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authorautumnbanks · 6 months

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How To Tame A Sorcerer (52)

Series Master list

A few days later - October 10th

Kagome hums to herself as she piles pickle after pickle onto her plate. She ignores the dense atmosphere of Sesshomaru's negativity. Her powers rise to ease the demonic pressure weighing her down. She wonders how many business deals he has secured simply from making the room uncomfortable with his energy. "Want some?" She offers, though she knows the answer. Kagome glances over her shoulder and pouts at the sight.

Sesshomaru is scrolling through his phone leisurely, not paying the slightest attention to her question. Rude. Fine, it's not like she wanted to share anyway. She takes a seat at the table, inhaling the sweet, sweet smell of fresh pickles. Her mouth waters, her stomach rumbles, and she thinks she could survive off of pickles alone. Satoru might object if there aren't any sweets in the house.

"Your mate is unhinged," Sesshomaru says, taking a seat next to her at the kitchen table. He curls his upper lip up, showing off his sharp canines at the mountain of pickles on her plate. His phone rests on the other side of him, far away from her mountain of delectable goods, as though somehow his phone will be tarnished by them. His shoulders are slightly hunched, giving away the amount of stress resting on his shoulders. It must be hard to run a business and keep those under him in check.

Kagome picks up one pickle and munches on it, her thoughts filtering as she chews. "Satoru isn't unhinged…he's just processing his emotions by throwing himself into his work." Mentally, she pats herself on the back. Satoru, taking on more missions to track down Naraku and pretending to search for the Shikon, isn't unhinged. Sesshomaru is just being dramatic and pissy because she turned down his demands to stay at the estate.

"The number of curses that he has–"

"That isn't a bad thing." She reaches for another pickle, humming as she munches on another. Judgment rolls off of Sesshomaru and curls around her like a blanket. Let him judge, she thinks, she'll eat this whole pile of pickles in one sitting just to irritate him. "Don't you have work or something to do? Go lord over your minions." Clearly, not working is causing him to stress out. She doesn't need a babysitter.

"Why else would this Sesshomaru be here?" he says, idly picking off a strand of hair on his tailored dark suit.

Why else would he…? Oh, that son of a…

"Get out," she says with a huff. "And send Shippo over instead. Much better company." She glances down at her gold watch. If she wants to make it on time to meet Megumi at the hospital, then she needs to head out soon-ish.

"The kit is busy assisting that other fox of yours."

"That's cause for concern." Kagome stretches her arms out in front of her and then pushes back against the table. She stands, dusting her hands on her leggings. She grabs her plate and rinses it off before putting it in the dishwasher. Clasping her hands together, she regards Sesshomaru, who seems lost in thought. "Ready?" Kagome tilts her head at Sesshomaru's blank expression. His face is usually a blank mask but there are levels to his lack of emotions and this level is telling her that he has no idea what she is talking about. "I promised Megumi-kun that I would take a look at his sister. There's like a curse or something on her." She could have sworn that she told him that when he came over.

"Must you help everyone?" he murmurs to himself. His glamor shimmers into place as he stands. The chair squeaks as he pushes his and hers back in.

Kagome beams. "Megumi-kun is meeting us there and then he's got a mission or something later. Satoru should be back home for dinner, so you don't have to hang out with me all day," she rambles on as Sesshomaru followers her towards the front door. She raises a brow at Jaken, sleeping with his hat pulled over his eyes. The obnoxious sound of his snores is hard to miss, and if he is doubling as the bodyguard, then that is also cause for concern. "Jaken could have come inside, ya know."

Sesshomaru ignores her and kicks Jaken in the side. The car door cushions his fall, only denting slightly from the impact. "Get up Jaken." Sesshomaru opens the back door for her, glaring at Jaken, who only sniffles and blubbers on.

Kagome sighs and then plasters a pained smile on her face. She feels for Jaken, she really does, though perhaps sleeping on the job wasn't the smartest decision he's ever made. "Well, Jaken, perhaps you can get checked out when we get to the hospital." She slides into the back seat. Her right eye twitches when Sesshomaru does the same, the space now cramped with him in the back with her. At least he smells nice and she won't vomit on the way there. Ijichi took her and the kids grocery shopping the other day, and she thought was going to lose it from the god-awful cologne Ijichi chose for that day. Jaken grumbles to himself up front as he starts the car and reaches back to get the address from her phone.

Sesshomaru glances at her from the corner of his eye. She opens her mouth. The question slithers down the tip of her tongue, threatening to spill out, but she catches herself and swallows the question back down. Another time.

"Hey," Kagome whispers, pushing the phone closer to her ear. There's soft classical music playing in the room. Megumi told her that familiar music helps coma patients.

"Why are you whispering?" Satoru asks on the other line. There's an edge to his tone, and she half expects him to warp to her. His trust with Sesshomaru is fragile at best.

"I don't know. Seems appropriate for the setting." She shrugs, turning away from Sesshomaru and Megumi's pointed looks. "I'm at the hospital with Sesshomaru and Megumi for Tsumiki. I told you that this morning." She frowns. She could have sworn she told him.

Satoru hums. "Don't overdo it." A bang blasts through her eardrums. Satoru curses. "One second," he says, followed by a cluster of screams. "S'orry about that. Any sign of fatigue, you call it quits, okay?" There's more commotion on the other line.

"Yeah, yeah," she says, turning back around. She focuses on the Tsumiki's comatose state and the burden etched on Megumi's face. "I won't overdo it."

"That's my girl. I'll see you later."

"Be careful," she says and hits the end button. "What?" She stuffs her phone into her purse and takes a spot on the bed next to Tsumiki. Tsumiki's brown hair is fanned out in a way that makes her look like an angel that is just resting its eyes. There's no pain or sadness on her face. It's somewhat eerie, and Kagome's heart goes out to the families that are going through the same thing as Megumi.

"He makes you happy," Sesshomaru states.

"Don't sound so shocked." Kagome takes Tsumiki's hand in hers, flashing a gentle smile to Megumi. "We'll get your sister fixed up in no time."

"Thanks, Kagome-san," Megumi says. His hands clenched at his sides, betraying the calmness that he is trying to project. Sesshomaru tenses from the other side of the bed, hovering in case things go awry.

Kagome closes her eyes to drown out the extra stimuli and emotions from Megumi and Sesshomaru. She pushes, searches, for the core darkness that has taken root in Tsumiki. A tendril of fear creeps up, wresting with her mind as she battles it back. Whatever has cursed her is strong…really strong.

Tsumiki thrashes, but Kagome only tightens her grip. Her hair sticks to her forehead. Beads of sweat slide down her neck. Her shirt sticks to her. It itches, but she can tune out the discomfort. Sesshomaru and Megumi shout her name, but she's not going to give up when she is so close. She flinches at the sound of glass breaking. The machines go haywire. The beeping helps her to stay grounded in the present. Keep going, she tells herself, keep going. The serpent wrapped around Tsumiki's soul hisses. The vile, putrid smell makes her want to hurl.

"Ssstay away," it hisses, thrashing about. Its ruby colored eyes go white as the purification takes hold. "Mine, her ssoul is mine." It gives one more jerk as its body evaporates. The darkness fades away, leaving behind a ball of light.

She may not have been able to save Cho, but at least she could save Tsumiki. Kagome opens her eyes, blinking slowly as her vision wavers. Tsumiki's face scrunches up in confusion. Kagome lets her hand go with a wince. She was gripping the poor girl's hand rather tightly towards the end there.

"Tsumiki!" Megumi says, his hands shaking. There are unshed tears in his eyes. It's the most emotion Kagome has seen from him.

There's a breeze in the room, cooling her heated skin. She follows the glass trail to the broken window. Did she do that?

"Megumi…what's going on…" Tsumiki coughs, her voice hoarse. She attempts to raise her arms, but after so many days, months, of un-use, even that action seems to be too much.

In hindsight, they should have brought some water for her and maybe a new set of clothes instead of that hospital gown.

"Grab her and let us depart," Sesshomaru says, walking around the bed. He picks Kagome up bridal style.

"Hey! I can walk." She pushes - well attempts to push back against Sesshomaru. Perhaps she expended a lot more energy than she thought did.

"No time. You would slow us down with your attempts at walking."

Megumi snaps into action, carefully unhooking Tsumiki. "He's right, we can't stay here."

"Why? All I did was get rid of the curse," Kagome says, twitching in Sesshomaru's arms. What she needs is a nice long bath and maybe call Satoru on the way home to share the good news. Her eyelids flutter as sleep threatens to pull her under.

"Got rid of what?" Tsumiki asks, but her question goes unanswered.

"That's exactly why we need to leave."

"You cracked my veil," Megumi says. A wisp of a smile touches his lips as he looks at his healed sister. "Others might be drawn to this location now…not to mention the staff might have some questions."

Oh. That is bad

#gojo satoru x kagome #gojo x kagome #crossover pairings #jujutsu kaisen x inuyasha #kagome higurashi #inuyasha fanfiction #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru #how to tame a sorcerer #inuyasha x jujutsu kaisen #kagome crossovers

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awakenee · 2 years

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hsmtmts . ep 103

july 7, 3:28 pm cst

eek, i really don't remember anything from this episode other than ricky throwing a basketball at ej's face

i forgot these recaps existed

"ashlyn fell in love with a piano"

i relate to carlos on a spiritual level

i may love ej now but back then he was a dick

nice car

AHHH ITIKYK

lowkey in love with ash's jacket

great timing, ricky

"this is nini talk to me me" will always be iconic

ricky,,,, stop

aw, he's so awkward,,,, bean boi

"crushed it."

ash my beloved

ash's backpack is so nice, i want it

EJ STOP

playbill as in the playbill?

nini is me when my phone decides to disappear under a rock somewhere

nice, mr m

miss jenn, don't argue with the stem guy

oop

this is getting intense

the status quo rehearsal track lowkey sounds like revenge party from mean girls

imagine being able to dance, couldn't be me

"i lost my phone and basically spent last night living as a hunter gatherer" mood

gina you little sh

are we going to ignore ash's indigo streak in her hair? wink

i still ship gini.

rip ricky

"basic" i dont think so

"vanessa hudgens walks in and stands there" as someone who has rewatched hsm 50+ times, this is 100% correct

"have my moms yell at her mom" LMAO

oh, nini

"extra sad voicemail" big red my beloved

"i am the night."

wouldnt that make you a hypocrite, ej?

"i play to win now" isn't this the exact same thing ej said at the beginning of the episode? without the "now"

argh ej

do these two even have a ship name?

are we going to ignore that nini has a flannel underneath her sweater

"i never should have stolen her phone" "yA ThInK?"

OH RIGHT A BILLION SORRYS IS HERE

ej, the thing is, nini has songwriting skills. you don't.

how come no one is getting mad at them for blocking the stairs

his little smile

sneaky mr mazzara

have any of you guys stopped to read what says on the newspaper with the "disney wraps up filming for high school musical" headline? well, i have, and it's very dark and has nothing to do with high school musical

i'm still very confused as to what he's doing here

"i'm returning gina's shoes! when she isn't looking!"

how are they not spotting nini

GINA YOU LITTLE SH

nini has an issue with cows

KOURTNEY WHAT

if someone stole my laptop i'd go on a rampage

mmm, a billion sorrys

omg they did matt so dirty with his s1 songs

"girl... *ahem* girl."

nOoOoOoOoO

ash's facial expressions are gold

"that's what i thought" i actually feel bad for him

ricky looks so out of it

ricky is a, uh... regular actor

*punch*

ej being subtle af

"chad it up."

RICKY'S PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE SMILE IS EVERYTHING

"pretend to play basketball"

you can feel the music tempo increasing in the background

"you deserve everything that's coming your way" OOOHHHH BURN

"bAcK aT yOu iNfInItY TiMeS oNe!!!!" *smacc*

ricky done effed up

who says they didn't sing or dance? as far as i'm aware the picture on the poster is from before the big basketball game, and there isn't any singing and dancing in that particular scene

MR MAZZARA YOU LITTLE SH

GO OFF MISS JENN

i love miss jenn

seriously, screw you mr mazzara

revenge party is back

this scene is iconic

aw, miss jenn looks so proud

i'm a sucker for guitar background music

and guitar music in general

ew, blood

the cons of not being a girl: not knowing the secret to get blood out of your clothes

"cause infinity plus one sounded pretty real" "that's not even a number" ricky got you there with the math

ej screw you

"thirsty" wtf???

let's appreciate the trash bag

i love all of nini's outfits

"stick to the status quo" this goes against the entire plot of hsm

gina's a half liar

nini's on to you hahahahhahahahah

#hsmtmts fandom #hsmtmts

0 notes

reader-mon · 2 years

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BNHAlentines ❥ Break Time

a/n: eyyy im behind on this shit loool ofc i am! im a fucking dumb bitch! character: izuku midoriya, todoroki shouto, bakugo katsuki, eraserhead, present mic warning: aged up characters

Izuku Midoriya

workaholic pt. 1

literally is at his hero agency, working his ass off every single minute of every single day

if he's not there physically, he's there mentally, trying to keep track of which heroes need to do what or which sidekicks needed help with something or what paperwork he needs to do--

he's always mumbling these kinds of things to himself lmao

so, of course, you're there to force him to sit the fuck down and give himself a break

and it's really nice becos everyone in his agency loves him so they work with u to try and give this man a week off becos he honestly truly needs it

Honestly, you'd think that the best pro hero this side of Japan would know exactly how to sneak out of the house but, it seemed, his beloved had him beat because, before he could put on his hero shoes and walk out the door, you stood in the way.

You looked annoyed and for good reason too. You had let him know last night that he wasn't going to go to work this weekend and he laughed you off and cuddled you closer, thinking you weren't serious.

Well, look who was serious now.

"Love..." Midoriya looked at you, his eyes wide like a puppy begging for a treat. Except, instead of a puppy, Midoriya was an overworked superhero. And, instead of a treat, he was begging to go back to his mountainous pile of paperwork.

Like hell you'd let him. Instead, you apologised, informing him that you did, in fact, tell his hero agency to kick him out if they found him trying to crawl back in. They feared the number one hero, yes, but they feared his scary significant other even more.

Especially when it came to taking care of Midoriya. And you're sure it was also partly because they too thought Midoriya had been neglecting himself and putting his agency first when he shouldn't have been.

Midoriya sighed. Just one look at the fire in your eyes and he knew he was beat so, instead of fighting it, he just wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in and burying his face into your torso "You're too good for me."

You simply laughed and agreed and ruffled his hair, your fingers raking through it in that exact way that made Midoriya melt in five seconds flat.

Todoroki Shouto

you'd think that todoroki is a workaholic but emmm no--

he definitely dedicates himself to his hero agency and, when he's on the clock, he's on the clock

no time for distractions, my love, he needs to get work done!

he's always doing his paperwork so there's none left at the end of the day and he even goes as far as doing paperwork he'll need in the future or helping others with paperwork. he'll do his shifts early, help everyone out if they need help, etc etc

and why, pray tell, does he focus so hard and try his best at work?

becos once the workday ends, he's logged the hell out. bye

he doesn't take work home with him unless it's an utmost emergency. if the world isn't burning down or afo isn't knocking on his doorstep, he doesn't wanna hear it

once his workday is over, it's his time to spend with you and like hell he'll let anyone interrupt

Todoroki pressed a kiss against your temple, his arms wrapped securely around your waist as he watched you stir the curry in front of you. In the background, he was playing a rather catchy song from the radio (something he didn't exactly know the title to but that you'd often play during your commute to work with him). His hips--and yours by extension--moved to the beat of the music, both of you without a care in the world.

And then, he heard it. The ring tone from his phone indicating that his hero agency was calling. It interrupted your little song and dance which, of course, made him frown. He saw, from the corner of his eyes, that it made you frown too but, instead of saying anything, you pretended to busy yourself with dinner.

Todoroki sighed, deep and profound, before snatching his phone up and answering, his arm still firmly wrapped around you "This better be good."

It was a tone you weren't used to hearing. Business was often something Todoroki tried to keep out of his home and, so, this more serious expression with his more serious voice wasn't something you witnessed often either.

Yet, still, it didn't stop you from being flustered by it and you couldn't help but think it was handsome.

"No. It was your mistake so it's your duty to fix it." His voice was curt, cold, just like his breath against your ear. Then, he hung up and, automatically, the music started back up.

You laughed and leaned into his chest "You need to stop being so mean to them."

He just buried his face into your neck, his arms tighter around you, like if he let go his hero agency would appear and drag him away "I don't like it when they interrupt my time with you."

Bakugo Katsuki

workaholic pt. 2

the last thing that bakugo ever wants is to lose to midoriya and that might be why he's fighting for the title of not only no. 1 hero but no. 1 workaholic as well

he's not as kind as midoriya though lmao

he's always yelling at all of the people working at his hero agency! he's mellowed out over the years, ofc, but he still has that explosive kick to him. he's dynamight after all

his agency understands though that, deep down inside, he does it out of care for them becos he wants them to be on top of their work and on their very best behaviour so they dont end up a workaholic like him lmao

surprisingly, though, unlike midoriya, bakugo doesn't hesitate when you prance up to him and bat your eyelashes, asking him pretty please if he'd come and take a break with you

doesn't work as effectively if you do it all the time but he'll let you borrow a couple hours of his day at least

thank god since this dumb idiot workaholic would forget to feed himself if it weren't for you

" 'suuuki."

Just like clockwork. Bakugo glanced at the watch on his wrist and clicked his tongue. Now he knew you were doing this on purpose. Though he could feel his heart fluttering at the thought of you setting up alarms to make sure you cooked his food on time and got to his agency on time too, he couldn't help but also feel a tinge irritated.

He wished he wasn't so busy, that he could remember to have lunch so that you didn't have to remember for him. Yet, every single time, though he promised tomorrow would be different, tomorrow would come and he would still be so busy with things that he'd forget.

"Who let ya know I was here." He spit out, trying to sound angry but, instead, to you, he sounded pouty and whiny.

You smiled and carried over the large bento you hauled all the way from your luxury apartment a few blocks away. Instead of really answering, you just offhandedly commented that his office absolutely loved the bagels you donated on your way to Bakugo's little hideaway second office.

Bakugo scowled. Those soft-spined idiots.

Though, he really shouldn't be one to talk because, as soon as you were pulling a chair over, Bakugo stood and helped you, pushing his office chair a little to the side so that there would be room for you to sit.

Despite how he looked like he didn't want to entertain you, he still stacked all of his paperwork together and put them at the very corner of his desk so that you'd have space to spread the meal you so lovingly prepared for him.

He could complain all he wanted but, no matter what, he still yielded to you, the love of his life. Especially when you grinned so brightly and so happily at him, like you wanted nothing more than to spend lunch with him that day.

Aizawa Shouta

despite popular belief, aizawa isn't as lazy as he looks. in fact, he wished he was but, unfortunately, he can't be

he balances being a teacher on top of being an underground hero after all!

he has like this little sweet spot in the middle of the day to take naps and have a break but then, after that, it's back to being an underground hero. then, he might have a couple of hours to take a shower and take a break but then he's back to being a hero teacher

it's honestly a lot to juggle, esp becos he's not free on the weekends either. being a teacher means he has papers to grade and then, being an underground hero means he has paperwork to catch up on

truly, trust aizawa, the last thing he'd ever want to do is to just work all the time but, unfortunately, that's how it is

it honestly takes you waging a war with nedzu to get him a day off loool and he doesn't even argue like nedzu is staring at him, tryna mentally convey that he needs help but aizawa immediately looks away

Aizawa felt himself jolt awake, a forgotten dream tickling the edges of his mind. He couldn't remember what he dreamt about but, still, it was warm on his tongue like it was just out of reach but he couldn't cross the millimetre to get to it.

Then, just as that thought entered his brain, a more pressing thought replaced it. It was Monday. He had to get to school.

Dumbly, he relaxed a second when he realised that he was a pro-hero now and graduated from school years ago. Only, of course, to regain his senses and realise that he was a pro-hero teacher.

He sat up, groggily rubbing at his face in an attempt to wake himself up. Then, when that proved to be fruitless, he glanced at the analog clock on his bedstand and realised, further, that he was fucked.

Hopefully, Hizashi covered his morning class. He felt bad for hoping that, of course, since Hizashi had his own plate full but there was no getting around it. He just couldn't understand how he was late this time! Usually, you woke him--

Aizawa's head snapped to look at the bed beside him only to see that it was horrifyingly empty. He immediately became anxious, worried that something happened to you that prevented you from waking him up this morning--

You pushed the door open as you greeted your lover, your phone sandwiched in your armpit and your hands full with two mugs of what Aizawa presumed was coffee from just the smell.

He relaxed a little bit and smiled, eyes tired but heart full.

You explained as you handed him his mug, your free hand now cradling his face, that you had a rather successful yelling session with Nedzu and a few other pro-heroes which, of course, led to the free weekend and the free three more days that Aizawa was privileged to have.

He knew it was rather weird his hero scanner wasn't pinging this weekend but to think it was your doing? Aizawa just chuckled, pulling you close and pressing a happy thankful kiss against your lips.

Yamada Hizashi

if you think aizawa has it rough, imagine hizashi loool he has his hero agency to worry abt and then he's also an english teacher but then he's also a radio host? yike

his schedule is very jam-packed and planned exactly to the hour; he jumps from his hero agency to the school to his radio station and it's sooo stressful

i imagine his radio station is right next to his hero agency so it's not as stressful but like damn i just can't

and honestly he just needs a rockstar partner who goes behind his back and arranges for him to take a vacation secretly

becos like he'd love a break and would do anything for a break but i think he'd also be the type to be really nervous abt leaving and like nitpicks everything until he convinces himself that he actually can't leave

so you just have to make it so that he doesn't have a choice

Hizashi sighed, hands fidgety in his lap. He knew, truly, that you must've worked your ass off to get him this free vacation to do with what he pleased. He knew that all you really wanted was for him to get a break.

He loved it! In fact, this morning, he didn't have to rush out of bed at an ungodly hour to man the radio station for all the loving commuters that listened in! He didn't even have to worry about his morning class! Or the hero agency paperwork he was sure was due!

The problem, of course, was that he wasn't sure who was doing those things. If not him, then who? Certainly, it had to be someone who knew how to do it, right? But then, he'd never really properly trained anyone to replace him; not in school, not in the radio station and certainly not in the hero agency.

Then, if not anyone he trained, who?

You called out his name before slowly, carefully, gently, pressing a mug of hot tea into his hands. You pressed a kiss against his cheek before lovingly cupping it with your hand. You asked him if he was okay.

Looking at you, your eyes wide and curious and happy but also worried, made his heart melt. The warmth of the mug in his hand comforted him and the warmth of your palm soothed him.

Hizashi looked at you and it felt like everything was okay, like everything was alright, that there was nothing to worry about.

So, of course, he tipped his head forward, pressing a loving kiss against your forehead, your mug and his clinking when he presses you close.

He lovingly answers. "Nothing. Jus' happy to be with ya."

#midoriya x reader #bakugo x reader #todoroki x reader #aizawa x reader #hizashi x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #yamada hizashi x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #reader-mon writes

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shelby-love · 3 years

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MATT CASEY

Hatred and fatherly love.

Requested: yes

Prompts: none

Warning(s): none

Author's note: I had a lot of fun with this one. I'm still thinking about whether or not I should just keep the ending as it is or make a part two where (as requested) they fall for each other. But if I'm being honest I kind of dig feisty Y/N that stands her ground.

PART // 2 //

MASTERLIST

"Justin what you did was wrong," You fumed, handing him the last of your boxes to load into the truck. He took them without saying a word, letting you take out your frustration on him. "I can't believe dad would do that."

"Oh come on," Your older brother groaned. "Now you're acting like Erin."

"Damn right I am," You agreed. "Unlike dad, Erin and I want you to learn from your mistakes. Obviously, that's not gonna happen if dad keeps babying you."

"So what?" His words came out immaturely, making you punch his shoulder. "Ow! What was that for?"

"For being an asshole! That little boy is paralysed from the waist down because of you!"

"You're overreacting."

"You know what, I give up." Your hands curled around the car doors before they released when you shut the door closed. Anger took permanent residence in your chest.

You shot your brother a glare before jumping into your car. "Thanks for helping me pack."

And with that you sped off to your new home.

***

The apartment complex you moved to was considered to be a jackpot. With that being said, if there was one thing that you liked about having Hank Voight as your father, it was the very comfortable lifestyle you could afford with just your name.

Of course, you were mad at your father right now. What he did to get your immature brother out of trouble was all kinds of wrong, and you didn't support it at all.

"Do you need help with that?" A cool voice told you in passing. You had your hands filled with boxes, and you could barely register what was in front of you.

Before you could say anything hands were already easing the weight in your arms. You smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of your neck shyly.

"Thanks. I just moved here," You explained quickly before looking at the man who offered his help to you. He held the two boxes in his one hand, the other one free for you to take in a greet. "I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you."

"Matt Casey. You can call me Matt."

Inside, you were panicking. The firefighter who currently hated your father and brother with a passion was standing in front of you.

You smiled shakily before a voice called out. "Miss Voight. There are some papers you need to sign."

The way Matt's eyes narrowed at you looked sinister, almost as if he was ready to swallow you up in flames or maybe even leave you in a burning building to die if it ever came down to it.

You didn't know what to say, only mumbling apologies to him before scurrying over to sign some papers.

And when you came back to where Matt once stood, you found your two boxes down on the floor.

Great. My new neighbour hates my guts.

***

Over the next few days Matt and you had managed to establish a routine. You'd both see each other in the hallways very frequently but never actually greet each other. By Tuesday, you were already used to the icy glares and the feeling of being the most hated woman on earth.

You even managed to make a game out of it. What does he think I do for living, it was called. Your number one guess was that he thought you were a dirty cop. Like your father obviously.

But then again, you swore you could see his eyes linger on your legs in passing every time you wore a skirt or a dress. So yet again, another one of your guesses was that he thought you were a stripper.

As fun as it was to make games out of your non-existent relationship it hurt you to be treated in a way you didn't deserve.

The truth was - you worked as a nurse, specifically working with little children. Every day you saw their parents take down stars in order to make their little ones happy and as messed up as it sounded you saw yourself categorizing your own father with them. The only difference between them and your own father was the fact that your father did what he did to protect you in a way that some people didn't seem to find fit.

People like Matt for instance.

And while you understood both sides, you leaned toward Matt. What Justin did was awful and your mind was set in stone - he deserved time. He had to sit in a cell and feel what is like to be at the bottom before he could even begin thinking about changing for the better.

Sadly that's not what happened.

As you walked back to your new apartment the bags under your eyes became more evident. You had lost a patient today. A little baby girl lost to cancer in a battle called life. It left a mark at your heart, and her smiling face was still misty in your mind.

Your eyes spotted Matt who strode down the hallway dressed in a simple button up and jeans, looking extremely handsome.

You couldn't really blame yourself for ogling him. No matter what you told yourself, Matt Casey was still the type of man that had you on your knees.

His eyes returned to his usual glare and while normally you weren't affected by that, today his eyes were the last straw.

Your lip started to tremble, while your eyes were filling with moisture and hands were aggressively stuffed in your purse in a frantic search for your keys.

Matt's face immediately softened but before he could reach you, you had jumped inside and locked the door behind you.

Exhausted by life, you slowly slid down the door until your bottom had hit the dark laminate. You sobbed in a matter you thought was quiet.

But it wasn't.

Matt had pressed his ear against your door and listened closely. Your whimpers entered his ears and he felt everlasting guilt consume him. Did he do this?

He decided then and there that he was going to let go of his prejudice and make things right between you two.

***

Once the sun came out you realized that you were obligated to wake up and start your new date. Just like every time, you pretended to turn over a clean sheet and start your day as your best self.

Your morning routine passed rather quickly. Pretty soon you were sat in your new colorful armchair with tea in your hand and a magazine in the other.

You, just like many others, learnt how to leave your days work in your uniform. Last night being an exception. Once you put that blue uniform back on you were sure to welcome back the dark feelings, but until then, you enjoyed the feeling your silky pyjamas provided.

Your phone rang, and you reached out to answer it. One look at the phone had your face scrunched in distaste, "Yes Justin? How may I be of help today?"

If your brother noticed the sarcasm then he sure did a good job concealing it. Monotonously he greeted you back, "Can't I just call my favourite sister to see how she's doing?"

Rolling your eyes you trekked to your room to change, "Make it quick. I have to go to work."

"Dad's in jail."

"What?" You stopped in your tracks, hardly believing what's happening.

"You know dad." He said, "Don't worry sis. He'll be out in no time."

"This isn't funny Justin," You scolded, throwing a dark purple shirt over your head while your phone sat on your vanity, Justin on full volume speaker.

"Well... I thought you should know."

And with that he hung up.

Annoyed beyond words you grabbed the phone and threw it on your bed. It landed on your creamy sheets safely as you wrestled your jeans.

After that spectacle you grabbed your bag and stormed outside only to clash into something strong.

"Shoot I'm sorry-" You hastily apologized. Your hair was all over the place and you barely had enough time to collect your strands of hair behind your ear before looking at the person you had assaulted with your clumsiness not even twenty seconds earlier.

Matt Casey.

Oh how the stars aligned for you two.

"You." You spit.

He raised a blonde eyebrow at you as if saying that you had no audacity to say anything remotely accusing to him.

"Me?"

"Yes you!" You stomped your heeled boot like a child. "My dad's in jail because of you!"

It was like a switch was turned in his head. Matt took a menacing step closer. "Because of me? He did that to himself when he sent someone to kill me!"

"K-kill you?" You whispered, almost inaudible for him to hear. Suddenly your own words worked against you.

"Just because I wouldn't pull back my report." He explained to you. "And I'm glad I didn't. Your bastard of a brother deserves it for what he did."

You fully agreed with him but the emotions that bubbled inside you came to a boiling point. You could no longer hold back, and so you took a deep breath and spoke. "You think I support him? He got that little boy paralysed and you have the audacity to think I would support someone like that? He may be my older brother but that doesn't mean he has my love and support. I'm the first one in line when it comes to saying he needs to do time."

Your words were getting through to him, you could see it. "And as for my dad... He has his own issues, I admit. But there's one thing you need to know about him: he would do anything for his kids. And I mean it. He might be a dirty cop to you, but he's my father. Justin's too. Don't blame him for thinking that his son is able to change, because I'm damn sure you would do the same if you were in his shoes."

And with that you stormed off to see your father and give him a piece of your mind too.

MASTERLIST

#matt casey x reader #matt casey fanfiction #matt casey imagine #matt casey #chicago fire fanfictio #chicago fire #chicago fire fanfiction #chicago fire imagine #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd fanfiction #chicago pd

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spicycreativity · 3 years

Text

Howl- Ch. 3

Chapter: 3/10

Add'l Notes: Fic is posted in full on my AO3, WizardGlick

Chapter content warnings: Depictions of alcohol use

“Nothing,” Remus pronounced. His breath ghosted over Virgil’s ear and he shuddered, pulling away so he could look Remus in the face. Remus was still in his work clothes and he smelled, not wholly unpleasantly, of sweat and dirty water.

“Nothing?” Virgil ran his pointer fingers behind both ears, just barely resisting the urge to dig in with his nails and see for himself, dammit.

“I think you’d know if aliens had stuck a tracking chip in your head,” Remus said, his own fingers dancing across the countertop toward the basket of enamel pins by the register.

Virgil ran his fingertips across his temples, still feeling for something, some marking or scar. “But if it wasn’t aliens...”

“Far be it from me to be the voice of reason,” Remus said, “but are we sure you weren’t just sleepwalking? Or high on peyote?"

Virgil continued to track Remus' fingers as he stuck his hand in the basket. "If you steal anything, it comes out of my paycheck." Not strictly true, but it would make Remus pause.

"I wasn't gonna steal!" Remus exclaimed, holding up his hands. "But now I kinda want to."

"Please don't." Virgil sighed and put his face in his hands. He'd noticed a strange metallic taste in his mouth after waking up properly, and even the desperate mouthfuls of Monster he'd been forcing down his throat couldn't seem to touch it. It hadn't touched his exhaustion much, either. Whatever Virgil had been up to last night had not been a restful activity.

"Oh, c'mon, don't freak out." Remus' hand sat heavy on Virgil's shoulder, warming him through the thin fabric of his Baphomet t-shirt. "You were probably just sleepwalking. It happens all the time. Roman used to sleepwalk all over the place when we were kids. One time we even found him asleep in the yard. Naked, just like you."

Virgil peeked over his fingertips. "Really?" Remus was not the type to lie to make someone feel better, but this story seemed a little far-fetched.

"I swear," Remus said, eyes wide with childish solemnity.

The only customer in the store stepped up to pay, and Remus stepped aside to let Virgil deal with them. He made faces behind their back, contorted himself into absurdly sexual poses and stuck out his tongue and wiggled his hips like Elvis in his prime. Virgil pursed his lips to keep from laughing. It had been a hard decision to ask Remus for help with this, but Virgil was glad he had chosen him.

Patton was a big softie and nearly as prone to panic as Virgil was. If he didn't escalate Virgil's paranoia about aliens then he would probably end up pressuring Virgil to make a police report. A useless endeavor, since no crime had actually occurred as far as Virgil knew. Roman and Janus would just make fun of him for being a tin foil hat-wearing loony. And Logan… Well. He might judge. He might not. But Virgil didn't want to look stupid in front of him. Not to mention that Logan would ask questions, force Virgil to face something he wasn't ready to face.

So Remus it was.

"Thank you," Virgil said when the customer had left and Remus had stopped gyrating his hips. "I know I'm being dumb and it was probably nothing."

"Janus isn't here right now," Remus said, pouring out the basket of enamel pins. They scattered and clicked across the countertop. "But if he was, I think he'd say--" Remus shifted his weight and crossed his arms, "'Now what did we say about negative self talk?'"

Virgil chose not to remind Remus that Bienvenue was only a few blocks away and he could easily go get Janus if he wanted. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I know it wasn't aliens."

"But if it was peyote, you do have to share," Remus said, his attention already back on the pins. He poked through them with one dirty fingertip.

Virgil watched for a moment, then joined in, turning the pins to face Remus so he could get a good look at them. Remus seemed particularly fixated on one shaped like a death's head moth. "That one's six dollars."

Remus braced his elbows on the counter and clasped his hands under his chin, lashes aflutter. "You know how you could repay me for checking your skull for alien trackers?"

Virgil nearly reached for his wallet before he realized what Remus was actually getting at. He sighed, biting back his smile all the while, and made a show of turning to inspect the rotating sticker display. "Uh-oh," he said in an exaggerated monotone. "I'd better make sure all the stickers are properly organized. Gee, I sure hope no one shoplifts while I'm doing that."

There was a brief moment of silence. It was broken when Remus, presumably done pocketing the pin, said, "So bowling night?"

"Huh?" said Virgil, trying to find the dirty joke. Maybe something about balls?

Remus pulled his phone out of the pocket of his work pants and shook it at Virgil. "Pastor Patton's little group bonding venture?"

"Don't call him that," Virgil muttered, digging his phone out of his pocket. Sure enough, of the messages he'd been ignoring all morning, one was a new group chat. He read through the messages. "How did Patton get your number?"

"Roman gave it to him."

"How'd he get Janus' number?"

Remus grinned. "I gave it to him. No way am I suffering through some corny adult bonding shit without backup."

"Am I not backup?" Virgil asked, unsure whether he should be offended.

"You can't be backup," Remus said dismissively. "You're the bridge. You forced me 'n' Roman to reunite, you made us all hang out. You're the bridge. You won't be as mean as I need you to be."

"I'm mean!" Virgil said. "I'm so mean!"

"Say something bitchy about Patton right now. Quickly!" Remus began to snap his fingers.

"Um," said Virgil. "Uh. Sometimes-- Well, sometimes he can be kinda… Smother-y?"

"Oh, please." Remus rolled his eyes. "That was almost healthy communication."

"Fine." Virgil crossed his arms over his chest.

Remus let him pretend to be upset for roughly three seconds. "But you are coming, right? Or are you gonna spend the night playing with Data's joystick?"

Virgil's cheeks went hot. "Of course I'm com--" He paused and reconsidered his choice of words. "Of course I'll be there. And Logan will, too."

"Wonder if I can start a betting pool," Remus said thoughtfully.

The bells on the door tinkled and Virgil leaned over to see past Remus. "Hi, welcome in," he said in his best customer service voice, which wasn't very good. "Let me know if I can help you find anything."

"Just browsing."

"Alright."

"Well," said Remus, affixing the moth pin to his hi-vis vest. "See you tonight?"

"Yeah," said Virgil. "Please be nice to Patton."

Remus winked and started to back out. "Sorry! Hazing is mandatory."

He slipped out the door, leaving Virgil to marinate in his anxiety.

Although he was exhausted, Virgil went for a short walk after work. He wandered by Bienvenue and stared at the fancy suits in the window and wondered how Janus always had the audacity to dress like he was attending a funeral at a high-end night club. His feet took him forward and he smiled a little. If there was one thing Janus had in abundance, it was audacity.

He stopped again by the reflecting pool at the Plaza and read the plaque. It had very little information and devoted barely half a sentence to the supposed curse. A shiver ran down Virgil's spine. He took a deep breath and carefully did not panic. As Logan would say, he shouldn't jump to conclusions. He needed more data.

Virgil didn't want more data. He would happily chalk his misadventure up to sleepwalking and banish it forcefully to his subconscious, if only it would never, ever happen again. He shivered again despite the balmy weather and muffled a yawn behind his hand. Time to go home and get whatever sleep he could before the inevitable disaster of bowling night.

He managed to get home without hitting any potholes. Whatever stormy weather had threatened Vaillant earlier in the week seemed to have passed, and he was treated to a spectacular view of a great blue heron flying low over the road. He even managed a few hours of sleep before he had to wake up and get ready.

He chose his outfit with care, scrutinizing it through Logan's eyes. What would Logan like? What did Logan like? Virgil had no idea about his preference in men or how he slotted into it. Was it his height? His body shape? His eyes? What should he play up to make Logan like him? So Logan wouldn't regret choosing to be with him?

He dithered over this until he made himself late, and chose an outfit that he felt good in: long sleeves, long pants, the reassuring weight of his hoodie on his shoulders.

He kept it zipped up to his neck even after he entered the warmth and light of Vaillant's singular bowling alley, Gator Lanes. His friends were already seated. Waiting. For him.

Despite the wash of guilt, Virgil slowed and surveyed the scene. Patton and Logan sat on one of the low, pleather couches with a pair of bowling shoes between them. That left Roman, Remus, and Janus wedged on the other couch. They all looked like they were getting along, which was good. Roman and Remus were speed-eating French fries while the others talked.

Virgil approached from the back, gesturing for Patton and Logan to be quiet. He didn't miss the way Logan's eyes lit up; it sent a pleasant little rush of adrenaline all through his veins. When he was close enough, he leaned over and stole the pineapple off the rim of Janus' hurricane glass. It was dyed red from grenadine and tasted vaguely of rum.

"It's fine," said Janus, casually flipping Virgil the bird. "I wasn't saving that or anything."

"Guess you'll have to get another one," Remus said.

They started bickering about how drunk was too drunk for bowling night, so Virgil came around to Patton and Logan's side of the table. He kissed Logan hello while Patton explained about the shoes: "They were out of your size, so I got a size down instead of up, because I know you wear those really thin socks and I didn't want you to slip."

"Thanks, Pat," Virgil said. His hand found Logan's, somehow, and he smiled. "I wouldn't have put that much thought into it."

"That's why you have me!"

"Can we start now?" Roman asked, wiggling in place.

Patton stood up to fiddle with the control, and Virgil forced himself to nuzzle Logan's jawline with his nose. He wanted to do it, but the idea of being witnessed while he did so made his skin crawl.

Logan turned his head so they were nose-to-nose and smiled before pulling away. "Do you want me to order you a drink? We were going to, but we weren't sure what you'd want."

Roman threw a straw wrapper at them. "We're just about to start!"

"You're up second, too," Patton said cheerfully, flopping back down on the couch. "I put us in alphabetical order."

"I'll go, then," Virgil said. He squeezed Logan's hand and let go of it, stood.

"Don't forget to put your bowling shoes on," Janus said, eying Virgil's ratty leather ankle boots. Janus himself had somehow done the impossible and matched the colors of his suit to the dull red and blue of Gator Lanes' bowling shoes, making his whole outfit look deliberately tacky.

"When I get back."

"I'll go with you!" Roman got to his feet. "I already know I'm gonna lose. What's one more drink?"

"That's the spirit!" Remus said.

"Ha," said Patton, "I get it."

They turned to go, Roman bumping Virgil with his hip to prompt him forward. "So you and Logan, huh?" he said once they were out of earshot. "How's that going?"

"Fine," Virgil said, feeling the blush crawl onto his face. It was a short walk to the bar, but it suddenly seemed like miles and miles.

"You sure keep things close to your chest, don't you? Didn't say a word to me." Roman crossed his arms and looked sideways at him.

"I didn't think I had a chance!" Virgil exclaimed. "Wait. Did he say something to you?"

Roman winked at him, shushed him, and bellied up to the bar so he could order. Virgil hung back, one hand on his wallet, but Roman waved a hand. "Janus has a tab going," he said, turning back to Virgil.

"Does Janus know he has a tab going?" Virgil asked.

"Uh, yeah, it's not like I stole his card."

"It's not you I'm worried about," Virgil said, thinking of Remus and the moth pin.

"Ugh, you worry too much."

"This shouldn't be news to you, Roman, I have 'Worry Too Much' Disorder." Virgil flicked at his zipper pull. "Wait, so did Logan say anything to you?"

Roman smiled, even laughed a little. "Uh, yeah, he practically asked me and Patton for permission to ask you out. He made us promise not to tell you. Honestly, it was kinda cute how nervous he was."

"Nervous?" Virgil repeated. It was obvious now, but it hadn't occurred to him that Logan had lost just as much sleep over Virgil as Virgil had over him.

A harried-looking bartender popped up behind Roman, slid their drinks over, and vanished again practically before Virgil could force out a 'thank you.' Roman passed him his vodka Red Bull. "Let's go."

"Alright." Virgil sighed. It was probably better not to try to wring the details out of Roman, especially since he'd said that Logan had told him not to tell.

They reached their lane and he scooted in next to Logan, snuggling up a lot closer than was necessary, especially given that Patton was currently up to bowl. "Welcome back," Logan said.

Virgil set his drink on the table and began to change his shoes over. "Having fun yet?" he asked Janus. He was still a little resentful that Remus and Janus didn't think he could be mean anymore. Just because he didn't want to shit-talk Patton behind his back. Sure, Remus had been the one to say it, but Virgil had no doubt the sentiment originated with Janus.

"Sure, I guess there's a sort of primal thrill in hurling a 14-pound ball at a target," Janus said primly.

"10 pounds," Logan said.

Virgil bit down on his lip to hide his smile.

"I'm sorry?" Janus tilted his head.

Logan gestured at the bright yellow ball sitting in the ball return. "10 pounds, not 14." Patton's ball came back, followed shortly thereafter by Patton. "16 pounds," Logan said.

"Pat's strong," Virgil said, elbowing Patton as he sat down. Janus bit down on an ice cube. "By the way," said Virgil, feeling a spark of pure evil manifest inside himself. "Have you guys made cutting boards yet?" To Janus, he said, "It's kind of a tradition."

"I'd heard," Janus said, shooting him a covert dirty look.

Virgil smiled at him and turned to Patton. "Janus would rather die than say so, but I can tell he's excited."

"Oh, good!" Patton said. To Janus, he said "I was actually a little worried you wouldn't want to do it."

Virgil's killing strike was delayed slightly by Remus' reappearance and Roman's subsequent disappearance, and he knew he had to act quickly or Janus would wiggle out of it when Virgil was taking his turn. Remus finally sat and stopped crowing about his spare, which no one had witnessed. Virgil pounced. "Bienvenue is closed on Sundays, isn't it?" he said to Janus, as though the shop hadn't kept the same hours for years. "Maybe you guys could do it then."

"The weather should be clear, too," Logan chimed in. Virgil looked at him, trying to gauge if he had picked up on the game, but his face gave nothing away.

"Works for me!" Patton said. "I'm putting the finishing touches on a coffee table for somebody down south, but I can make time on Sunday."

"Great," said Janus with a plastic smile Virgil knew he usually reserved for difficult customers. The daggers in his eyes promised a thorough bitching-out later, but Virgil didn't even care. So he wasn't mean anymore, hm?

"All you," said Roman, tapping Virgil on the shoulder.

Virgil nodded and took a long swallow of his vodka Red Bull. It was stupid, but walking up to bowl always felt like walking out on stage. He knew full well none of his friends were paying attention and even if they were, their friendly teasing was nothing to worry about. They knew when to stop. But still, his heart quivered as he approached the lane. By sheer luck, he managed not to get a gutter ball, then turned and hovered awkwardly as he waited for his ball to come back.

Logan caught his eye and winked at him, not even pausing in his explanation of the physics of bowling. Virgil smiled back, and suddenly everything seemed that much lighter, that much more bearable. He really had to stop worrying so much.

#ik the aesthetic boards are reminiscent of mid 2000s livejournal fic covers but whatever it's camp and i like doing it #sanders sides #analogical #virgil sanders #spicywrites #spicywrites howl

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syubub · 4 years

Text

PSA

I know I've been MIA (wow that's never happened before, said no one ever) but things got crazy. With the state of the world I'm sure you can understand why. I've been writing and re writing this for a whole week, trying to get my thoughts out nice and pretty but I can't. Take this as a rant or what ever but please listen.

I want to talk a little about black lives matter rn because its an issue that is 1. Really fucking important and 2. Near and dear to my heart.

Incase you've been living under a rock and have no clue what is happening in America, last week George Floyd, a black man, was murdered by police. This is not new, this is not shocking but its the last fucking straw. To see a man robbed of his life with zero remorse from the bastards that took it? Shit needed to stop so long ago. The system is broken and now because the people in America are finally waking up and speaking out, we have been threatened with what is essentially a step toward Martial Law. And the dipshit in charge of the country also shot flash bangs, tear gas and rubber bullets into a peaceful crowd, hit reporters, journalists, protesters and cameramen with batons and riot shields just so he could hold a Bible he's never held infront of a church he's never been to for a fucking photo op. I cannot explain the horror and hurt that I have in my heart. I've spent the last week glued to Twitter, to the news, saving videos, evidence, of police instigating violence on peaceful protesters. This is not to discredit or take away from the opportunists that take it as an excuse to loot or from the good police officers that took off their riot gear and marched and listened to what we've been saying for years. The media focuses on the looting despite that being "a few bad apples" and are painting all of the protesters as trouble makers, rioters and a spoiled bunch but when "a few bad apples" kill innocent people its only a few bad apples.

I am mixed. My dad is black and my mom is white. My brother and I are white passing if we try to be. Sometimes I am so fucking thankful that I can pass because honestly, that can be life or death but I am so fucking disgusted at myself for ever fucking thinking like that too. Knowing as a child there is a chance my dad could be murdered for being black either by police or by the fucking KKK. I'm not going to pretend that I fully understand what it's like to be targeted because being mixed, I don't struggle the same way black kids do, but being called a "house n*gg*r" isn't awesome.

Now I have to explain to my racist grandparents and family members that I'm so fucking disappointed and outraged that they could ever say the things they say, do the things they do when their daughter is married to a black man, when there grandchildren are half black. I have to tell grown ass adults that being a fucking racist is bad.

I wish I could be out protesting, helping and fucking screaming but I can't risk being out in a group of people so closely packed. My mom has a compromised immune system and if she get the virus she would most likely die from it within a week of showing symptoms so we need to be careful.

There is so much you can do. DONATE IF YOU HAVE THE FUNDS, RESEARCH, EDUCATE YOURSELVES ON THE HISTORY, CALL YOUR SENATORS, GOVERNORS, MAYORS OR ANY OFFICIAL AND LET THEM KNOW WE WANT CHANGE. USE YOUR PLATFORM. VOTE WHEN THE TIME COMES. DONT STOP WHEN THE "HYPE" DIES DOWN. DO IT UNTIL WE HAVE CHANGE. STAND IN SOLIDARITY.

If you are at a protest in a big city: stay safe, be kind, bring water, try not to wear anything with oils on your body incase of pepper spray or tear gas. Have goggles. Bring an umbrella. Wear cardboard under your clothes. Cover identifying marks,, Turn of location services incase they try to track you to arrest you later but DO NOT TURN ON AIRPLANE MODE. You need to be able to be reached and to reach others. If you want to be super safe, use an encrypted messaging app. expect the best but prepare for the worst just to be safe. Have the number of a local lawyer that can help bail you out if you get arrested on your body incase you lose your phone. Also research for yourself, hear other tips and seek advice from emts or watch videos to get basic first aid knowledge. Be informed.

For those of you in the kpop community. Send love to your fellow black fans and SPEAK UP. Spam the white lives matter hashing with fancams on Twitter. Use your platforms to give info. Uplift black voices and let them be heard. This is reality and kpop will still be here even if you take a break to inform your followers and speak up. This issue is a human issue because all lives will matter when black lives matter.

To ARMY: Let's do what we do best and unite. We are powerful and we can make change. We have the ability to come together and have our voices be heard so let's take that energy and put it into this movement. This is the message of BTS, to stand against injustice and fight for what is right. We don't need to hear it from their mouths because we fucking know. This isn't about what they have or have not done. This is about us and what we are going to do. And we will raise our voices for good because that is the message we carry and the people we are! You don't need to have your idols permission to be a good person.

Stay safe. Stay sane. Be good to yourself and others. DON'T STAND FOR INJUSTICE. NO JUSTICE NO PEACE.

#bts #bts tarot #bts reactions #bts rm #jungkook #seokjin #taehyung #yoongi #bts imagines #bts jhope #min suga #suga #park jimin #bts v #black lives matter #america #george floyd #personal

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stanbillyhargrove · 4 years

Text

Ghosts chp 20

Ally's Story

T/W: sexual assault, eating disorder

Ally's story is NOT nice, it's based off Cat's story from Demons but without the support system that Cat had

Katrina's POV

Ally was perched on the end of my bed, watching as I changed the bandages on my stomach. I taped sterile white gauze to my skin and eased myself back onto the bed with a groan.

"You've been hanging around a lot," I mumbled.

"Do you not want me here? I can leave."

"No! Wait, stay. Please, I like the company. I just mean, I hadn't seen you in a long time."

"When he's around we can't get close to you," she explained, "he keeps us away. But he's weak right now."

She sat back against the wall with a sigh, eyeing me after catching me staring at her, "what?"

"What's your story, Ally? What happened to you?"

She held her arms up so I could see the two long cuts that ran down her forearms, "isn't it obvious?"

"That's not your story, not all of it."

She dropped her arms into her lap, "you don't have to pretend to care. I'm already dead."

I stretched my hand across the bed, reaching for her, "I do care."

Her eyes were teary when she met my gaze, her jaw tight, but she still moved closer to take my hand.

"Mommy, Daddy's home," I announced.

She shook her head, "no, sweetie, he's not off work for a couple hours."

But then, a few minutes later, he walked through the door. Sent home early because of the blizzard sweeping through town. My mother brushed it off, saying I must have seen his car even though I was playing nowhere near the windows at the time.

That feeling, that sense of knowing, it never went away. As I got older, I realized it wasn't normal to know when someone was getting close. It wasn't normal to turn around and yell out your friends names when they were trying to sneak up on you. I started losing friends fast, nobody wanted to be associated with the outcast. The chubby cheeked weirdo that gave everyone the heebie jeebies.

I was twelve when the bullying shifted from my weirdness to my weight. The rest of my classmates had shed their baby fat and were lean where I still had a layer of pudge. That's when everything started to turn for the worst. Boys who knew I was crushing on them would sneer and laugh to their friends when I passed them. They'd pretend to like me outside of school just to turn around and shun me once in a group of classmates. Girls looked down on me, snickered when they saw me eating lunch.

Comments started coming from my family through the years too. Things like, 'haven't you eaten enough?' 'You know, everything you put on has to come off.' 'A moment on the lips, forever on the hips.' And, 'do you think you need seconds?'

My mom too, liked to tell me how little she weighed as a teenager. Joked about how her and her friends would compare thigh gaps like it was no big deal. She complained about how much she weighed now that she'd had me even though she still looked like she could be whisked away by a strong breeze. She thought she was helping by telling me maybe I'd have more friends, maybe boys would like me if I lost some weight.

At fifteen I found a website filled with pages and pages of wispy girls who's bones stuck through their skin. Girls who bragged that they had to wear children's clothes because nothing else fit, bragged about the amount of exercise they'd done that day. They shared tips and tricks to curb your hunger, told you if you followed all the rules you too could be beautiful, weightless, like them.

By sixteen, I was one of them. Comparing each days food and exercise with a group of people like me. I finally found my people, my sisters, the ethereal Wintergirls. I fed exclusively off people's compliments and they loved to tell me how much better I looked now. My mom praised my hard work, indulged my diet coke addiction. She was proud to have created a Wintergirl in her image.

Nobody in those groups liked to talk about the negatives. They didn't warn me that becoming one of them wouldn't be glamorous. That it meant constantly freezing, that your body starts growing more hair to keep you warm, that the hair on your head will get thin and lifeless, your nails turn blue and even a light brush will leave bruises on your skin. They didn't tell me that no matter what goals you hit, there would always be another. I wasn't prepared for my life to become consumed by numbers. How many sit ups, how many inches, tracking weight down in a notebook and sobbing if was more than last time. They didn't mention that I'd still hate myself no matter what.

I started swallowing handfuls of pills, secretly hoping that this time it would be enough to poison my liver. I want to go to sleep and not wake up, but I don't know that I want to die. I want to be normal, to eat and not hate myself, but that's not who I am anymore.

I kept waking up, forced to struggle through another day. Started drowning myself in alcohol every night and on the weekends, trying to find something to make me feel again. Some of the more popular girls started talking to me, asking for the secret on how to look as good as I do now, inviting me to parties hoping to get me to spill. I went to the parties but not to spill my secrets. I went for the free alcohol and eventually the drugs that the boys brought.

I had found my usual party group, the people who carried baggies of various things in their pockets. Accepted a baggie from a baby faced jock who smiled when he passed it to me.

"It'll be fun," he whispered in my ear, "trust me."

I looked at the pills for a moment before tossing them into my mouth and taking a swig of my drink to swallow them down.

"Good girl," he praised.

He didn't leave my side, didn't let me leave his sight. He was always there with an arm around me even though I didn't know him. Tempting me with tinted eyes.

This doesn't feel right.

I should have known better.

After a while, I started to feel weird. My limbs felt too heavy to move and I thought I was going to pass out. I leaned heavy into the boys side, not trusting my legs to keep me up anymore.

"It just hit you, didn't it?" He asked, holding me up.

My tongue felt too thick to move, to protest, when he picked me up. Threw me over his broad shoulder and took me back to his house.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you," he soothed.

I struggled to cry out, to push his hands away but he was so much bigger than me, had layers of muscle where I had only bone. His hands were too rough when he grabbed, when he held my wrists in one hand and undressed me with the other.

I tried again to move my legs, to fight him, but nothing worked.

"Relax," he murmured, "I'll make you feel good."

The room faded in and out through eyes blurry with tears. I could feel him. Everywhere. Every inch of me consumed by his warmth. The moments where I could almost grasp clarity were filled with pain.

He wiped a tear from my cheek, his touch tender now when he whispered, "I know you're into it...God, you feel so good."

I didn't wake up again until sometime in the morning. The sun had barely kissed the sky, just enough that the room I was in wasn't pitch black anymore. Just enough light to see that the sheets I was wrapped in were blue, not white. Just enough light to know I didn't know where I was. It took me a moment to realize there was someone else in the bed with me, a large arm wrapped loose around my waist. Tanned skin tight around broad shoulders that I might have felt safe in before. I screwed my eyes shut tight, hoping this was a horrible nightmare. But, when I opened them I was still here. The dark bruises in the shape of his fingers still stuck on my skin, the pain was still there.

I slid out of the bed, biting the inside of my cheek and praying that I could get out of here without him waking up. Apparently the universe thought I deserved this small favor because I was able to find my stuff, get dressed and slip out of his house without anyone seeing me.

Outside, I pulled my phone from my pocket to figure out where I was. I was an hour's walk away from home. By the time I got home...I'd have to get ready for school right away. I sent out a quick text to my group for someone to bring me something strong to get me through the day and started my long walk of shame.

I did the best I could to hide all the bruises under my clothes before going to school. Long sleeves pulled down into my fists, dark leggings, I even layered on a shirt with the tallest neckline I could find. Hid the red circles around my eyes under dark makeup and called it good enough.

I disappeared into the crowd at school, slinking from shadow to shadow like I was hiding from a spotlight. Thankfully, someone answered my text and slipped a baggy into my pocket during a quick hug. I wasted no time swallowing the pills, didn't even question it. I just needed everything to stop.

I only got through my first class without seeing him.

I was at my locker when suddenly I was picked up and spun around. I was too shocked to do anything more than shriek. Hit the ground and spun around to find myself face to face with that same boy. The star of the football team, he was all broad shoulders and a soft, innocent face. He came from money and everybody loved him because of it. But, of course, they didn't know what really lied behind that sweet face.

"Hey babe," he cooed, "missed you this morning. You could have stayed, I would have driven you home."

The breath rushed from my lungs and I was reliving flashes of memories from the night before. Once again trying and failing to fight back. Hearing his voice in my ear.

"Hey, Bryce!" Another jock clapped him on the shoulder, "introduce us to your girlfriend!"

"I..your...what?" I stammered.

"Guys, Ally...Ally, guys," he beamed, pulling me into his side.

The group of them said their hellos, and then quickly disappeared to their own lockers. I shoved him as hard as I could, but I barely moved him an inch. He still had a smile on his face even though his eyebrows had knit with confusion.

"Your girlfriend?" I hissed.

"Well, yeah? I assumed, after last night, y'know?"

"You assumed!"

He lifted his hands defensively, "take it easy, don't need to shout."

I spun and stalked away from him, to a quieter, more secluded corner of the school to try and calm my nerves.

He followed me, practically purring, "trying to find somewhere private for us?"

I stopped, dumbfounded, giving him time to come up behind me and plant a kiss to my neck.

I recoiled, shoving Bryce away and shouting, "get off me!"

"What the fuck is your problem? You gave it up so easy last night and now you're gunna act like a prude?"

"I...I didn't give anything! You took! You drugged me, carried me home when I couldn't walk and had sex with me when I couldn't say no! You raped me!"

"Babe," he started, "come on-"

"No! Don't fucking call me babe, I don't even know you! I'm not your girlfriend! I'm your victim!"

He got in my face, close enough I could feel the heat from his skin, and growled, "fuck you. We could have been something, y'know? I could have given you everything. You asked for the drugs, remember? You're just a fucking whore, using men to get what you want and then dropping them. You wait, I will fucking destroy you."

By the afternoon, everybody had seen the pictures he took of me unconscious and were calling me a whore. Calling me a skeleton, ugly, a tease, a user. Nobody could believe I didn't want it. 'Look at him,' they'd say, 'he's gorgeous. How could you not want him?' Or, 'I'd give anything to have him even look at me and you're complaining?'

It only took a couple days before someone approached me outside of my class. Asked if I'd sleep with him if he gave me something.

"Are you serious? You think I'm a prostitute or something? Try being a gentleman and asking a girl on a date, you'd have a better chance."

His eyebrows raised, "you wanna go on a date with me?"

"Not now I don't, shitdick," I scoffed, pushing my way into class.

Later that day, people were saying I'd slept with him anyway.

This went on for months. People would approach me asking for sex and when I turned them down, they made up a story and spread it around.

There was one boy...I thought he was different. He said all he wanted was to take me on a date, for me to give him a chance. So I did. I let him take me out for a coffee since I didn't eat in front of anyone. We actually had a good time, he made me laugh for the first time in a long time. For a minute, I felt like maybe I could see a way out of the dark.

Then, our way out of the cafe, I thought I saw a glimpse of Bryce but when I looked again, I didn't see him.

He drove us away from the city, to a secluded area where it was just the two of us. We sat in the back of his car, talking for a while until he brought me close and kissed me. Fingers started to tug at clothing, pulling a noise of protest from my throat.

"I took you out," he murmured, "now be a good girl for me."

I let my mind go blank, let him take what he wanted. Saw Bryce in his place and let a few tears fall silently.

I realized that no matter how good I thought things could be, no matter what I do, Bryce would still be on top of me and I still wouldn't be able to breathe. He'd always be there, sneering that he'd destroy me.

Eating was hard. Breathing was hard. Living was the hardest.

I felt like I had started dying the night Bryce took me home. Like everything since then had to have been a fever dream caused by cells deteriorating. Last night had nailed that feeling home. That I was already dead, just stuck in hell.

I showed up at school to see a snickering crowd in front of my locker. 'Whore' was painted across the door along with 'Liar' and 'Dirty Slut'.

Standing at the front of the crowd with a wicked grin on his face was Bryce and the rest of the football team.

He invaded my space, my senses, the heat radiating from his skin threatening to burn me up. The heady cologne he wore, a toxic gas that stole oxygen from my lungs and replaced it with poison.

His voice, low and husky in my ear when he sneered, "nobody believes you. Nobody cares about you. I bet nobody would even care if you were gone," he pulled away just enough to look into my eye, "I win."

I was holding back tears as I tried to retreat from the school, walking as fast as I could to escape the laughter when my arm was caught in someone's hand. I looked up at the girl who grabbed me and recognized her from some of my classes. We weren't really friends but we were close enough to know each other.

"You okay?"

I faked a smile, tried to ignore my voice cracking, "awesome...I'm awesome."

"Hey, screw those assholes, Ally."

I knew she was trying to help, that she thought her words would be enough to break through months of abuse hurled my way.

They weren't.

My shoulders slumped, "haven't you heard? I already did."

I slipped between her fingers and didn't look back.

"Whatever happened to chivalry?" Ally sighed, leaning against the wall next to me, "romance? I always wanted a relationship like in those cheesy old movies. You know, where the love interest makes some grand gesture to say they love you? That's what I dreamed of."

I wiped the tears from my face, "Ally.."

She smiled sadly at me, "I always thought I'd find the one when I became perfect. That if I could just be good enough...but that never happened, perfect never came."

@alias-b @charmed-asylum @champagnesugamama

#billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things #tw rape #tw ed content

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ambrossart · 4 years

Text

PAPER MEN

— CHAPTER 6

SUMMARY: All Evelyn Tozier wanted to do was make Derry High School a safer place for her kid brother. Well, somewhere between kissing Patrick Hockstetter and telling the principal to go f*** himself, things got a little off track. Now she’s stuck in the middle of a bizarre love triangle with two of Derry’s most troubled teens while her little brother and his friends hunt down a creepy, child-eating circus clown. This year, summer can’t come fast enough. PAIRINGS: Henry Bowers x Tozier!Sister; Patrick Hockstetter x Tozier!Sister WARNINGS: violence, profanity, sexual content, bullying, sexual assault, physical abuse, emotional abuse, all kinds of abuse, trauma, mental illness, implied/referenced self-harm, child death, angst, lots of angst, recreational drug use, underage drinking, underage sex, love triangles, toxic relationships, slow burn, slow build

WORD COUNT: 3,714

MASTERPOST

MASTERLIST

"Where's your brother?" Evelyn heard her mother ask for the fifth time.

For the fifth time, Evelyn put down her pencil; then she sighed. Her math homework would have to wait.

"He's probably at the arcade," she said, grasping the first thought that came to her mind. "Got sucked into another battle for some unreachable high score or something." Street Fighter was his latest obsession. He was determined to beat Grant Elmhirst's top score. Fat chance of that. Grant was a camper; the guy practically lived at the arcade, and his pockets were always stuffed full of brass tokens. "In any case, I'm sure he'll be home soon." Richie never missed a homemade meal, even if it was something gross like tuna casserole.

"I hope so..."

Maggie Tozier was elbow-deep in soapsuds while a pot of water boiled on the stove. She leaned back to look at the clock. It was almost six. Strange, it wasn't like Richie to be so late, not on a school day. He would usually come home around three-thirty and dig through the fridge for a snack, maybe even make himself a ham sandwich if that day's lunch was especially unappealing. Then he would sit at the breakfast bar and tell her about his day while she scraped off egg and burnt-on grease from the morning's dishes. She'd laugh at his jokes, pretend to understand them, and when he was finished, she'd take his dirty plate, and he'd run out the door again.

But he should have been home by now. Something wasn't right.

Maggie threw down the sponge and rushed to the phone, hands still dripping with soap. She dialed the Denbroughs' number.

"Sharon, hi, it's Maggie." She twisted her finger around the coiled cord until the tip turned purple. "Hey, my kid isn't over there, is he...? Oh, no, everything's fine. He just hasn't come home yet is all, and I thought he might be... Okay, yeah, I'll try there next. Thanks. Buh-bye."

She pushed down the switch and called Sonia Kaspbrak. If Richie wasn't with Bill, then he was probably with Eddie.

"Hi, Sonia, sorry to bother you while you're cooking, but I was just wondering if Richie was at your house. He hasn't come home yet, and I'm starting to get a little concerned... Uh-huh... Okay... Wait, I'm sorry, what...? No, he doesn't normally do this. He knows better than to... Oh, come on, you can't be serious. I certainly do not let my kids run wild."

Steam started seeping out from the pot. Evelyn got up and dumped in the noodles, gave them a stir, and set the timer for eight minutes.

"Look, my kids are perfectly well-behaved, okay? And you know what, I don't appreciate you telling me how to raise my children. In fact, I don't think you're qualified to give anyone parenting advice, you crazy, judgmental bitch!"

Maggie slammed the phone on the hook and clawed through her hair with both hands. "My god, that woman is insufferable! Absolutely insufferable! Did you hear her? She had the nerve to call me a bad mother. Me!" She put her hands on her hips. "You know, Marge, if you didn't work so much, maybe you'd have a better hold on your kids. Well, I'm sorry I have to work to put food on the table! Unlike you, I don't get to sit on my ass and watch TV all day!"

Evelyn held in a laugh, but a small giggle escaped anyway. "Wow, let it all out, Mom. Tell us how you really feel." She set the oven to 425.

"Oh, no." Maggie sank into the nearest kitchen chair. The guilt was hitting her now, sitting in her stomach like a pound of spoiled beef. She felt like she was about to throw up. "Oh, I can't believe I called her a bitch."

"A crazy, judgmental bitch." And everyone wonders where Richie gets his trashmouth. Her little brother would be so proud.

"Did I really say all of that out loud? Shit." Maggie dropped her head into her palms. She'll never forget that. Sonia Kaspbrak knew how to harbor a grudge better than anyone. When the boys were in elementary school, she shunned Maggie and Wentworth for a whole year just because Maggie dared to criticize her potato salad at the summer potluck. It was bland and watery, and it made her husband sick, so Maggie refused to apologize for something so silly. "Well, I don't think Eddie will be allowed over here for a while, if ever." She lifted her head. "Sweetie, can you take the wine out of the fridge, please?"

Evelyn grabbed the leftover chardonnay from Friday night's dinner and poured her mother a generous glass. It was gone in three big gulps, vanishing before her eyes like one of the magic tricks her brother used to perform in the living room.

(And, poof, it's gone, ladies and gentlemen! Have you ever seen anything so amazing?)

Evelyn hated seeing her mother like this. "Do you want me to go look for Richie? I will if you want. I'll go right now. I'm sure he just lost track of time." Richie didn't carry a wristwatch. He used to, but he kept breaking it.

"You're probably right." Besides, her husband would say, what kidnapper would want our son? Five minutes of his yapping, and they'd drop him right back on our doorstep. You know I'm right. Sorry, Mags, looks like we're stuck with the kid.

Maggie would have laughed if she wasn't so close to tears. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to scare you. It's just... you know, with everything that's happened..."

"With the Durseys." Evelyn understood. "You don't have to apologize."

It was around this time last year that Gracie Dursey went missing. Evelyn had seen her that afternoon while she was sitting on the porch and lacing up her skates. Gracie had wanted to come with her. (I'm good now, Evie! I almost never fall.) Next time, Evelyn promised. Next time, she and Gracie would do a couple of laps around the neighborhood and then get some ice cream at Barton's. Mud pies were her favorite.

The kitchen timer beeped. Maggie Tozier got up to drain the pasta.

"I still feel guilty," Evelyn said. "I know I shouldn't, but I do. I should have just taken her with me."

When she got back, Gracie was gone. Her pink tricycle was sitting at the end of the Durseys' driveway, but Evelyn hadn't thought much of it. She just assumed Gracie had forgotten to bring it in again.

"You couldn't have known," her mother said. "Nobody knew. Nobody thought it could happen here." Derry was a safe, quiet town. That's why she and Went decided to move there when Maggie found out she was pregnant. Everyone said it was a great place to raise children.

Raise them for the slaughter.

No. Maggie Tozier pushed that thought away.

"They moved today," Evelyn said. "I still can't believe it. Every time I look across the street, I expect to see their car out there. Stevie shooting his basketball. Gracie riding her tricycle, ringing that bell that drove everyone crazy." (Ting!... ting-ling... Ting!) "Dad wanted to break the darned thing off."

(Ting!... ting-ling...)

Click.

The front door was opening. Evelyn let out a relieved sigh. "That's probably Richie."

"It sure as hell better be." Maggie closed the oven door and stormed out of the kitchen. Evelyn followed a few steps behind, knowing her little brother was about to get a good ripping. "Richard James Tozier, you had better have a damn good reason for being so—"

Both women gasped when they reached the entryway.

The front door was still open, letting in the evening breeze. Outside, a car engine revved and tires squealed. Richie shut out the sound with a hard slam of the door, throwing all his weight against it. Then he stayed like that for a while, with his forehead pressed against the door, back trembling, shoulders heaving as he panted. When he finally stepped away, a small smear of blood remained on the white paint.

Weird, Evelyn thought, it almost looked too bright to be blood. Was this another one of Richie's dumb jokes? She was waiting for the punchline.

Her mother put her hand to her mouth. "Richie, what happened?"

His glasses were gone. Funny how that was the first thing Evelyn noticed. His face just didn't look right without them.

"I, uh, fell off my bike," he said, squinting. He lifted his chin to show off the scrape. "The chain came off again. Stupid piece of shit." He choked out a laugh, then winced and clutched the left side of his face. A bruise had already started to form where his hand was, and his bottom lip was swollen and split at the left corner.

"You fell, huh?" Maggie put her hand on her hip. "And, what, the ground punched you?"

Richie nodded, sniffed, and rubbed his bloody nose with his fist.

Maggie Tozier looked like she had more to say, but all that came out was a heavy sigh. "Well, I hope you punched it back." She put her arm around his shoulders and guided him toward the stairs. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up. I think I still have your old glasses in a case somewhere. Sure hope I do, or else you'll be bumping into walls until we can get you a new pair."

The stairs creaked as they went up together. Evelyn stayed below, haunted by the red mark on the door. It got bigger and bigger with every blink of her eyes.

"I think I might've sprained my wrist," Richie said quietly.

"All right, we'll take a look at that, too." Maggie hugged him close. "I'm just glad you're okay. You had me worried sick, you know. Did you walk all the way home?"

Evelyn suddenly remembered the car outside, how it had sped off in such a hurry.

"No," said Richie, "I got a ride."

David and Tabitha Criss lived five houses down, in a small cape cod with white siding and a glossy red door. It looked the same as when Evelyn was a kid, right down to the flower beds and the basketball hoop that no one ever used. Victor had never taken to sports, but Mr. Criss sure liked the way it looked in the driveway. He thought if he left it there long enough, Vic might one day pick up the ball and decide to give it a try. Eight years later, the ball was still in the garage, half-deflated and tucked in the corner behind the lawnmower that Mr. Criss had yet to fix.

Evelyn felt weird standing in front of the house now. The last time she visited, she wasn't even tall enough to reach the tiny brass knocker.

This time, she decided to ring the doorbell.

"Just a minute!" Mrs. Criss called from inside. Her voice sounded exactly the same: light, sweet, and melodic. When she was a kid, Evelyn was convinced that Tabitha Criss was secretly a Disney princess. It was her go-to Halloween costume, after all.

But the woman who answered the door looked nothing like the cheerful princess from Evelyn's memories. She looked exhausted and overworked, ready to pull out her hair at any moment. Mrs. Criss was wearing a dirty kitchen apron over a mustard yellow turtleneck that seemed a size too small for her now-chubby frame. She still wore her hair the same: long and feathered like one of those classic bombshells from the seventies, only now it was thinner and peppered with tiny specks of grey.

"Evelyn," she said, her tired brown eyes sparking with life. "Wow, what a pleasant surprise! Look at you, all grown up and so tall and beautiful... Gosh, I almost didn't recognize you!"

She had to say that, Evelyn thought, because that's what adults did. Her aunt and uncle said something similar at Thanksgiving, and it made her feel a little awkward.

Evelyn forced a smile. "Sorry to bother you, Mrs. Criss—"

"Oh, it's no bother. I'm just finishing up dinner. I've got chicken roasting in the oven and garlic mashed potatoes on the stove." The smell was wafting out of the kitchen. It made Evelyn's stomach growl. Mrs. Criss must have heard it because she immediately invited her to stay for dinner. "I made plenty, and we'd be more than happy to have you."

It was a hard offer to turn down. "Thank you, but I have dinner waiting for me at home, actually. Tuna casserole." Evelyn cringed a little as she said this. Her mother never was much of a cook. "Anyway, I was just wondering if Victor was home."

"Oh." She sounded disappointed. "Yes, actually, he came home just a bit ago. Went right up to his room because that's what he does now." She started laughing, but Evelyn didn't get the joke. "Feel free to head on up. I'm sure you remember the way. Oh, but please take off your shoes before going upstairs. I just shampooed the carpet."

Evelyn saw Vic's dirty boots sitting on a rug near the door. "Sure thing, Mrs. Criss. Thanks." She took off her shoes and placed them next to his before heading upstairs.

The stairway wall was covered with framed family pictures: Mr. and Mrs. Criss on their wedding day, old black-and-whites of long-deceased relatives, and of course, childhood portraits of their only son. Halfway up was a picture of Victor in the second grade. He had a horrendous bowl cut and a gap-toothed smile, but he looked happy, happier than she'd seen him in a long time. Evelyn couldn't remember the last time she saw a genuine smile from Vic. Now he just always looked annoyed.

She took a left at the top of the stairs and opened the second door.

"Oh, sorry—"

At first, Evelyn thought she had accidentally stumbled into the wrong room. It was as dark as a cave and had this earthy, musky, almost skunky smell that made Evelyn's nose wrinkle at her first whiff. She covered her nose with her sleeve and poked her head in. The walls were a dingy green and covered haphazardly with posters of bands that Evelyn didn't recognize, and there was a guitar propped against the wall, but Vic didn't play the guitar.

At least she didn't think he did.

Then she noticed the teenage boy hunched over on the side of the bed. A small plume of white smoke escaped his mouth as he glanced her way.

"You've gotta be kidding me." Vic threw his head back and sighed. "What do you want, Evelyn?"

Evelyn saw the glass pipe in his hand and scoffed. "Of course you're a stoner now. Why am I not surprised?"

Vic could hear the disappointment in her voice. On any other day, that might've shattered him, but today he simply didn't care.

He took another hit.

"Does your mom know you smoke?"

"Obviously not." Vic sounded smug. "What, you gonna tell her?"

"Maybe," she threatened, but instead she walked in and closed the door.

Vic stayed on the bed, watching her tiptoe around his room like she was afraid to touch anything. Her arms were tightly crossed over her chest. That made him snicker. He didn't blame her for being uncomfortable. Hell, I would be, too. He hadn't been in her room since he was twelve, but now he found himself wondering what it looked like, if she still had that floral bedspread and all those stuffed animals she couldn't sleep without.

Probably not. Vic had thrown out his toys, too.

He relit his pipe. "Sorry about the mess. If I'd known you were coming over, I would've tidied up."

"It's fine. I won't stay long." Evelyn shooed away the smoke when it crept her way. She didn't want the smell to stick to her clothes.

"You wanna sit?" Vic asked, motioning toward the spot next to him on the bed. Evelyn scrunched up her face like he'd said something crazy. Was that such a weird offer? It wasn't a problem when they were kids, but maybe it wasn't appropriate now. Vic scratched his head. "What are you doing here, Evelyn?"

She turned away from the poster she had been staring at. "You know why I'm here. I wanna know what you guys did to my brother. He came home looking like someone beat the shit out of him." And he got a ride, too. That part bothered her the most.

Vic snuck in a few more puffs before setting his pipe aside. "I'd rather not talk about that." Not now. Not when he was finally starting to forget.

Evelyn took a step toward him. "Is that why you're smoking, Vic? Feeling stressed? Maybe a little guilty?"

Her voice was getting louder, too loud for Vic to handle in his current state. He rubbed his forehead and said, "Look, I don't wanna talk about it right now, Evelyn." Today was particularly exhausting. He just wanted a couple of hours to himself before he had to do it all over again tomorrow.

But Evelyn was never one to let things go. "Vic, please tell me you guys didn't put him in that trunk."

His eyes widened, and his mouth went dry. "The trunk?"

(You're gonna go for a little ride, buddy.)

(No! No, please!)

(Unlock the trunk, Belch.)

"Yes, the trunk, Victor!" Evelyn shouted. She was right in front of his face. "Did you guys put my brother in the trunk of your car?"

(No way, man. I'm not driving around with a kid in my trunk. Are you fucking crazy?)

"Did you?"

(I SAID, OPEN THE FUCKIN' TRUNK!)

"Answer me, Vic!"

"NO!" Vic yelled, pushing himself to his feet. Evelyn staggered back. "I didn't do anything, okay?"

Vic had tried to leave. He had walked away and left them all behind, but they caught up to him anyway. They pulled up along the side of the road, and Henry made him get back in the car. And then he had to sit there and listen to Richie Tozier screaming and pounding from inside the trunk. It went on forever, but...

"I didn't do anything."

"Exactly." Evelyn gave him a light shove. "You didn't do anything, Vic!"

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. "Victor?" his mom called from outside. "Is everything okay in there? I heard raised voices."

Vic ran his hand through his hair. "Everything's fine, Mom." He tried to sound calm. "Sorry about the noise. We'll keep it down."

"You two better not be fighting. Dinner's almost ready. I made roast chicken!"

Vic rolled his eyes. "Okay, Mom, I'll be down in a little bit."

"Okay, okay. Evelyn, are you sure you don't want to stay? It's a lot of food for two people."

Evelyn's voice broke when she tried to answer. "No, thank you, Mrs. Criss. I gotta be heading home soon."

"Well, all right..."

They waited for her to leave. Vic sat back down on the bed and prepared another bowl.

"I should call the cops," Evelyn whispered, glaring at him. "You guys went way too far this time."

"So go to the cops." Vic didn't care anymore. "Go ahead and tell them everything. But you know what'll happen if you do. Do you really wanna get him into more trouble?"

Vic already knew the answer. The look on her face said it all. He gave his lighter a flick.

Evelyn shook her head. "You know, I'm really disappointed in you, Vic. Sometimes I feel like I don't even know you anymore."

Vic shrugged. "That makes two of us."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know what it means."

"Whatever."

Evelyn was halfway out the door when Vic spoke again.

"So, do your friends know?" Vic took a big hit from his pipe while Evelyn stood in the doorway, silent. Vic looked her way and blew out all the smoke. "I'm thinking no, huh? Good call. Don't think they'd be too happy to hear you're fucking around with Henry Bowers."

Evelyn's eyes narrowed. "You don't even know what you're talking about."

Maybe not, but Vic knew what he saw. He couldn't get the image out of his head.

"Hey, I'm not judging you. Do what you want, kid, but at least be honest about it, you know? Quit acting so innocent. It's getting kind of pathetic."

Pathetic?

"Fuck you," Evelyn spat, backing away. "I can't believe I actually thought we could be friends again."

"We were never really friends to begin with. Jimmy's the one who wanted you around, not me."

Vic knew that would hurt her, but still, he wasn't prepared for the shitty feeling that came after she slammed the door.

Mrs. Criss heard Evelyn coming down the stairs. "Evelyn, is that you?"

Evelyn wiped her runny nose on her sleeve. "Yeah, I'm leaving, Mrs. Criss. It was real nice seeing you."

"It was nice seeing you, too! Hold on, let me give you a proper goodbye."

"No, I really have to go." She didn't want the woman to see her all puffy-eyed and splotchy. "I'll tell my mom you said hi, okay? Maybe you two can get together soon. Have lunch or something."

"Oh, that'd be nice! You should all come over for dinner sometime. We have a lot of catching up to do."

"Sounds good." Evelyn shoved her feet into her shoes and reached for the doorknob, but just as she was about to turn it, a terrible yet tempting thought entered her mind. She was too angry to ignore it.

She released the doorknob and walked towards the kitchen. "Hey, Mrs. Criss?"

The woman was busy mashing potatoes by hand while her chicken rested on a cutting board. She stopped when Evelyn came in and smiled. "Did you forget something, sweetie?"

"Yeah, actually." Evelyn sucked in a breath. "Your, uhh, your son is upstairs smoking pot."

Mrs. Criss's smile seemed to have gotten stuck from the shock. It was tight and stretched to the point where it looked uncomfortable. Then, suddenly, her right eye started to twitch.

Evelyn nodded. "Yeah. Thought you'd wanna know."

_____________________

PREV // CURRENT // NEXT

#it fanfiction #henry bowers #henry bowers fanfiction #patrick hockstetter #patrick hockstetter fanfiction #bowers gang #belch huggins #richie tozier #the losers club #it chapter one #it chapter two #paper men #victor criss

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jkhoya · 5 years

Text

Playing with Fire (3)

Pairings: Yoongi x You

Contains: Smut, Fluff, Angst, Cheating

You’re a trainee under Bighit Entertainment, where the boys you loved the most work. For your trainee years, you avoided Min Yoongi so much for a reason, but you had to collab with him before your debut, and that’s when all of it started.

————

Hoseok and Jimin insisted to drop you off your house so you had no choice, plus you’re really exhausted so you really thank them for coming up with this idea.

As you all got outside, you sat at the back. You can’t help but feel nervous and get a little fidgety. But again, the fact that you’re inside a car with Jimin and Hoseok’s driving.. feels so unreal.

You told them your address and Hoseok isn’t that familiar in your village so you were telling him the directions. The ride wasn’t that awkward, Jimin would try to make you laugh but instead, Hoseok’s the one who does it. His laugh is just so contagious so you can’t help but chuckle.

But there’s something really bothering you so you feel like you can’t be that happy right now, you’re still thinking about it even if they tried to comfort you, you still denied that you’re hurt.

That feels so toxic. The fact that you’re being so delusional by loving him so much. You wouldn’t fall for him that hard if you didn’t think you had the chance and that makes you hate yourself more.

“Uhm, so, who’s dating Yoongi?” You hated that you were so curious about it to the point that you couldn’t keep your words to yourself.

Jimin gave a look at Hoseok because he wasn’t sure if he could tell you. You got even more nervous because you feel like you said something wrong. Yes, it is wrong. Whoever he’s dating should be none of your business. You scolded yourself.

“She lives in Daegu. Her name is Heejin. Well, I don’t know if we should be telling you this but I trust you enough that you wouldn’t tell anyone about this.” Hoseok says with a more serious tone. “Oh, of course. I actually regret asking since I think it’s none of my business to know about her. It’s Yoongi’s private life and I respect it.”

“That’s what I like about you Y/N.” Jimin chuckles.

After a few minutes, you’ve already arrived in front of your house so you all had said your goodbyes to each other. “Thank you so much, Hope you go home safely.”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow Y/N.” They both smiled at you and when you got out, “See you tomorrow Y/N, don’t cry too hard or you’ll look goofy tomorrow.” Hoseok says through the window. You giggle a little bit and got inside the building.

You still live with your family in an apartment because you’re still a trainee, and you still don’t have a dorm. Also, living alone would cost so much money. It’s already a little late, this became normal for you, going home with no lights on because your parents already went to bed.

You always went home late and somehow, they got used to it. You’re really busy on being a trainee and you barely bond with them these days, but they understand, they know how being a trainee works.

You’re currently in an empty dance room with Jimin. They’re on a break right now so they’re not that busy. You’re just both chilling, like you both always do.

You told him what happened to Yoongi’s studio and all he did was laugh and smile weirdly. “You’re such a mess Y/N.”

“Look at you! You’re blushing so hard and your story was embarassing.” He teases. You made face at him and rolled your eyes but you’re still smiling. You hate that you couldn’t take the smile off of your face.

“Okay just let me practice this, You did the demo right? I want it to be perfect when we’re recording so just help me.”

——————

You practiced the track with Jimin helping you for about an hour until you both heard the door open, and it’s Hoseok.

“Of course Y/N’s gonna work hard for the track with Yoongi hyung.” He gushed as he came in front of you with a smile on his face.

“No, I always work hard Hobi.” You playfully replied and flipped your hair and they both look like they aren’t convinced.

“Ohhhh, you always work hard, I see.” He replies as he nods. “I ordered some foods, I ordered alot since I think we should celebrate this day!! This is Y/N’s day!!! Love this!!” He exclaimed.

Jimin’s face lit up as he heard the word food. You didn’t, since you’re debuting you’re avoiding to eat alot. You don’t wanna look chubby on your debut.

“I’m on a diet.” You mumbled as they stood up and you’re still sitting.

“No. It’s your cheat day today!” Jimin insists.

“Is it my cheat day?” You sarcastically replied.

“Come on Y/N, You don’t even gain weight that much.” Hoseok pouts. “Fine.” You just gave in like that with them.

You just can’t stand them, you always had a soft spot for them and you always can’t say no when they ask you something. Well, you love them.

You thought you all will be eating at the lounge but you all went to Hoseok’s studio since you’re gonna talk about Yoongi, you can’t make the staff hear you.

The moment that you stepped your foot in Hoseok’s studio, the food's smell welcomed you and you really can't wait to eat. You haven’t eaten properly these past few days so it's kind of a valid reason and you quickly sat down on his sofa and sniffed the food.

"We know your hungry." Hoseok says and sat beside you.

"You know Y/N, I don't see the point of dieting. Such a waste of time." Jimin huffs.

"Oh really, Jimin? Just wait until your comeback." You replied but he just gave you an eye roll.

You all started to eat, you're thankful for Hoseok, if he didn't ask you to eat with them, you wouldn't get to eat your favorite food, Chicken.

For almost 3 years of knowing Hoseok, he surely knows your favorites. He and Jimin would always give you gifts whenever they're back from overseas schedules.

They became a good brothers for you. They always treat you so well and you're thankful for it.

At first, when the staff knew about your friendship with Jimin and him, you got scolded and your contract almost got terminated. But you're thankful they're that powerful to defend you.

You're very thankful that this is the agency you went from the start. They're the best for you, you've heard from other trainees how amazing the agency is. How they had the freedom they didn't experience in other agencies.

You remember being called into the office with Hoseok and Jimin, With their manager and the CEO. They tried to check your phones to read the messages to make sure that you're not dating.

"Checking our phones? Isn't that invasion of privacy? Come on, we're grown men. We know what we're doing." Hoseok grunts.

It's your first time seeing him or hearing him talk in that tone. He's really scary when he's like that, you felt your heart beating so fast. Your palms are sweating, you don't even know if you're nervous because of the CEO or because of Hoseok.

"And why do you think we're dating her? Y'all are so weird, three of us? dating? Your minds are really something." Jimin looks so pissed while those words came out from his mouth. You're so confused, you didn't know they can talk like this to the CEO.

"Jimin, Hoseok, you know our rules." Their manager tried to explain but they look like they don't care, with pissed smirk on their face, they let out a chuckle.

"Yeah, rules. The contract says they're not allowed to date until after a year on their debut. But we're not dating, so what rules are you talking about?"

You remember crying so hard that day, but when you think about it, it feels amazing that it's been so long since that happened.

"You're smiling like an idiot right now Y/N." Hoseok informs you as he takes a bite on his chicken. "Oh, what are you thinking?" He asks, raising his eyebrows. "None of your business."

"She's been weird. She's literally thinking about Yoongi hyung all day." Jimin mentioned. You all heard the door opened.

"Hey, why do I hear my name? Why are you talking about me huh?" As soon as you heard the first word, you froze. It's Yoongi, and your heart's beating so fast again.

"By the way what's the trainee's numbe- Oh, she's here."

Your eyes are wide and you couldn't move an inch. Hoseok and Jimin looked weird, they're smiling so wide and even wiggling their brows. You're thankful that Yoongi isn't looking at them.

"Can I get your number? So we can talk about the track, or like, schedules." He asks shyly, he even has his hand on the back of his neck while asking.

"Oh, sure." You tried to act normal, you don't know if you're gonna say it to him out loud, but he gave you his phone so you just typed your number there.

There's an awkward silence in the studio and you pray that he doesn't feel weird about it.

After you typed and saved your contact, you accidentally pushed the home button so you saw his lockscreen. "Oh sorry." You mumbled as you gave his phone back to him.

"It's fine. Thanks."

"Hyung, you want a bite?" Jimin offers his food to Yoongi so he took a bite from the chicken and ate some rice. "Do you want to eat with us?"

"Nah, I'm just gonna eat later, I'm finishing something. Bye." When he finally got out, Hoseok wheezed.

"What was that??? What WAS that??" He's laughing so hard, you're getting shy.

"Oh sure.." Jimin even tried to copy the way you talked earlier. "Y/N, that's so" They both laughed at you so you just laughed with them too. You knew that both of you were awkward, so you couldn't defend yourself.

"Wait, He just asked your number!"

"Yeah.. cool." You tried to look calm and pretend that you're not exploding inside.

"Cool?" Jimin seems unconvinced. "Okay, OMG ACTUALLY I CAN'T BELIEVE. FOR REAL, I DON'T KNOW I'M FREAKING OUT." They both laughed again as you popped your bubble.

"I feel so.. ugh, I don't knoooow." You can't even explain how you feel since you're feeling so many things.

"I saw his wallpaper though." You added.

"What about it?" Jimin asks. "Does it hurt?"

"A little." You just ate after replying to him because you thought they're gonna scold you. But you're glad they didn't, but Hoseok just let out a sigh.

-------

As soon as you got home, you talked to your members. You brought them food since you're the oldest and you wanna take care of them.

You kinda feel bad since you rarely bond with them, But it would be okay soon if BTS will have a tour. "Hey guys, have you eaten? I brought foods!"

The members we're playing uno cards and they quickly went to the kitchen to see you. You just watch them ate since Hoseok made you eat alot. You're happy for the fact that eventhough you don't talk to them about your personal life that much, you're still close to them.

"Y/N, How's the track with Yoongi going?" Athena asks. "Well, we haven't recorded it yet."

You all talked about how excited you all to your debut. You also asked about their collaborations with the other BTS members as well, You heard that Chaeyeon will be doing a Hope on the Street with Hoseok.

"I feel like eventhough he looks bubbly, If i make one mistake he'll get mad. I don't know why but I'm scared of him." You laughed because she really looks so terrifies of Hoseok, but it's actually true. He can be scary when it comes to choreography.

"He's completely harmless Chaeyeon-ah. I know you're a good dancer, you won't make him mad." After saying those, you saw her face relax and you're glad she's relieved.

-------

You're finally in your pjs and you're just lying on your bed, trying to sleep when you heard your phone buzz.

"hi it's yoongi. do you think you can record it tomorrow?"

Your eyes widened and you screamed quietly under your pillow. You feel so happy that you punched your pillow, you even almost flipped your bed. You can't believe Yoongi's texting you right now.

"hi. yes, i can record it tmr. what time?"

"1pm. see you."

"great, see you too. 💕"

You put down your phone, and stared at the ceiling. Why the fuck did I put a heart in my text? Great job, Y/N. He probably thinks you're weird now.

You got so anxious about it. Until you heard another buzz.

"❤"

-----------

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lovemecharlie · 5 years

Text

When Charlie Met Erik

Part 2

"Anyway. You still wanna talk about what's reaally bothering you or nah? You did pay for this session afterall."

"Iunno. Mess around you gone know my whole life by the time we leave for lunch."

"Pfft, ha! Good try but I'm not leaving here with you. I have a session after this."

"It's just lunch, Charlie. All them curves. You gotta eat if you wanna keep em."

"Fuck off, Erik. I can continue to buy my own lunch just fine and like I said.. I'm booked. You asked for time. This is your time. You have more than enough to say whatever you need to say."

"Booo, you booked," he groans kissing his teeth, "New client?"

"Yes."

"Bakari Jordan?" His eyebrow ticked and I squinted for a split second wondering if he went through the appointment book until it hit me like a brick.

"There is something severely wrong with you. I'm completely serious." He'd double booked under different names.

"Well, I'm right here in therapy. Maybe my wise therapist can fix it.. over lunch.. eat and talk." He grins looking wide-eyed and cute and I roll my eyes at the ceiling. He's like a little pitbull puppy and cute animals are a weakness.

But I know better.. He's not sweet, he's plotting. And he definitely isn't slick.

"I'm a counselor, not a miracle worker and your issues are too deep to solve over one lunch."

"You right, we need dinner too."

"This is good, you gotta try it. Take a bite." His maw is stretched wide full of half masticated cow, the house special, and I wanna say it's disgusting, but somehow he's still adorable, his burger in my face to bite. His crazy must be rubbing off on me.

"I don't know how you talked me into coming." Hesitantly, I take a small bite from the side he hasn't bitten and it's actually really good.

"I should've gotten what you ordered," I muse. I ordered a grilled salmon salad on his dime, but his choice was better.

"Box that up then and order the burger. You should get what you want."

That's exactly what I did.

"My office is in the other direction. Where are you taking me?"

"I just wanna pick your brain," he chuckles at the double entendre, then again when he catches me staring out the corner of my eye. I still don't trust him. At this point, we both have trust issues. "When's the last time you killed a man?"

"Are you wearing a wire or something?"

"You could pat me down if you'd like." His offer is very tempting. Who wouldn't wanna rub their hands all over that?

"Pass. Been a little while." Less than a year to be honest.

"Why you stop?" Mind your business, rich nigga. "I stopped because my plan failed and I had nothing else... My wives had to help me see what was still real and worth living for. I killed so many fuckin people and you were right.. It was in and out of the military. I tried to kill the white world into order and for a second I was close, but things ain't work out that way." He paused, taking his eyes off the road to look at me, nonverbally asking me again for my reasoning. I sighed watching the road.

"I killed because I was tired of the creeps taking advantage of women and children and getting away with it. I felt justified, like someone had to put them down and stop it. I stopped because it was stressing me out. No matter how many men I kill, I can never eliminate the problem. There will always be another and I'll be left exhausted."

"We're not that different. Our reasons are pretty much the same which is why I can't judge you and vice versa. You had good intentions," he says and it's true my warped sense of justice does seem to mirror his. I drop my head against the window as the car rolls on with no care as to where it's going. There's no particular destination it seems, just a long ride and a long conversation until we're finally back at my office and he drops me off.

We're the same. The thought echoes in my head as I'm working. As clients talk to me about their frustrations and anxieties. As I'm going over treatment plans and congratulating them for completing objectives and reaching their goals. I can't stop thinking about Erik and how similar we are to the core. There is something about him that refuses to be pushed down, abused, ignored, or forgotten. It's the same thing that keeps me pushing forward. I do want to see him again. I do like him. It doesn't take me days or weeks to know that.. but I'll deliberately make him wait that long before I express any sign of interest. In case he fucks something up in between time.

The office phone rings and it's Teela. "You have a call from Erik Stevens," one of your new clients.

"Put him through."

"Don't forget, I'm picking you up for dinner. You'd probably be pissed if you knew I knew where you lived so let's pretend I don't. Stay at your office and get some work done. I'll come scoop you at 6," he said hanging up.

Little did he know I wasn't pissed, nor was I surprised. No he couldn't surprise me anymore with his stalking ways because I already knew what it was. I made a run to the store before returning to my office to do just as he said. To the very last minute I worked and when he came, I rode with him to a pricey seafood restaurant. Again, he paid and the conversation ranged from our interests, to our musical tastes, to his wives. He could go on and on about them. The way he spoke with so much affection and passion was jarring and endearing. He was a big old softie at heart when it came to them. "You should meet them," he smiled, but I wasn't about to enter a house full of spoiled and crazy women fighting over a man. I didn't want the smoke or the stress, plus the mansion he spoke of was cross- country. "I'd buy your ticket. First class," he'd offered, but I wasn't sold. I rejected the offer.

"You'll be wife number seven soon enough," he spoke with patience, sipping his wine. "If I gotta wait with a radio outside your window in the snow. It's gonna happen."

"We'll see if you still say that as time passes," I shrugged.

Time passed. Weeks and then months. In that time, I tracked everywhere he drove with a device I'd purchased from Best Buy before he found it on his car.

"You been stalking me woman," he called Teela at the front desk and got connected to me to ask.

"What about it," I shrugged. I knew his schedule and where he stayed. When the car was still for too long I knew he was out of town. Two could play this game of his. He hung up and my cell phone rang.

"Don't play a prince, Cha. I got tricks."

"Play with your six vaginas, don't play with me," Charlie smirked hanging up. She knew by now that he hated being hung up on.

He was making this a fun game.

@poosypoosy @bastioncarterstevens-udaku @hennessystevens-udaku @itsangeludaku @alyshastevens-udaku @itskimorafireudaku @allhailnjadaka @bidibidibombaclaat @blackpinup22 @destinio1 @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @leahnicole1219 @vikkidc @thehomierobbstark

#fics #erik killmonger #erik killmonger x oc #erik stevens #charlie

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