fingers throbbed against blue-purple skin.

Matthew slowly turned around, arms held up as ice peeked from his pores, running freezing water down to his elbows and dripping to the floor. The entourage of medical staff gawked with wide eyes, breath catching in warm puffs of fog as they met the chilly air. "I think I know what the problem is," he started as the window behind him crackled with frosty intrusion. "I'm made out of ice."

A moment before the window shattered, pouring over the sill as the winter wind flung itself into the hospital room. The staff screamed, throwing their arms over their faces and ducking for cover. Matthew turned to the gray sky, to the white mercilessly pelting the streets. The ice encasing his arms reveled in contact with the biting wind. He was so cold.

"We need the E.R. team in here, stat! Mister Williams?!"

Matthew stepped toward the window. His feet crunched on the glass shards, poking harmlessly against the thickness edging along his skin.

"Mister Williams!" The nurses screeched as he pulled himself through the window, and let himself be blown into the breeze.

~.~

"I can't find the coffee stirrers. Over."

Bssch, "They're in the upper cabinet, left hand side. Over."

A man sat at a desk, in a room completely to himself. He pinched the bridge of his nose before snatching the radio off his desk. "Toris! Eduard! The intercom system is for important calls and emergencies, not your personal hand-helds!"

A voice murmured from one side, "But it was important..."

"Hush!" One of the men hissed. His voice grew closer, "Uh...sorry, D-Detective Braginsky."

Ivan slammed his radio back on his desk, giving his head a shake before flicking a page of his magazine.

Various murmurs resonated through the radio, calls from around the city. He turned the dial down by a smidge. Just a smidge.

"A stray dog..."

"...my leg got stuck in a snow embankment...in front of the woman I was supposed to be writing a ticket to..."

"Not to sound stereotypical, but I could go with some doughnuts right now."

Static.

"...at the hospital. Some kind of, uh...icy intrusion."

Ivan picked up his head from his magazine.

He turned the dial back up in time to hear another cop relaying, "Yeah, like, some kind of artic blast busted into the medical center. A couple of people have frostbite and cuts from the shards."

"I hear you," Ivan said. "Wait, I'm on my way."

"Detective?"

"Yes. Hold on."

"Oh, the head detective's coming with us?"

Ivan threw on a thick wool coat and stormed out of his office. Various men and women hovering over desks and pouring over bulletin boards hunched and skittered away from his path. Their eyes pricked his broad backside on the way out.

A snow storm was well underway. Two cops popped their heads over their cruiser at his approach. "Sir! You, uh-"

"Move," Ivan said. "I'm driving."

"Uh, yes, sir! The keys are already in the ignition."

Ivan gave him a stupid look, as the vehicle was already rumbling with life and sputtering hot fumes into the air. Once situated, the pair gave each other mirroring looks of shock through the bars blocking the back seats. Worried murmurs and static came from the radio, but other than that, it was a short but extremely thick silence to the medical center.

Another cruiser and private cars haphazardly parked before the entrance, and as soon as the keys left the ignition, Ivan stormed the place just as icily as the building storm outside.

Medical staff bustled around, trying to help confused patients that crept from their rooms to investigate the disturbance. A frail old lady held up a shaky hand to a nurse and complained, "Dear, it's so cold! Won't you turn up the heat?"

Ivan pressed against a wall and snuck around the pair.

"Oh! Is that the police?! Oh, oh! What are they doing here?"

"Ma'am, please, calm down, there was just a mild disturbance..."

Another officer jerked his head to a certain room. "Over here!"

Ivan followed.

Glass decorated the tiled floor, blowing from the grand window lining the furthest wall. Warm breath came from his teammates' faces as their wide eyes scanned the perimeter. One asked, "What could have done this?"

"Who?"

A weird look.

"I spoke to the witnesses. They said a man by the name...Williams approached the window, and it burs into icy shards."

Ivan asked, "Are you sure of that?"

The officer gave him a good gawk. "Based on witness accounts! The nurses that weren't injured by the flying glass."

"And this Mister Williams escaped?"

"Yes, sir, they said he jumped right out this window."

"Well, there's no body there."

"Yes, sir. He ran off."

"He ran off? After jumping out a window?"

"Apparently."

"So you're implying he is responsible for the window shattering?"

"And injuring the staff members, yes."

Ivan curtly turned away. "Stay here and get the full story."

"Sir?"

"I'm going to bring this Mister Williams into custody." His fellow officers trailed after him. He barked, "Alone!"

"But there's a storm on its way!"

"I won't be long."

Another officer hushed, "Just...let him go. He's the only one that can handle-"

Ivan was already down the hall. Of course, the eyes of medical staff and patients hooked onto the scarf flapping against his back, waving goodbye to the place when he wouldn't. A gust of cold air and snow pellets slapped his face, pulling his coat from his legs as soon as he stepped outside. Dusk was approaching. He needed to be quick.

Shoe-marks stamped the light dusting of snow in the parking lot. Ivan paced until he lined himself below the shattered window. Glass crunched under his boot. His eyes followed down the side of the building, a two story drop, and across the parking lot. The streetlights shimmered against clumps of ice leading across the car pack.

Further, toward the street, the icy dimples morphed into foot-prints. A shallow snow bank, but someone must have fell into it and struggled to get up. The steps led down the sidewalk. Ivan darted down the road, eyes steady on the distant field still covered from the previous snowfall.

The field remained virtually untouched, except when Ivan plowed himself through the ever-deepening sea of white the further out he went. He slowed as struggling leg divots in the snow intersected with older trails until he finally stopped, glancing around sparse trees and a metal baseball cage some distance away.

Before Ivan could step forward, something snagged one of the tail ends of his beige scarf. It tightened against his throat, and he let out a quiet gasp. He twisted around to snatch the cloth away, but icy claws protruded from the snow and kept a firm hold.

"Mister Williams?"

The snow shifted.

A snow-caked head of what should be blond hair emerged. A bone-white face. Wide, hallow lilac eyes. Ivan felt his own face try to pucker into distaste. Pale lips cracked open, and the man hoarsely whispered, "What are you doing?"

"I could ask you the same thing. Are you Mister Williams?"

The man was deathly still - a statue frozen to the ground. Until he barely moved to answer, "Yes."

"Mister Williams," Ivan started, fishing a badge from his coat. "I'm the head detective for this town's police department. I'm going to get you out of this storm and get you warmed up, but I need to ask you a few questions-"

"No, oh, no, no!" Mister Williams released Ivan's scarf, but his arm stayed stunted into the air, claws of ice wide apart and poised to the darkening sky. "No, no, I'm in trouble, aren't I?" His voice stretched thin as ice grasped his throat, "I hurt those people! Oh, no, no!"

"Mister Williams-"

"I'm a monster! You need to get away. B-b-before I hurt you, too!"

Ivan's eyebrows fell. Less enthusiastically, "Mister Williams, you are not a monster. Do not say that. We just want to-"

"I said...get away!" A hiss of strenuous pain, and a roar of wind poured upon Ivan's head. He threw up his arms as a fury of snow burst from the ground, swathing him in cold, unforgiving white. He shook the clumps off his coat, and Mister Williams' backside peeked from his hospital gown as he clumsily scrambled amongst thick plows of snow.

Ivan sighed, flexed his fingers, and rolled his head. "Okay, then. Hard way it is."

He swooped to the ground, planting his palms into the snow. Mister Williams had not gotten too far, lunging about in a straight line. Icicles shot over the embankments and under his hands and knees. He yelped as his nails scratched onto the sudden layer of slick, and he fell forward, rump going into the air.

Ivan straightened and approached with slight urgency.

Mister Williams pushed himself up with a delirious shake of his head, tossing a frightened glance over his shoulder, and yipped. It was a short warning before he smacked a hand to the ground, and spikes of ice lurched for Ivan's face.

Ivan's arms cut through the night air, and a sheet of iced-over snow emerged from the embankment to catch his assault.

"What the..." Mister Williams cried in shock and fright as everything crumbled to the ground. "You're...you're...!"

"Mister Williams," Ivan dully sang as he came closer. The carpet of ice withered beneath his boots, "You should try to make this as easy for yourself as possible."

Mister Williams scrambled backwards against the weakening ice. He gasped as it melted, only to clamp in a frozen lock around his hands, gluing him to the dead grass. "No! I don't want to go back! I'll only hurt more people!"

"Oh? Because you think you're a monster?"

Wriggling intensified. Mister Williams managed to burst one of the clumps of ice around his hands and flail his free arm in the air. "Yes! Look at me! What else would I be?!"

Two waves of snow rose from the ground, but Ivan swished his hands. They harmlessly crumbled into loose sentiment. He fell on top of Mister Williams' legs, much to the other man's horror, and clamped icy fingers over his head.

Mister Williams wreathed and put his own palm to Ivan's face. "What are you doing?!"

Ivan took a deep inhale as cold sank into his skin, freezing his veins, and a smile played with his lips, "You shouldn't say that! Because if you're a monster..."

Spikes of ice protruded from his pale hair, and Mister Williams could only watch as frost etched across the detective's body...

"Then what does that make me?"

A sharp breath to scream, but nothing came as the entirety of ice encasing Mister Williams receded, right into Ivan's pores. His eyes rolled back into his head, and he slumped into the snow. Unmoving, the whiteness to his skin morphed into a slightly more healthier pink.

Ivan released his clutch, and left Williams on the ground to rise to his feet. He tipped his head to the sky, and let out a long sigh, dispelling dragon's breath of ice into the air. The frost against his clothes melted, dripping back into the ground, and he, too, looked unlike a 'monster' anymore.

Ivan dug around his coat for his hand-held. "Unit one, this is Braginsky."

His radio crackled and hissed. He held it from himself until it died down. "Unit one, do you copy?"

Hissing. A disconnected, "Sir?"

"I found Mister Williams. I said, I found Mister Williams!"

"Is he alive, sir?"

"Yes, although unconscious. He will need medical attention right away. I'm bringing him in." Ivan tucked his radio back into his coat without waiting for a reply. "Monster," he mused with a scoff. "Just for shivering and blowing out a window? That is child's play."

It was a cold, nightly walk back to the hospital with Mister Williams in tow.

~.~

Beeping.

Oh, no, heart monitor beeping!

Matthew's eyes flew open.

Just as he shot to sit with a horrified gasp, something clamped onto his chest and shoved him back down. A hospital room. Of course he was back in a hospital room. His wrists were free, however, not tied down like some wretched creature's would be. His fingers gripped the stiff fabric of his cot as he zoned on another man dwarfing a visitor's chair beside him.

"Stay down."

Matthew complied with a skittish gulp. The man's hands seeped cold back into his skin, a moment before he relinquished himself back to his own personal space. "Aren't you with the police?"

"Yes. You remember me?" Almost lightheartedly, although the big man's smile did not meet his eyes, "We had a little bit of a romp in the snow back there."

Matthew awkwardly grunted, gluing his gaze to the ceiling. He was in so much trouble. He was probably going to get life behind bars. If evil science people did not get to poke him with lots of sharp tools, first. Ice picks, probably. He was made of ice. Or at least, it felt like it. A little less. Maybe his veins were filled with slushy ice water instead.

The man raised his strong eyebrows. "Mister Williams? Are you feeling okay?"

Stinging. Tears pooled in Matthew's eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't know...I didn't mean for anything bad to happen." He scrunched his nose and turned his face away so he was not bawling in front of this near-stranger, "Ugh, my entire life is ruined. Ugh, it wasn't even impressive in the first place-"

A cold palm eased against the back of his hand. Matthew's fingers twitched against subtle prickles etching along his skin, "You are not a criminal, Mister Williams. You are a troubled man."

"I'm in trouble."

His company retracted his hand again with a sharp sigh. "Let us start over, okay?" He gestured to himself, to his soft cheeks yet cold eyes, "I am Detective Ivan Braginsky from the Police Department. You are in the hospital because you need help. Not because you are a monster. You are not a criminal. You are confused. That is normal. You just shot ice from your fingers. Again, that is normal. I will tell you why. We will help you."

Matthew lolled his head toward Braginsky. "Okay." He probably already was headed to the can. Minus well get answers. In a small voice, "Why?"

Perhaps it was his imagination, but a light clap of chill ghosted Matthew's cheeks as Ivan leaned forward, much less jaded and annoyed with the world. In near wonder, "You are a snow sprite."

"Um, what?"

"They are a species of humans that can manipulate and are manipulated by the cold-"

"I know what a snow sprite is."

Ivan stared.

"I've read up on the different kinds of sprites throughout my life. My brother's a heat sprite."

Ivan's eyebrows crunched together. "Ah. A heat sprite. Yet you...hm, that's odd. Are your parents...?"

"Both are rain sprites."

"Mutts?"

Matthew almost smiled. "Yeah, you can say that. Got a whole bunch of mixed blood in me, I guess."

"And out came the ice instead?"

The cold permeating the room didn't feel so bad. It almost felt warming, but not warm, in a kind sense. Matthew let out a long, easing exhale. "Yeah. Looks like it."

"You never...gave off any indication that you have these sorts of abilities?"

"Nope. Well, my brother always felt too hot to the touch. Like, if he hung on me too long, I would always sweat, and-"

"That's normal for heat sprites."

"Oh."

"Maybe it was simply years' build up. Or a late onslaught of growing up?" Ivan leaned against his chair, dragging his hand over his chin. Then a slight uplift to his lips, "You are an enigma, Mister Williams. When I got that call that some lunatic threw himself out a window in the middle of a snow storm, I was not expecting this."

"You were expecting some crack-addict, were you?"

"In kinder words."

Matthew found his own face pulling to a smile. "Thank you, Mister Braginsky. You're much kinder than the impression your stories give off."

Short lived bliss. Ivan fell solemn. Some haunt behind his eyes, "My stories?"

"I compile reports from around town for the local newspaper. I remember your name popping up a lot." Matthew tapped a finger against the bed, nonchalantly goading for attention, "There was a fire at the nearby quick stop last year. You were there. A generator, I think, overheated, and you...you 'sucked' the cold out of the air, and literally cooled it with your hands. It was amazing reading the reports. What you said about it. I could never imagine being able to do something like that. Amazing."

Ivan dropped his gaze to the hands folded on his lap. "Oh, that."

"Just 'that?'"

"I got into trouble from that. Mostly a slap on the wrist, but people say what they want to say in those kinds of situations. You're not supposed to make a big speculation of your powers around other people. Especially our type." Ivan's prominent nose curled as he hissed the words, "'Public disturbance.'"

Thoughts of getting thrown in a stony jail plagued Matthew's mind again. Scientists, with big, sharp scalpels-

"It's a solitary life," Ivan murmured. "Not enough people know much of anything having to do with us. Not enough people want to know anything. Our touch can and will hurt them. Who would you blame but yourself for your own loneliness?" He blinked, and picked up his head. A slight slap of cool air dusted Matthew's cheeks. There windows were not open. "Ah, that was a little bit too sad, yes?"

Matthew couldn't help a little laugh. "Yeah, that was real freaking sad. We are monsters."

"Now that was sad. I suppose even monsters feel it, too, yes? Does that really make us monsters, compared to those who deny it?"

"Ugh, stop it, you're making my head hurt."

Ivan let out a giggle. A giggle. The grin cracking along his pale face attracted eyes more than that gloom hanging over the room. "It is not all bad news, Mister Williams."

"Really, you can call me Matthew. And what is it?"

"Matthew. Matvey. No, Matthew. Yes. Uh, you're most likely going to get charged with the cost of window repairs."

"I knew that. That's not good news, anyway."

"You also hurt people."

"Detective, I thought you said you had good news."

"You're not going to get arrested, or tossed in some spooky prison."

Matthew's eyes went wide. "What?"

"The hospital is not pressing charges, as long as you cover the damage. Not as a criminal, at least, but there was nothing I could do to dissuade them from seeing it as an onslaught of mental health issues."

Matthew fell back against his pillow. "They probably are, anyway."

"Don't say that."

"Whoops."

Ivan scrunched his face for a moment, before it fell back into a sly grin. His hand breeched the mattress, crinkling the hospital sheet, "You live in a good place. People will take care of you. Maybe...when you come back...if you find yourself without a job, the station is always looking for honest people to share our stories. Journalists. Reporters. Programmers, too. Those are always in demand."

"What?" Matthew gasped, "Mister Braginsky, no. You can't. You shouldn't-"

"I'll put in a good word for you."

"Why?"

"I like your stories." Ivan almost said he liked Mister Williams. That would have been a bit too soon, wouldn't it? He just tackled the guy to the snowy ground and knocked him out, after all. Usually people don't make friends that way. Usually he didn't make friends at all. He decided to go with, "I always read my stories coming back to me, from you."

Matthew's hands curled over his own face. "Oh, no..."

"I think you even called me a 'hero' once-"

"No, no..."

Ivan grinned, "I actually don't live an impressive life, Matthew."

"Says you." A ripple of cold air drifted across the cot. Matthew shot the detective a look that was supposed to be threatening, almost as if goading him to 'Try me.' "I think...what you did...I thought that was impressive."

"Do you mean, what I did a few hours ago, or just in general?"

Matthew lightly smacked Ivan's shoulder, grinning, "Shut up."

Ivan found himself copying the mingling chills in the air. "I'm going to have to ask you a few questions about what happened."

After some thought, "Okay, Mister Detective. Ask away."

It took some guts to reach over and put an icy palm to another.

At the end, Ivan stepped out of Matthew's hospital room, realizing his interrogation was something more of a self-indulgent questionnaire. Snow sprites live solitary lives. Maybe this one didn't have to.

#oh hell yeah my dudes I like me some #RusCan #THE SIN BIN #hetalia au #hetalia fic #hetalia #hws RusCan #hws Russia #hws Canada #my fic

15 notes · View notes

wardencommanderrodimiss · 6 years ago

Text

The Witches of Los Angeles, Chapter 1: I am apparently not wasting any time starting in on the next installment of this saga!

[ao3] [Seelie of Kurain masterlist]

“But what if, even after all of this, I make it to the end, and nobody will hire me? That nobody’s willing to work with a teenage attorney and I just – can’t do anything because I don’t have anywhere to go?”

“That’s a lot of ‘ifs’ there, kiddo. But if – if – you get your badge, do your searching, can’t find a single office in the LA area willing to take on a prodigy – then there’s always my office. It’s sure as hell not a law office right now, but it’d give you a space to work out of.”

It’s a bad time for the phone to ring. Even if Edgeworth was still in Europe, he’s always been good at working around the time difference (and he knew that at the odd hours of the night, even if Phoenix was awake, he’d be in the basement of the club with no reception) and never just called at a time that would make Phoenix panic. And it can’t be Maya or Pearls, with no sense of time, because he worked with Iris (the only one of them who understood human needs for sleep) to put an enchantment on his phone that stopped them from calling him about things that weren’t life-threatening at 2 am.

In the time it takes him to fumble for his phone, he has gone through the options: Trucy snuck out and got arrested for underage drinking or trespassing or arson or whatever teen girls do to have fun in the small hours of the morning. Edgeworth got murdered staying too late at his office. Apollo got into some sort of trouble, though Phoenix’s imagination has never been able to figure out what Apollo would be doing out and in trouble at this hour (though if he really considers possibilities, Klavier is probably also involved). Or Thalassa had something happen to her, or she found out what lost, forbidden knowledge he and Maya have been chasing for the sake of her soul and with no regard for time wants to yell at him.

Bleary-eyed, he doesn’t check the caller ID and simply answers. “Phoenix Wright speaking.”

“Mr Wright! Mr Wright! I passed! I passed!”

Or, the option he hadn’t considered. “Time zones, please,” he groans, resting his face back against his pillow. “It’s two am and – wait.” He sits back up, blinking at the dark room like written somewhere in it will be something to help him replay the words she just said. “You passed?”

“The Bar results came today! I passed! Athena Cykes, barred and badged attorney at the ready! I’ve got a flight booked tomorrow and stuff packing now! Vámonos!”

Oh, god. Athena never lets him forget that she lives her entire life in a frantic rush. “Slow down, kiddo,” he says, knowing that she absolutely will not but feeling obligated to try to make her do so anyway. “Do you have somewhere you’re working? A place to live?”

“No to the second, yes to the first.”

“Well, that’s probably something you should do before you come back. I can give you a hand, but you shouldn’t have too much trouble finding a place.” There are always cheap available apartments in a city built this close to faery hills – or mountains, as it is. The unpredictable, not-typical-SoCal weather would probably be enough to send people running, but Phoenix also has a theory that the city itself has enough of a life force that it decides what people it doesn’t want and gives them little mental nudges to make them leave. (To the people it does want, it gives cheap rent and depression.)

“So where are you working?” he adds. He doesn’t know every defense attorney in the city, but he knows of most of them. (Athena’s a sharp, emotionally intelligent kid. He doesn’t need to vet her entire career for her. She’d figure out quick enough if she was working for someone nasty.)

“Uh, have you forgotten, and isn’t it obvious – Boss?”

Phoenix manages not to swear out loud, which he thinks is rather impressive of him, all things considered. His mind racing, he tries to remember if he ever directly offered Athena a job or simply positioned himself as the backup-backup plan, the last resort, because he isn’t a boss or a mentor and all he knows how to be is the shelter that collects stray kids fucked up and fucked over by fae magic where he can’t do much worse to them than has already been done. And Athena isn’t one of them.

(Isn’t she?)

No, Athena shouldn’t be here.

And then what he says is, “Ah. Right,” as his mouth once again keeps going ahead of his brain. “You know,” he adds, knowing that it’s probably too late but needing to try, “you don’t have to just charge in like this. You can look for other places instead of just coming with me because I was the first option. You’ve got time. It’s not like there’s some kind of door that’s about to slam in your face.”

Midlife crisis before she’s out of her teens, that’s the impression that she gives him. Like she thinks her entire life will be useless if she doesn’t have a badge and a certain number of cases under her belt before she turns nineteen. Like there’s an end line she’s afraid of tripping over that no one else can see, but because she’s a damn kid Phoenix is terrified she’s going to get chewed up like Franziska and Klavier and Sebastian all were, ripped apart and rearranged by the heartless, manipulative people who stood behind them.

(And Athena doesn’t have one of those, not now, not yet, but Phoenix doesn’t have any reservations about what he is, what even more he could be.)

“I can do stuff now, so I’m gonna do it! Also the plane ticket can only be canceled 24 hours in advance, and the flight is closer than that, so I really can’t stop now.”

Knowing that she can’t see him, Phoenix still shakes his head. “And where are you planning on staying until you find housing?” he asks.

He might be able to guess the answer to this one, too. And that is its own can of worms for him to lie in, but if she’s working at the Agency, then – well, he can keep an eye on her but still distance himself, and she’ll have Apollo to show her the ropes. She could learn a lot from him, and he from her. It might – scratch that, it would definitely – be good for Apollo to have another lawyer to work with. And he knows that Apollo, unlike most others, shouldn’t be too freaked out by Athena’s powers. No one’s normal at the WAA. Maybe it is the best place for Athena, in spite of himself.

(No, he’s going to need to repeat that to himself a few hundred more times before he believes it.)

“So Trucy kinda said that maybe I could crash on your couch? Or her bedroom floor. Or the fire escape! I mean, all I really need is a shower and a flat surface, and I guess I’m gonna get a gym membership and they’ll have showers, so I could sleep at the office too!”

“I am not going to make you sleep at the office,” Phoenix says. Mia wouldn’t allow him to do that. “I’m not sure where you would hang your clothes, anyway.”

“Is that – is that you being cool with Trucy’s floor?”

Is it? He’s lost on everything else so far he’s tried to bargain with Athena on. “Living room couch. She’s got school, and you’ve got a law career, and I know you’ll be talking to the middle of the night like it’s a sleepover if you stay in the same room.”

“Thank you! Thanks so much!”

“And you’re gonna be looking for apartments from the start, but I think that goes without saying.”

“Definitely. I wasn’t planning on couchsurfing forever. I mean, mostly because you’re the only option I have.”

“What, you haven’t asked Edgeworth?” He at least would have a spare bedroom, though Athena would probably eat him out of the house in a day.

“Wait, I could? Unless there’s like – there’s not any rules against a defense attorney bunking with a prosecutor, right?”

If there are rules like that, then Phoenix and Edgeworth have already broken most of them. There are very few actual rules, and Phoenix has broken most of those too. “No, though you’d be bunking with the Chief Prosecutor now, you know.”

“Oh man, really? I keep thinking about how I’ve come so far since I met you two, but I guess you’ve both come a long ways too!”

“The two of you have.” And Phoenix stuck as always, as ever. He’s what he’s made of himself and nothing more.

“Don’t say that, Mr Wright! I’ve been reading about what you’ve been doing. And you could take the Bar again, I’m sure! You definitely should. I passed! You would too! You did before!”

Phoenix snorts. “Thanks, but I’m not so sure. I’m a little less lucky than I was when I first passed.” Does he owe Iris and her blessing for passing the Bar on the first try? Probably, and he doesn’t want to dwell on that much.

“Still. I think you should. Then we’d have three lawyers, me and what did Trucy say his name was, Apollo! And you. We’d be an unbeatable team!”

It would be nice to have her optimism. He has no way of responding that she won’t hear his doubt, so he goes for the redirect. “You should let Edgeworth know you got your badge, even if you don’t ask him if you can crash at his place. He’d like to know how you’ve been doing, and I’m not sure if you’d see him in person any time soon. Chief Prosecutor stuff is keeping him really busy.” Worryingly busy, in fact. There’s a lot of corruption to clean up, Phoenix knows, but more and more he wonders if there’s something else, something on top of the base level of corruption that’s eating up all of Edgeworth’s time.

“I’ll email him. And then I’ll see you soon! This week! Two days! One plane ride away, Boss! And then it’s gonna be awesome, I just know it!”

After she hangs up, he stares at the dark floor, at the thin lines of the city lights seeping in around the window shades, for a long time. It would be nice, unfathomably so, if she was right. If the the constant expectation gnawing at the back of Phoenix’s skull was wrong. Let her be right, and for once, let everything – or even just something – turn out all right.

Edgeworth calls in the morning, causing Phoenix to realize something: he both worries when he doesn’t hear from Edgeworth, and when he does. He didn’t sleep well after Athena’s call, worrying about that too, and her, and this realization that he feels responsible for her like a father and that’s the last goddamn thing he wanted. “What’s up?” he asks through a yawn, and there is silence on the other end of the line, Edgeworth clearly reassessing whether Phoenix is the best person for whatever the problem is. Or maybe he still thinks Phoenix is the right person, but Saturday morning not the right time to have a serious conversation.

Then he sighs and says, “Wright, I have a… a favor to ask. A special request.”

“Ominous. So how can I help?” It’s not the way he would respond to anyone else; it’s a rule he’s had since he met Mia and started tangling with the fae, to never agree to any request without knowing the terms. But it’s Edgeworth. Phoenix sets different rules for him.

“I want you to clear one of my subordinates of suspicion.”

“Edgeworth, that’s like, the one thing I can’t do for you. I’m not a lawyer, remember? Haven’t been for longer than I ever was.”

“And you aren’t at all eager to return?”

“Eh.” Is he? What does he want to do? He doesn’t know anymore, hasn’t had time to ever figure it out. Who is he when he’s not trying to keep Kristoph from doing more harm, when not flailing to keep himself and Trucy afloat and alive?

(He’s the person that Edgeworth asks for help on investigations, an invitation extended again and again even when Phoenix thought for sure he would give up in the face of “not now”s and “someday”s, that he wouldn’t wait like he did for the now and the someday. And he’d liked those investigations, more than getting to show Trucy more of the world, more than spending time with Edgeworth. And for everything else there was, he had enjoyed jumping behind the defense’s bench with Apollo, for more reason than finally getting to tear Kristoph down.)

(Maybe he does know, and maybe what he knows is that he misses being an attorney.)

“With everything cleared up, you would be able to, and I can’t imagine you just continuing to delegate everything to others.”

Does Edgeworth know him too well? Maybe, but as long as he doesn’t point out that the reason he can’t imagine Phoenix leaving things to other people is because Phoenix is paranoid, suspicious, and laden with trust issues, Phoenix can live with it. “Athena called last night and was saying I should retake the Bar, too.”

“I received an email from her, as well. I’m inclined to agree with her in regards to you.”

“I’ll think about it. But who exactly is it that you’d be asking me to – defend?” There hasn’t been any news this week of prosecutors arrested for crimes. If something happened recently, it’s been on tight lockdown. And if it wasn’t recently, then what?

“You’ll recall the Blackquill case?”

“Oh,” Phoenix says.

That was a case on tight lockdown, details unknown to Phoenix, but whatever happened was damning for Prosecutor Blackquill, who pled guilty and was convicted in barely a few hours. And even if more information had been released, Phoenix probably wouldn’t have looked that far into it; even a year and a half after his disbarment, he was still struggling to keep from drowning, too preoccupied with himself and Trucy and Kristoph and no room to consider yet another murdering prosecutor. (How many of those have there been?)

“Yes. He will…” Edgeworth sighs. “He will be standing in court again, very soon. I want you to keep an eye on him.”

If it was anyone but Edgeworth speaking, Phoenix would assume that he was asking Phoenix whether Blackquill was human or fae, to look with the Sight and get answers. But it’s Edgeworth, and he probably doesn’t mean that. “So if he’s standing in court, do you mean his conviction was overturned – but if you’re asking me to clear him, then that means he hasn’t been…?”

“He will be standing in court, prosecuting, as a convict.”

Phoenix closes his eyes and considers flinging himself face-first into the couch. He heads for the kitchen instead. “Well,” he says. “That’s still not the worst or weirdest thing a chief prosecutor has done.”

Silence. He probably shouldn’t have said that. He definitely shouldn’t have said that. “I thought I was getting good at the piano thing,” Phoenix adds, and Edgeworth snorts, “but I mean, I guess this is a job I could do. Is there anything more you can tell me about Blackquill? Like if Apollo and Athena were to end up facing him in court.”

“Or if you were, should you get your badge back.” The silence stands for a few more seconds, Phoenix not wanting to agree to that, not wanting to get Edgeworth’s hopes up until he himself is sure, and Edgeworth adds, “He isn’t… pleasant, exactly.”

“That could mean a lot of things. Some people might say that about you, y’know.”

“Hmph. I’m sure some people might also say that about you. But I might compare him to Franziska: tolerates very little nonsense, does not suffer fools lightly, and has a very broad definition of what counts for foolishness. He’s studied psychology as a tactic for the courtroom and when he isn’t threatening, he’s manipulative. And if you were to defend him, he still insists quite stringently that he is in fact a murderer, though I know you have had clients of that sort before.”

And you were one of them, Phoenix thinks. “So, tough client, and tough prosecutor.” Sounds like someone else Phoenix knows. “Apollo could use some experience going up against a hostile prosecutor.” The most hostility he’s had to deal with has been witnesses – not to discount the ordeals that Crescend and Gavin made of those trials – but Klavier is far too fond of him. (Which Phoenix can’t complain about because that’s worked out for his purposes and also for the Jurist System trial case.) “And psychology, huh. You’ve got him, and I’ll have Athena.”

Edgeworth hums a noncommittal acknowledgement.

“You don’t paint a flattering picture of the guy you want defended, though.”

“You deserve to know as much as I can tell you. I didn’t know him well when he first joined the office, but it’s my understanding that six and a half years in jail has sharpened anything that was ever tempered about him.”

That sounds achingly familiar, but not because of any of the prosecutors that Phoenix knows. Seven years is a long time to ferment and grow painfully bitter. “I suppose that makes sense,” he says. “I’ll keep that all under advisement. Anything else?”

“There is…” Edgeworth sighs and clicks his tongue. “There are a number of absurd rumors I’ve collected about him from other inmates and guards. It’s nothing I would pay heed to, but…” He sighs again.

“But?”

“They call him a witch.”

“Edgeworth, one of these days you’re going to have to accept the truth staring you in the face that these things are way more likely than you think.”

“Actually, I believe they are much less likely than you think, and your life is not accurate to the demographics of this city.”

“You met Kay, Lang, that shapeshifter lady, Sebastian, his bastard of a father, Judge Courtney, and whatever else was happening there, all within one month.”

The silence stretches for so long that Phoenix has to check to make sure Edgeworth hasn’t hung up on him. He goes to the pantry and finds that Trucy ate the last of the cereal. “Fine,” Edgeworth says at last. “People with magic have a tendency to move in packs. I will give you that. But Blackquill is… very much a loner, and I’ve spoken with him a number of times and seen nothing to suggest that he isn’t normal.”

“I guess I’ll have to meet him and see for myself.” It’s funny, really; Edgeworth’s disdain for cries of magic at anyone or anything that breaks a narrow mold nearly stopped him from mentioning the thing that has the best guarantee at bringing Phoenix in on this venture.

“I’m hoping to find a case for him in the next few days. I’ll let you know once I do. And the next exams are being administered in May, so you should get to studying for that.”

“Did I say that I was retaking it?”

“You’re already signed up and paid for, so I would really prefer you don’t let that go to waste.”

Phoenix nearly drops the phone. “Edgeworth. Edgeworth, tell me you’re joking—”

“I would never.”

“Didn’t you need my signature? Are we really starting my new career with more falsified—”

“Speaking of, I’ve meant to let you know that your daughter is worryingly good at forging your signature, and you should probably have a talk with her about that sort of thing.”

“You used my daughter for crimes—!”

“I also considered buying Miss Maya dinner for it, though I didn’t know which of those options you would have preferred less.”

Oh. Oh, Edgeworth is serious about it, about Phoenix getting his badge back, if he had considered making a deal with Maya over it. “You could’ve at least warned me and given me more than I don’t know, two weeks, to study!”

“And would you have used that extra time effectively?”

Phoenix drops his head against the refrigerator. He doesn’t know why he thought he would win against Edgeworth. He’s not even sure why he bothered to fight. “Okay, first of all, fuck you, and secondly – fuck you!”

Edgeworth chuckles. “Prosecutor Blackquill and I will see you in court, Wright.”

#fic: the witches of los angeles #roddy fanfics #do i also put this under the original 'seelie of kurain' fic tag just so everything is organized or do i just say fuck it #ANYWAY BOIS WE'RE LIVE AND HEADING DOWN INTO HELL #fic: the seelie of kurain

10 notes · View notes

snffbeebee · 7 years ago

Text

The Bet ( Part 2 )

{ Catch up with Part 1 }

Warnings - language, teasing ( if that’s even a warning. ) that’s about it.

Word Count - 3,407

As you let the water run down onto your face, you couldn’t help but smirk. This was going to be an interesting game. You knew you already had his mind wondering, and that’s exactly what you wanted. But your mind was going as well, thinking about how he would play it, what he would do to try and get you to break. You knew that he had a competitive side to him, but so did you. After rinsing off, you stepped out of the shower and pulled on the clothes that you had tossed onto the floor. You towel dried your hair a little bit, then opened the door and stepped into the now dark room. You glanced at Sam who had spread himself out on the little bed and was snoring softly. You turned your head to the other bed and noticed that it was empty. You looked around the room, and heard the shower shut off in the other bathroom, through the slightly open door. You picked up your bag and shoved your clothes into it, then tossed it back on the floor. Just as you were sitting on your bed by the window, the bathroom door opened and the steam poured into the room. You took in a deep breath as you seen Dean walk out. His hair, still dripping wet, causing the water to run down his neck and onto his bare chest. Your eyes followed the water and you took in a soft breath when your gaze continued down to his pajama pants that hung off his hips, exposing that v shape that made you shiver with pleasure. Taking in this rare sight, your eyes met his and he had a smug smirk on his face. He didn’t say a word, but you knew that he was giving you a taste of your own medicine, and you didn’t want to admit it, but seeing him like that, had sent heat straight your core. You took in a breath, looked at him one last time, then pulled up the covers and laid down on your side, facing the empty bed a few few away from you. Not even two minutes later, you watched as Dean plopped himself down on the bed, his phone is hand. You watched as he typed then you heard the ding of your phone. He turned his head to look at you as you reached on the nightstand and grabbed your phone.

‘ I take it, this is just between us, but don’t you think Sam will notice something is up, when we aren’t screaming and fighting with each other? ‘

Crap, you didn’t even think about that. You bit your lip, then replied.

‘ You’re smart Winchester, figure something out.. unless you wanna just give up now. ‘

You watched the smirk pull across his lips as he read then replied.

‘ Oh sweetheart, it’s gonna take a lot more than showing a little skin to get me to break. ‘

You seen the confidence in his eyes when he looked at you, and right then, you knew this was going to be harder than you thought it was going to be. You didn’t reply, but set your phone back on the table, looked at him before turning my back to him and closing your eyes. Dean shook his head with a silent laugh, tossed his phone beside him then closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

“ Wake up you two, I think I got something. “ Sam called out the next morning, as he came into the room, letting the door close behind him.

You pulled the covers over your face with a groan, snuggling into the pillow. Sam couldn’t help the laugh that came out as Dean did the exact same thing.

“ Seriously, I went to get coffee when I actually bumped into a vic. “ He said, setting the coffee on the table then smacking his brother on the leg.

You let out a breath, then sat up, blinking your eyes open, and looking at the tall Winchester, who surprisingly was way too happy for this early in the morning. You stretched, then glanced over at Dean, who had pulled his head from the blankets, but hadn’t gotten up. He ran his hand over his face then looked at you, a little smirk pulling in his lips, from what had started last night.

You pulled yourself to your feet and Sam handed you one of the coffees from the table.

“ So what did you find out? “ You asked, after taking a long drink from the cup.

“ I think it’s a witch...or more like witches. “

“ Of course it has to be witches..I hate them. “ Dean groaned as he finally sat up on his bed.

“ We talked at her house and I found this in her bathroom. “ Sam said as he pulled out a hex bag from his jacket pocket.

You took the bag from Sam and gave it a once over before unting the bag and sifting through the stuff inside.

" This is some serious witch craft. " You stated as you set your coffee on the table and picked up finger full of black dust.

" I'm going to shower than you and Dean should hit the police station. " Sam said stripping himself from his heavy jacket.

" Yeah no can do Sammy. " Dean replied, finally getting to his feet.

" Why not? " He asked.

" We are not speaking at the moment. " You said taking another drink of the weak coffee.

" What? " Sam asked, completely confused.

" Well Y/N told me if I have nothing nice to say to her than to not say anything at all. So we've got a bet to see how long it takes for one of us to crack and go back to fighting." Deans eyes stopped on you for a quick second, long enough to make you take it a breath.

Sam looked between the both of you, an eyebrow raised and then focused on you.

" You got him to stop talking to you...oh Hell I want in on this bet. " He laughed.

" NO. " You and Dean both said at the exact same time.

Sam again looked between the both of you, still a little confused at what was going on between you.

" I'll take the police station. " You said tossing your hair into a bun, then glancing at Dean.

" Its a lot easier to get them to talk, without a brooding man breathing down their necks and scaring the crap out of them. " You grabbed your clothes, then went into one of the bathrooms and got changed.

Dean shook his head as he took a drink from his coffee.

“ Well she’s not wrong. “ Sam laughed.

“ Shut up, I’m gonna get changed then we can go talk to a few of the vics, while she goes and does whatever it is she does. “ Dean stated.

After getting dressed you came back into the room, where Dean stood in his FED suit. You looked him up and down, realizing how good he looked in even a cheap suit and had to fight the urge to bit your lip, as your mind was thinking about what was underneath it all.

“ Alright, if I find anything out, I’ll call you. “ You told Sam as you grabbed your keys, and walked out the door.

After a few minutes of flirting with one of the officers at the station so you could get some info about the last vic, your phone buzzed. You fished it from your jacket pocket and seen that Cas was calling you.

“ Excuse me for a moment. “ You told the officer as you walked outside and answered the call.

“ Cas, what’s up? “

“ I’ve got your panties. “

Your mouth dropped at his comment.

“ Excuse me? Why exactly do you have my underwear? “

“ Dean informed me that it was important for the case, although I am skeptical on the practicality of obtaining your undergarments at this present moment”

You shook your head at the fact that he had played on Cas’s lack of understanding.

“ Don’t listen to a word he says Cas. Please put my underwear back, I’ve got to go. “

“ So you do not them? “

You couldn’t help but laugh a little bit.

“ No, and if he asks you get anything else of mine, don’t do it.. “

“ Alright. “

You ended the call and shook your head again as you brought up your messages with Dean.

‘ Seriously...you drug Cas into this..’

You didn’t have to wait long before he replied.

‘ You said I couldn't talk...you said nothing about Cas. ‘

‘ Finding it hard to not use those words already Winchester? ‘ You replied.

Dean smirked as he replied and Sam seen it.

“ Can you please put that thing away so we can do our job? Pretty sure that is our girl. “ Sam smacked his brother on the arm, than pointed to the tall brunette standing on the porch of the big blue house.

Dean shoved his phone into his pocket and looked at the woman.

“ Doesn’t look very witchy to me. “

“ When have they ever looked “ witchy” Dean. “

After talking to her for a few minutes, they went inside and Sam noticed that she was getting a little nervous, and he knew that she was who they were looking for.

“ Excuse me, I’ve just gotta step outside and make a phone call. “ Sam excused himself, but not before he seen the look that his brother shot him.

Shutting the door behind him, Sam stepped onto the porch and took ut his phone and called you just as you were coming out of the station.

“ What’s up? “ You asked.

“ We found her.. Ya need to get here. I’m texting you the address now. “ He ended the call.

You checked the address, got into your car, and sped off to the house. The moment you stepped out of your car, you heard a gun shot. You instantly, ran up the stairs, kicked in the door and rushed inside, your gun pointed. You looked into the living room, to see a woman laying on the floor with a bullet in her head.

“ I guess you really didn’t need my help. “ You laughed, lowering your gun.

“ What did you find out at the station? “ Sam asked.

“ You were right, she’s not the only one we are dealing with. “

You pulled out a photo and passed it to him.

“ Kelsey Berk. She’s tight with this one. “ You motioned to the woman on the floor.

“ All the vics were connected to both of them.. They were a big group of friends, like a damn high school click. Kelsey apparently holds a grudge. “

“ So you have any clue where she’s at? “

Shaking your head, you let out a sigh.

“ No, no one has seen her for almost a week now. “

Sam ran his hand over the scruff on his face.

“ Alright, let’s get this cleaned up, and then grab something to eat before we head back to the motel. “

All three of you, cleaned up the mess then went into a little diner and sat down at a booth. Dean’s eyes glanced at you, as he seen a pretty blonde walk over to your table.

“ What can I get you handsome? “ She asked, moving to stand close enough to him that her left touched his.

“ Well I don’t know about them, but I’ll have a bacon cheese burger, a beer and the time you get off. “ He smirked, pulling out that Winchester charm that he had perfected with that smile.

You watched as the blonde’s cheek turned bright red.

“ Salad and water for me please. “ Sam interrupted his brother’s usual routine when it came to pretty girls.

She wrote it all down then looked at you.

“ What about you? ‘ She asked.

“ Burger and fries. “

Before she walked away, you gently took her arm and looked at her.

“ Oh and just fyi, don’t fall for those pickup lines, he’s used that one at least 4 times today. “ You whispered with a smirk.

She was a little taken back but nodded and walked off to put your order in. Dean glared at you, but Sam just laughed and nudged his brother’s shoulder.

“ Can we please keep her, she’s the best entertainment we’ve had in awhile. “

You didn’t even try to contain the smirk that came upon your face. After getting your food, you and Sam talked about Kelsey and what you had found out.

“ So she was last seen at her house at least 5 days ago. “ Sam read the paper.

“ I say we go and do a little B&E “ Dean smiled, shoving his last fry into his mouth.

When the blonde waitress came back with the bill, she placed it in front of Dean, and grazing his hand as she walked away. Dean picked up the bill and a big grin came across his face. He held up the paper and you seen the name Chelsey and a phone number underneath of it. You tossed money on the table and got to your feet.

“ Are we going or what? “ You said pulling on your jacket.

You stopped at the motel to change out of your FED suits then headed straight for the Kelsey’s house. Sam picked the lock like a pro and we were in within 5 minutes, searching the downstairs. Sam decided to head upstairs while Dean checked the kitchen and you looked around the study. You didn’t see anything that would give you a clue on where she might be. You turned the corner, looking into the kitchen, you seen Kelsey standing behind Dean with a smirk on her face.

“ DEAN GET DOWN! “ You yelled your gun raised.

He didn’t hesitate to follow your order and ducked. You shot and hit her right in the chest and she dropped to the floor. Letting out a breath and getting to his feet, Dean looked at you.

" You sweetheart, just broke 1 out of three rules.. Which means, I'm winning. " He smirked, crossing his arms in glee.

" Maybe, but I still don't think you can talk your way into my pants Winchester...but me.. oh I'm sure I could say just the right things, to have you on your knees.. " You said, shoving your gun into the back of your jeans as your eyes locked with his.

He took a step forward then stopped when Sam came rushing into the room.

“ Found her. “ You turned to smile at Sam.

Sam smirked with a nod of his head as he turned to look at his brother.

“ She saved your ass didn’t she. “

Dean ran his fingers through his hair and looked at Sam.

“ Shut up, and help me clean this up, so we can go and get a beer please. “

About twenty minutes later, you pulled up beside Dean at a run down bar. The moment you stepped inside, you seen a beautiful red haired woman at the bar, and you just knew that Dean was going to try to pull the same stunt that he did at the diner, just to get underneath your skin. After getting a few beers, you pulled off your jacket and took a long drink. Dean followed your gaze to the red head with a smile.

“ Ah thanks for the point out Y/N. “

“ You guys are talking again? That didn’t last long. “ Sam asked with a little laugh.

“ Yeah she cracked. “ Dean smirked.

“ I had to, or I would have shot him. “ You shot back.

Dean ran his fingers through his hair and got to his feet.

“ Excuse me, while I go get myself another drink. “ He winked at you.

You knew exactly what he was doing. Watching him go up and lean against the bar, you got a rush of jealousy and you pushed it down. He wanted to play like that...fine. You seen the woman look at him, then turn back in her chair and talk to the bartender. He got rejected. You didn’t even feel one bit sorry for him as he sat back down.

“ She’s here with someone. “ He said, chugging back the rest of his beer.

You knew he was good at the game, but you were better. You pulled your hair from the bun it was in, grabbed his and Sam’s empty bottles and got to your feet.

“ I’ll grab us a few more. “

Sam noticed Dean’s eyes following you as you made your way over to the bar.

“ Dude. “ Sam called out.

“ What? “

“ You’ve got a thing for her. “ Sam stated.

Dean shook his head with a laugh, but before he could respond, his eyes seen something that made blood rush straight to his now half hard cock. He grabbed Sam’s arm and he looked at let out a little laugh when he seen you kissing the same girl that Dean had just struck out with.

“ Wonder what line she used, maybe you could use it later on. “ Sam laughed again.

Dean didn’t say a word but just watched as you grabbed the three beer bottles, kissed the girls cheek then made your way back to the table. Dean seen the girl at the bar, watch you as well and he shook his head. Setting the beer in front of him, and couldn’t control the smile on your lips.

“ Turns out, I’m more of her type than you are. “ You tossed a piece of paper onto the table, with her number on it.

Sam took a drink of his beer, then realized he left his phone in the car.

“ I gotta grab my phone, I’ll be right back. “

When the door shut behind him, Dean’s eyes were locked on you.

“ Nature calls. “ You smirked, got up and went into the bathroom.

Dean bit his lip, trying so hard to fight this feeling that was building inside him, but he said fuck it and followed you into the bathroom.

“ Dean what the hell are you doing in here? “ You asked.

You knew the answer as he walked towards you and backed you up against the wall, his hands not touching you, but resting on the wall beside your head. His eyes burned into yours and his breathing was deep and slow.

“ That was totally unfair and you know it. “ He almost growled out.

You tilted your head and looked at him.

“ But did I break any rules? No, so that was fair game. I put my lips on her, not you. “

Your own breathing became deeper as his face moved closer to yours and stopped close enough that you felt his breath on your mouth, which sent tingles down into your core. With his hand hovering beside your cheek,knowing that he wasn’t aloud to touch you, he moved in a bit closer, and tilted his head just enough for his bottom lip to just barely graze yours. You took in a deep breath, waiting for his lips to crash into yours, but he backed away and just looked at you as he caught his breath. When you felt like you could breath again, you spoke.

“ Now that...that wasn’t fair.. “ You said no louder than a whisper.

“ I didn’t kiss you, so I didn’t break any rules. You might be good Y/N but I’m better, you’ll find that out soon enough. “ He smirked, then walked out of the bathroom.

You ran your fingers through your hair and closed your eyes to push down the excitement that he just gave you.

“ Fuck. “ You said to yourself.

You needed to step up your game, you wouldn’t let him win. You took in another breath, composed yourself then walked back out into the bar.

Feedback is the fuel that keeps me writing!! Please feel free to let me know what ya think!! Thanks again for all the Love!! <3

TAG LIST

@ezilyamuzed @redlipstickandthewinchesters @ain-t-bovvered @bamby0304 @bobasheebaby @curly-haired-disaster @dean-winchesters-bacon @imafictosexual @imma-winchester-addict @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @ladywinchester1967 @julesthepainter @lovemesomecas94 @myinconnelly1 @mrsnazario1223 @missjenniferb @squirrel-moose-squad @supernaturalsammy01 @theworldiscolorful @time-travel-bouqet @waywardbaby @waywardnerd67 @whimsicalrobots @thekatherinewinchester @supernatural-teamfreewillpage @jackles-jadalecki @jsn-ackles @nanie5 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @iwriteaboutdean @bitterstar88 @angelessquirrel @one-to-beam-up @thebeautywithinme @speakinvain @spn-winchester-app @jaylarkson @horsegirly99 @biawol @mirandaaustin93 @death-unbecomes-you @deans-jiggly-pudding @destielhoneybee @spnmightkillme @meganywinchester @bitchy-ginger-1 @mscarrilv @hunterswearingplaid @mannls @perpetualabsurdity @adoptdontshoppets @ladystiltskin67 @sweet-things-4-life @deangetsme @sandlee44 @somilotopia @4evrfandom @ilovefanfic86 @srsllydunnodoncare

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spnfamily #dean winchester #dean x reader #sam winchester #the bet

207 notes · View notes

svartalfhild · 7 years ago

Text

Breaking Point

Rating: T Genre: Supernatural, Angst Words: 1,562 Summary: The young witch Rowan Axel prides herself in her unflappable demeanor, but even she has her limits. Working at the local record store tests those limits. Warning(s): sexual harassment - - - The smell of Andrews Records was special to Rowan. It was the musk of the dust jackets of vintage LPs in the back room, old hardwood furnishings with layers of hand oil from as far back as the 50′s, and the lingering spice of incense in the air. It was the scent of late afternoons after Rowan’s classes were done, when she could unwind and jam to whatever the owner, John, felt like playing on the speakers.

Sure, it wasn’t all sunshine and roses. She was an employee and sometimes the customers were rude or messed up a display or John played something awful, but she took it all in stride for the most part. She knew any retail job would have its trials and this one was probably better than most. At least here she could be around music, which was one of the great loves of her life.

It was just after her sophomore year of college began when things started going seriously downhill. Bo, a regular customer and now classmate of hers, came into the shop one afternoon looking for some Fall Out Boy and, as they often did, struck up a friendly conversation with her.

Now, both she and Bo were impassioned individuals and it was not uncommon for their differing opinions about music to spark arguments, but they usually didn’t hold it against each other at the end of the day. This particular afternoon, however, something must have shortened Bo’s fuse, because they were almost immediately set off by her insisting that Lacuna Coil has always felt like cheap, knockoff Evanescence. The next thing she knew, Bo was throwing CDs at her, jewel cases and all, and she found herself throwing a few back.

John caught her mid-aim as he returned from the bathroom, CDs scattered everywhere. He was not happy, to say the least. He let her off with a warning after she had cleaned everything up, fortunately.

If only it had all stopped there.

Only a few days after that, things very suddenly got so much worse. The day in question had already begun rather unpleasantly. One of her classmates in her philosophy course had spent half of class discussion trying to make her look like an idiot and the vending machine she’d tried to get a bag of Sun Chips from had eaten her money without giving her the damn chips.

After all of that, she’d come to Andrews Records for her shift, hoping that there would be no more nonsense, that the atmosphere would calm her nerves. For the most part, this was true.

“Hey, Rowan, how’s it going?” John greeted her when she came into the back office and took off her coat. She groaned loudly. “That bad, huh? I’ll pull out the punk playlist for you.” With a sympathetic look, he turned back to his computer and suddenly American Idiot was blasting through the store speakers.

“Thanks, John,” Rowan sighed. “Did the new stuff come in yet?”

“Yeah, it’s all behind the counter. You can go ahead and shelve them.” Sure enough, there was a stack of boxes waiting for her behind the counter. She fished her pocket knife out of her jeans and slit open the top box. The contents that greeted her were assorted male country artist CDs, which she made a face at, but nonetheless she pulled them out and started stocking them. Once that was done, she popped open the new shipment of band shirts.

“Need help?” a voice asked from behind her as she got up on her tip toes to hang a few shirts on the top tier of a rack.

“That’s my line,” she laughed as she looked around to see a customer, a man of about 30 or so with a goatee and a ponytail. He smiled at her. “Can I help you?”

“I was actually looking for where you have your posters.”

“Alright. Gimme a sec to put these last two shirts up and I’ll show you.” With a courteous smile, Rowan returned to the tips of her toes, trying to get the hook of the last few hangers on that top bar. As she did so, she felt a hand pressing against her backside and froze. “Please don’t do that,” she said without turning around.

“Just trying to help,” the customer responded without moving his hand.

“I don’t need help.” Rowan racked the shirts and hastily walked away from him and over to the poster display. He followed, coming to stand behind her again, despite her attempts to distance herself from him. “Here you are. When you’re ready to make a purchase-”

She was cut off before she could finish by her ass being grabbed a second time. This time, instead of flight she chose fight, swinging around with all the weight of her body she could muster to connect her fist with the customer’s jaw. Pain burst through her knuckles and down her arm and the next thing she knew, he was sprawled on the floor.

“Don’t fucking touch me, creep! No means no!” she spat before turning to walk away, but she stopped in her tracks when she saw John standing there, glaring at her with a look of shock and horror.

“Did you just punch a customer? Sir, are you alright?”

“He grabbed my ass!”

“I didn’t! I just told her I liked her shirt and she attacked me!” the customer protested. “Can’t a guy give a girl a compliment without her taking offense?”

“Rowan, apologize and go to my office, please,” John ordered, giving her a look exactly like the one he’d given her after her CD frisbee match with Bo. She felt like she was going to be sick.

“Apologize? To this dirty liar? I think the fuck not,” Rowan snapped back as she watched John help the customer back to his feet.

“Okay, fine. You’re fired. Get yourself and your habits of assault and insubordination out of here and don’t come back.” The coldness in John’s tone told Rowan he was dead serious. This was it.

Unable to think of anything further to say in her shock besides a wavering “fine”, she grabbed her things and hurried out of the shop. Her legs didn’t stop moving until they had carried her all the way to the front porch of her house. She fumbled with her keys for a full half minute before she was able to get herself inside.

The moment she came in, her mother appeared in the front hall.

“You’re home early,” her mom commented and sudden all the numbness she had felt during the walk home faded away and let the floodgates open. She dropped her messenger bag on the floor and burst into tears. “Oh...oh, honey, come here. What’s wrong?” Her mom came to pull her into her arms in a tight hug.

“I...I got fi-...fired,” Rowan cried into her mom’s shoulder.

“What happened?”

It took several minutes between Rowan’s sobs for the whole story to be told, but once she was done, her mother picked up her bag for her and led her to the comfort of her room, where she sat on her squashy twin bed and waited for her mom to say something, anything.

“You did the right thing, Rowan,” she told her when she sat down beside her.

“I did?” Rowan sniffled.

“Yes, although you maybe should have been less colourful with your words.” Rowan gave a small, sheepish smile at that. “You didn’t let that man treat you like an object and I’m proud of you.”

“Yeah, and it got me fired.”

“I’m sorry. I know how much that job meant to you. John had no right to treat you like that.”

“I’m so tired, mom.”

“I know.” Rowan’s mom rubbed soothing circles in her back as she wiped the tears from her eyes. “How about I make you some pizza rolls and if you feel like it later, we can all watch a movie together and help you forget about your day? Does that sound good?”

“Yeah,” Rowan replied quietly. Her mother kissed her forehead and left her to have some much needed alone time. She sat in silence for a long moment, wiping the rest of the tears from her eyes, until Dave’s grey and black form slithered out from under a throw pillow on her bed, tongue flicking out inquisitively.

“Very bad day?” Dave asked, making his way up her arm and draping himself around her shoulders comfortingly.

“Men are trash, Dave,” she told the snake flatly. “Except you, of course, my dear familiar. You’d never do anything to hurt me, would you?”

“Of course not. Now, who am I eating? If a man has made you cry, I must eat him.” Rowan gave a watery laugh at this at pet her snake’s head affectionately.

“No eating people, Dave. These ones would probably taste horrible anyway and if you eat someone they’ll take you away and I’ll be left all alone.”

“Hmm, we can’t have that. You should find more friends, though, in case something did happen to me. I won’t be around forever, you know, and I’d hate to leave you lonely.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Clark Levin smells nice.”

“He is nice.”

“But?”

“But let’s not talk about this now. I’m tired and need to cry a little more.”

“Very well.”

#Monsterhearts #High School Never Ends #The Dungeoning #Rowan Axel

2 notes · View notes